by D A Walmsley
“Never happen, blasphemy,” Lindman interrupts, “never!”
The anchor finally allows Joshua Lindman to respond.
“The thought of the High Priest joining this carpenter is blasphemy, I’ve never heard such nonsense. Plus I know Joseph Arimathea personally and he has never met this man.”
“What about Nicodemus?” asks the anchor.
“Naive, very naive. He needs to be more careful who he speaks to in public.”
“Thank you Councillor Lindman. So, in your summing up, Mr Cohen, when do you think there will be an announcement and where would this occur, if at all?”
“If the reports are correct, then perhaps in a few days. Expect some big names, experienced power brokers. At the moment Jesus could command say a few thousand followers, but he would need hundreds of thousands if he is to be successful. To get to that stage he would be required to perform more than a few miracles, he would need a good experienced team around him. As to the location, what better place than on the steps of the Temple here in Jerusalem, surrounded by his chosen ones.
“I’d turn him down.” Flatpack tells the whole bar.
“What?” asks Simon.
“I wouldn’t want to be associated with someone who hangs out with scum, a friend of coll…” Simon interrupts “He’s not gonna ask you anyway.”
“But if he did, there’s no way I would join, it’s just not right,” Flatpack finishes.
Though Simon feels the same as Flatpack, he is as much disappointed as angry. He is in no mood to hang around here all night listening to Flatpack going over the same things again and again, so he heads off home.
When he arrives home his answer machine is flashing. He listens to the message while he turns on his TV and gets himself a beer from the fridge. A familiar voice requests his company at an unfamiliar address, very strange. Simon plays the recording back and immediately leaves his apartment, TV still on, beer untouched.
Chapter 13
A silver sports car swerves in and out of the evening traffic with all the grace and control of a blind lemming. Taking one corner too fast it clips the wing mirrors of several cars parked on the opposite side of the road.
“Wow… that was close,” says John.
He has avoided the short cut through a residential area unlike James, who is now either in the lead or has crashed, he hopes it’s the latter. It may be shorter but I must have been going way faster. Ahead is a junction to the main road, John grips the wheel and goes straight across without looking or giving way. I must be in the lead, there’s no way James is beating me.
As dusk turns to night, headlights from the oncoming traffic dazzle. John has to concentrate extra hard, all the time keeping an eye out for any police that might be around. Suddenly he has to stamp on the brakes when a car pulls out of a side street right in front of him. It seems like an age before he can get up some decent speed again. That has cost him valuable time. He overtakes the offending car, shouting at its driver as he passes, “Idiot.”
Bright lights appear in his rear-view mirror and he sees the flashing headlights from a car behind. No, it couldn’t be James, no way. If it’s not, it’s a police car; he hesitates, briefly lifting his foot off the accelerator giving the car behind a chance to pull alongside. “Aargh,” it is James.
Now both cars are side by side, but his brother doesn’t have quite enough speed to pass him. A pedestrian just about to cross the road, has to dive out of the way; other cars are forced to pull over. In the distance are a set of traffic lights. Seeing they are at green, John pushes his foot even harder to the floor in the hope of squeezing the last amount of power out of his engine. The lights change to red and other cars start crossing well before they both arrive. John slows down watching James all the time, not letting him pull in front. James seems to have other ideas and has stayed alongside. What’s he up to? He’s blocking traffic.
At the other side of the road a queue of traffic has formed. Both wind their windows down.
“You’re an idiot, there’s only room for one car,” John shouts, pointing to the single lane at the other side of the lights.
“And I’ll beat you to it,” James responds, adding “I’ve not even hit top gear yet.”
“That’s because you can’t find it.”
With engines revving and eyes firmly fixed on the lights it seems an age before they change. Both cars inch forward, “not yet, not yet…NOW go, go” John shouts out loud. James never really had a chance and has to brake almost straight away, giving John a slight lead. Now John has another decision to make, does he take the short cut this time? He sees a lot of traffic ahead and a lorry pulling out. He goes for it, throwing the car sharp right, down a side street, just missing an oncoming car.
He looks back. James has kept on, bet he never saw the traffic.
“Yes, oh yes, I’m going to win.”
He spoke too soon. His rear-view mirror is filled with red and blue flashing lights and there’s the sound of a siren, “Oh no, not again.”
John puts the ticket in his wallet with the others and sets off slowly. When the police car is out of sight he phones James to find out where he is, expecting his brother to be gloating.
“Don’t tell me you’re there already,” says James.
“Er… yeah.” John can’t believe his brother isn’t already there, I’m still in this, better not let James know. “I’m there, I mean here! So you don’t have to rush.”
“Oh, liar, this means the race is still race on! Same rules, remember, first to the door-step wins,” James reminds him.
Their destination is 34 Sychar Court Road and both arrive at the same time from opposite directions. They drive as fast as they can whist trying to see the house numbers. John recognises Peter’s truck parked outside a house. He pulls in behind it, but has too much speed and can’t stop in time. He bumps into the back of the truck. Fortunately, Peter has forgotten to put his handbrake on, so the impact is absorbed slightly. Unfortunately, the truck rolls into the space James is heading straight for. There is the all too familiar sound of crushed metal on metal as James, unable to stop in time, hits the front of the truck. Both lads leave their cars, headlights blazing, doors open as they scramble up to the house. There is nothing to separate them as they both stretch our their arms and… the door opens - the brothers fall into the house, right at the feet of a woman, who lets out a scream.
“I won, I got here first,” says John.
“No you didn’t, I did,” argues James.
John starts to get up, but he is pulled down and James stands up first.
“Hi, I’m James, this loser is John. We were told to meet here.”
“I’m Esther, come in.” she says staring at the wreckage that is Peter’s truck. “What have you done? I’d better tell Simon Peter.”
John jumps up. “No, No, you don’t need to tell him,” he pleads.
“It’s just a scratch, it’ll be fine. Let’s keep this between ourselves,” James adds.
Chapter 14
“I’m telling you, it was on TV and in all the papers.”
“What!”
“It’s true, you can ask anyone.”
“You’re just messing with me.”
“No seriously, and this was none of that cheap stuff either, this was like the best vintage ever.”
“From ordinary water…into wine, no tricks?”
“No tricks.”
“Shit.”
As Matthew and Alphie walk along the dark road, Alphie takes out his phone and taps the screen a few times. “The correct address is 34, I told you we parked too far away,” he grumbles.
“So I thought it said 84, alright.” Matthew answers.
“You should get one of these,” Alphie says, waving his phone in Matthews’ face.
“I have, I make calls on it. If I need to make notes I use paper and pencil,” Matthew replies, pushing it away.
Matthew keeps checking for danger and has noticed a car has slowed down as it a
pproaches them from behind.
“Go home collectors,” a voice shouts.
Matthew notices the glint of a gun barrel.
“Get down,” he shouts, grabbing Alphie and pulling him behind a parked car.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
Matthew takes out his own gun, firing off a couple of rounds but the car speeds away. He checks up and down the street before standing up.
“Oh, just look at my jeans!” Alphie has knelt in some mud. He gets up more concerned with his appearance than anything.
“That was close!” says Matthew.
Alphie ignores him. “It’s not coming off, you didn’t need to grab me like that.”
“Maybe next time I should just leave you. Come on we’re nearly there anyway.”
“My knee is wet.”
“OK, I get it.”
When they arrive at 34 Sychar Court Road, Esther opens the door. “Ah, good evening, this way, everyone else has arrived.”
“Everyone else?” Matthew is surprised, he thought this was a private meeting.
“Yes. There’s tea and coffee on the table. One person’s asked for food so I’ll be bringing some in shortly, anything else you just let me know.”
“Any paper towels?” Alphie points to his knee.
“On the table.” She stays at the door and Matthew and Alphie enter the room. Alphie heads straight for the table.“Oh good, there they are.”
“No, No, No, What the shit are you doing here?”
Matthew recognises the voice, it’s the one from the car. He scans all the faces staring back at him, trying to find the speaker. A man sitting near the table whips out a knife and grabs Alphie from behind, putting it to his throat. Matthew pulls out his gun and points it at them. Alphie, taken by surprise, attempts to reach his weapon.
“Don’t you dare,” Simon presses the knife hard into Alphie’s throat and uses him as a shield.
“Let him go Zealot,” Matthew, his adrenalin pumping, recognises Simon.
Simon shouts “I should have killed you earlier.”
Matthew notices that Simon, whilst fighting the struggling Alphie, is trying to reach for his own gun. Matthew shakes his head. “Oh no you don’t.”
Alphie starts to panic, “Help me Matt.”
Matthew knows he can’t take his eyes off the Zealot for a second, but he needs to know if there are any others here he needs to watch out for. “Nobody else move,” he warns.
From behind a chair a voice can be heard. “We’re all gonna die. We’re all gonna die.”
“Just shut up, shut up,” Simon shouts.
Blood rolls down the young collector’s neck as Simon presses the knife in harder. Alphie lets out a cry, “he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna do it, isn’t he Matt?”
“Not if I kill him first,” Matthew tries to reassure his young collector and inches away from the door, looking for a better angle. He weighs up the situation, he’s been in similar positions before; tense stand-offs. This is different. From a selfish perspective, there’s no gun being pointed at him. One shot could end all this. The right shot can save Alphie and kill the Zealot.
“Someone grab my gun, you all hate collectors as much as me. Let’s finish this.
“You know who I am, then you’ll also know what I’ll do to anyone who tries.”
“Ignore him, he hasn’t the balls.”
Alphie tries reaching for Simon’s gun.
“Don’t be stupid,” Simon presses the blade even harder.
It feels like an age, as Matthew and Simon stare each other down, neither making another move. Their eyes burn with concentration. No one else in the room is daring to move and Matthew can feel their fear. Alphie has stopped struggling, his face has started to turn white.
“Let him go and I promise I won’t shoot you. I’ll even let you walk out of here alive.”
“You put down your gun first, or I swear I’ll finish him.”
Without warning a big guy stands up, one Matthew recognises as Jesus’ muscle.
“I have had enough of this.”
“What are you doing, you’re going to get us all killed.” says another.
“This is not why we’re here.”
“Stay out of this big guy,” says Simon.
“You put your gun down, just lower it or something.”
“The Zealot’s right, you’d better stay out of this,” warns Matthew.
Alphie, turning whiter, struggles, only for the knife to be pressed harder into his throat.
“My name is Simon Peter, but Jesus calls me Peter so, that’s what everyone can call me.”
“We call him Rocky,” someone says.
As The Zealot reaches and tries once more for his gun, Peter moves towards them and unbelievably stands between Matthew and Simon.
“What are you doing, you’ll get yourself killed,” shouts a voice.
Matthew and Simon, move around but Peter turns his back to Matthew. He is so big Matthew’s view is completely blocked.
After another couple of well-built lads also stand in the way, Matthew lowers his gun. This better not be a trick?
Simon lets go of Alphie, who falls on the floor.
“You OK Alphie?” asks Matthew, wanting to get to him.
“Jesus is here!”
“How do you know?
“I can hear his voice.”
“He’s probably calling the police.”
Peter bends over Alphie, now lying at the feet of Simon.
“John” Peter says, “you know first aid, come over here.”
“Teacher, it’s Alphie,” says Matthew as Jesus enters.
Jesus goes over to Alphie and places a hand on his neck. When he takes his hand away not only has the bleeding stopped, there is not even a scar.
“I see you’ve met Simon,” says Jesus.
“Unfortunately. Please tell me it’s not always gonna be like this,” says Alphie.
Jesus smiles, holds out a hand and helps Alphie to his feet and pats him on his back.
Matthew, his gun by his side keeps an eye on the Zealot. He watches him clean the blood off the knife blade with a paper towel and put it back in its sheath on his belt, next to his gun. Only then does Matthew feel comfortable enough to put away his own weapon.
“Everyone, please sit down,” says Jesus.
Alphie grabs a paper towel before sitting down and dabs at his muddied jeans. In silence Jesus pours himself coffee. He sips it, looking round the room. Matthew watches as Jesus looks each one of them in the eye. When it’s Matthew’s turn, after all that has just happened he is surprised to feel utter peace and it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before. He can feel himself smiling back at Jesus, which in itself is strange, because he never smiles. Not in public anyway.
“I think now is a good time for introductions,” says Jesus. “I believe this guy’s already introduced himself,” he stands next to Peter, “then there’s Andrew.”
“I’m James and this loser is my brother John.”
“Hey,” John, next to James, thumps him on the shoulder. James is just about to punch him back when Peter interrupts.
“Will you two, for once give it a rest.” says Peter, shaking his head.
“He started it,” mumbles John.
“I’ll continue shall I James?” asks Jesus.
James nods.
“Next is Philip.” Philip smiles at everybody.
“This is Nathaniel,” Jesus says walking round the room. He stops in front of Matthew.
“We know who he is,” says Simon, glaring at Matthew.
“Everyone knows who he is, but what’s he doing here?” says James under his breath.
Matthew can feel their hatred and feels more vulnerable than ever.
“Teacher,” he says, looking Jesus in the eye.
“Matthew,” says Jesus before moving on. “Now we have Thomas, welcome Thomas.
This is James Alphaeus.” Alphie smiles back at Jesus, rubbing his neck and smiling even more. Jesu
s now moves over to the other side of the room.
“Next is Simon or as some of you know him, the Zealot.” It’s now Matthew’s turn to glare.
“Simon,” says James. “John has all your albums.”
“I have not, it’s crap…I mean, no, not crap, er, it’s not really my kinda thing, its a bit weird. No not weird…”
“While John continues digging a hole for himself, this big guy here is Jude Thaddeus. I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for?” Thaddy raises his eyebrows and laughs.
“And finally the man who’s travelled the furthest to be here, Jude Iscariot. Hope everyone is making you welcome.”
Jesus goes over to the door, “Well, thanks to Peter I believe Mary has prepared a few snacks for us, but before we eat I want you to remember one thing. You are all here tonight because I have chosen you. All of you.
James raises his hand. Jesus looks at him.
“Yes James, on purpose.”
Chapter 15
Word soon spreads that Jesus has chosen a team and he is going to speak early in the morning. Not in Jerusalem as predicted, nor with the temple as his backdrop and the palace his destination, but in Galilee on a rocky hill north of Capernaum. Not surrounded by the brightest, richest and most powerful, but with a mixture of nobodies and wannabes, who can’t even stay in the same room without trying to kill each other. The team had their names leaked to the media not long after the meeting had finished and when people woke up this morning it was to headlines: Galilean Nobodies screamed the Jerusalem post; A Damp Squid, went another, referring to the fishermen. Twelve reasons why Jesus isn’t the Messiah, was what the Galilee Gazette went with.
When Jude got the call from Jesus, he imagined a well-oiled organisation, a team of go-getters much like himself. This guy Jesus has the power to heal people, preach like all the prophets combined. I should be with Kings and High Priests on the steps of the temple he thinks. Not trudging up a hill in the middle of nowhere. After all the negative press they had this morning, Jude is more than a little surprised to find so many people here. There must be thousands, with hundreds arriving all the time. The headlines haven’t stopped the media turning up either, for they are here in great numbers. TV cameras, radio coverage and newspaper reporters from Egypt, Syria and even Rome - the heart of the Union have turned up to cover this breaking story.
