A Sacred Storm (36 page)

“What do you mean?”

“I am sorry, Ali, I am thinking aloud. There are many things that you do not know, and are probably better off not knowing. You are a trusting boy and I would not have it any other way. Not everybody is as pure and honest as yourself. Please do not change. Whatever happens to you or whatever happens to me, please do not change.”

“I will try not to, Master. But nothing will happen to you will it? You are the Hand of Allah.”

“I am indeed, but that does not mean I am invincible. If men do not wish to open their hearts to Allah then I cannot force them. This is a time for choice, for men to decide their path. I am here to show the power of kindness and surrender, but I cannot change those who do not wish to see.”

“But surely everybody wishes to see.”

“You would think so, but it is not the case unfortunately. People only see that which they want to see; that which suits their purpose at the time. I am trying to open their eyes to the whole panorama, but they only want to look at one small piece.” He sighed. “Perhaps they are just not yet capable of stretching their vision.”

“Then you must show them how, Master. You must keep going until the whole world can see.”

The Mahdi smiled at his young charge. “You are right of course. Forgive my mood please, Ali. It has been a long day, and even I get tired at times. I think it is time for me to meditate and then go to bed. But first I have something to show you, something very important.” He rose from his seat and walked across the room to retrieve a small wooden chest from the sideboard. It was an item that Ali kept safe for his master while he was addressing crowds and healing. “Do you know what is in this chest, Ali?”

Ali shook his head. “No, Master. I only know that it is very important to you.”

The Mahdi removed his neck chain and with the attached key undid the padlock on the chest. He opened it up and removed a wooden box covered with hundreds of small symbols. For no reason he could fathom Ali felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.

“This,” said the Mahdi, “is thousands of years old. It is a very important artefact. It holds the key to great power.”

He passed the box to Ali who surveyed it with shaking hands.

“It is beautiful, Master. Very beautiful. But what power does it hold?”

“It contains the knowledge to harness the power of Allah.”

“The power of Allah?! But nobody except you can do that, Master.”

“No, Ali. As I have told you before, we all have the power of Allah within us whether we know it or not. Allah is all around. He flows through the creatures of earth, he flows through the sky and the sea, and he flows through the stars and the planets. He is everywhere and everyone and everything.”

As the Mahdi spoke Ali knew his words to be true. He felt a surge of energy rush through the room causing him to shiver with joy. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the unseen world beyond, feeling Allah's warmth flood his soul, and in that instant he understood.

When he opened his eyes again the Mahdi was staring at him with a broad smile. “You feel him do you not?”

“Yes,” said Ali. “I do.”

“And how does he feel?”

“He feels warm and compassionate and filled with love for all things.”

“That is correct. And you can feel that because you yourself are filled with the same pureness. Or should I say that you are not tainted by impurities. It is like I said before about allowing the light to pass through you.”

“Yes, I remember,” said Ali.

“Then you know that the dark hearts of men cannot allow this light to pass through in its full form. The power of it would destroy their very souls.”

“Yes, Master. I understand.”

“Good,” said the Mahdi. “Then you will understand what I am about to ask of you.” His manner became earnest. “I think that my time here may be short-lived, Ali. Things are not turning out exactly as I hoped. There are forces in this world who do not wish to see the light come to its full glory; they would taint it with their own ambition. They do not share my vision of peace. These forces I feel may try and stop me from completing my mission.”

“What forces?” said Ali. “Who are these people?”

“It does not matter who they are. You are better off not knowing. All you need to know is that if anything happens to me you should trust only yourself and your instincts. If an ill fate befalls me then I want you to make sure that this box is kept safely hidden. Let nobody near it! Take it far away from greedy hearts and bury it deep. And if you cannot do that then you must destroy it.”

“Destroy it!”

“Yes, Ali, destroy it. This knowledge is not yet for mankind. It is too dangerous. It would be better to disappear for ever than be misused for destruction. I want you to promise me that you will protect the secret at all costs.”

Ali looked across at his master's stern face and knew that he must do as he was asked. “Yes, Master,” he said. “I promise. By the will of Allah, I promise.”

“Good. Now I am pleased. It is a great burden for you I know, but I think you are ready for it.” He broke into a smile. “But let us not dwell on the subject. The chances are that nothing will happen to me at all, so do not worry yourself with it too much. I just needed to know that the knowledge will be safeguarded.”

Ali forced a smile back, but inside he was torn. The brave new world suddenly seemed dark and uncertain.

Stella dried herself off and put on some blue jeans and a white T-shirt. She had slept long and soundly, and after a hot shower felt refreshed and ready to face the day. Her injuries were now no more than a minor irritation and she moved freely about the room without pain. She was just about to order some breakfast when there was a rap on her door.

“Oh, it's you,” she said, opening up and finding Stratton in the doorway.

“Don't sound too excited,” he said. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“No, I wasn't expecting anybody. I was just about to order some breakfast.”

“Well, don't let me stop you. Can I come in?”

Stella nodded and let him through. He sat down at her dressing-table, and she perched on the edge of the bed.

“So what do you want?” she asked.

“I wanted to see you. We didn't really get a chance to talk yesterday. I wanted to come and see how you were.”

“I'm fine, now that you ask. I wasn't sure you were that interested.”

Stratton drummed his fingers on the dressing-table. “Of course I'm interested,” he said. “I've just been busy doing other things.”

Stella snorted and looked away. “Yeah, I understand. You've got a whole world to save haven't you, Mr Big Shot?”

“It's not like that. We decided it was better for me to come to Rome to help out Father Pat. The others were more than capable of getting you out of the palace without me. I mean – you're here aren't you?”

“Yeah, I'm here.” She sighed and turned to face him again. “Look, I know that you did what you thought was best, but you can't blame me for being a little upset. I mean – how did you think I'd feel?”

“Like you do, I guess. But like I said – I did what I thought was best for everyone. If I didn't think the others could do it then I would have come and got you myself.”

Stella desperately wanted to stay angry, but as she looked into Stratton's eyes she found it impossible. She laughed out of sheer frustration. “Oh well, what's the point?” she said. “Life's just too short.”

Stratton got up from the chair and held out his hands. “Come on,” he said. “Give me a hug.”

Stella got to her feet and embraced him, feeling a torrent of mental exhaustion flooding out into the warmth of his body. She held him close, staying in his arms until the hidden anguish had disappeared. She pulled away slowly and sat back down on the bed.

“How about coming up to the dining room for breakfast?” said Stratton. “I know you were going to have it in here, but the others are meeting up there in a few minutes so we might as well join them.”

“Why not,” she said. “I'll just get my trainers on.”

They walked up to the dining room side by side. Stella thought about reaching for his hand, but something stopped her. Their dynamic was somehow different than before; it wasn't something she could put her finger on or explain, just a subtle shift in emotion that prevented her from letting go.

When they arrived Jennings, Grady and Stone were already seated at the table. At the head, in Kandinsky's place, was his second in command, Gregor Kharkov. Stella had seen him around the sub many times before but had never actually spoken to him. He was around six feet tall with a large face, a square jaw, and dark wavy hair that hung loosely just above his shoulders. His eyes were chocolate brown and they stared curiously under bushy black brows. His face appeared dour, but as they entered he broke into a warm smile.

“Good morning,” he said. “I am glad that you are here. Now we can all talk together.”

They sat down at the table and the waitress brought them coffee. Jennings chewed on a piece of toast absent-mindedly, trying to gauge Stella and Stratton's body language without looking like he was doing so.

“Yesterday was a very sad day for all of us,” said Kharkov. “Arman Kandinsky was a great man, and a great leader of men. And he was a good friend.” He bowed his head briefly in remembrance and then addressed the table once more. “But he would not want us to sit around mourning his demise. He would want us to carry on fighting for what was right and that which he believed in. He spoke to me yesterday before he went to the Vatican and said that if anything happened to him then I should help you in every way possible. I will of course honour this request, and therefore you still have the full weight of his empire behind you. In fact, he requested that in his absence I should take my command from Mr Jennings, so I shall defer to any judgement he makes.”

Jennings finished a mouthful of toast and washed it down with a sip of coffee. He knew that Kandinsky had given him control of his resources in the interim, but with all that had happened he'd completely forgotten. In the cold light of day, with Kandinsky gone, he felt like a bit of a fraud.

“So what's the plan then, Mr Jennings?” asked Grady with a grin.

“I don't know. It's not like I'm really in charge anyway, Grady. I've got no idea what we should do next. If anyone's going to be making decisions it should be Stratton.”

Stratton laced a piece of toast with marmalade. “I'd say it should be more of a team effort. I don't think any of us have a set idea about how to proceed, so let's discuss it and see what we come up with.”

“I agree,” said Pat Cronin entering the room. “We need to get our heads together.”

They ate a leisurely breakfast while Stone filled them in on his side of the tale. Stratton listened with interest, piecing the information together with what he already knew.

“So I guess Ayres must have teamed up with Jeremy,” he said. “And I suppose that's where he got a copy of the key to the symbols. He's been stringing everyone along right from the outset. Never trust a politician.”

“No,” said Jennings. “And certainly not one with links to the Vatican. I feel stupid for not having sussed him out in the first place. I mean, I'm sure the signs were there. What makes me really mad is that I was almost tempted to give myself up to stop the ‘conspiracy' against him.”

“It's a good job I stopped you then isn't it?” said Grady.

“Yes, mate. I don't suppose you'll ever get bored of being proved right.”

“Come on kids, play nice,” said Cronin.

Stella washed down the last of her food with a gulp of orange juice and straightened her cutlery. “So what are we going to do now then?” she said. “It seems to me that our options are fairly limited. We've got two extremely large factions going head to head against each other, and neither is going to back down.”

“They're not quite going head to head yet,” said Jennings.

“Not all over the world, no,” said Stella. “But I've been watching the satellite news this morning and certainly back home things are starting to look dodgy. It's not going to be long before the tension breaks. It will have spread all over Europe before you know it.”

“I agree,” said Stratton. “And I think tensions are a lot worse than any of you think. I can feel it inside. I can feel the world being dragged to and fro. I can the feel fear and confusion. And it's going to get a whole lot worse as well: particularly if Jonathan Ayres and the Vatican succeed with their plan.”

“And what's that?” asked Jennings.

“They're going to assassinate the Mahdi.”

Jennings' mouth dropped. “Jesus!” he said. “What the hell do they think they're playing at?! That'll start World War III.”

“Yeah,” said Stratton. “And the rest. Ayres seems to think that by getting rid of the Mahdi and proving he's not divine, that somehow it's going to convince the world to follow Christiano.”

“More likely it's going to convince the Muslims to start a holy war,” said Grady.

“Exactly,” said Stratton. “But these little points don't seem to cross the minds of men in power. No doubt he thinks that all those people in the world who are undecided will suddenly start to believe in Christiano. He's probably already organizing some little stunt to prove his absolute divinity.” He turned to Stone. “I don't suppose you know anything do you?”

Stone shook his head. “I'm afraid not. It's always on a need-to-know basis with him – and obviously I didn't need to know. He'll have his friends in the Vatican dealing with it I guess.”

“Is there no way of stopping the assassination or warning them?” said Kharkov.

“I wouldn't have thought so,” said Cronin, chipping in. “If they're going to do it they'll do it soon, and even if we could get word to the Muslims it wouldn't make any difference. I imagine their security is already as tight as they can make it, and they're hardly likely to stop the Mahdi going out in public on our say so.”