A Sacred Storm (34 page)

“Can you do anything?” asked Cronin.

“I'm not sure,” said Stratton. “I'll give it a try. I just hope the world's in a good mood.”

Kandinsky opened his eyes and lifted his head slightly. “No,” he gasped. “Leave me. Let me go.” Blood sputtered out of his mouth as he choked.

“We're not leaving you,” said Cronin. “You'll make it. Stratton will look after you.”

Kandinsky shook his head again. “No,” he rattled. He reached down to his pocket and then moved his hand to his chest. He closed his eyes and spoke no more.

“Come on Stratton!” shouted Stella. “Do something!”

Stratton shook his head. “I can't,” he said. “He's gone. He wanted to go. I can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved.”

They all bowed their heads and fell silent, each with their own thoughts. Grady looked at the battered photograph clutched to the big man's heart. A solitary tear rolled down his cheek.

The twelve men that made up the council sat behind the crescent-shaped marble table and studied the Mahdi in silence. He had been summoned before them as a matter of routine to review all that had happened in the last two weeks. They were pleased with his progress, but equally wished to keep him from becoming too arrogant with his new power, and so had isolated him in the centre of the room a level lower than themselves to compound their authority. He sat there cross-legged waiting for them to start their questioning.

Eventually a grey-bearded man near the middle of the crescent began to speak. “Welcome, Assam,” he said gravely. “We have been following your progress most closely.”

“I hope that you are not displeased with my efforts.”

“We are not. We are satisfied with the situation thus far. You have done as we asked, and performed your tasks admirably. We do, however, have some concerns about the way we are headed.”

The Mahdi gave a single nod, but did not reply.

The grey beard continued. “Wherever you go the crowds have taken you to their hearts, of that there is no doubt. You have proved yourself beyond question to everyone that has seen you, or been healed by your hands. And so the word has spread that you are indeed the genuine redeemer, the Mahdi. Even those who thought the legend fictional are now converted. Throughout the Muslim world there is unshakeable belief that the time has come when the faithful shall be given their just reward by Allah.” He paused and looked around the table. “There is also a line of thinking that Allah will at last punish the infidels who have taken his name in vain and kept his children in fear and subjugation. The greedy West who take our lands by force, and the stubborn, cursed Jews who kill our brothers with impunity. These people and other enemies of Islam need to be brought to justice. Do you not agree?”

“I agree that the violence should stop.”

“You agree that the violence should stop? That is not the same thing. I am talking about justice.”

The Mahdi surveyed the stony faces around the table. There would be no allies for the stance he was about to take. “Perhaps we would be better served by a less vengeful attitude.”

The grey beard's eyes flashed with anger. “What!?” he thundered. “Are you trying to tell this council what to do? Are you trying to dictate our doctrine? We had an agreement, Assam. When you were chosen for this task you went in knowing full well what our intentions were. You cannot start changing now.”

“The intention was to free Allah's children and to bring his teachings to the world at large.”

“Yes, indeed it was. But we cannot free our brothers without rising up against our oppressors. All your speeches are about peace and forgiveness, which is admirable, but our immediate aim is to maintain our standing and to rid this world of those who do not wish to live under Allah's loving laws. It is almost as if you are oblivious to everything else that is going on in the world. We are at war with the West whether you like it or not. And now our enemy the Catholic Church grows mightier by the day. We need to be giving our brothers the strength and the heart to fight.”

“No,” countered the Mahdi. “We need to be giving our brothers the strength and the heart to lay down their arms. The force of mind and faith to bow before their enemies.”

The council murmured angrily. The grey beard echoed their sentiments. “This is madness!” he exclaimed. “We cannot give way to the West! We have lost too much already. They are wicked and will turn our lands into havens of sin and debauchery. Our people will be turned from their faith. The time has come to rise up in force against our dissolute enemies. It is the will of Allah.”

“I cannot agree,” said the Mahdi. “The will of Allah is to lay down our weapons and talk with our enemies.”

“We are not the aggressors here, Assam. We are the victims. The West have brought this war to us. They are the ones who wish to conquer the globe, not us. I agree that the Qur'an demands love and understanding, but it also permits defensive warfare. We will do no more than stand our ground, and once we have driven them away we will stop. This was all agreed.”

The Mahdi stood up, raising himself to the council's level. “I did not agree to incite violence in our people. My remit was to promote the true ideals of the Qur'an and Allah. I will continue to do only that.” His eyes went from one elder to the next, burning each with the intensity of his focus.

“Come now, Assam,” said the grey beard. “Please sit down. There is no point arguing amongst ourselves. We are on the same side – the side of Allah.”

“That is to be determined,” said the Mahdi. “I fear the council has strayed from the path.”

“I understand your concerns, but we have not strayed from any path. The coming of this bogus Christian Messiah means that we must alter our strategy. It is true that in an ideal world we would solve our differences peacefully, but this world of ours is far from ideal.”

The Mahdi continued to stand tall. “I will not be swayed on this. There will be no violence on our part. You say that defensive warfare is permitted by the Qur'an, and I do not deny this, but there has as yet been no act of aggression from the Catholic Church or anyone else in the West. And even if there were I am no longer sure if I can condone any form of combat.”

“Open your eyes, Assam!” said the grey beard. “Reports are coming through every day about attacks on our brothers in the West. The two mightiest religions on earth are both claiming the high ground – there is no escaping bloodshed. Do you want to see your brothers suffer? Is that your wish?”

“It is not my wish to see anyone suffer, be they Muslim or Christian or Jew or Sikh or whomever. As I said, I do not deny that the Qur'an permits defensive warfare, but my attitude towards this has changed. The power and the energy given to me by the symbols has shown me a new wisdom. There is no room for retaliation in the world of the future, we must do as the prophet Jesus said and: ‘if anyone hits you on the right cheek, then offer him the other as well'. This is the way forward for Islam and the world. After all, did not Muhammad himself accede to the demands of the Meccans, enabling him to take the city without bloodshed? That act of surrender empowered him with the true spirit of Allah that flows with inner peace. Islam is ‘surrender'.”

“We know very well what Islam means thank you, Assam, but it is not meant to be taken literally all the time. You must temper it with common sense. Offering no resistance to a man who is about to kill you will not save your life. The modern world is brutal and we must change with it, we must adapt to our environment.”

“The world of Muhammad was far more brutal than ours,” countered the Mahdi, “and look what he managed to do. We must go back to this fundamental tenet and lay ourselves bare to our enemies. We must throw down all weapons and engage the power of Allah and the universe. We will come to no harm.”

The grey beard slammed his hand down on the table. “Fool!” he yelled. “If you persist with this nonsense we will be destroyed! The Meccans in Muhammad's time may have been brutal but they were also deeply religious and believed in the power of Allah. It was the fear of Allah that stayed their hands. Do you think the West is afraid of God? Their leaders might be making a big show of faith in light of the emergence of the Messiah, but do they really believe? Do you really think the powers that be at the Pentagon are going to be scared of divine intervention? Once they see us back down they will crush us like ants. They will take everything that is holy and desecrate it with their immoral greed. Our people will be led down the path of capitalist evil. We cannot allow this to happen. We 
will
 not allow this to happen.”

“Then we are at an impasse,” said the Mahdi. “For too long we have manipulated the Qur'an for our own purpose, justifying our actions with false interpretations. The hatred must stop now. I will not incite our brothers to fight. That is my final word on the matter.” He stared firmly and unblinking at the grey beard, who replied thunderously.

“Just who do you think you are?! This council has the final say on all matters – not you! It was us who gave you the knowledge to become what you are, and you will do well to remember that. Without us you would be nothing; a nobody. You took an oath to serve us. Do not break it?”

“I took an oath to serve Allah's purpose not yours.”

“This council decides Allah's purpose It is made up of the wisest scholars in the whole of Islam. Are you suggesting that you are somehow more erudite than the twelve of us?”

“I am not suggesting anything,” said the Mahdi. “I am merely stating my cause. And I believe it to be just and right.”

“Then, as you say, we are at an impasse. I am not sure that we can let you go on. You must return the box and the parchment to us at once.”

“And what will that achieve?” asked the Mahdi. “You cannot suddenly produce a new redeemer. The people will not stand for it. You must let me continue with my work. I have united our faith, and we grow stronger by the day. You must trust in the course I am taking.”

The grey beard looked to his colleagues for guidance. He knew that removing the Mahdi was unfeasible, but equally he knew that their present course would lead to failure. The council, however, had no immediate answer to the stalemate either and he was forced to let the matter lie.

“I see that we are getting nowhere with this, Assam,” he said. “You have commitments to keep, and so we must let you go and keep them. But do not think that we are happy with the situation. There will come a time in the forthcoming weeks when we will have to make a stand, and I trust that when that time comes you will do what is best. In the meantime, think very carefully about what we have said.”

The Mahdi bowed to the council and left. The grey beard sat in silence meditating with his peers. As they had feared, Assam was already way beyond their control. The situation needed to be remedied, and soon.

Grady wiped his cheek and cleared his throat. “We'd better be getting out of here,” he said.

“I agree,” said Stone. “Someone's bound to find Davis soon, and when that happens the whole of Rome will be looking for us.”

Stratton looked up suspiciously at the newcomer.

“It's okay,” said Jennings. “He's with me. It's a long story. Let's just get a move on.”

“What about Kandinsky?” said Stella. “We can't just leave him here.”

“And what do you suggest?” asked Stone. “Where exactly are we going to put him?”

“In the boot of the car,” she answered.

Stone was about to shoot her idea down when he saw the look on the others' faces. Instead he decided to acquiesce. Between the six of them they carried the body through the trees to the car and folded it neatly into the spacious trunk. Jennings phoned the hotel and told Kandinsky's men to leave and meet them at the docks.

Stone drove cautiously through the city not wanting to attract attention. The enormity of what he was doing began to hit home. He'd crossed a line, there was no turning back. His career in the Met was over. He thought about his wife and daughter and how it would affect them. It would probably mean losing their comfortable life, but that was nothing compared to the harm he'd already caused them. At least this way they might be able to forgive him, and maybe carry on their lives with pride instead of shame.

They reached the docks without interference and carried Kandinsky's body to the waiting launch. The team from the hotel were already there, and within a couple of minutes they were speeding down the Tiber towards the open sea and the submarine. Stella sat next to Stratton at the back of the boat watching the city dwindle. There were a million and one things she wanted to say to him, but they could wait for a more appropriate moment.

“I can't believe he's dead,” she said, trying to break the awkward silence. “I thought he was almost indestructible.”

“So did I,” said Stratton. “Well, as far as anyone's indestructible. But he wanted to go, so there's nothing we could have done.”

“I know,” she said. “But it's still hard to take. It doesn't seem right his body just lying there. It's like he's created this giant void.”

“I didn't think you were that keen on him.”

“I wasn't at first. But once I got to know him better he grew on me. And how could I not like someone who put their life on the line to rescue me?”

Stratton felt the last words sticking four inches out of his back*. “Good point,” he said. “Are you trying to say something?”

“No,” she shrugged. “Why? Should I be?”

“No. Just checking.”

The conversation tailed off and the boat was left in silence, the drone of the motor lying heavily over Kandinsky's lifeless body. Jennings felt exhausted and drained of all emotion. Even the sight of Stratton and Stella sitting together failed to bother him. He leant back against the side of the boat and closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind of death.