A Covenant with Death: The Peacock Trilogy - Book 3 (16 page)

Chapter 24

“Prepare to enter Balmoral,” Akbari said, as he rode next to his boss. The convoy of vehicles coming up from London seemed strange to onlookers. Rarely did vehicles travel on roads. Supersonics, elite aircraft, and pollution-free ocean craft were the main transportation methods. Ammad stood in the back seat of a converted limousine and waved to the workers on the 50,000 acre estate and those leaning out over the parapets of Balmoral Complex.

Ammad knew the significance of the place. Pendleton drew the highest ranking officials here when he married Laverna Smythe, the redheaded witch. Now Ammad had come to gloat. By all accounts, Pendleton and his family were still here, and with forceful persuasion, they would come to their senses and urge their followers to fall in line.

Of course, Pendleton didn’t know about Peacock’s escape. How could he? That would be Ammad’s calling card. Bow the knee and spare your wife. Ammad never studied the jinn or the black arts. Humans were made of clay, angels of light, and the jinn of smokeless fire. His education centered on the Twelve Imams and his role after them. He left the rest to Akbari.

A microphone was set just outside the entrance gate. Ammad disembarked his vehicle and approached the microphone, as Global Broadcasting interrupted their programming to broadcast his speech. “I am here at Balmoral today to meet with Arthur Pendleton, our former First Citizen, and forge a peaceful transition of government. I’ll receive a debriefing on matters of vital importance to the survival of our planet.”

#

As Ammad waxed eloquently, Hans Van Meer descended the staircase to the castle’s main floor. He, Ziebach, and their delegation proceeded out of the castle and onto the grounds in the center of the complex to wait for Ammad’s entrance.

“Be cordial and professional,” Ziebach instructed the entourage. “Give the bastard’s people the Global information they require. Say not one word about Arthur or his family. Answer any personal questions with a ‘You’ll have to speak to Mister Van Meer.’”

Van Meer stiffened as the doors to the outside of Balmoral Castle opened. What would Ammad do—try to convert him, imprison him, or torture him? None of those tactics would work. Van Meer’s training remained rock solid. He could withstand until death if need be.

Rotten piece of luck.

Ammad’s caravan entered the inner courtyard as huge crowds gathered. Here to see the spectacle, Van Meer thought. Akbari led the entrance procession followed by Ammad, who was surrounded by security personnel.

Akbari’s outfit seemed ridiculous to Van Meer—something straight out of the
Tales of the Arabian Nights
. On his robes, every symbol of Islam, the star and crescent moon in emerald and in gold and the Farsi name for Allah There was no question the half of the Global Realm under Ammad’s control would be a religious state.

Ammad had shed his Global attire for a Qutwani cloak, looking more like a Jew than a Persian. His white head-covering accentuated his tanned handsome face. Van Meer attempted to recall the significance of the clothing, but the sheer gaudiness of the procession distracted him.

As Akbari stood aside and Ammad strutted up to him, Van Meer said, “Where’s the party? Had I known I was to where a costume, I’d have put on my Richard the Lionhearted outfit.”

The expression Van Meer saw on his enemy’s face changed from an insincere smile to a scowl. Ammad glanced down, presumably checking to see if his microphone had been removed. “Watch your words, mouthpiece, if you value your life.”

In his many meetings with Ammad, Van Meer had never heard this voice before—deep, sinister, almost satanic. His body shivered from the sound. Not a person who believed in the angels or demons, Van Meer’s outlook received a blow to its core. Unbelievable evil had revealed itself. He’d trained for the physical world, not the supernatural. His spirit shriveled in an instant.

“Now shake my hand, smile, and we’ll go into the castle with my prime minister. The rest will stay outside.”

Van Meer did as instructed. He motioned to Ziebach to stay where he was. His jest about Richard the Lionhearted and the Crusades still stuck in his throat. Once inside Balmoral, Ammad headed into Van Meer’s office as though it were his own. “Where is Arthur Pendleton? Why does he insult me by sending his—how do you Brits put it—lackey to greet me?”

“I haven’t the foggiest where he is. He left a few days ago and hasn’t been heard from since.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Ammad swung into Van Meer’s leather chair and cracked his knuckles. “Where is his family then?”

“Gone as well. God knows where.” He told the truth. They were gone, and God, if there was a God, knew where. Van Meer did not.

Akbari seemed to grow in stature. He grabbed Van Meer by the nape of the neck and closed his eyes.

“He’s telling the truth,” he said to Ammad, releasing his grip on Van Meer.

“You, then, are the highest ranking official of the old guard left here.” Ammad’s icy stare froze Van Meer’s spirit. “You will sign this order officially ending his administration. Now!”

“It’s just a formality anyway,” Van Meer said and studied the document. “You’re not original. These are the exact same words used when bestowing power on Arthur.”

“They suit my purpose. He had the power to set up the Realm his way. Now I have the power to change the way the Realm operates.”

“Only half of it,” Van Meer quipped and signed the document.

“A temporary situation,” Ammad responded. He examined the signature closely. “So, will you make a public statement in support of my government?”

“No. But I won’t make a public statement against it.”

Ammad handed three books he had hidden inside his cloak to Van Meer. “Here are the Quran, the
Al Jafr
, and the
Tawrat
. I will allow you to educate yourself. Then I will demand a pledge or you will pay the consequences.”

Van Meer gulped as his enemies left. He owned a Bible. He’d read that first. With no power, no personal life, and his friends save Ziebach either dead or gone, he had the time.

#

“Who am I now?” Peacock asked the angel as she strolled along a path inside the Vatican Gardens.

“God calls you Donna.”

“Not Laverna Pendleton.” She laughed. She laughed a lot lately. “Of course not, Laverna Smythe Pendleton is a lie. I am who I was born to be.”

“You are almost transformed into the eternal.”

She saw the angel’s eyes glimmer gold and white.
“Only one more thing to do here. What you learned as Peacock will become profoundly important.”

“I still can’t believe God loves me so much.” She wanted to weep recalling her former life. “I’ve been the worst sinner in the world.”

The angel laughed. The sound seemed like water skipping over rocks.
“All who have repented feel that way. But God knew what you would do from before He created you. He knew you would turn to Him. You raised children who walk in His ways. You proclaim His name unashamed. You are not perfected, but you will be.”

She warmed. “Am I dead? Am I alive? I’m certainly not human anymore. Humans don’t go through solid matter.”

The angel patted her arm.
“You think too much. Let’s just say you are alive in a state far better than you were in before now.”

Well, his answer didn’t really explain things. She guessed it didn’t matter. She saw people and objects. Sometimes they saw her. But only when the angel allowed. A part of her wished she could go to God and sing at His throne. Another part desired to see her husband again. A vision entered her mind. She stood between her husband and the devil, and the devil could do no harm.

The angel pointed at one of several video screens set up around Vatican City.
“Listen and watch. Your husband is about to perform the last act God asks of him.”

“I’m proud of him,” she said. Her angel smiled.

Chapter 25

“Your network feed is up.” Cline pointed to Pendleton’s microphone. “Say what you have to say. I don’t know how long before the enemy cuts the line.”

Pendleton took a deep breath and stepped up to the microphone. He didn’t understand technology all that well. How this worked was a mystery to him. Here goes, he thought. “My fellow Christians in the faith, I believe all who are meant to hear me now hear my voice. Do not hesitate. Follow the orders of your pastors and our transportation crews. Leave this planet as soon as you are able. A new world awaits you. The biospheres will sustain you during your flight and beyond. Our scientists have created livable conditions in several underground locations on Mars.”

“You have maybe ten seconds,” Cline said. “The line is being disconnected.”

“Assembly of the biospheres to the motherships is going on now. Transports will be ready to shuttle you within a few hours.”

“Line’s cut.” Cline smiled a thin smile. “Good job.”

Pendleton threw his hook-up on the floor and shook his head. “That’s all I can do.”

“No, that’s not all.” Pope Peter hurried up to him and gave him a loving embrace. “You can prepare for the onslaught here in Rome and see that the shuttles clear every believer who wishes to go out of here.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“I have word from Balmoral.” Cline raised up his phone, showing a replay of Ammad’s speech. “Van Meer signed the official order turning power over to the devil.”

“Don’t blame him. He had no choice.” Pendleton bowed his head. “Pray for his soul.”

Cline’s body trembled. “Our London operations have been raided and Balmoral put up no resistance. But Rome and the Dallas Complex will be a bloody mess. The word from my sources says that large contingents of Global Security Forces are on their way across the Mediterranean Sea. They’ll come here. I imagine Ammad has another force heading to Dallas in North America.”

“How much time do you think we have?” Pope Peter asked.

“A week tops,” Cline said. “They’ll land, organize, and march north. We have some forces, the Swiss Guard and the Christian militias loyal to Pendleton. But they’ll only slow down the enemy.”

“Just so they slow them long enough for our people to board the transports,” Peter replied. “Workers are busy finishing a shuttle port at the Rome Central Supersonic Terminal. Non-Christians refuse to help, but they won’t hinder us for fear of reprisals.”

Pendleton’s cell buzzed, startling the three. “Yes?”

“It’s me, Hans.”

“I heard things have been rough for you.”

“He’s the devil. I felt the evil. I have nothing here to stop him. He’s going after you, Arthur. Run. If you stay in one place, Ammad will find you.”

Pendleton gulped. “How did you get to me? I thought you were blocked.”

“I called upon a friend in Beijing,” Van Meer said. “They’re still connected to Edison and programming security blocks to stop the enemy’s attempts to damage communications.”

“I need to speak to my children.” Pendleton inhaled a deep breath. “If they’re running the show on the evacuation, I need a status report.”

“George is connected to Chui’s people. You should be able to reach him.”

“I used my one chance. I don’t have another.”

“Have you ever called Harry? They should be together.”

Pendleton furrowed his brow. Why hadn’t he thought of that possibility? He had that call left. “Right you are. A call to Harry it is. And Hans take care of yourself.”

#

Connor jumped when Harry’s cell buzzed. Nerves frayed beyond her point of control, her training kicked in to steady her.

“Yes,” Harry said. He pulled his hand over the receiver and mouthed.
It’s Dad.

Harry handed the phone to Connor.

“Can I speak to George?”

“It’s me. George is working with the away sites on timing the shuttle flights.” The silence confirmed her feelings that
Dad
didn’t view her brother or herself as worthy to talk to. “Well?”

“All right. I need a status report. How ready are we to completely evacuate? I doubt we have more than a few days. Hans says a week tops.”

Connor heard her mother’s words from long ago when she was twelve. “Your dad loves you all equally, sweetie. But he can’t relate to women like he can to men. Only his mother will he listen to.”

“Not to you, Mom?” she’d asked.

“He’ll listen, and do what he wants to. But then, so do I.”

Connor sighed. “Most of the departure sites are set to go. But that’s because there’s no resistance coming. If you’re back in London, at Balmoral, Rome, or Dallas, it will be touch-and-go. He wants you, and he’ll kill anyone in his way to get to you. So, where are you?”

“Tell me where you are first.”

Ugh! Why was his need to know more important? But despite his manner, she loved him, and now wasn’t the time to challenge him. She’d been disobedient enough of late. “We’re with Edison outside Supai, Arizona with three hundred trained warriors, including Mom’s personal guards.”

“How did you know Edison’s location?”

“Cline gave George a general idea. And you know George. He didn’t tell anyone until it became necessary.”

“You’re in the right place, Connor, if you want to die for humanity. I’d prefer you live to a good old age.”

“Nonetheless, this is where we are. Thanks to Chui and his intelligence people, we discovered the actual coordinates.” She paused. If Chui could find Edison, eventually, Ammad could too. “So where are you?”

“I’m in Rome. Pope Peter is a fine host, and Thad Cline is with us.”

Connor added up where each family member was and concluded, “We’re in the worst possible places. Hans is in Balmoral, we’re here outside of Supai, and you’re in Rome with Cline and the Pope. Once Ammad finds out where Edison is, we’ll all be under attack.”

“Promise me. When it’s time to board a shuttle, you’ll go.”

“I promise, Dad.” The truth couldn’t be told. If she did her job, the last person to leave from her location would be her. “I’ll see you on the mothership.”

“Thanks for the update, sweetie. I’ll see you there.” He hung up.

Connor trembled. Where was her mother? She couldn’t duplicate herself and be in four places at once. She had her brothers, her husband, and Edison to protect. Because of their location, the shuttles would come to them last. Harry looked at her with a
left out again
mope on his face. She gave him a breath taking hug.

“You’re my hero, little brother. We can’t make it on Mars without you.”

#

Three large men wearing camouflage uniforms and Global Realm head coverings surrounded Hans Van Meer, a virtual captive in his own residence. Before him they had placed a live video feed. The screen showed Atash Akbari holding an axe over the head of Michael Ziebach.

“Where is Edison?’ he asked.

“I don’t know,” Ziebach spit. “I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

“One last chance.”

“Go to hell.” Ziebach closed his eyes. “Lord Jesus, receive my soul.”

Akbari swung his axe, cleaving off his head at the shoulders. The video faded to black.

“You have until tomorrow to give us the information we want,” one of the thugs in Van Meer’s room said, and the three men left.

Acid caused Van Meer to cough. Ziebach proved to be a loyal and faithful friend. These bastards were ruthless. If Christians were right, Van Meer’s soul was in trouble. He’d read the Bible and the books Ammad left him. He had some serious thinking to do and not very long to arrive at an answer.