The Inca Prophecy

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The Inca Prophecy Page 10

by Adrian D'hagé


  Elegant Persian carpets hung on the walls of the marble lobby of the Qom International Hotel, and the coffee shop was just off to one side. Major Jafari sipped on his Delster non-alcoholic beer, waiting for word the Pakistani delegation had retired for the night.

  ‘I was on the second floor just now, Jafari.’ Major Golzar suddenly materialised in front of him and Jafari’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Who were you visiting?’

  ‘Visiting?’ Jafari’s mind raced as he fought to remain calm.

  ‘You heard me. Who is in Room 203?’ Golzar’s voice was edged with steel.

  ‘Oh, him. He’s just a university professor … Irish, I think. He was asking me about Persepolis earlier and I promised to pass on some information about how to get there.’

  ‘His name?’ Golzar rasped. Major Golzar would not have been out of place in the Nazi-era SS. Just as the members of Hitler’s Schutzstaffel, the Führer’s personal protection squadron, considered themselves superior to everyone else in the Third Reich, members of the Quds Force considered themselves above the Iranian Armed Forces and even the Revolutionary Guards, regardless of rank.

  ‘Professor … Professor O’Lach … Professor McLoughlin, that’s it. Professor McLoughlin. Why are you so interested, Golzar?’ Jafari asked, recovering some of his nerve.

  ‘Not everyone is who they say they are, Jafari, so I’d be very careful who you talk to.’ Golzar gave Jafari a searching look. ‘That pen you were using this evening … may I see it?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘The pen!’

  Chapter 16

  The commanding officer of the Knights of the North F-16 Falcon squadron, Lieutenant Colonel Moshe Schiller, checked his watch: 0400 hours. It was time to move. Schiller, his eyes focused on the soft glow of the instrument panel, engaged the F-16’s nose-wheel steering, released the parking brake and armed his ejection seat. As he taxied out of the hardened shelter and past a line of eucalyptus trees towards runway 09, Schiller ran through his checklist, scanning the Heads-Up Display, or HUD, and instrument gauges for any warning signs. Four more bomb-laden F-16s lumbered along behind him, piloted by Israelis barely out of their teens. At just on eight and a half thousand feet, runway 09 was the longest at Ramat David, but Schiller knew they would need it. The F-16s were destined for Beirut, and they were carrying close to their maximum payload.

  Schiller eased the fighter to just short of the runway, his right hand gripping the side stick control, his left holding the throttle at idle as he brought the aircraft to a halt with the toe brakes. The F-16 was the first aircraft in the world to be constructed to withstand 9 Gs, or nine times the force of gravity in a turn. The pressures on the pilot were immense, and under those stresses, a normal central joystick would have been difficult to control. The side stick enabled the pilot to anchor his arm on the armrest and control the stick with his wrist.

  Schiller took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. The 52-year-old veteran pilot had seen his first combat flying F-4 Phantoms in the first invasion of Lebanon in 1982, but even though he had thousands of hours, the adrenalin still surged with every mission. Schiller scanned his instruments and controls once more: probe heat, flaps, radar altimeter, speed brake …

  The voice of the air traffic controller crackled in his headphones. ‘Barak Zero One, you’re cleared for take-off runway 09.’

  ‘Barak Zero One.’

  ‘Contact the Air Operations Centre when airborne on one two zero, decimal three.’

  ‘One two zero, decimal three.’

  Schiller moved the throttle forward and watched the rpm percentage climb steadily. As he rolled onto the runway, he scanned his instruments one final time, but all the warning lights were out. Satisfied, he thrust the throttle lever fully forward and then to the left to engage the afterburner. Schiller was rammed against the reclined seat as the General Electric F110 turbofan generated a massive 28 000 pounds of thrust. The F-16 thundered down the runway, leaving a long sheet of orange and blue flame trailing behind it. As the aircraft reached 160 knots, Schiller eased back on the side stick. The fighter left the ground, climbing at 30 000 feet per minute, and Schiller immediately retracted the landing gear. Undercarriages did not react well to an afterburner at full power.

  Out of habit, Schiller glanced at the dark skies ahead through the single-piece polycarbonate bubble cockpit that allowed all-round visibility. With a bit of luck, the Syrians would be staying home today, he thought. Just in case, he flicked his radar on to search mode, but the radar showed an empty sky. Schiller set course for the first turn point at the Litani River, and scanned Beirut’s approach, tower and ground frequencies. All were quiet. He glanced at the bombs that had been attached underneath the wings. Each 2000-pound bomb had been modified with a $20 000 laser-guidance unit attached to the nose. Provided he could keep the laser beam on target, Schiller knew the system was accurate to within a few metres. Further inboard, an array of sensors was searching the skies and the ground below through the lenses of a ‘Litening’ targeting pod attached to the fuselage. The pod’s FLIR, or forward-looking infrared sensor, would enable Schiller to distinguish hot areas on a target, although at dawn, temperatures would likely be uniform, and Schiller switched to the CCD sensor that would give him a normal view of the target.

  Fifteen minutes later the F-16s approached their target and Schiller concentrated on his HUD. The airspeed readout was showing 350 knots, and altitude was registering 25 000 feet. Each of Schiller’s pilots had been allotted a different target, and this morning, the Knights of the North had been ordered to destroy all three of Beirut’s runways.

  Schiller rolled into the attack. He held the ‘consent’ button down to enable the aircraft computers to take into account the aircraft’s speed, altitude and direction and calculate the bomb release. Schiller felt a slight jolt as the first guided bomb left the starboard No 3 wing station and he held the laser circle on the centre of his target. A few seconds later, as he pulled out of his dive, a black shape shot across the HUD and the centre of runway 16/34 exploded in a massive flash of flame and reinforced concrete. Schiller continued to pull back on the stick and climbed, allowing his wingmen behind him a clear view of the other runways.

  Just to the north-west, another squadron of F-16s was pounding Dahiye and the heavily populated southern suburbs of Beirut. Intelligence had indicated that Hassan Nasrallah’s headquarters and the al-Manar television station were hidden amongst the high-rise apartment buildings there. Further south and closer to the Litani River, Lebanon’s highways and bridges were being reduced to rubble. And more ominously for the Lebanese villagers who lived near the border, Israeli artillery was on the move.

  The dust rose behind the convoy of M109 Paladin self-propelled artillery vehicles as they roared into position. The battery commander had positioned his unit along Israel’s border with Lebanon, not far from where the two Israeli soldiers had been abducted. Now, he thought, those responsible would pay. He double-checked the computer input on the suspected Hezbollah positions on the other side of the border and the gunners sweated as they manhandled the 155 mm rounds and the explosive charges into the breeches of the big guns. The turret motors whirred threateningly and the long barrels were adjusted on to the targets.

  ‘Alpha Zulu, this is Niner, target Bravo One Five Zero, five rounds, fire for effect.’

  ‘Fire!’

  ‘Fire!’

  One after another the vehicle commanders gave orders to their crews and orange flame and black smoke belched from the barrels of the guns along the border. With a roar like an express train disappearing down a tunnel, the 88-pound shells arced towards their targets at more than 500 metres a second.

  There was no warning for the residents of al-Bazourieh, just an ominous whistling sound before everything around them erupted in blasts of fire and smoke. Round after round slammed into the main street and the hills above, demolishing the little market and the surrounding buildings, the local mosque and many of the houses above th
e village.

  Mansoor and Ahmed staggered out of the mosque, where the local imam had been conducting prayers. Blood streamed from Ahmed’s forehead where a piece of shrapnel had torn out a large chunk of flesh. He and his father gazed in utter disbelief at the carnage in the street. Minibuses and cars had been blown apart and buildings teetered on collapse, their rooms open to the elements. It was as if a giant can-opener had ripped away the walls. Dismembered bodies lay amongst shattered concrete and in craters where the souk had once thrived. Men, women and children wandered about, dazed and bleeding. Fires had broken out and Mansoor and Ahmed staggered up the hill towards their house. They rounded the bend in the road and Ahmed’s heart filled his mouth. He started to run towards the smoking crater where the house had once stood.

  Chapter 17

  ‘Israel is in peril!’ Pastor Jerry Buffett thundered. ‘In recent days, hundreds of rockets have killed innocent Israeli citizens – citizens whose only crime is to try and live peacefully in towns near the Lebanese border.’ Renowned for his powerful speeches in support of the Promised Land, and one of the best-known televangelists in the United States, Buffett gripped the lectern and looked towards the huge audience packing the cavernous hall on the lower level of the Washington Convention Center.

  Outside, near the entrance in Mt Vernon Place, a gigantic banner announced Let Your Voices Be Heard in Israel’s Hour of Need! Over 5000 Christian Zionists had heard the call, and they’d descended on the nation’s capital from all over the country.

  ‘Camera five, give me a close-up on the pastor,’ the producer ordered from the control room above the stage. The cameraman slowly zoomed in, capturing the televangelist’s tanned face, his square jaw and the intensity emanating from his deep-blue eyes.

  ‘The End Times are upon us,’ Buffett thundered. ‘Does anyone know what the Rapture Index stands at today?’

  ‘One hundred and eighty-four.’ The answer was provided immediately by a portly gentleman in the front row.

  ‘Absolutely, sir. One hundred and eighty-four! That’s the highest reading since recordings began!’ Many in the audience nodded in agreement. For some, it was the first thing they checked when they logged on to the internet. The ‘Rapture Ready’ website factored together a whole range of issues that were said to be precursors to the End Times, from the economy and oil supply to earthquakes, tsunamis and wildfires, and Israel, which today had recorded a maximum of ‘5’.

  ‘The rise of the Satanic forces of Islam is all part of God’s plan,’ Buffett continued in his broad Texan drawl, ‘and on the day when those who believe are raptured up to join the Lord, a truly terrible death awaits those who have not heeded the prophecies of the Bible.’

  ‘I have a message for the President of the United States and those around him who advise on foreign policy towards Israel: God is watching you!’ The audience burst into deafening applause. ‘It’s clearly written in this book, Mr President,’ Buffett thundered, lifting his worn leather Bible and opening it. ‘Right here in Genesis 12, where God says of Israel and His chosen people: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you … and I will bless those who bless you, and curse those who curse you.” God could not make it clearer, Mr President. God is demanding of this great nation that we stand by Israel in her hour of need!’

  Shouts of ‘Amen!’ and ‘Hallelujah!’ rang out around the hall. Jerry Buffett grabbed the microphone and began to pace the huge stage. ‘The Lord always keeps his promises,’ he continued, ‘and when He said, “I give to you this land from the river of Egypt to the great river, the Euphrates,” he meant it! Not one square inch of Gaza, or the Occupied Territories on the West Bank, and not one square inch of Jerusalem can be returned to the terrorists!’

  Applause again thundered through the supporting pillars of the vast ballroom.

  ‘Jerusalem was key to the first coming of Christ, and to His resurrection. And the Bible makes clear that Jerusalem will again be at the centre of the Lord’s return, and sooner than we think.’ Pastor Buffett returned to the lectern and threw the conference open to questions from the floor. ‘Yes, sir … down here,’ he said, directing the microphone usher to the portly gentleman in the front row.

  ‘Thank you, Pastor Buffett, for another wonderful speech, which raises a number of questions, one of which concerns the Temple Mount and the rebuilding of the temple itself. Given that the Muslims have built a mosque on top of the ruins of the Second Temple, do you see a day when the Third Temple can be rebuilt?’ he asked, his voice tremulous, his face flushed.

  ‘That’s an excellent question, sir, an excellent question. Muslims are, tragically, on the wrong path. There is only one path to the hereafter, and the Bible warns us to beware of false prophets, because it’s the Bible – not the Qur’an, or the Hindu Bhagavad-Gita, or the Buddhist Dhammapada, or the Taoist Tao Te Ching, or the Zoroastrian Zend Avesta. The Bible is the word of God, and Islam is an evil religion that is characterised by violence. Fourteen hundred years of violence since its inception, so don’t be fooled! As for the Third Temple, the cornerstone is ready, the Temple Institute has built the furniture and they have the priestly garments ready. But make no mistake, in the battle for Israel against the terrorists, we are seeing Bible prophecy play out to the letter. Right now, Jews and Christians are forbidden to worship on top of the Temple Mount, and near the Dome of the Rock, there is an inscription in Arabic that reads God Has No Son.’

  Some in the audience put their hands to their mouths.

  ‘That’s right, my friends, but the Muslims have made a grave error. Because when Jesus, God’s one and only Son returns, there will be no Dome of the Rock … there will be no al-Aqsa Mosque … we are going to help Him destroy these pagan edifices and the Third Temple will be built in their place on the very foundations of God’s original temples!’

  When the cheering died down, a well-dressed lady in the third row took the microphone.

  ‘Pastor Buffett, I’d like to add my thanks for a wonderful address, and ask if America and our allies are mentioned anywhere in biblical prophecy. Do you really think the End Times are upon us?’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am, for another thoughtful question. I do indeed think we’re in the End Times. God’s wrath is being visited upon us in the form of tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes, drought and wildfires, financial collapse, and an increase in warfare. In Matthew 24 God says, “For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and in various places there will be famines and earthquakes.” As to America and our allies being in Bible prophecy, right now we’re incurring God’s wrath by supporting the Palestinians’ bid to annex a part of Israel. If this administration has its way, Bethlehem, Jericho, Nablus, Galilee and a host of other places of the greatest importance will be ceded to the Muslims. Mr President, I would remind you again: Turn against Israel, and God will curse America and her allies in the most horrific way!’

  A chorus of ‘Amens’ reverberated off the auditorium walls.

  Pastor Buffett lowered his voice. ‘As I speak, the Iranian ayatollahs are well on their way to acquiring the nuclear bomb. Mr President, we need to bomb Iran, before they bomb us!’

  Aleta Weizman raised her hand.

  ‘Yes, ma’am … the lady over there in the fourth row,’ Buffett said, indicating Aleta to the microphone usher.

  ‘Don’t you embarrass me,’ Ryan whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

  ‘My question is in two parts, Pastor Buffett,’ Aleta began, her confident voice tinged with an educated Spanish lilt. ‘I notice that you refer to the Palestinians as intruders, yet aren’t we rewriting history here? It’s quite right to claim that Islam has only been with us since the Archangel Gabriel revealed God’s word to the Arabs, just as it was revealed to the Christians and Jews through the prophets and Christ. But if I have my Bible right, Pastor Buffett, the Hebrews didn’t arrive in what we now call Israel until, at the earliest, around 1400 BC, some hundreds of years after the Palestinians.’
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br />   Audible gasps of ‘Shame!’ echoed around the auditorium. The chief of security glanced at Pastor Buffett, but the pastor shook his head. It was one thing to eject journalists who asked irritating questions, but the public-relations risk in ejecting an educated woman was too great.

  ‘So the first part of my question is,’ continued Aleta, ‘given the Palestinians’ longer claim to the land, shouldn’t we be trying to reach a consensus between both sides?’

  ‘They’re Arabs!’ the man behind her rasped.

  ‘Sit down, Aleta!’ Ryan ordered, but Aleta ignored him.

  ‘Secondly, given that Jerusalem contains the remains of the Jewish Second Temple, as well as the church of the Holy Sepulchre, allegedly built over the site of Christ’s crucifixion, and the Dome of the Rock and the al-Aqsa Mosque, it’s uncontestably the focal point of the three great monotheistic faiths. Wouldn’t it make sense to turn it into an international city that would guarantee access to everyone?’

  The usher snatched the microphone from Aleta, to the accompaniment of more angry whispers of ‘Sacrilege!’ and ‘Apostasy!’

  ‘As soon as this conference is over, we’re over,’ Ryan hissed, his face flushed with anger.

  ‘What makes you think I’m staying until the end of it?’ Aleta shot back.

  The night before, Aleta had sent Anna Mitchell-Hedges an email. The Mitchell-Hedges skull was still in Anna’s care and the delightful old lady was over ninety. But even at short notice, she had replied immediately:

  The skull has already revealed some of the information embedded by the ancients, and I will ask Lena Begich to join us. Lena is very skilled in channelling, and she has demonstrated a remarkably accurate connection to the skull many times. But the channelling sessions have also revealed the crystal skull holds information that is destined to be revealed to a specific person, and I have a feeling that person could be you. We shall see.

 

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