A Covenant with Death: The Peacock Trilogy - Book 3 (9 page)

Chapter 12

First Citizen Arthur Pendleton flung a wastebasket across his boardroom. It bounced harmlessly off the solid rock wall. “Dammit. I wish something would break.”

“You say that every time you get mad. Pull yourself together. You have a meeting with your family and staff.” Van Meer straightened up the room and buzzed Duarte.”

“Send in the family.”

Connor entered first, eyes flaming red and hips swiveling.

“I love it when you’re intense, Busty Rusty.” Van Meer said with a wink accompanying. He gave her a pat on the behind.

“Seriously, pervert,” Connor scooted away. “Felicia hasn’t been gone that long.”

“Ouch.” Van Meer’s face reddened.

One thing his daughter learned from her mother was how to handle men—one tough woman, that one. George strutted in behind her, self-assured and handsome. He never desired a position of political power much to Pendleton’s dismay. He craved the adventure of space exploration and commanded the respect of the top astrophysicists in the world. Ah, Pendleton thought. Now for the
tree hugger
.

Strolling in, hands in his pockets, his Global Realm shirt sticking out of his pants in the back, Harry Pendleton offered a nod, and said, “The prodigal returns home.”

“Harry,” his father answered, wondering how someone so brilliant could be so laid back. “How was your trip in from Kampala?”

“Concerning.” Harry wiped curly red strands off his forehead. “I viewed the damage to three major complexes from the Supersonic. They’re built to last. But how many missiles did we waste fighting that—skirmish, police action, or thingamabob?”

Pendleton grumbled. “There are times I wish the things I do would just be accepted for what they are. We defended ourselves.”

“As I see it, we’re leading in the death count. Is that what you want the world to know?”

“Well, no.” Pendleton rubbed his lower jaw and cut off the conversation, as Duarte entered, notepad in hand. “We have little time to waste,” he continued. “Allow me to bring you up to speed. Ammad requests a competency challenge and vote. He has your mother, and by the law of the Realm, I can’t refuse even if he didn’t have her.”

Connor blurted out. “The bastard woos the Jews. Chui will remain neutral or run against you both. If Ammad wins, there will be religious war and persecution, as we have never seen. I say we destroy him.”

“I agree with your daughter.” Van Meer sighed. “Find him and destroy him, before the Global Realm falls from within.”

“It’s not just Ammad. Over one-third of the world has already been influence by him.” Pendleton shrugged. “Kill one radical and you create millions more. We had that situation before I blew up half the world.”

“We’ll have it again if you don’t act now,” Connor said.

“No.” Pendleton had already mulled over his options. He remained resolute. “My plan worked. An improved humanity runs this planet, except for the fanatics. The system requires we practice what we preach. Last night I prayed. Your mother had a vision of the coming of Christ. She told me to prepare the Christian believers for His coming, not kill more people. That is exactly what I’m going to do. Prepare believers.”

“Poppycock,” Van Meer blurted out.

“No. He speaks wisdom.” George Pendleton stood, pulled himself full height, and flexed. Brilliant, good looking, and persuasive, this Pendleton carried himself with assuredness. “If we have no dignity, we have nothing. However, we must plan for all eventualities. We win, someone other than Ammad wins, or Ammad wins. Worst-case scenario, Ammad wins and declares
Jihad
on Christianity. What would our game plan be?”

Van Meer bristled. “How the bloody hell could Ammad win?”

“I asked. What if he does win?”

Silence. But Pendleton’s smile broadened.

“We leave.” George passed out detailed diagrams of the number, size, and locations of transport shuttles around the globe. “I head up the sub-surface colonization branch of Mars Research Program Warlord. Presently, we have thirty environmentally sound human biospheres being readied for departure to Mars. Our advance teams have equipment in place on the Martian surface and have started building underground complexes similar to our Earth Complexes.”

“If Christianity is threatened, how many people would those ships hold?”

“Each has room for over a hundred thousand onboard, plus the orbiting Space Complexes hold thirty thousand each. They’re miniature cities in themselves.” George placed his hands on his hips. “There are Earth shuttles capable of transporting us up. A few million Christians could leave soon with the proper planning.”

“How soon is soon?” Pendleton asked.

“We could be ready in two months.”

It wasn’t what the Bible said should happen. But with the Christian leadership already alerted, what difference did it make whether Christ came to Earth, or Christians left the Earth? The latter, not being the preferred plan, but a sensible one. Either way, Christians would be safe.

Pendleton smiled. “My orders to all Christian leaders are to prepare for Christ’s coming through prayer and peaceful spreading of the Gospel. I’ll add that as many as possible be ready to evacuate at a moments’ notice, if world conditions warrant.”

“Understand a few million represents only a fraction of believers.” George sighed. “I’d hate to be you, Father.”

Duarte rose. “I’ll prepare the necessary communiqués for your signature, First Citizen.” As he stepped toward the door, he said. “The word will eventually get out.”

“Hopefully not, at least until after the election.”

As Duarte left, Michael Ziebach came in and rolled his wheelchair up next to his boss, Van Meer. He handed him a file and stayed at his side.

“Preparing for an evacuation is only a precaution,” Harry managed. “You aren’t going to lose the challenge.”

Pendleton slumped. “I don’t know that I will or I won’t. Look at what’s happened without my knowledge.” His eyes moistened.  “I lost Milton. He was my eyes and ears on the changes going on in the world. Sir Jarvis Franks developed Alzheimer’s disease. Over time, I relaxed, overconfident since we were making such positive progress.”

Connor folded her father’s hand in hers. She could be a nasty witch or a loving daddy’s girl. He never knew to whom he’d be talking. “Specifically, how do we precede, Dad?”

“Here’s the plan,” he said, as she helped him to his feet. Slightly off balance, he steadied himself with his hand on the table. “First, set September 12
th
as the date for the vote. Set the date of the competency challenge for September 6
th
. Second, notify all Tier 1 executives they must apply by September 5
th
. How many Tier 1 Executives are eligible?”

Duarte reentered the room and answered, “Fourteen, besides yourself, First Citizen. The twelve governors, Mr. al-Sistani, and Mr. Van Meer.”

“Four will run.” Van Meer pushed his chair back and tossed a foot up on Pendleton’s best boardroom table. “Ammad, Chui, Arthur, and me.” He pointed a finger at his boss. “Let’s even the odds.”

Pendleton cocked his head, but didn’t respond.
Let’s even the odds?

“Hans, alert all our governors to prepare their defenses just in case. Arm defensive weaponry, and reinforce complex perimeters with a second line of concrete barriers. Connor, provide increased protection for Van Meer and myself until after the election. Finally, George, full speed ahead with preparing both the remaining Space Complexes and the shuttles for Martian colonization.”

“I’ll start the preparations,” Ziebach said.

“Begin by developing a combat plan for me, Michael.” Van Meer said, and shook his head. “I’m not a military strategist.”

Ziebach grinned. As Polaris working for Hercules, he exceeded most in offensive strategy. Defense, not so much.

“You forgot me, Dad,” Harry said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Of course, I’m invisible to you most of the time.”

“I need Harry.” George stepped to his brother’s side. “To achieve the optimum from the biospheres for sustaining life, Harry’s knowledge is vital.”

I guess I’m not one to toss out compliments, Pendleton thought. “I’m proud of every one of my children.”

He gave Harry a nod.
Unfortunate none of them qualify to run against me
. Maybe one day in the future, however long the future would be, a grandchild would wish to rule. “Harry, follow your brother’s directions. Now, let’s prepare.”

#

Connor Uba arrived back at the London Complex for looking forward to a day’s rest. Then she would be about the task of providing each candidate for First Citizen the full protection of the Global Realm Security Forces. The lack of evidence of another planned attack had her wondering what the purpose was for Ammad’s missile strike. Within a minute, the terror in the eyes of the average citizen cleared up the question. Global citizens’ faith in their security had been shaken.

Yet, only a few complexes experienced the bombardment. The rest of the world knew nothing about it, save for the Muslim Complexes, which only heard the version Ammad sold them. Connor clenched her fists. Ammad had created the ideal time for a play to become First Citizen. Upwards of 90,000 deaths, mostly Muslims, assured him of their vote.

When she flew through the open bedroom door, Obie was on his communications cell. She planted a kiss on his cheek and heard him grunt a reluctant, “Yes. I’ll prepare to leave August 30
th
. But you’ll have to clear this with the Complex Administrator.”

A few more grunts and he hung up.

“Your brother, Harry, commands me to some secret meeting near the San Diego Complex. I leave in a week.”

“Yes, I know.” She rushed to the bathroom and undressed. “We’ll talk about the world situation later. I’m horny as hell. So be prepared after I clean up.”

“Yes, my love. Your Obie is always at your service.”

Chapter 13

Still shackled at her feet, Peacock stumbled out of the hole that was 9 lower level. Forced to wear a burka, she dragged herself along the hallways and up several flights of stairs for what seemed to be an eternity, following a hairy male guard who smelled of garlic. She reached the upper level of Cell Block 42. Prisoners of both sexes whistled at her and shouted obscenities. Perverts came in all shapes, sizes, and religions.

At the main entrance door, two women stood waiting. “Make her look respectable.” The guard accompanying her instructed the women. “Then take her to Cell Block 12 for a videotaping.”

Videotaping?

“I’m to weigh you.” The woman on her right gently led her to a scale. “45.8 kilograms,” the woman said. “Write it down in pounds as well. 101 pounds counting the rags she wears.”

Peacock fell as she stepped off the scale. The younger of the two, holding a notepad, helped her up. I weighed 142 pounds the day of the attack, she thought.

Down twisting halls on concrete and dirt floors she hobbled, humming tunes the angel had taught when he was with her. Of course, he was always with her. She just didn’t see him.

“Sad,” the younger woman whispered. “This one was beautiful once.”

“No one’s beautiful here,” the other woman snapped. “Walking corpses they are.”

Brilliant idea her husband had, forcing everyone to use English or Mandarin. She could understand the gravity of the place she was in. “Grant these souls peace,” she whispered. The angel’s voice called out, “For now, yes. Soon peace will vanish from the earth.”

Arriving at Cell Block 12, two male guards grabbed her and forced her into a kneeling position. A dentist affixed a temporary set of caps over her broken teeth. A hairdresser fit her with a matching red hairpiece, and a cosmetologist hid the pallor in her face with lipstick and blush.

“Put this on.” An ogre-like, elderly woman handed her a Global Realm outfit. “Be sure to smile for the camera.”

“Step over here.” The cameraman pointed to a chair. “Sit. Turn to your left and relax with your mouth slightly open.”

She complied. If she guessed correctly, the pictures would go to her husband to show she was alive. Her uniform was that of a hotel worker by color and stripes. She placed her right hand with her little finger pointing at a small label on the waist.

“Hold the pose.”

He didn’t spot the signal.

After the cameraman snapped three photos, the woman in charge ordered Peacock removed from Cell Bock 12 and taken back to her pit. Once locked back in, she noticed the light was on. A single 10 watt bulb illuminated the cell, usually kept dark. In the corner lay a tray with a cloth tucked under the corner to keep out rodents. She peeled the cloth back to find dates, figs, cheeses, and a glass of Global Realm nectar drink. A note accompanied her present.

Enjoy. I need to fatten you up for the slaughter.

Love, Ammad.

#

Connor held her husband’s hand as they disembarked from their transport and headed into the Global Space and Exploration Center. The Center, located in the San Diego Complex in the North American Region, held the core projects for Mars colonization. Her brothers were already at work refining the control room protocols for a possible, massive launch of biospheres.

“Obi!” Harry Pendleton shouted and raced up to greet him. “I’m facing several problems here. I needed you last week.”

“And here I am,” Obi answered, grinning like a smitten schoolboy. “Let’s get to work.” He turned and gave Connor a passionate kiss. “Call me when you have time. I know it may be weeks until we see each other. I’ll miss you every minute.”

“I love you,” Connor managed, before Obi was whisked away and vanished in the rush of workers milling about the area.

“Come on,” her brother George said. “Update me on the preparations for Tuesday’s competency challenge.”

“Chui threw his candidacy into the race, as we expected. Ammad remains hidden, probably studying. Van Meer seems nonchalant about the whole thing. I worry that when the voting takes place he might take away from Dad’s base.”

Her brother cocked his head. “Dad’s survived two challenges before.”

“Both those challenges were before Milton died.” Sadness deepened within Connor. “Gram and Milton both going in the same month has crushed his spirit. I’ve watched him grow more indecisive the last five years. I’m afraid for him.”

“Mom keeps him focused.”

“Mom’s not here,” Connor snapped. “Twenty-five years of peace and progress could crumble in a day, if Ammad outscores Dad on the test.” She shuddered. “Show me the escape plans.”

George led her up a set of spiral metal stairs to a master control room on the 2
nd
floor of the building. From her vantage point looking through the glass at the brain center of Project Warlord, she gasped at the immensity of the endeavor. “My God, I didn’t realize how far we’ve come.”

“You couldn’t have.” George gave her that
naïve little sister
look. “No one could have predicted humanity rebuilding our cities into these complexes in twenty-plus years. Or our going to Mars and finding the protection of the underground caves.”

She nodded. Further evidence of man’s ability lay before her. An area the size of four soccer fields filled with enough technology to launch hundreds of biospheres into space with time. Humans milled around analyzing data real time. Her brother pointed to a cluster of screens at eye level with their position. “Twenty-five earth-based biospheres are completed, stocked, and ready for deployment to Earth orbit for docking with our motherships.” He gave her a pair of binoculars to view the far end of the massive manufacturing area. “The rest are within weeks of completion.”

“So you’re monitoring the assembly around the world.”

“Every location. Dad’s alerting Christian communities to select individuals for transport on the basis of skill and family consideration. Obviously, we can’t transport everyone.” His brow furrowed. “How prepared are we for a ground war?”

“Virtually defenseless against one,” Connor said. “We have law enforcement, drone capabilities, and fifty orbiting rockets—no standing armies. The drones’ capabilities were crippled when the rocket attacks commenced. So while they’re functional, their precision is questionable.”

George turned to head back down the stairs. “We need to leave this planet. My bet—Ammad has armies. We relied on our space-based weaponry, and now all we have are those fifty or so rockets you mentioned. Capable of doing damage? Yes. Capable of winning a ground-fought war? No.”

As she descended the stairs, she whispered. “Will you accompany me on an unpleasant assignment?”

“What kind of assignment?”

“Dad’s contemplating shutting down all the entertainment centers.” She shook her head. “I’ve never been in an entertainment center. I may be closing them in a few weeks, if Dad has his way. I need to find out how difficult and unpopular a task that will be.”

“Sure. I’ll go with you. But I won’t like it.”

George headed off to arrange for their trip. She waited at the entrance to the facility trying to catch a glimpse of Obi. Obi was off with Harry to hug trees and dream of botanical gardens, the responsibilities inside the Global Realm left little time for them to bond as married couples should. She yearned for someone to share her inner most joys and struggles. She married Obi with that in mind, but the physical came first for him, and a couple of days were all they had before traipsing off to one assignment or another.

He yearned for her body. She yearned for his compassion and understanding. Neither of them was completely satisfied. A quick glance at their schedules said they wouldn’t be for quite a while.

#

“Dammit!” Ammad slammed the door to the testing room. “Tear Sayyid apart. The piece of junk isn’t worth the powder to blow it to hell.”

“Calm yourself.” Atash Akbari strolled across the hallway to Ammad’s side. “Patience. You still have a few days. What you are failing to do is invoke Allah’s peace. Don’t think too much. Let Him guide you.”

Ammad grimaced. The redheaded witch shook his confidence with her evil craft. His shoulder still hurt.

“You must understand,” Akbari said. “My walk has given me powers of a seer. I see what you see. The jinn, the Marid who protects her, plays with you. Maybe he’s a cousin of Satan. Recite the four Quls and pray two
rakat namaz a Hajjats
. Pray fervently to Allah, and all fear will vanish.”

Ammad fell to his knees. Akbari knew far more than he did of the spirit world and the people of fire. The bitch must be possessed. Maybe even a sex slave to the Marid. Surely Allah would help him conquer this demon. “I’m Allah’s servant. I will not be swayed. He will be with me. I need him everywhere and in every situation.”

“You will defeat this Global Realm—this monster of Pendleton’s creation.” Akbari pulled Ammad to his feet. “In your hands, the monster will be tamed. You will rule the world, and I will serve you. Now take Sayyid’s test again.”