The Alexandria Connection

by Adrian D'hagé

  ‘They’re not going to ask that!’ Davis grumbled.

  ‘Pastor Jerry Falwell was one of the most powerful televangelists this country’s ever seen, and that was one of his favourite questions to any presidential candidate.’

  ‘Well I guess I’ll say that throughout my life I’ve followed the teachings of the Bible.’

  Rachel kept a straight face. ‘For evangelicals, that’s not the right answer,’ she said, handing him another page with a typed dot point for his folio. ‘Take a leaf out of George W. Bush’s re-election campaign – that’s what he said in 2004.’

  Rachel looked at her watch. ‘Make-up’s down the hall, then it’s show time.’

  ‘My friends, we are moving into dangerous territory!’ Pastor Shipley thundered, warming up his audience for the introduction of the governor.

  The director in the control room high above the rear seats called for a shift in coverage.

  ‘Zoom in, camera six.’

  Shipley had a standing order that whenever a close-up was required, it was to be on the left, his best side. The huge screens above the stage and around the walls of the auditorium were filled with Shipley’s facial features, bloated by good living. But his blue eyes were energised by adrenalin. Many of the congregation were following the direct broadcast on their laptops through the Hermit Road secure wi-fi.

  ‘We need a committed Christian in the White House, someone who is a true servant of the Lord, because we are truly living in the end times! Those of you who have consulted the Rapture Index this morning will see that it’s now at 186 points. That’s close to a record high. God is giving us very clear warnings, but even the patience of the Almighty has its limits.’

  Rachel watched with interest from the wings. Whatever might be said about these Christians, their unswerving belief that their God was in control was palpable. The Rapture Index website provided a running commentary on the fulfilment of biblical prophecies, covering forty-five categories, including the world economy, climate, oil supplies, unemployment, moral standards, Russia and Iran, a coming world government, and, most importantly of all, the peace process and Israel. Rachel too, had checked the Rapture Index, but only to prep her charge on possible questions. For her, there was one category missing and that was the ‘barking mad’ one.

  ‘You only have to look at what these crazed Muslims have done in the Strait of Hormuz,’ Shipley thundered. ‘The Bible warns us that the end times are approaching, and we will see in our lifetime a terrifying New World Order run by the rich and powerful. It’s right here in Chapter 7 of the Book of Daniel.’ Pastor Shipley held his well-thumbed leather Bible aloft. ‘When Daniel asks an angel to interpret his dream, the angel explains there will be a fourth empire after the Babylonians, the Persians and the Greeks. That fourth empire was not just the ancient Roman Empire, but a revival of that empire which we see rising today.’ In a portent of the terrible times ahead, Shipley lowered his voice. ‘“As for the fourth beast”,’ he said, reading from Daniel, ‘“there shall be a fourth kingdom on earth that shall be different from the other kingdoms; it shall devour the whole earth, and trample it down, and break it to pieces.” And we can see that starting to happen now, my friends. Make no mistake, there are powerful forces at work behind the scenes; the increase in wild fires, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions and floods has very little to do with climate change, my friends. Scientists continually fail to address the prophecies in the Bible, because if they did, they would come to the same conclusion as you and me. These are simply God’s warnings.’ Many in the congregation nodded in agreement. ‘Hurricane Katrina was sent by God because of the gambling and sodomy in New Orleans, where each year, the Southern Decadence Labor Day gala for gays, lesbians and transgenders is hosted. God hates gays! God hates lesbians and transgenders, and anyone who disputes that, only has to go to the first book of the Bible in Genesis 19 where “the Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire . . . and he overthrew those cities!” In Leviticus, God has told us “do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman, for that is detestable”! Homosexuals are an abomination, yet we take no notice.’ Pastor Shipley strode across the vast stage. ‘God sent the floods in Colorado to an area where pagan New Age religion thrives, and God timed those floods to coincide with attempts by Washington to divide Israel and Jerusalem, so the Muslims and Arabs can form a Palestinian state, with al Quds, East Jerusalem as its capital. We are messing with God’s will here!’ Rachel quietly shook her head.

  ‘That’s why we need a Christian in the White House, to get America back on track before it’s too late. Many of you will have heard the rumours that Hailey Campbell is planning on running.’ Shipley lowered his voice again to emphasise the danger. ‘My friends, we can’t afford to let that happen. When Campbell speaks out in favour of homosexual marriage, when she regrets she didn’t oppose the war against the Muslims in Iraq, she is defying the will of God! So please welcome God’s candidate, the next president of the United States of America, Governor Carter Davis!’

  Pastor Shipley may have given Davis his endorsement, but his fellow pastors and the Hermit Road congregation were yet to be convinced, and Davis was greeted with polite but muted applause.

  ‘Get me the live feed for the Hermit Road announcement.’

  It took Crowley’s new personal assistant nearly five minutes, but Crowley controlled his frustration. Miranda Vandenberg had other talents. Tall, with long, slender legs, blue eyes and long, blonde hair, what she lacked in intellect she more than made up for with rat cunning. She had sized up Crowley’s needs early, and accurately.

  ‘Pause it,’ Crowley said, as the secure phone rang on his desk. ‘In the fridge in the boardroom kitchen, you’ll find some Louis Roederer champagne – the ’82 vintage. Farid . . . what can I do for you?’

  ‘The stock market is starting to rise again, Sheldon. When do you expect Phase Two to commence?’

  Irritated, Crowley took a deep breath. Khan was speaking on a scrambler, but in Crowley’s world, communications were kept to essentials. ‘The teams are in place?’

  ‘Yes . . . the materials have arrived,’ Khan confirmed.

  ‘And the teams for Phase Three?’ Crowley asked.

  ‘They are standing by as well, but we’re still waiting on the missiles.’

  ‘I will let you know in good time, once they’ve left Manaus,’ said Crowley, his voice steely. ‘Tell your people to be patient. This is a marathon, Farid, not a sprint.’

  Crowley slammed down the phone but his mood softened as Miranda returned. ‘Get Reid in here, and once I’ve dealt with him . . . ’

  Miranda set the Louis Roederer champagne on the polished cedar table, activated the feed from the Hermit Road church that was being broadcast live through the American Christian Broadcast Foundation, and settled back on the couch, letting her short skirt ride up her brown thighs.

  Davis grasped the big lectern with both hands, and the director called for another shift. ‘Zoom in camera five.’

  ‘My fellow Americans,’ Davis began, looking toward the sizeable press contingent gathered in an area to one side of the church. ‘I’ve come here today, to announce my intention to run for the presidency of the United States, and to ask for your prayers. As governor of Montana, I’ve been privileged to run on a platform of “Faith and Family”. Today, I’ve added “Jobs” to that manifesto, because if you entrust me with this great office, I will build on what has served me well, both in my public, and in my private life.’

  Rachel had insisted on the addition, but as she listened to Davis in campaign mode, she reflected on the not-inconsiderable payoffs for Abigail and the rest of his paramours. If any of those came unstuck, Rachel knew Davis and Crowley’s campaign would turn to custard in an instant.

  Davis turned and waved toward the huge red and blue banner behind him emblazoned with:

  DAVIS FOR PRESIDENT

  Faith, Family and Jobs

  ‘Zoom in on the banner, camera five.’

&n
bsp; ‘This election will be about the economy and jobs,’ Davis continued. ‘In Montana, I’ve put the economy front and centre, and my record speaks for itself. Shale oil and gas drilling is reaching new heights in the Bakken formation, and you’ve only got to look at the thousands of new jobs . . . new jobs . . . that we’ve created in the Sweet Grass and Park counties. We’re well on the way to making America self-sufficient in oil and gas, and if the American people entrust me with the White House, I will pledge till my last breath to rebuild what the Democrats have destroyed. Together, and with the help of Almighty God, we will make America great again!’

  As Davis launched into the dot points Rachel had provided him, interspersed with regular mentions of the Almighty and the Lord Jesus Christ, she listened to the increased applause with grudging respect. She hadn’t changed her mind on Davis’s IQ, but as a snake oil salesman in campaign mode, he was without peer. She began to think they might just pull this off, reminding herself that stranger things had happened.

  ‘Murderer!’ shouted a clearly agitated man who had leapt to his feet in the middle of the auditorium. He took off his coat to reveal a black T-shirt emblazoned with a skull and crossbones. ‘You’re setting us up for an absolute disaster in Montana! There are now over 400 000 tanker cars moving across this country every year, and so far, there have already been three rail derailments of Bakken crude that have resulted in fifty people dead and millions of gallons of flaming oil creating walls of flame three hundred feet high. And in Lac Megantic in Quebec, the whole town went up. Bakken crude is dangerous! It’s light, has more methane, and burns easily!’

  Shipley had already given orders for the protester to be evicted, but the man had carefully selected his seat in the middle of the vast auditorium, and the security guards were having trouble getting to him. The protestor was making the most of it.

  ‘And you, Governor Davis . . . you and EVRAN and the rest of Big Oil are liars! You maintain fracking has been around for decades, but it hasn’t! Deep horizontal drilling and the use of toxic chemicals only began in Ohio in 2011 and contrary to what you say, we know nothing of the damage to the water table and our drinking water! EVRAN has teams of salespeople tricking old retired couples into signing away the family farm for a pittance. You’re in bed with EVRAN and Big Oil up to your miserable neck!’

  The security guards finally managed to reach the protestor, and much to the discomfort of those in his row, they forcibly propelled him toward the aisle.

  ‘But they know in Poland!’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘Ask the farmers on the border with Ukraine about using 40 000 gallons of chemicals every time the rocks are fractured. Ask them how much mercury and hydrochloric acid are going into the water table!’

  The protestor’s shouting faded as two burly security guards forcibly ejected him from the church.

  Rachel made a note to get a copy of his photograph for identification. Whoever he was, he was extraordinarily well briefed.

  ‘There will always be those who resist change,’ Davis began with a calculated shrug. ‘For the record, I am not in bed with EVRAN, or Big Oil, or anyone else other than my loving wife of twenty-seven years.’ He paused and smiled as the gentle laughter echoed around the auditorium. ‘It’s our twenty-eighth anniversary next month, and I thank God every day for sending her to me.’ Many in the audience nodded approvingly, and a stronger burst of applause echoed off the walls.

  ‘For those who may not be aware, fracking is a simple process which has been around for a very long time.’ Rachel scrutinised the congregation as Davis continued speaking. From the looks on their faces, it was clear that quite a number had little or no idea of what fracking involved, and they were following the explanation closely.

  ‘But this is not some hillbilly operation. Drilling for oil and gas is closely regulated by environmental regulations.’

  Rachel made yet another note. Davis might get away with that here, or in Montana, but a national debate would require a far more careful answer.

  ‘As to our friend’s allegations on methane, he’s quite wrong there. This gas occurs naturally. It’s found right across the country. What we need to focus on here are the benefits derived from God’s bountiful gifts. We’ve created over 200 000 jobs already, and many of these are for God-fearing families across this great land.’

  Rachel muttered quietly to herself. ‘Jesus Christ, Davis, I said remember your audience, not lay it on with a bloody trowel.’ The remainder of her prepared speech, which focused on jobs and the economy, passed without further incident. Faith-based initiatives that would allow religious organisations like the Hermit Road mega-church to better compete for government funds gained loud applause. Rachel made another note. But then she braced herself for the most dangerous part of the meeting. She’d schooled Davis in every question she could think of, but religion was not her long suit, and this element of the Davis pitch was unscripted.

  ‘And now my friends,’ Pastor Shipley said, offering Davis a seat at a fake fireside setting on the stage, ‘Governor Davis will be pleased to take questions.’

  The first question came from a well-dressed woman in the second row. ‘Governor Davis, we’ve heard a lot about the way Muslims want to introduce Sharia law to the West. Can you explain how you feel about Islam?’

  Rachel took a deep breath. This was a curve ball on steroids.

  ‘I’m not the first to say this,’ Davis began, ‘but there is no doubt that Islam is an evil religion. When Muslims say they want to introduce Sharia law, they mean it. They want to abolish our court system and put camel courts in their place. They want to take over the world, but as your president, I will never ever let that happen. There is only one true religion, and one true God, and that’s the Lord Jesus Christ incarnate as the Son of the Father.’

  The applause was stronger now, but Rachel made a note to request research into the Muslim vote. She listened with interest to the rest of the questions and Davis’s responses.

  For the last question a portly gentleman in the front, dressed in an expensive suit, got to his feet. ‘Governor Davis, I wonder if you could give us an indication of what you might say to our Lord Jesus Christ when you meet Him in the end times. How are you going to convince Him that you have earned a place in Heaven?’

  ‘Yes!’ Rachel whispered to herself. She had a track record of being able to predict awkward questions, but it always gave her a kick when she nailed one, particularly when it came to a group like this. For Rachel, these people might just as well have come from another planet.

  ‘We’re all sinners,’ Davis began, ‘but when you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Saviour, as I have, and you have, then we know – we know – that because of His sacrifice, we are saved. We are right with God.’

  Even Rachel was taken aback. The auditorium erupted and the congregation got to their feet, applauding and cheering wildly. ‘Hallelujah! Hallelujah!’ they chanted. ‘Amen! Amen!’

  Crowley drained his champagne, flicked off the broadcast, and leaned back in the comfortable office sofa.

  ‘Your new house comfortable?’

  ‘Very, Mr Crowley. I can’t thank you enough,’ said Miranda. She put her own glass on the table, nestled back on the couch and again allowed her skirt to ride to the top of her thighs.

  ‘You and I are going to be spending a lot of time together . . . and when we’re alone, it’s Sheldon,’ he said, letting his hand wander onto her exposed leg.

  ‘Sheldon it is, then,’ she whispered huskily, her own hand wandering to the inside of Crowley’s thigh. ‘Shall I pour some more champagne?’

  ‘Oh . . . I think the champagne can wait, don’t you?’ He put his arm around her and explored inside her bra.

  ‘Let me make that easier,’ Miranda whispered, ‘it undoes at the front.’ She undid the catch, releasing her firm, perky breasts, and felt the inside of Crowley’s thigh and his growing erection.

  Crowley unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, releasing his cock. ‘Suck me
,’ he said hoarsely, sliding his hand into Miranda’s black lace knickers and fingering her moist, warm clit.

  Over a thousand miles to the north, in Montana, Abigail had also been watching the live broadcast. Her disbelief turned to white-hot anger. ‘You bastard! You hypocritical, lying bastard!’ she swore at the television screen.

  A month before, a knock on her door had come in the early evening. She had been reluctant at first, but $200 000 was a lot of money. Abigail had eventually accepted that the governor had powerful friends who simply wanted to ensure his reputation was safe, and she signed the agreement to keep silent. The governor’s reputation would have been safe with her anyway – up until now. ‘No one mentioned anything about you running for the White House, you bastard! What about me? Is that bitch of a wife of yours going to be First Lady now?’ she fumed.

  Back in Pastor Shipley’s office, Rachel flicked on CNC’s analysis of the announcement.

  ‘In breaking news,’ Walter Cronkwell intoned, ‘Governor Carter Davis has announced his intention to run for the Republican nomination for president, and we cross to our political correspondent, Susan Murkowski, who joins us from outside the Hermit Road mega-church in Dallas. A dark horse, and a surprise late addition to the field, Susan?’ The vision faded to Murkowski standing on the wide steps of the church.

  ‘Indeed it is, Walter. Governor Davis had given no previous indication he might run, but he’s certainly energised a flagging Republican campaign, and if the reception he’s received here is anything to go by, Governor Davis might prove to be more than a dark horse. Here’s what one couple, clearly ecstatic about the prospect of a God-fearing president, had to say.’

  The vision changed again to a grey-haired white couple in their late sixties.

  ‘And what did you think of Governor Davis’s announcement?’ Murkowski asked, moving her microphone toward the woman.