A Sacred Storm (52 page)

Paul rose to his feet and held a hand out for his friend. “Who knows,” he said. “But let's just enjoy the peace while it lasts. Come on, we'll go and see if anyone needs help.”

They walked slowly across the damp tarmac and breathed in the calming air. The storm had passed and in a few hours a new dawn would be on its way.

James Mackenzie held his daughter close and stroked her hair. His previous serenity had gradually waned as the missiles drew closer. Now his calm demeanour was only an act to strengthen the spirit of his staff, and to keep his little girl from breaking down in tears. As the enormity of what was about to happen hit home, he wondered what the hell he had been thinking when he decided not to take action against the Muslims. The theory had been sound, but the reality was that he had just consigned himself, and the nation he'd sworn to protect, to certain oblivion. He winced as the clock ticked down towards the first strike on New York City. 10…9…8…7…

…As the clock reached 6 he began to shake. At 5 he felt his stomach turn. 4…3…2…1. The missile disappeared from the screen and he hung his head.

For a few seconds there was silence, and then one of his junior aides began to shout. “I don't believe it! I just don't believe it!” he hollered excitedly.

Mackenzie turned and gave the aide a confused frown. “What are you talking about?”

“They've gone!” he whooped. “Look! They've all gone.”

Mackenzie looked at the screen and tried to fathom what was causing the commotion.

The aide grabbed his arm and pointed. “Look, Mr President! Look! The missiles, they've all disappeared!”

Mackenzie inspected the screen once more and realized that the aide was right: it was just a blank map without any blips. He tapped the monitor to check it was working. “Where have they gone?” he asked. “They can't have just vanished into thin air. Someone get New York on the phone and find out if it's still there!”

The room buzzed with activity as operators and military chiefs made calls to posts around the nation, attempting to verify the condition of the attack. It was quickly confirmed that New York was indeed very much still standing, and that all missiles had disappeared completely.

For a while Mackenzie was too stunned to speak. Like the rest of the room he was finding it hard to come to terms with what had just happened. They had witnessed the impossible: a full-blown, bona fide miracle.

General Perry came over and offered his palm. “Well, Mr President,” he said. “I guess I owe you an apology. You were right. God dammit, you were right.”

Mackenzie smiled and shook his hand. “There's no need to apologize, General. I'm just glad we're all still in one piece.”

His daughter tugged at his sleeve. “Does this mean we're going to be okay, Daddy? We're not going to die?”

“No sweetie, we're not going to die, nobody is. Not today.”

When Jennings came to the world seemed particularly dark. A crowd had begun to gather round and were gazing ruefully at the shattered remains of what used to be St Peter's Basilica. He could hear them muttering in Italian, but had no idea what they were saying. He sat up and tried to refocus his vision.

Next to him Stella was still unconscious. He reached across and gave her a small nudge to wake her up. Her eyes fluttered lightly and she lifted her head. “What the hell was that?” she muttered.

“I've got no idea,” said Jennings. “But it's laid waste to the basilica. There's hardly anything left of it.”

Stella sat up and rubbed her eyes and stared out into the rubble. She started to cry. Jennings put an arm around her shoulder. He wanted to say something but couldn't find any words.

“It's only a building,” said a voice from behind. “It's not like anybody's died, is it?”

Jennings whipped his head round, almost ripping his neck from his body. Above him, smiling as if nothing had happened, was the familiar figure of Stratton. A little bit dusty with part-shredded clothes, but definitely Stratton. Jennings opened his mouth wide.

“Did you see the light?” asked Stratton. “It was amazing wasn't it?”

Stella looked back through watery eyes and saw him standing there. She paused for a moment taking it in, and then leapt to her feet and threw her arms around him.

Jennings got up and stretched his legs. “How the hell did you get out?” he asked.

“Through the front doors,” said Stratton.

“But I saw them slam shut,” said Jennings.

“They did,” said Stratton. “But when the light hit they opened again. I was thrown out with the rest of the debris. It was quite cool actually. A bit like flying.”

Stella loosened her hug and wiped her eyes. “What about Christiano?” she asked.

Stratton shook his head sadly. “He's gone.”

Jennings moved his head from side to side to free his stiff neck. “So what exactly was that light then?” he asked. “Was it God?”

“Perhaps,” said Stratton. “If that's the way people want to perceive it. But to me it's just energy. Christiano called on it, but he just couldn't cope with the intensity. He was too twisted inside. Corrupted by his own power.”

“Poor bloke,” said Jennings.

“Yeah, it's a shame. It wasn't even his fault. If it wasn't for this power-hungry Church then he'd still be alive. Still, I think their days are numbered now.”

“You think this is the end for them?”

“Perhaps.”

Jennings stared at the flattened basilica. “It's a shame about the building though. It was absolutely beautiful.”

“It was,” said Stratton. “But it symbolized something that had become rotten to the core. It's foundations were built on fear, and as you said – there's no need to be afraid anymore.”

Jennings saw Cronin and Sophia through a gap in the crowd and headed over to see if they were alright. Stratton and Stella stood side by side and watched as the police and fire brigade approached the basilica.

“I wonder if they'll rebuild it,” she said.

“I'm not sure they could,” said Stratton. “It'd probably be too expensive. It wouldn't be the same anyway.”

Stella sighed. “So what do we do now? Is this the end of it all?”

“It is an end. But mostly it's a beginning. It's a time to start again.”

“Does that mean for you and me as well?”

“For everyone.”

“I meant…”

Stratton turned to her and smiled. “I know what you meant. But I don't think that's what you want anymore, is it?”

“I just thought maybe—”

He took her hand. “We're done now, Stella, you and I. We live in different worlds. I know what you want, and it certainly isn't me. You want to be married, have children, and enjoy a normal life. I can't give you all that anymore. And even if I could, can you honestly say that you'd want me to?” He paused. Stella remained silent. “I think if you delve down deep enough into your heart you'll realize that you've moved on already. The only reason you're confused is because of some misplaced loyalty to me. A history doesn't oblige you to love someone more than another – love doesn't know time.”

Stella looked into Stratton's eyes and for the first time in ages her emotions were perfectly clear. He was right, about everything. “Thank you,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Don't mention it. Now, why don't you go and start the rest of your life.”

Stella kissed him once again and hugged him. Then she turned and made her way through the crowd.

Jennings watched Pat Cronin accompany Sophia onto the ambulance and then walked out into the square for some fresh air. The crowd was now almost a multitude, and it was becoming impossible to think. His head still hurt from the flash of unbearable light, and the questions kept bouncing through his brain. So many questions. Too many questions. And on top of it all there was Stella. It came to him that in the heat of disaster he had openly declared his love for her. At the time it had seemed the natural thing to do. But now, in the aftermath, it felt like the biggest mistake of his life. What the hell had possessed him to say such a thing? It was abundantly clear that she was in love with Stratton, and that he, Jennings, was just a ‘good friend', maybe more like a brother to her than anything else. And even that link would disappear now that he'd opened his big mouth. Everything between them would be stilted and awkward, with Stella feeling uncomfortable around him. Perhaps it would be better if he just disappeared. Perhaps he should just walk out of the square and never look back, like Bogart at the end of
Casablanca
. Determined not to hang around like a lovesick fool, he steeled himself and began to do just that.

After no more than ten paces a hand tapped lightly on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Jennings turned to see Stella standing with a concerned look on her face. He gathered himself together. “Yeah, I'm fine,” he said. “I thought I might get out of here. I'm getting a bit claustrophobic.”

“Weren't you going to let me know?”

“You were busy with Stratton, and I thought it was better just to leave you guys alone. I thought you probably needed a bit of time to yourselves.”

“I suppose we did. But we're done now.”

Jennings looked into her eyes and felt his heart melting. “Anyway,” he said, cutting off his emotions. “You needn't worry, I'll be fine. I'll catch up with you guys tomorrow or something. I'm going to see if they've got any rooms left at the Parco dei Principi.”

“Oh, right,” said Stella. “Maybe I can come with you. I'm pretty exhausted myself.”

Jennings sighed. “Okay. Go and get Stratton and I'll wait here for you.”

“Why would I need to get Stratton?”

“I just thought…”

Stella took Jennings' hands in her own and drew him close. “I know what you thought,” she whispered. “But maybe you ought to stop thinking. It's not getting us anywhere.”

She cupped his neck softly and they kissed for the first time.

In the two months since what had become known as ‘The Day of Miracles', Jennings had hardly had time to sleep. After being completely exonerated of all charges relating to the death of Appleby, he had been rightly reinstated. His life had then been swamped with media interviews, government investigations, internal reports, and general day-to-day mayhem. His testimony had been crucial in bringing legal action against the Prime Minister, and he had also been instrumental in clearing the name of former murderer Tracey Tressel. His influence had even stretched to allowing Andrew Stone immunity for his part in the scandal.

The world as a whole had yet to fully come to terms with what had happened that day. The beams of light that had struck all around the globe were still being talked about and debated by every newspaper, TV and radio station, and internet site on earth. Some said it was God; some said it was Allah; some said it was the universe; and some said it was aliens. But whatever their viewpoint most agreed that it was a message to stop the bloodshed. The lights had only appeared where people had thrown down their weapons.

As Jennings reclined in his first-class seat he wondered whether it really was an end to warfare, or whether the current armistice was just a fleeting reaction. Perhaps when the impact of the miracles had subsided, people might forget and resume their petty grievances against one another. That was something to address in the future, however, because right now all he wanted think about was enjoying a well-earned holiday.

Next to him Stella was sipping a glass of champagne and nibbling a smoked salmon sandwich. Of all the things that were right in his life, she was the most perfect. Ever since that first kiss in St Peter's Square his existence had taken on a whole new meaning. Every day he woke up and pinched himself to check that he wasn't dreaming. It hadn't all been plain sailing as they'd both been busy, but the bond that linked them was such that no amount of time apart could come between them.

“Aren't you going to have any champagne?” she asked him.

“Maybe in a bit,” he said. “I'm just enjoying the moment.” He smiled and took her hand.

They touched down at LA-X just before midday. After passing easily through customs they were met at the exit by a smart driver holding up a card with Jennings' name on. He led them to a long, blacked-out limousine. Waiting for them in the back was a bottle of Dom Perignon on ice.

“Mr Romano's at the studio right now,” said the driver. “He said that you can either meet him there or go straight up to the house.”

“I think we'll go to the studio,” said Jennings. He turned to Stella who nodded eagerly.

“No problem, sir,” said the driver. He rolled up the privacy screen.

Jennings opened the champagne and poured them both a glass. He'd only had a couple of sips on the plane, but now they were in LA he felt like his holiday had really begun. He raised a toast to Grant Romano and his fantastic hospitality.

At the studio they were greeted by Romano's personal assistant and whisked round to the film set on a buggy. The Californian sun blazed down from on high.

The indoor set was alive with technical staff and runners and actors. Jennings recognized a couple of big names hovering in the background waiting to be called for their take. He looked around for Romano and saw him giving instructions to one of the cameramen. Romano turned and saw them and cut his conversation short.

“Jennings!” he said, rushing over to greet them. “It's great to see you, buddy!” He opened his arms and gave him a hug. “And this must be the beautiful Stella. I've heard all about you.”

Stella blushed as he kissed her cheek.

“Come on,” said Romano. “I've saved you a couple of seats. You'll have a great view of the action.”