A Sacred Storm (42 page)

Ayres leant forward and cupped his face in his hands. He was suddenly very tired. It was eight o'clock in the evening New York time, but as he'd started the day in Italy, for him it was two in the morning. He decided that he would have a light supper and then go straight to bed. He was wondering what to order when Vittori burst into the suite unannounced.

“Hello, Fabio,” Ayres said wearily. “What can I do for you?”

Vittori stormed over and stood over the PM with fire in his eyes. “Did you really think I wouldn't find out?!” he shouted.

“What, Fabio? Find out what?”

“About the bullets of course.”

“What about them?”

“They were real, Jonathan. The bullets were real,” he growled.

Ayres rose from his seat and held up his hands defensively. “Listen, Fabio. Let's not get too worked up about this. Why don't you take a seat and calm down.”

“Calm down! You promised me that everything was in hand. You assured me that Christiano would not be in any danger.”

“I did promise you that, and I kept my word. Christiano's still alive isn't he?”

“That's not the point is it, Jonathan? The point is that he could have very well been killed. The plan was to fire blanks and then get the agent to drop some crushed shells on the floor. In none of our conversations did you ever mention live ammunition.”

“Okay, okay, I might have taken a bit of a risk, and I'm really sorry. But it's all worked out hasn't it? Come on Fabio, let's sit down and talk about it. I'll pour us some drinks.”

Vittori reluctantly took a chair and waited while Ayres got them each a brandy.

“Listen, Fabio,” said Ayres, handing the cardinal a glass and sitting down in the chair next to him, “I really am very sorry for all the subterfuge, but I really didn't think you'd go along with the plan if I told you the truth.”

Vittori sipped some brandy to calm his temper. “Of course I wouldn't have gone along with it, Jonathan – it was an absolutely ridiculous plan. So many things could have gone wrong. For a start we had no idea how strong the protective shield was. It might have been okay against a few punches but we hadn't tested it out against weaponry – not even a knife.”

“True,” said Ayres. “But I figured that any power higher than man would certainly be able to stop something man-made.”

“Even so, Jonathan – what if Christiano had just frozen? What if he had not had the wherewithal to protect himself with the symbol?”

“Come on, Fabio – I think I'd drummed it into him enough in the afternoon. And just before he went on, I reminded him about it again. He knew exactly what to do if anything happened. Can't we just put this behind us and move on? I mean, everything's worked out perfectly hasn't it?”

Vittori shook his head and sighed. “It has worked out, Jonathan, but I am still not happy. The fact that you decided to go behind my back does not please me. And it certainly does not please His Holiness. We are supposed to be in this together, Jonathan. We are supposed to discuss everything before we act. That is how it has been from the start. There is no room for individuality in this, it is far too dangerous. None of us should have too much power – it was agreed years ago.”

“I made the decision for all of us, Fabio – can't you see that? And look at how far forward we are now. Thanks to that camera on the stage the whole world knows that Christiano can stop bullets with his mind. We didn't need to resort to trickery, the whole thing is there in glorious Technicolor! No-one can question his divinity now, can they? And think of the confidence he's going to gain from this: if we'd staged it then I'm sure he would have sussed us out. This way he actually believes in himself. I never did this for myself, Fabio, I did it for the Church as a whole, and I stand by my actions.”

“Okay, Jonathan, I believe you. But from now on we must discuss everything before any action is taken. No more secrets. Do you agree?”

“Of course, Fabio.”

“Good,” said Vittori. “Because if we do not work collectively then this whole situation is liable to come crashing down around us. Although I get the feeling that it already is.”

“What do you mean?” said Ayres.

“You know exactly what I mean, Jonathan. You must have watched the news at some point today. And you must still be in contact with your cabinet back home. The world is in turmoil, Jonathan.”

“Well, there are a few troublespots I agree, but nothing that can't be rectified now the Messiah has proven himself.”

“I would like to believe that, Jonathan, I really would. But I am not sure if the situation has gone too far already. There was plenty of trouble even before the Mahdi was killed. Now it is much, much worse.”

“We knew it was going to get worse before it got better,” said Ayres.

“Perhaps,” ceded Vittori. “But I did not envisage it being quite as bad as this. Nations all around the world are having to call in their militaries just to keep some semblance of order. Look at your own country, Jonathan – it is one of the worst affected. How can you be happy with your people in so much turmoil.”

“I'm not happy about it, far from it in fact. But it will all settle down once everyone gets behind Christiano. I'm sure of it.”

“I do hope you are right. But you must forgive me for not sharing your optimism. It seems to me that nobody is listening anymore. The people of the world are too caught up in their own prejudices to heed anything that Christiano has to say. Nobody is watching television, they are all out in the streets venting their frustrations against each other. Fear and anger have swept the globe. Even here in God-loving America there are signs of discord. We have unleashed something which we cannot contain.”

“I think you're being far too negative, Fabio. All major changes are accompanied by hardship and heartache. The world will come out of this a much safer and stronger place. For the first time in history mankind will be unified. And they will be unified under the Church. That was our aim in the first place, and I have seen nothing so far to persuade me that it will not be attained. You knew what we were getting into when we began all this, Fabio – you knew there would be violence, and you knew there would be death – please don't get cold feet now.”

“I have not got ‘cold feet' as you put it. I am merely stating the facts as they are and voicing my concerns. It helps me to assimilate the situation as a whole. And even if I did have doubts there is no turning back now.”

“Exactly,” said Ayres. “We've got to see it through to the end, whatever happens.”

Vittori finished his brandy and offered his glass to Ayres for another. His initial ire had gone and he was starting to think clearly again. He sipped at his refill thoughtfully and relaxed.

“Have you spoken much to Christiano since the shooting?” asked Ayres.

“Not really,” said Vittori. “He was very quiet about the whole thing. Understandable I suppose. He did seem very pleased with himself though. I think you are right that it has boosted his confidence.”

“Yes, I'm certain it has. You could tell that immediately. The way he strode up to the microphone and held out those bullets was pure theatre. For a moment he even had me convinced he was the Son of God.”

“Yes,” agreed Vittori. “I must admit to thinking the same thing. I just hope that he does not become uncontrollable.”

“He won't,” said Ayres. “We know too much about him. It's easy enough for us to pull the plug on him whenever we want to anyway. Still, it's probably worth having a chat to him in the morning, just to see where he's at. In fact, we could call him in now if you want.”

“No, I do not think so. I am too tired. I need a good night's sleep to refresh my brain cells. And besides, I think he has done enough today, let us leave him to his own devices.”

“Yes, but what are his own devices? Is he going to be chatting to that Zola girl online all night?”

“I do not think so,” said Vittori. “Not tonight anyway. He seemed very keen to get to his room and study the symbols. This afternoon's success seems to have fuelled his interest once again. I am very pleased because it saves me having to force him into it. It has been very difficult getting him to sit there and concentrate I can tell you.”

“Surely he knows them all off by heart by now?”

“It is not that easy, Jonathan – remember, there are over three hundred for him to remember. He obviously knows the ones he uses the most very well, but there are some that he has not had the occasion to implement yet. He needs to keep these fresh in his mind. Surely you do not want to see him fail his followers?”

“No, of course not. I'm just worried about the knowledge. What if something happens to it while he's studying. What if he spills something on it, or sets fire to it? What then? Perhaps we ought to make some copies just to be on the safe side.”

“No, Jonathan, we agreed that it would not be a good idea. The papers are perfectly safe. Christiano is well aware that he has to keep a clear desk when working. And when he is finished they are sealed in the security case. The only person that needs to look at them is Christiano.”

“Yes, I know,” said Ayres. “But however safe you think things are there's always a situation round the corner to prove you wrong.”

Vittori held up his hand. “This is not open for discussion, Jonathan. The committee, yourself included, agreed that the knowledge should not be made available to anyone except for the person we eventually chose. The risks of any of us having too much power outweigh the consequences of losing the symbols. You know that if we made copies the temptation to steal and use the knowledge would be great. This way we know exactly where it is at any given time.”

“I suppose you're probably right,” said Ayres. “I just like to have a contingency plan, that's all.”

Vittori glanced at the clock and swiftly finished his brandy. “I think I shall retire for the evening, my friend. It has been an extremely long day, and I am not getting any younger.” He rose from his chair and wished Ayres a goodnight.

Ayres watched the cardinal leave, ordered room service, and went to the balcony for a cigarette. It had been a good day, but a doubt still lingered in his mind. As he looked down onto the bustling city he wondered if Vittori was right and that Christiano might indeed become uncontrollable. He began to feel uneasy about letting him have so much power.

For Jenna the night had passed slowly, in fits of half-sleep on a rough army camp-bed. Tariq, who was in the adjacent bunk, had drifted off almost immediately, leaving her alone to wrestle with her fears. She had got up a couple of times for a cigarette and chatted to her fellow smokers, but nothing had managed to calm her enough to allow more than a ten-minute doze. The constant toing and froing of the military had not helped either. Every five minutes there seemed to be an order barked or a pair of heavy boots tramping past the foot of her bed. That, coupled with the seemingly never-ending wail of sirens, had put an end to any ideas she had of a good night's rest.

Tariq stirred and opened his eyes and looked across to her. “Morning,” he yawned. “What time is it?”

“Just gone seven,” said Jenna. “How do you feel?”

“A bit sore, but my head's a lot better. The sleep's definitely done me some good.”

“Lucky you,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” said Jenna. “Sorry, I'm just a bit crabby this morning. I didn't get the best night's sleep. It's been a bit chaotic in here.”

“I'll bet it has,” said Tariq. “It's lucky I had that morphine otherwise I don't think I'd have got off either.”

“Yeah. Perhaps I should have had some as well.”

Tariq sat up and drank from a bottle of mineral water. “Where's my dad?”

“He's in the tent next door with the rest of your family. I don't think he's had much sleep either. I bumped into him when I went for a cigarette a couple of hours ago. I don't think he trusted people not to steal his belongings while he was asleep.”

Tariq laughed. “That doesn't surprise me. He sees everybody as a potential thief.”

“I don't think it helped that they were put next to a couple of shaven-headed white blokes,” said Jenna.

“I'm surprised he didn't ask to be put in a Muslim-only tent,” said Tariq.

“I think if there was any possibility then he would have,” said Jenna. “But everyone's had to make the best of what's available. It's a bit weird really, it feels like the stories my grandad told me about the Blitz. You know – everyone pulling together and all that.”

“Everyone except my dad of course. Although he's been speaking to you, so that's a good sign.”

“I don't think he's got much choice. But to be fair he's certainly made an effort, just like everyone else. I think it's dawning on people exactly how stupid this whole thing is. When you see somebody injured it doesn't matter what race or religion they are, you still feel sympathy.”

“I'm sure there's some that don't. But you're right about this place – there's definitely a communal atmosphere. Although I don't suppose it's as friendly on the streets. Is there any news about what's happening?”

“I haven't had a chance to ask anybody yet, they've all been too busy. I'm going to have a cigarette, so I'll see if I can find a friendly soldier on the way. Do you want anything?”

“I'd love something to eat. Something soft though, I don't think my teeth could manage anything else.” He gave her a gap-toothed grin.

“I'll see what I can do. I expect they'll have some soup or stew or something. I'll see you in a bit.”

Jenna wandered out of the tent and across the grass to the area that had become ‘smokers' corner'. A few people she had met overnight were there, as well as a young soldier who looked as if he had been awake for a week. She sidled up to him and asked for a light even though she didn't need one. He obliged and she started to make small talk, eventually steering the conversation round to the outside world.