Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I Read Online Free PDF Page A

out of their money.
    To the wiliest looking of them, Kosta handed 100 drachmas ,
and promised another 100 for each of his friends. In return, all they had to do
was attempt to sell the candy and trinkets to the other two men. The boy smiled
slyly and demanded all the money upfront, before he returned to his filous, pals.
Kosta agreed and, seconds later, the boy gestured excitedly at his friends,
conveying his plan.
    Mitchum 2 saw that the urchins were distracting his
Brothers and went for Kosta, himself. There was no time to waste on
intricacies. So much the better, Kosta thought. Away from the door, and in
denser crowds, any scuffle would be hidden by the natural distractions and
confusion.
    Each took six steps and collided, both making it look
accidental. Kosta caught his wrist and Mitchum 2 caught the rolled up
newspaper. The spring-loaded pen went off with a twist of his wrist. The man
dropped the dagger he had been attempting to use, doubling slightly forward.
Too late, Kosta saw that the commotion had attracted the attention of the other
two men. This wasn’t optimal, but was still better than before. The odds
improved, and very quickly, Kosta feigned a glance at his watch and ran out the
door, leaving the crumpled Mitchum 2 behind.
    Things continued to look up, as he saw the clean
Laconian sky and walked into the tree-lined street, named after his imperial
ancestors. He went at a brisk trot, chancing a glance backward to see that the
other two men were coming out of the door from which he had just exited. They
carried their leader, allowing Kosta to widen the distance between them.
    He continued up Paleologos Othos , and quickly turned into an
alley. He removed his jacket and reversed it, from olive to the tan inside.
From an inside pocket, he also took out a matching hat. Thus disguised, he
returned to the street and crossed over to the train station.
    Back inside, he saw that his two pursuers still
carried their Brother, entering the alley that Kosta had just left. He didn’t
waste any more time and crossed the station. He returned the urchin’s
mischievous grin and exited from another door, facing west. He rushed to a
motorcycle dealership near the station and rented a machine, solid enough to go
cross-country. He had to go across the rocky and uneven Evrota Valley to get to
Mystra.
    He left Sparti and saw no sign of pursuit. His quick
thinking had allowed him to escape, but he had to stay sharp, because Mitchum 2
probably knew where he was going. If he did, a head-start didn’t matter. They
could already be there, waiting for him. If Mitchum 2 died before he said
anything, Kosta had nothing about which to worry. The chances were fifty-fifty
he would be walking into a trap. Those military, Brother Catholics were
nothing, if not relentless.
    He thought back to his early training; about how to
survive the Vatican hounds who hunted the Truth. When his uncle brought him
from St. Pie to Alexandria, they went directly to meet his new tutor. So, it
was with a mixture of excitement and regret, that Kosta faced an aged man,
wearing a tan suit, with perfectly groomed beard and hair. George introduced
his nephew to Dwight Malone, a friend to the Truth, who would take over his
training.
    On the voyage, Kosta learned that Malone had remained
after the British occupation, which had occurred during the building of the
Suez Canal. He had faked his own death in order to stay, intent on continuing
his own research and discoveries.
    “What research?” Kosta asked.
    He searched for peace, his uncle answered. Most of
Malone’s life was spent in patriotic duty, which, too often, seemed at odds
with wherever he was sent. He was told to kill or hurt people, who weren’t who
his superiors claimed they were. He distanced himself from his youthful ideals,
searching for a reason to his life.
    “The Truth, changing by choice. A rare moment,
George.” In one fluid motion, the tanned man rose and offered his hand. Kosta
noted how