Georges Lagrange took a deep breath and pressed the button for the stored number of Didier Grondin on his mobile phone.
“Hello, Grondin,” said the phone.
“Lagrange here.”
“What’s new?”
“He’s on the move; he’s going to London.”
“Good, and you’re following I take it.”
“Well… he’s given us the slip.”
“Georges.” Grondin drawled with rising anger.
Grondin paused for a moment. Train from Arbroath to London should take eight hours.
“Right Georges you and Alain drive to Aberdeen dump the hire car off and get a flight to London.”
“And Georges, no matter what it takes, meet that train and follow our man.”
A simple matter of following this boy, and they had fucked it up, he thought. Had he to think for these fools all the time.
Grondin paced back and forward, his face red with anger. A small vein on his right temple throbbed. “Deep breaths… got to build a bridge over this. Georges is a good man he’ll make amends; he’ll bring back the Key, and then I will be in control of such power. I will have the destiny of mankind in my hands,” he said to himself.
He walked over to the window and stared at the beech hedge moving in the wind as if an invisible giant was swaying it from one end. Grondin then watched, in amusement, as a sparrow hawk pecked away at a shrieking blackbird held captive in its powerful talons.
He thought of how he despised Hel for killing his friend Xavier, then giving him powers, which he accepted at first, but had then become burdensome. Ah but that was her mistake because he would make her pay for the murder. The other dark entities he had been in touch with would make sure of that. These demons or gods’ whatever way you want think of them, seem to have a great plan for the earth and its dimensions - good or bad. It took a human possessed of such powers to think of himself and that’s what he planned to do.