Hand of God

by Karl Morgan

  “What do you say to that, Ali?”

  “Majesty, I also would love to attack and defeat the enemy, but our forces are evenly matched. The highest likelihood is a bloody war of attrition that neither of our armies can afford,” Ali explained. “By keeping the Republic Army entrenched here, we are accelerating our gains in the Western Chinese territories.”

  “Majesty, why do we need more desert? That is all Ali is gaining us there. The valuable land and resources are here! The venture to the north is a waste of time.”

  “Mustafa, your ignorance of battle strategy stuns me,” Ali laughed. “By giving the Republic a second front, we are forcing them to spread their forces. We must remember it is they who invaded us. We need them to retreat to their previous borders and sue for peace on our terms.”

  “Majesty, you cannot allow the Field Marshall to insult me thus.”

  “You both need to calm down,” Hossain replied. “We need a reasoned strategy to force the infidel army to retreat. We cannot allow a war of attrition. The Republic has more soldiers and can bleed us out.”

  “Of course, Majesty, please forgive my anger toward my dear friend,” Ali noted. “Our venture into Western China is drawing more attention from the Republic, and that front will likely stall in the coming days. We most certainly will not be able to exit the desert and take any significant cities in Eastern China. But as we know, that front was started more as a method to liberate our brothers in the faith than anything else.”

  “Yes, Ali, you are correct,” Hossain remarked. “The Uighurs have endured too many years of submission to the godless Republic.”

  “But if that front stalls, and we are stalled here, what shall happen then?” Mustafa asked. “It sounds like you are willing to cede the occupied territories to them.”

  “Nothing could be further from the truth, General,” Ali said as he stood and began to pace back and forth. “That is why you are here, old friend. Caliph Ibrahim has provided three hundred battle tanks that will arrive today or tomorrow. Our planes are currently exploring the Chambal for the nearest bridge that is not heavily guarded, even if it is many miles away. Your job will be to lead that force, along with a brigade of mechanized infantry there and across the river.”

  “To outflank them! That’s brilliant, Field Marshall! But such a small force will not overwhelm them,” Mustafa countered.

  “That isn’t your mission, General. Your job will be to squeeze them. Take any opportunities to push them toward the river. When it is optimized, we will carpet-bomb them, starting at their eastern limits, pushing them closer to the river and our army. Together, we will push them into a limited territory.”

  “Where, if necessary, I will order a neutron bomb strike,” the caliph noted. “Then they will be happy to accept our truce and leave our lands.”

  “I am honored by your faith in my ability, Blessed One.”

  “You must know your force will likely take heavy casualties, and be out of range of medical facilities. There is always the possibility you may be inadvertently targeted by the bombing raids as well,” Ali concluded.

  “Are there any other options?” Mustafa asked. The two men shook their heads. “It will be our honor to die in service to God and to you, Caliph.” Mustafa put on his helmet, saluted and left the room.

  “Majesty, may I ask you a question?”

  “Of course, Ali, please do.”

  “You have heard the rumors that it was the Central Caliphate that assassinated Caliph Omar.” The caliph nodded. “It is said that Ibrahim prays for the day the three caliphates become one, under his leadership.”

  “Ali, we all pray for the unification of Islam under one caliph, and I can understand why a man would want to control all of it. What are you trying to say?”

  “Caliph Ibrahim has been very generous with his gift of tanks. Do you think he is trying to make you indebted to him so that you would owe him a favor?”

  The caliph laughed out loud. “Of course I know that, Ali. If our plan succeeds here and the Republic is pushed back, I will owe him a debt of gratitude. But such a debt would not be so great as to deserve my subjugation to him.”

  “Do you think he was behind the assassination in Tunis?”

  “Yes I do however there can be no proof. He was very careful to be sure of that. Lord Nmanbe has denied any involvement, and is already suing for peace with the Western Caliphate. Without a leader, Ibrahim has offered his services. I believe those caliphates will fuse into one over the coming days, leaving us as the outlier. While nothing has been said, that war is already over.”

  “Do you fear for your safety, Caliph?”

  “What happens to me or to Ibrahim is in the hands of God. I have no control over that. After I leave our meeting, I am returning to Tehran. I doubt Ibrahim has the courage to strike at me in my own palace. If Omar had not left Cairo, he would likely be alive today.”

  “I will pray for your safety, Blessed One.”

  The caliph stood and put his hand on Ali’s shoulder. “Thank you, Ali. You are a true friend. There is something to what you say about Ibrahim. If the tanks make the difference here and force the Republic to retreat and sue for peace, all of us will owe the caliph a debt. And if something happens to me and my family, many will see that as fate bringing about the global caliphate.”

  “God would not approve of an assassin as caliph, Majesty.”

  “Let us hope He will intervene.”

  §

  Josh sat on the cot for a long time. In this cell, he had no conception of time, so it could have been an hour or a day. All he could think about was the emptiness waiting for him outside. What would happen if he stepped into that void? Then he wondered if Sattu had been telling the truth about Sadie. For all he knew, they could have killed her, or worse yet, she could have been part of the kidnapping, although he quickly discounted that when he remembered the terrified look on her face just before he blacked out. Josh looked at the sandwich and apple on the tray and noticed something odd. The bread was turning black before his eyes. Moldy spots grew on the surface of the apple, and it began to collapse as though rot was consuming it from within. He picked up the tray and set it down in the furthest corner of the small cell. As he backed away from the tray, both the sandwich and apple crumbled into black dust. A shiver of revulsion moved down his spine. His hands began to tingle so he looked at them. Black spots appeared where his fingers and palms had touched the tray. Thin lines spread from the spots, forming a network with other spots. He rubbed his hands feverishly on his pants to scrape off the mold. Now, black spots began to sprout up on his trousers. He glanced back at the tray, which by now had crumbled to dust as well. More black spots began to propagate up the walls and across the floor of the cell. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he moaned.

  He rushed over to the door and pulled it open, just as the door handle crumbled away in his hand. The black spots and lines were moving up his arms now and he began to panic. A dull thud caught his attention and he turned around. The bed and chair were all black and crumbling away. He turned back to the doorway, expecting the same blackness. Instead it was the open sky. The sun was at the zenith, and puffy clouds filled the air. His mind returned to his fight with Barsat the monster. He looked down, but only a distant layer of clouds could be seen. He knew he would fall to his death if he took that step. Josh quickly looked back into the cell, but it had crumbled away as well. He was standing on the doorframe, somehow suspended in the air with open sky in every direction. With no other choice, he closed his eyes and fell forward.

  His body tumbled and spiraled downward. He flailed with his arms to get control and finally did managed to stabilize, but he was still falling. The blanket of clouds was rapidly approaching, and he knew the ground was not far below. Just as he entered the clouds, he closed his eyes again and prayed for a quick death.

  Josh felt solid footing under his feet and opened his eyes. He was standing in a large room with stone walls and floor. Delicate furnish
ings and intricate rugs filled the space, and a large fireplace, big enough to stand in, pierced the wall. Dozens of oil paintings covered the walls, most of which seemed to be quite old portraits of the owner’s ancestors. It looked like the inside of a castle. A man stood up from one of the chairs facing the fire and poked at the embers to feed the flame. He turned to come back to his seat when he noticed Josh. “It’s about time, Joshua. I was beginning to worry about you.”

  “What’s all this, Mr. Sattu?”

  “This is one of my residences. I prefer to stay away from Paris when I can. Too many people there for me. Out here I can think.”

  “Why did you make me feel like I was going to fall to my death again?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Sattu, you know very well. The cell you put me in began to crumble away and when I opened the door, I was high up in the sky.”

  “First of all, Joshua, I had nothing to do with you falling through the sky, although I admit making the cell crumble.”

  “Who else would do that, sir?”

  “I have to assume it was you, Joshua. And please call me Armand.”

  “Me? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would I put myself through something like that?”

  “Please come sit by the fire. This old building can be quite drafty, I’m afraid.” Sattu turned his back to Josh and sat down.

  Josh hurried over to the other chair and sat. “Okay, I’m here now. Tell me why I’d make myself suffer.”

  A small table seemed to appear out of thin air between their chairs, or perhaps Josh did not notice it before. Sattu picked up one of the two snifters on the table, swirled the amber liquid around and then sipped it. “Ah, magnifique! You must try the cognac. It is from my own vineyard.” He took another sip and then said, “Joshua, I cannot read your mind, but I presume it relates to your incident on the airliner. In that situation, you were terrified and had to make a choice. That choice left you falling through the sky with no hope of rescue. Then, you were in the cell and it began to disintegrate. You were terrified and had to make a choice again. Unfortunately, you made the same choice. You must learn to control your fear if you wish to rule the world!” Josh was stunned by the comparison between the events. He grabbed the other snifter, took a large drink and then began to cough. “Easy does it, Joshua. You must sip the cognac. The vapors are very strong.”

  After he recovered, he set the snifter down and said, “Your cognac is very good, Armand. Can I ask you why you made the room crumble?”

  “Because you are lazy and timid, Joshua!” he shouted. “You sat on that cot for hours wondering what to do. The ruler of Earth will have to act quickly and decisively, and absolutely cannot be afraid.”

  “Maybe I’m not cut out for that, Armand.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you? It is your destiny to rule, Joshua. Why else do you have these incredible powers? If there was another person alive like you, perhaps I too would believe you are not the one. But Joshua, you are unique in all the history of mankind. If not the most powerful man in history, who else?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “In scripture, it says a man with faith the size of a mustard seed could tell a mountain to move from here to there and the mountain would move. I want you to move some mountains, Joshua. Maybe then you will understand your destiny. Good night, Joshua.”

  “Am I leaving?”

  Sattu sighed heavily. “I suppose you have forgotten that too. Very well, do you recall why you could not escape from the cell?”

  “Because it wasn’t part of physical reality, right?”

  “I’m glad you did not forget. Where are you now?”

  “France! I get it.” Josh disappeared.

  Sattu drained his glass of cognac and considered the fire. “It is going to be a long road with that one, but I think he is beginning to understand.”

  Chapter 9

  It was a cool, gray morning in Washington, D.C. as the FBI director’s vehicle dropped him off at the entrance to the White House. As Montoya walked toward the door, he noticed National Security Advisor Tom Williams waiting for him. The two men shook hands and they headed inside. Williams put his hand on Montoya’s shoulder and said, “Looks like you’ve really made a mess of things this time, Carlos.”

  “Shut up, Tom. I did the right thing.” The men entered the building and proceeded down the long hallway toward the Oval Office. “How is her mood today?”

  “Surprisingly good, considering the world is on the brink of nuclear war,” Williams noted.

  The two men stepped into the outer office where Attorney General Avery Tomlin was pacing back and forth. When he saw the two, he greeted them and shook their hands. “Carlos, the President is not happy today. She may give you the once-over. Just take it and we’ll let this thing start to fade away.”

  “Okay, Avery, I understand.”

  “She will see you gentlemen now,” the head assistant noted. The three men opened the door and walked through, closing it behind them. Inside, President Carmichael was sitting on one of the couches. Vice President Isabel Garcia sat across from her. They both rose when the men came in.

  “Good morning, guys. Join us please,” the president said. After exchanging handshakes, the group sat down.

  “About yesterday, Madam President, I know I did not handle it well,” Montoya noted.

  “Forget about that, Carlos, I’m over the whole thing. Isabel helped me put things in perspective.”

  “I just told Alexis that any of us in that situation would have done the same thing,” Garcia began. “I’ve seen all the Carpenter videos and don’t believe them either. I mean, who on Earth can do things like that? It’s not human.”

  “But now we know better,” Carmichael said. “We’ve seen the video of your interrogation room. One second Agent Anderson and Mr. Carpenter were there. Then, poof, they were gone. I assume you don’t believe your own surveillance system was hacked, do you Carlos?”

  “Absolutely not, Madam President,” Montoya replied. “Our systems are secure.”

  “How is Agent Anderson?”

  “Madam President, she is okay. She’s been checked out and bandaged up. The bullet went straight through her thigh. She’s lucky it didn’t strike her femur or a major artery. Right now, she is on a flight home.”

  “Thank goodness for that!” Carmichael acknowledged. “And what about Mr. Carpenter?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that, Madam President.”

  “He has to be somewhere in France, Madam President,” Williams said.

  “With all due respect, Tom, after so many hours, he could be anywhere in the world,” Avery argued.

  “Do we know who kidnapped him?” the president asked.

  “According to Anderson and other witnesses, none of the vehicles had license plates,” Williams reported. “My bet is either our friends in South America or one of the caliphates.”

  “Carlos, I need you to coordinate with the CIA and NSA to find him,” the president said. “This is a meeting, Carlos, why are you staring at your phone?”

  “I don’t believe it,” Montoya stammered. “It’s a text from the team guarding the Carpenter home in California. They say Joshua Carpenter is there. He was having breakfast with his family when one of my men went in to check on them.”

  “He’s at home!” the president scoffed. “Are you serious?”

  “That’s what they say, ma’am. I don’t believe it either.”

  The intercom on the president’s desk buzzed. Carmichael hurried over to it and pressed the button. “Monica, I’m in a meeting. What’s so important?”

  “I’m sorry Madam President, but there is a Joshua Carpenter on the line. He says it is urgent that he talk to you and the others in the room.”

  “Seriously? How does he know anyone else is here?”

  “Ma’am, when I told him you were unavailable, he said that you, the vice president, attorney general, national security advisor
and FBI director would like to hear what he has to say.”

  The group began to exchange worried looks. Carmichael was stunned, but calmly replied, “Okay, put him on speaker, Monica. Let’s hear him out.”

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry, the line just went dead.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “No, it isn’t,” Josh said from the far side of the Oval Office. “Can we talk?”

  President Carmichael pressed a hidden button on her desk and then said, “Tell us what you want us to hear, Mr. Carpenter.”

  “First of all, I’m sorry for the sudden arrival. I didn’t think any of you would believe anything you didn’t see with your own eyes.”

  Two other doors flew open and five Secret Service agents poured into the room with their pistols drawn. “Freeze!” one of them shouted. They quickly formed a semicircle around Josh, who held his hands over his head. “Get down on the floor now!” another agent demanded.

  “At least I tried,” Josh sighed and disappeared.

  “Dammit!” the President shouted.

  “Alexis, why did you do that?” Garcia asked.

  “I am not going to allow some punk to invade this office!” Carmichael argued. She turned to the Secret Service agents and told them to leave. The stunned men slowly headed out the doors, uncertain what they had just witnessed.

  “Madam President, that may have been our only opportunity to learn more about that man. We need to know what he is planning to do,” Tomlin noted.

  “Okay, okay, I admit I made a mistake,” the president replied. She noted a small smile on Montoya’s face. “You see, Carlos, I told you not to worry about yesterday. I’m as much of a screw-up as you.” Everyone laughed.

  §

  Josh had planned to return home, but found himself in an elevator car. He looked to his left and saw Chris Judah standing next to him. “Why did you bring me here, Chris?”

  Chris glowered at him and said, “What the heck are you doing, Josh? Are you trying to destroy the world single handedly?”