His father had built a technological empire in the early seventies and Xtel chips could be found in twenty-five percent of all computers on the market. It represented the source of Casca’s wealth and power, but he’d never fully embraced his legacy as CEO of a billion-dollar-plus conglomerate. Consequently, he wasn’t exactly enamored with corporate rituals and saw these meetings as a necessary evil, at best. Once in a while, though, the boss had to check in with the men and women who took care of the day-to-day operations of the company. Today was one of those days. Casca struggled to keep his mind on business matters, his thoughts repeatedly shifting back to the church massacre. On the return flight to the Valley, he’d speculated about the objectives of this cult. What would drive these fanatics to hunt down three exorcists? By the time he arrived at Xtel for the big meeting, there were seven new images on his phone. While his chief operating officer rattled off the latest sales figures, Casca stole quick glances at the pictures.
