The Gods' Gambit (16 page)

 “Yes. I understand. Although, I hoped that we would
not need to hide anymore.”

“Don’t mistake the desirable for reality. Patience.”

“Yes, I understand,” the Chinese man repeated.

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Now I must meet with
somebody. Watch to see what it’s about. Then we’ll speak again.”

Prior’s fingers ran over the black glass plate. The display
disappeared but the man at the other end of the connection could still see into
Prior’s study.

The major-domo entered.

“Let him in,” Prior said tersely.

The young man nodded and quickly left. Four of Prior’s
guards entered; two stopped near the door, the others split and took up a
position either side of Prior. Soon after the major-domo, an aged black man
walked in.

Prior greeted him. “President Ngono, welcome.”

“Prior, it’s an honour to meet you.” Ngono’s reply sounded
insincere. “Allow me to give you a humble gift from myself and Burunga’s
grateful people. He took a small, elongated metal box from an inner jacket
pocket, opened it and placed it on the desk. Inside were a dozen large
unpolished diamonds.

Prior did not even look at the expensive gift. “Make
yourself at home,” he said.

The major-domo passed a chair to President Ngono and stepped
back, taking the metal box with him.

Prior waited until Ngono had made himself comfortable and
then started to talk business. “The latest news from Burunga is not good. The
opposition is gaining strength. One of your generals recently changed sides.
The people there are beginning to think that their president may stay in exile
forever. Your position grows weaker every day. Sorry if I hurt your pride, but
that’s the information I have.”

Ngono sighed. “The ordinary people are on my side. My
enemies have mostly external support. There are a few traitors, though. They’ll
get what they deserve. I’ll make sure of that. They and their families and
friends will pay—” He stopped suddenly, realizing he had said too much.

“The diplomatic activity supporting your return is at a
standstill. Yet more and more doors open in front of the leader of the
opposition,” Prior continued in the same even tone.

Ngono swallowed hard and started pulling at the front of his
jacket. “Our common friends reassured me that your intervention could tip the
balance in my favour,” he said.

“Nothing is impossible. Unfortunately, the transition of
power in Burunga is at an advanced stage. You should have called me earlier.”

Ngono’s lower jaw drooped. “I was assured … Our common
friends guaranteed … If somebody could help, that’s you,” he said incoherently.

“It will be a difficult task. But as I said, not
impossible.”

Ngono’s hope rose again. “I’m prepared to collaborate with
anything.”

Prior opened a drawer and took out a thick bundle of papers.
“In about a month, after retaking the president’s post, president Ngono
announces the privatization of the National Mining Company. Fifty-one per cent
is sold to a consortium for a good amount and an even better investment
programme. Sixteen per cent is sold to two investment funds. Soon, other deals
in different economic sectors follow as part of the president’s ambitious
privatization programme. His new approach brings new jobs, more work for local
subcontractors, new infrastructure.” Prior pushed the bundle across the desk
towards Ngono, who was listening wide- eyed. “The papers need to be signed for
that to happen; they’re all here. Your signature is the only thing that
separates you from a triumphant return.”

President Ngono hesitated before taking the bundle and
starting to read it. He had turned over several pages when the major-domo,
prompted by a surreptitious signal from Prior, came close. “Let me help, sir,”
he said. In contrast to his polite words, he leafed quickly through several
pages and shoved a pen into Ngono’s hand. His index finger jabbed the bottom of
the page. “Sign here, Mr President,” he said.

Ngono made an angry face.

“Trust is most crucial for our partnership,” said Prior.

Ngono looked into his eyes, hesitated for a second, then
took the pen and signed the pages as the major-domo passed them to him.

After Ngono had gone, Prior sent his people away and
switched the display back on.

“Impressive,” said the Chinese man.

“There are only a handful of gods and a few ‘touched’ ones
on the black continent. We need to strengthen our position there. I need you
for that deal.”

The Chinese man smiled. “I sense profit.”

“You’re going to buy that sixteen per cent from the two
funds. Then you’ll resell it to another company. A legitimate one. Don’t worry,
your profit will be ten per cent.”

“Twenty per cent would be completely satisfactory,” the
Chinese man said quickly.

Prior raised the corners of his mouth into the semblance of
a smile. “Burunga’s folks wouldn’t approve of disproportional gain from their
assets. Ten per cent is the maximum.”

“Okay. I’m in. Are you sure this little dictator will keep
his word?”

“It’s in his best interests. Besides, his replacement
wouldn’t be a problem.”

The Chinese man was silent for a brief while. “Prior, how
far have you got in the UK?

“I believe very soon we’ll get the good news from there.”

“So you’ve discovered his identity?”

“His banishment’s been scheduled already. The trap’s been
set”

“Who is he?

“Some Englishman. His name is James Whiteway.”

The Whiteway Estate, Hampshire, UK

The vision had a hypnotic effect. James felt the already
familiar, and yet still strange, sensation of witnessing another reality. Under
the weak light of the reading lamp, he saw the interior of his bedroom as a
distant background. He focused his attention on the figure of Elizabeth
floating about a metre off the ground. She was made up of pale lights of
various colours. She looked agitated. She waved as if she were calling him.
Confused, James sat up in bed with his feet on the floor. Elizabeth had turned
her head away. She was pointing at something. James stared at the empty space
between her silhouette and the wall to which she was pointing. He could
perceive writhing serpent-like figures that he had seen before in previous
visions. Between them was something white. It took him a few seconds to realize
that this was a baby in swaddling clothes. Then the vision disappeared.

James remained motionless until his breathing returned to
normal. This surreal vision had placed additional tension on his overstrained
nerves. He knew he had to regard these weird occurrences as complete illusions
or he would lose his mind. He had already lived through moments when his
natural psychological defences almost gave up and he felt himself on the
threshold of madness.

His desire to sleep had abandoned him even though his
eyelids felt like lead. After mulling over what he had just experienced, he
went downstairs to his study and switched on his PC. He had suddenly remembered
the unread emails from Lino. There were two from his friend in the inbox. He
opened the latest one first. It started with verses of the universal hymn
manifesto of the secret societies, as Lino had described it.

Praise to the Ruler,

Who ascends the Throne

In the Time of Crossing –

May all serve Him well.

From the fragments of Chaos

Divine order is settled –

May His glory shine forever.

His foes are tamed; his servants rewarded,

His Seers unravel the knots of Destiny –

There’ll be no stone unturned.

Blessed are those

Who pave His way –

They will inherit the world.

May all serve Him well.

Lino explained that the man who had furnished him with this
hymn believed that it was part of a larger prophetical text. It had been found
during a dig to uncover the old Sumerian city, Lagash. The hymn was highly
valued because of its authenticity and because its message referred to the
present. The expression ‘Time of Crossing’ was a definition of today’s world
situation. After this brief explanation of the hymn, Lino had pasted a few
chapters of the book he was writing into the body of the email. James read them
slowly and carefully. He then read Lino’s first email. He read some passages
twice.

The working title of the book was
Dark Horizon
. Its
central theme dealt with the unprecedented current acceleration of the
activities of all sorts of modern gurus, sects, cults and secret societies.
According to Lino, this phenomenon was due to a combination of objective and
subjective reasons. The objective ones included the new means of communication,
which allowed easy access to information, the profanation of society and
all-pervasive materialism. The main subjective reason was the continuous action
of some mighty clandestine organization behind closed doors. Lino saw proof of
its existence in the unifying tendencies that were present amongst so many
people with different beliefs. He insisted that there was something called the
‘World Religious Forum’, which functioned as the coordinating headquarters for
all alternative religious entities. Amongst its members were also organizations
such as the Freemasons, the Templers and many others. He asserted that such a
close collaboration between so many organizations could exist only if they had
a common ideological and spiritual base. He called this base ‘the first
teaching’. What could prompt a powerful and incredibly well-financed
organization like the Freemasons to join this secret pact? The answer was a
more powerful and richer organization. They were the holders of the so-called
‘first teaching’. Lino thought that this enigmatic organization had been
infiltrating different sects and secret societies for decades or more, taking
them over on the quiet from the inside. They had been bribing their leaders.
They had created new occult schools and sects and, at the same time, had never
stopped trying to corrode the influence of traditional religions. Now, the time
for the next stage of their strategy had come – institutionalizing the
conglomerate of ‘alternatives’ as a legitimate globally recognized religious
denomination. The last stage would be to impose it as a global religion. At the
appropriate time, this would culminate in boosting its high priest into
becoming a world theocratic ruler. That was also what the prophecy of the
Sumerian hymn manifesto meant.

When James finished reading, he rested his head on his hand
and pondered. If he had read the emails immediately after he received them he
would have congratulated Lino for his wild imagination and that would have been
it. Now, he saw it all from a different perspective.

Was it possible?
He asked himself in disbelief. He
wanted this not to be true, yet he couldn’t dismiss the obvious. There was a
connection. Maybe not direct but clear. A possibility existed that the people
who had killed Stefan Costov belonged to the organization Lino was talking
about. Lino didn’t know what its name, origin, or exact beliefs were. He had
assumed this was a cult worshiping the biblical Satan as the Almighty God. They
believed that Satan, called the ‘Demiurge’ by many Gnostics and occultists, was
the real creator of the universe and all that existed. This core belief was the
‘first teaching’ commonly accepted in the occult sphere. Lino had also sent him
an attachment of symbols and pictures through which Satan had been depicted in
the occult world. James was acquainted with most of them. What struck him was a
drawing of two horned dragons standing on their hind feet facing each other. It
closely resembled an ancient bas-relief dedicated to the Sumerian god
Ningishzida. James remembered some credible scientific theories which traced
the origin of the biblical Satan to ancient Sumer and, more specifically, to
Ningishzida.

What would Lino say if he had been acquainted with the
details of Stefan Costov’s murder? James thought.

There was another link that James was thinking about – the
hymn manifesto. Lino’s source considered it Sumerian. Two of its verses spoke
about transition from chaos to order. The same message was conveyed by the
symbols drawn around Stefan Costov’s body.

James needed to talk to Lino. He switched on the broadband
video and keyed in Lino’s online address. Lino was awake even though it was
nearly midnight.

“You’ve done some good writing, Lino. Can you tell me more
about your manuscript? Also the sources—”

Lino interrupted him. “Let’s forget about the book.” His
voice was even and indifferent. “I won’t work on it any more. Too many
fantasies.” He was looking sideways, as though his mind was occupied with
something else.

“What you wrote has potential. I think you have a chance to
make a good book out of it. And a very useful one. I believe you’ve dug up
something really big, as you said before.”

“Very kind of you. Unfortunately, most of the stuff in it is
my imagination. I decided to quit.”

“I’m not flattering you. It’s very probable that what you
wrote is true.”

Lino was silent for a moment. “I don’t understand.”

“I can’t go into details. It’s from my work for the security
services. I believe the secret organization you write about is real and
active.”

“You’re wrong. There are many disturbed people who form or
join sects and so on. I wouldn’t waste more of my time on it. Take my advice.
Do the same.”

James realized that Lino wasn’t listening to what he was
saying to him at all. The way he behaved was unusual. Normally, he was quite
passionate about the subject. “Lino, what’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” Lino snapped. “My apologies for wasting
your time with useless writing … It’s getting late. We’ll talk some other
time.”