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

Akbari fell to his knees as did Ammad.

“Here is the place where the Magi of old spoke to the spirits in
Jannah,
” Akbari said. He bowed low to the ground and chanted his mantra.

“Wait.” Ammad grabbed Akbari’s sleeve. “Allah forbids calling up a spirit.”

“This is the place
Jannah
meets earth.” Akbari pulled away. “I interpret the Quran differently. We will see. If nothing happens, nothing happens.”

There was no guile in Akbari’s voice. Who was Ammad to question his friend and his father’s closest adviser, even if the man was only six years his senior? Ammad remained silent. The chant continued—hypnotic and melodic. Gradually, the wind quieted and morphed into a clear whispering of voices. One voice spoke to Akbari. One voice spoke to him. The others echoed eerie murmurs of approval.

At first, images and concepts filled Ammad. Images of power and authority spun in his mind. He was to wait, bide his time, and use deception against the Enemy.

You are my herald. When you have been prepared for the defeat of the followers of Christ, I will reveal myself and reward you.

He saw the flags of Israel and the crossed keys of Saint Peter in flames, as the figure of the Egyptian God, Set, carrying an Ankh, loomed overhead.

I will give you the power to bring Jannah to Earth for a time. Convert the infidels, using the pleasures of the houri. Fulfill the desires of their hearts. This is your gift.

As quickly as the voices came, they vanished. Ammad wiped the sweat from his brow. Akbari knelt beside him trembling. He opened his eyes and bowed low to Ammad. “The Savior of Humanity Al-Imam al Mahdi.
You
are the Twelfth Imam.”

The words
The Canon is my word, the order is my deed, and the truth is my interior state,
rang in his head. Mohammad, the Prophet, must have spoken in the wind. Ammad knew one thing for sure. He was meant to do something great. The pride of being chosen mingled with the sorrow of losing his father.

“We must go back and bury my father, not run and hide.”

“Of course.” Akbari’s head tilted left and his eyes took on a questioning look. “You know what to say?”

“I do.” Ammad smiled with gratitude. “You shall be my spiritual advisor. But do not say the words
Twelfth Imam
again. The concept is misunderstood. I have been reborn, not hidden. And I only realized this now.”

“Then, lead on.”

#

Ammad gulped three deep breaths before Boardroom Global Admin A came into focus. He centered his gaze on the redheaded bitch, the She-Devil, who murdered his father. When the On-Air light flashed, he nodded to Pendleton, gaining pleasure in seeing the First Citizen’s wife scarred and dying a slow death. Only the inner circle knew of her cancer, and he prayed Allah would allow him the pleasure of murdering her when the time came.

“Good morning, First Citizen,” he said, feigning allegiance. “I bring some good news from the Island of Sumatra. Four hundred outsiders, mostly Muslims, have decided conditions are no longer suitable for them to survive without our help. They request citizenship.”

“Have they gone to the rebuilt Complex of Medan to register?”

“No, First Citizen.” Ammad said. “They fear the sight of the walls and the massive area of the Medan Complex. Several have had encounters with
your
security forces in the past and have been shot with stun guns.”

Pendleton’s hand moved to his chin. “They must base within a complex, be tested, and secured into work details before being allowed to work or travel outside a complex of the Realm. Can we acclimate these people in stages?”

The First Citizen blabbed nonsense unworthy of Ammad’s time. But not for long. His wait was nearly over. Victory over this madman was only a matter of weeks away.

“We could bring them to a holding area outside the complex,” Ammad answered. “Test them, put them to work in the fields near Medan, and after a month, bring them inside the gates.”

“Agreed.”

Ammad had cultivated over a thousand such groups, indoctrinating them into
Al-jihad fi sabilillah,
readying them to strike for the cause of Allah. That time was now.

As the meeting progressed, the redheaded bitch jotted down notes. This irritated Ammad. A man of Pendleton’s stature protected and aided by a
woman
—unfathomable. But, he wouldn’t have to put up with these infidels much longer. The First Citizen had relaxed his vigilance since his mentor, Milton Rogers, died. Ammad smirked.

He won’t know what’s coming until it’s too late.

Chapter 3

After a long day of meetings, a cool shower refreshed Laverna. Her disease hadn’t hindered her ability to keep fit and give sound advice to Arthur on things she could recall. She worked out with the team her daughter Connor assigned to protect the First Citizen—Peacock’s old team of Shin Mao Ming, Sharesca Baidya, (nicknamed Cher), and Klaus Bruegman. Five times in an average week, Laverna played Peacock again hiding her pain and puffing through the full unit training exercise.

This, however, wasn’t an average week. Tomorrow, she and Arthur would head to Cape Prince of Wales, Alaska to christen the third Bering Sea Cargo Bridge. The oceans were pristine to the eye. To pollute them as they were recovering would be criminal. Moving cargo across the strait by truck linked together most of the world. This final bridge guaranteed cargo ships would never again sail the Pacific.

She grabbed a towel and slipped into bed next to Arthur. He caressed her as she satisfied him. Her mind and body pleasured him with energy and drive equal to her best years. She understood from the Bible that sex was a gift from God to mankind and was to be enjoyed by husband and wife. She had confessed to God all her many indiscretions and been forgiven.

Arthur nuzzled her close afterward, running his fingers along the scarred ruts lining her cheeks—compliments of Beatrice Kolb.

“Now tell me what vision you saw this time,” he said.

“My gut tells me I saw an angel.”

“That’s what you said the last four times.”

“I don’t remember those times. I wish...”

A sigh escaped her lips.

“All right now,” he whispered. “Whatever you’ve seen or heard has hit
spot on
. I think you hallucinate. And because you’re brilliant, you’ve been right. So speak to me my oracle.”

“The angel said, ‘God commands you to warn your husband his rule is ending. He is to follow God’s instruction and ready true believers for the Lord’s return.’”

“Ouch!” Arthur’s face reddened. He shot up straight. “I know you want me to step down. But I’d be a lunatic to off and declared the end of the world. I couldn’t pull it off. It’s a huge undertaking to even identify
true believers
.”

“Not for you. You reorganized the whole world with lightning speed.”

Her husband’s shoulders drooped. “I’ll have to think on this. Right now all I can visualize is walking through complex after complex with a sign reading, ‘Repent! The End Is Near!’ Maybe I should grow a beard and wear a goatskin tunic. I’m not prepared for the task.”

Laverna wrung her hands. “I’m frightened. I feel so inadequate, and I don’t trust myself with the way my brain functions. But I believe I’m speaking the truth.”

“I love you, but I don’t trust this vision.” He stroked her hand, and her neck relaxed. “The first time you came to me, you told me to evacuate parts of Boston and New York and move the residents inland. I refused until our own oceanographers explained the science to me.”

She chuckled. “I get so confused. I know the rising oceans flooded the coast, but I didn’t know I warned you it would happen.”

“That’s the thing. You never give me details. Maybe that’s how God tests my faith. Until I learned differently, my best scientists thought dikes were the answer. Dikes would have been a disaster. So how do I accomplish this noble task?”

“Nano 7,” Laverna said, brushing her hair back from her eyes. All citizens wore a thin wristband used for incoming transmissions. Selective executive levels accessed outgoing lines for Realm purposes only. A ten-contact personal communication device completed the Realm’s citizen access. “Spreading the word to believers could happen instantly through the Global Communications Center’s Nano 7 technology.”

She couldn’t explain why those words came out of her mouth. She had little idea of what Nano 7 was. Duh. She glanced to see if an angel had appeared. There was none.

“Dangerous,” Arthur replied. “Too much chance of being labeled a loony. A call for testing could occur in a fortnight. If the results were close, I might be deposed.”

“We could visit the predominately Christian cities and make direct appeals to the Christian leadership.” She leaned in close, reached beneath the covers to rub his thigh, and whispered, “Give the idea some thought.”

Arthur squeezed her gently. “You’re a temptress. Now let’s get to sleep. Tomorrow we go ‘round the world.”

Tomorrow. Yes. Her people were ready, but she wanted confirmation about her vision. After Arthur fell asleep, she dialed the team’s dorm. Bruegman answered with a gruff, “What? It’s midnight.”

“Sorry to bother you, Klaus, but I need to speak to Cher.” Bruegman pounded on a door, and she heard Cher grab the phone.

“I am here.” A typical response from her best friend save for Felicia Van Meer.

“Sorry to wake you. I needed to talk.”

“I was doing yoga. I’ll sleep later.”

“I had another vision.” Laverna sighed. “Arthur doesn’t believe I have them. But I do. I even mentioned Nano 7, and I don’t remember why I know what it is.”

Cher chuckled. “What else is new? Men never listen. My family never listened to women until I beat the crap out of my brothers. As to your visions, my Christian faith and former Buddhist upbringing tell me to judge the outcome. If God is behind them, you will always be right.”

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“Well, don’t get mushy. I’m not going to hug you.”

Laverna relaxed. “Go back to your yoga. Thanks for the reassurance.”

A glance at the clock said she had to get to sleep. Where she was going the next day escaped her.

#

Walking a thin line between belief and doubt, Pendleton formulated a plan to test both. He rolled out of bed at 2 a.m. Physicians knew their work had no time limits. He rang up Laverna’s doctor.

“First Citizen,” the doctor mumbled. “To what do I owe this untimely call?”

“Another hallucination. Now she thinks Jesus is coming back soon, and I’m to drop everything to prepare a welcome or something. How is the work coming along on restoring her memory and curing her cancer?”

“My word, Arthur. You can’t rush science.” His chuckle irritated Pendleton. “My opinion, a child born today will live 100 years. Your wife will not. Genomic advances work miracles, but they can’t create areas that have been eradicated. Kolb’s to blame for that. The short-term memory will never be restored in your wife. The cancer is slowed, but inoperable. One more year will verify my opinion.”

“You’re no bloody help.” Pendleton’s jaw tightened. “Are you telling me she’ll be dead in a year?”

“Ah, shoot the messenger, and do it at 2:15 a.m.” A yawn accompanied the words. “In a year, Laverna will either be dead or mimic severe Alzheimer’s.”

“What do you think of these visions she has?”

“Four visions—four direct hits. She’s remarkable. I don’t try to speculate on where she obtains her inspiration. The divine, however, I’d put last on the list. But go with the facts. She hits the target.”

Pendleton hung up and pounded his fists on his armchair. He’d done everything medically possible to save her life. The least he could do was act like he believed her. After the trip to the Bering Strait, he’d call for a conference of Christian pastors. He’d suggest we live as though God was coming tomorrow. He’d set
God’s
plan in motion. How hard could it be to pull Christian leaders from 30,000 Complexes of the Realm into a meeting? He would make his wife’s request his mission to fulfill, even if he looked silly doing it. The First Citizen works miracles daily, he thought. What’s another,
if
it’s the Lord’s doing?

#

“Zip up my outfit, Obie dear. The head of my family’s security team is required to appear smashing at all times.” Connor Ann Uba strutted into the living room of her suite in London’s Global Quarters, a quadrant reserved for gold and silver level Realm personnel.

Her husband of two months, Obadiah Uba, Director of Agriculture for the London of the Realm Complex, zipped her up and gave her a pat on the behind. “Don’t be gone long. I’ll miss you. I miss you already, especially your charming ways.”

“It’s the animal in you I’ll miss.” She rubbed his shoulders and snuggled up to her Nigerian husband, adoring his massive arms and bulwark of a chest. “I’m at my father’s command, and he’s heading to the Bering Straits with Mum. She’s the one I need to watch. I’ll miss you, too.”

“I suppose you will.” He grinned. “I’ll keep busy managing the planting crews. We’ve nectarines and grapes to harvest this week. Keeps your Obie busy.”

The sweet aura of being a newlywed still flowed through Connor. Taught by her mother that sex was made by God and anything God made was good, she embraced her husband eagerly. Unlike her mother’s former life, she gave herself to one man only as God instructed. If she had her way, she’d take her husband to Aruba and get herself pregnant. Alas, that was not to be. Her duty to the Realm superseded everything else.

Connor kissed his full, moist lips and hurried out the door. Just outside, she stopped to bask in the beauty of the gold, emerald, and diamond-studded granite walls lining her path to the main floor transport. When she lived in Zurich, she’d watched that city transform, mixing some of the traditional old with the remarkable new. Like now, her family’s living quarters were decent, but only a few embellishments better than a service worker’s. Citizens of the Realm enjoyed all its benefits for which she thanked her father.

Located on the 55
th
floor northwest corner’s outer wall, Connor’s suite and surrounding hallway glowed with reflected sunlight from the iridescent dome covering this part of the complex. One of five cities of 200,000 people, each having London in its name, The London of the Realm Complex sat where the old city of Reading used to be. The old London had disappeared into rubble a decade earlier, save for the historical buildings. The Thames had become part of the English Channel and many buildings submerged into the deep.

Hans Van Meer and his wife Felicia met her at the Transport.

“Be nice to your father this trip,
Busty Rusty
.” Van Meer quipped.

“I hate that nickname, whether you’re my dad’s best friend or not.” Connor gave her godfather a loving tap on the shoulder and boarded the transport. “He’s rarely nice to me. He never accepted Obi, and I challenge him.”

“You are well endowed, Honey,” Felicia quipped. “And no man is ever good enough for a megalomaniac’s daughter.”

“Well, you have the megalomaniac part right.” Connor said, then changed the subject to keep her from going ballistic talking about her father. “I hear we have some serious issues surrounding the Global Complex of Jerusalem again.”

“Twelve Holy Land cities, actually. Religious factions always believe test scores and management decisions unfairly target them. I’ve advised your father to transfer Muslim and Jewish citizens out of those cities and replace them with Hindus. He hasn’t responded.”

Felicia grinned as she pushed the Down button. “Lovey and Arthur won’t take citizens from a land God gave them in the first place, and he won’t treat Muslims like second-class peons by transferring them. The man isn’t prejudiced.”

“He won’t confront al-Sistani, you mean.” Connor’s comment received no reply.

In seconds, the transport opened on the public floor. The twelve square-mile complex sprawled out before them. Broad avenues led to all the conveniences humanity required. Connor checked her watch, an automatic chronograph with so many features the user had to program their
twelve most needed
contacts into it and keep the online manual on their computer for reference to other uses. Women wore the garnet-inlaid silver and men wore gold—one style sufficed for all.

Conner pulled a low hanging apple off a tree near the transportation district. “Obie’s harvesting fruit while I’m gone. Gives the man something to focus on.”

“I’ll bet you’re proud of him,
Red
. Our complex is almost self-sufficient.” Felicia Van Meer flashed her badge and the doors to the Supersonic Rail System opened. “Your husband’s doing a bang-up job. We only import wheat and corn. Tell him how valuable he is.”

“He’s a winner.” Connor entered, turned left, and swung into her seat. She fastened the safety harness and pressed an overhead button. Within seconds, a cup of coffee appeared on the tray table in front of her, steaming and ready to drink. “He hates it when I go on a mission.”

“He’s horny,” Felicia quipped.

“Always,” Connor said. “But he worries about my safety.”

“He shouldn’t worry.” Van Meer turned on his overhead light and spread out a map on his tray table. “You’re as deadly as your mother was in her time. And I should know. I trained you both.”

“Never,” Connor replied. “My mother’s the best. Even disabled, she outperforms the rookies.”

“You outperform everyone.” Van Meer traced their route with his finger. “At nine hundred kilometers an hour, we’ll arrive at our destination in ten hours tops.”

“Onboarding personnel,” The sterile words echoed from an overhead audio system.

Through the Supersonic’s entry-doors strutted her mother’s security team, Shin Mao Ming leading the way followed by Sharesca Baidya, nicknamed Cher, and Klaus Bruegman. The Three Musketeers, Connor dubbed them. She’d assigned them to her mother when she replaced her as Director of Security for Global Realm top-level personnel, since they had protected Peacock for a quarter of a century. She reassigned Loomis and Magnus due to age to less active positions.