The Lafayette Sword Read Online Free

its macabre accessories, but he was ready to get on with it. He didn’t even dare to look at the wall. In the candlelight, the shadow of the skull—more than three meters tall—was undulating in a mocki ng dance.
    Gabriel took out his handkerchief and wiped his sweaty hands. Had he been wrong about the brotherhood? What if their explanation of the rites was really a lie? What if the things he had read online were really true? Would they try to force him to do satan ic things?
    He was panicking.
    He wanted to get up and leave. It wouldn’t take him more than three minutes to get out of the building and be outside with re al people.
    The skull on the desk stared at him, its black orbs showing nothing but emptiness. Gabriel tried to quiet his fears. His sponsor had told him that anxiety was normal. He had to trust. Everything was a matter of trust.
    He was almost ashamed, like a scared little kid hiding under the covers. He had to become a man again, to focus on what had motivated him to join the Freemasons. He smiled at the memory. The ideal of building a better society and improving himself to he lp others.
    â€œ Bullshit.”
    He’d fooled them. He had told the three brother inspectors and his sponsor what they wante d to hear.
    He was in this place because he was looking for a way up in the world. He was forty-seven years old and once again a rising real estate agent. The fraud charges brought against him five years earlier, when he was living on the Riviera, were nothing more than a bad memory. What he needed now was connections. He didn’t give a damn about the rites, symbols, and the Great Architect with his compass and all that crap. No, he wanted the signs of recognition and secret handshakes to use at business meetings. He wanted to be part of an organization where a man scratched his brother’s back and got his own back scratched in return. He needed to be a mover and shaker. That’s what drew him to the brotherhood, not the prospect of defending a secular government or learning esote ric rites.
    If he had to spend another five hours in this rat hole with shadows dancing on the walls, he would. As soon as he was initiated, he’d use the pretext of a move to find a lodge with the right people—people with money. Paris was worth a Mass for Henry IV. Well, for Gabriel Cimes, it was worth an i nitiation.
    Gabriel jumped when he heard four knocks at the door. He tried to lo ok humble.
    A man in a fancy apron entered the narrow space. He was carrying a long gol den sword.
    â€œI t’s time.”
    Gabriel started to stand up, but the man slammed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to sta y seated.
    â€œSit, neophyte.”
    Gabriel slumped in the chair, dazed by the blow. He clenched his jaw. He had to show obedience. He would not rebel. This was just p layacting.
    The great expert pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “These are a sign of submission. Put your hands behind your back and say, ‘Yes, I wa nt this.’”
    The initiate did as he was told. “Yes, I wa nt this.”
    The man cuffed Gabriel’s wrists to the chair and then looked him up and down.
    â€œWhy do you want to become a F reemason?”
    â€œOut of love of t ruth and—”
    The interrogator punched him in the mouth, and Gabriel felt the bite of the man’s ring on his lips. This was brutal and not at all like the rite described by a former grand master in the book Becoming a Freemason in Ten Easy Lessons , a how-to guide he had found in a b ookstore.
    The man in black held the sword under Gabriel’s nose. The blade gleamed in the ca ndlelight.
    â€œYou will go from darkness to light, but first you must leave your metals at the entrance to the temple. We do not allow greed-motivated profane to enter the temple. Why do you want to become a F reemason?”
    â€œOut of love of truth—”
    The sword came down on Gabriel. He nearly cried out in pain. The man had