A Covenant with Death: The Peacock Trilogy - Book 3

by Bill Wetterman

A glance over his shoulder caused George to stiffen. The indigenous population had spotted him and two brave souls were edging their way up the slope toward his location. He fired his weapon at a part of the Wigleeva Rock formation sending it downward to block their ascent. He made his way back to the lab to run the data again, hoping upon hope he could find a way to secure a shuttle sooner.

  #

  “Let us assess where we are.” Ammad glared at his advisers until not one could raise his eyes to meet Ammad’s stare. “The Jews are waiting for my arrival in Jerusalem to inspect their preparations for the building of the temple. I can’t afford to have any leaks about what is happening to Christian leaders, and specifically about my search for Pendleton and Edison. These events can’t reach the ears of the population.”

  “It’s general knowledge that the Christians are leaving as part of the Mars colonization project,” one Imam said.

  “That’s a separate issue.” Ammad cracked a wicked grin. “We’re allowing their departure, except for their leaders. Those in Rome, London, and the Dallas Complex who are zealous against us must not be allowed to go. That includes the Pope and Pendleton. I have a feeling when we find Edison we’ll find Pendleton’s children and the redheaded witch.”

  “What of Van Meer?”

  “He converts or dies.” Ammad grew more powerful with each passing day. “Balmoral has been neutralized without a global ripple. London has a few of Cline’s people to be accounted for as yet, but generally, the Complex has been running normally. We will find the rest of Cline’s loyalists and offer them the same opportunity we’ve offered Van Meer. Someone will crack.”

  At that moment, Akbari rushed into the room, adjusting his turban as he came. “I’m sorry I’m late. Pendleton and Cline are in Rome. Sayyid detected a communication from Pendleton to his son, Harry. Pendleton is definitely in Rome.”

  “And Harry?” Ammad asked.

  “Somewhere on the North American continent. Somewhere either underground or below sea level. Sayyid’s guess, a four hundred mile radius within the former states of California, Nevada, and Arizona.”

  “Where they are, Edison is.” Blood rushed to Ammad’s head. His heartbeat increased. “Begin immediate transport of our most highly skilled combatants to that area. Land them at the Vegas Complex. Once we know the exact location, we’ll destroy them and Edison with them.”

  “Ammad,” Atash Akbari whispered. “You must catch the Supersonic to Jerusalem in twenty minutes. Allow me to administer justice to Hans Van Meer with your approval.”

  “Granted.” Ammad rose to leave. Supersonic or not, the ride from the Basra Complex to Jerusalem wasn’t as long as the trip from Jerusalem’s outskirts to selected temple grounds next to the Dome of the Rock. Each time he traveled to the former Nation of Israel, the crowds welcoming him grew. Today, he hoped to win the hearts of both Palestinians and Jews alike toward the idea of unifying the children of Shem.

  #

  A sliver of light crept into Van Meer’s room at Balmoral Castle, a bittersweet moment for him. His last sunrise most likely, and yet the light brought a hope he couldn’t find in the darkness. Around four in the morning, he’d given himself over to Christ, reciting from the Psalms, “O Lord my God, in You I put my trust; Save me from all those who persecute me; And deliver me.”

  A growing peace filled him. He knew his spirit dwelt with God. His soul and a new body would follow, but not before the devil demanded his life. He’d regretted his past—wasted on worldly goals and pleasures. But with what short time he had left, he would serve his Lord the best he could.

  At noon, the door to his room opened. The same three men who had threatened him the day before led him out through his sitting room into the 1st floor grounds near the terrace. There in the open air three flags had been set up, the Official Flag of the Global Realm, the Global Realm Peace Flag, a light-blue flag with a white dove carrying an olive branch, and Ammad’s official flag, a green flag with a red-crescent moon and a white star etched on black.

  In front of the flags, a hooded giant dressed in black stood next to a chopping block with an axe in his hand. His face was covered so only his eyes and mouth could be seen. There were cameras and video feeds stationed around the yard.

  Does he really intend to bring attention to this?

  “Your execution will be broadcast only to Muslim-controlled complexes,” one of the men holding him said.

  “Good morning, Hans.” Akbari’s voice sounded from the speakers closest to Van Meer. “Will you join us and declare allegiance to Ammad, the Chosen, and his Global Realm government?”

  Hearing that proclamation sickened Van Meer. He wet his lips and responded, “I will continue my allegiance to the Global Realm. But I do not acknowledge the existence of a chosen religious leader.”

  “He is the newly elected First Citizen, Ammad al-Sistani.”

  “He can choose to call himself whatever he wants, but I do not believe in an Islamic prophet or in Islam.”

  “Well, if you are loyal to the Global Realm, please reveal the location of Edison. Our people need access to it for the good of our citizens.”

  Van Meer tried to get a visual on Akbari, but only his voice came through. He wasn’t anywhere nearby. “As I said before, I don’t know where Edison is.”

  “Do you know how to reach Thaddeus Cline?”

  “No.”

  “Arthur Pendleton?”

  “I tried. My cell won’t recall his number.”

  Akbari teased him, asking the same question about every member of Pendleton’s family. Van Meer answered no to all his questions.

  “This is your last chance. You seem to be the least informed former candidate for First Citizen the world has ever seen. Do you accept and declare allegiance to Ammad, the Chosen and his Global Realm government?”

  “My answer is the same. I do not believe in an Islamic prophet.”

  “Axe man, carry out your duty.”

  Van Meer’s body shook as he tried to pray. Praying wasn’t his strong point. A hand forced him to his knees. “Lord Jes. . .”

  A clamp secured his neck to the block and cut off his wind. Receive my. . .

  #

  Akbari clapped his hands and danced before Ammad’s advisors. “Put his head on the highest spire next to Michael Ziebach. Leave it there until it rots.”

  #

  “You will need all the skill of Peacock now.” Custos sat on a hillside bench looking down at the Rome Complex and the entrance to Saint Peters Square.

  “May I ask you a question?” Peacock said, wondering about the future of her husband. “Arthur will be in Heaven with me. He murdered millions. I will be there as well. I broke every commandment. How can this be?”

  “Not everyone who knows Jesus is Lord will enter the Kingdom of God.” Custos shrugged. “But only those who place their trust in Him and follow Him. Both you and Arthur tried to please God. You failed. Yet like David, you repented.”

  “But I failed so often.”

  “Yet you tried. Think of yourself before you accepted Christ. Did you follow Him?”

  “No. I was too angry to follow Him.”

  “And now?”

  “Now my conscience bothers me when I stray, and I ask forgiveness.”

  “And that’s the difference between the saved and the unsaved. They are too proud to accept Jesus as Lord, even though they know in their hearts He is.” Custos sighed. “The Lord weeps at the loss of every human soul. But they choose disobedience, because they refuse to be held accountable to any power higher than themselves. Even though they know they sin before God.”

  Peacock reasoned out what the angel had said. “So because I try to follow Christ, and I place my faith in Him, I’m saved.”

  “Faith comes first. Your good deeds second. For without faith, your works are nothing.”

  “I’m going to face Ammad. Even knowing I’m saved, I’m afraid.”

  “In the Garden at Gethsemane, Jesus feared what was coming.
But He obeyed God.”

  “And you’ll be there?”

  “No. I’ll be near.” Custos held her hand. “God, Himself, will be with you.”

  Chapter 27

  Ammad waved to the crowds gathered on the Haolan Road. His caravan of vehicles turned through the Dung Gate in to the Jewish Quarter and headed toward the West Wall. Hundreds of Hebrew clerics and the seventy from the Sanhedrin greeted him as he stepped out of the limousine that brought him.

  Rabbi Levinson, a wide smile gracing his face, locked Ammad in a brotherly embrace. The swine’s touch sickened him, but Ammad returned the hug. A few years from now, Levinson would either bow to him or die like Van Meer had done. Arrogant Hebrew believers weren’t brothers, only those who dropped their faith in favor of money and power could serve his purpose.

  “So show me the plans and the instruments for the sacrifices.”

  Levinson rolled out a long scroll on a cedar table inside the construction pavilion, a portable structure covered with tarps. “So to rebuild the new temple in Jerusalem all the instruments that will be used for the sacrifices have been precisely recreated. Red heifers, required for purification of the sanctuary and the people, are bred. We have pure reds. Now that peace exists, only a disagreement among us Jews whether Elijah needs to come first to oversee the building project is still in dispute.”

  “I’ll settle this. Call your people together.”

  Levinson scurried about hustling as many elders as he could inside to hear Ammad. When they had gathered, Ammad asked. “How many here await Elijah?”

  Some twenty hands shot up.

  “Do you trust God?”

  “Yes,” they cried.

  One man uttered. “It’s you I’m not sure of.”

  Ammad tilted his head and shrugged—a move familiar to the Jews as meaning, I get your point. “If you trust God, and you know He can do anything He wishes. Then rely on that. God promised Elijah would return. If now is the time, he will. Until then, build your temple.”

  He turned to Levinson. “Send me a list of everything you lack, and Global distribution will deliver the materials to you.” He stretched out his arms and asked, “Does anyone disagree?”

  Only one hand went up, Rabbi Shamir, the same one who opposed him in Tel Aviv. Ammad had him on his list. A painful death would follow when this was over. “So begin, and may Allah be gracious to you.”

  Levinson reddened and replied. “Yahweh willing, we will be finished in forty-two months.”

  Ammad left the pavilion and headed to meet with administrators at The Dome of the Rock. He chuckled as he imagined the axe severing Van Meer’s neck.

  “It’s what you get when you fail to bend the knee.” He said aloud. His words never reached another human ear.

  #

  The buzzing of his cell startled Pendleton from a deep sleep. He rolled over to see George’s name on his screen. “How did you manage to make this call?”

  “Edison’s figuring out the rogue computer’s operating pattern and undoing some of the damage. If you can get Cline on the line, he might be able to help us gain more control.”

  Clearly, he didn’t have top priority even in his own son’s life. No, how is it going, Dad? No, I love you. Just get Cline on the phone. But that was how he’d treated his children went he had pressing business.

  “Hold on. I’ll try to wake him.”

  He stumbled to the door and headed down the cold tile floor of the Vatican’s sleeping quarters to Thad’s room. He knocked.

  “I’m awake. Come in.”

  Realizing he was barefoot, Pendleton opened the door a crack and said, “George found a way to call. Apparently, Edison is undoing some of the rogue computer’s damage, and he wants to talk to you.”

  Cline ran to the door and grabbed the phone.

  For the next ten minutes the man who once ruled the world stood barefoot in the hall outside Cline’s room with no power except that of a delivery boy. God told him his time was over. Why did he feel so depressed? The immense pride within him couldn’t deal with his loss of power. The thought came to him to rest in this situation and enjoy God’s peace—a hard thing for a proud man to do.

  “Here’s your phone back,” Cline called out as he clomped to the door, his Vatican pajamas looking miserably crumpled. “Come in and have some tea, while I update you.”

  “My feet are half frozen.”

  “I’ve got the standard pull-ons. One size fits, you know.” Cline tossed him a pair, and Pendleton slipped them on, slouching as he entered Cline’s room. “You look like Ammad’s already put you in prison, or worse yet, ordered your execution.”

  Tomorrow, he more than likely would, Pendleton thought.

  Cline flipped the switch on the Eco-Stream Tea dispenser and pushed twice. Two cups dropped into place and hot Earl Grey tea poured out ready to drink. He stirred Pendleton’s and set the cup down on the durable serving table at the far end of the room by the windows. Dawn was still two hours off.

  Outside Cline’s window, the vivid lights of the Vatican buildings tossed rainbows of colors into the night sky. Every steeple on Saint Peter’s Basilica reflected varying hues of yellow and gold, blue and violet, off nearby buildings. The sight calmed Pendleton a bit, as did Cline’s soft smile. The humongous ego that used to be Thaddeus Cline had vanished as the years passed, leaving a stout fellow and good friend in its place.

  “Here’s life’s cruel fact. Total control is not possible. Try as you might, Arthur. You can’t maintain power forever.” Cline took a sip, and Pendleton plopped down onto a chair. “You pulled the sword from the stone, and you wielded it well. But times and people change.”

  “I don’t need a lecture.”

  “No. You need a friend.” Cline sighed and his lips quivered. “Hans is dead.”

  Hearing the words didn’t mean understanding them. Pendleton’s head jerked back like a prizefighter had caught him with an uppercut. The air left his lungs. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he’d have fallen. “I’m alone. Lovey, Milton, and now Hans, all gone.”

  Cline touched his hand. “God is with you. Have you ever confessed your sins? I don’t mean with words. I mean with your heart. Have you ever truly given God control? Did you ask Him what to do before you came here?”

  Pendleton shook his head. “The conversation was one way. God told me to come here, and I came.”

  Cline tilted his head and lowered an eyebrow.

  “Don’t you believe me?”

  “If it’s true, show it by being confident. What does the scripture say, ‘If God is for us, who can be against us?’”

  He looked like a schoolmaster. Pendleton glanced to see if Cline had a ruler in his hand with which to swat him. He tried to respond, but nothing came out.

  “Look. I was a rounder and an egotist.” Cline shook his head. “I pushed the button that blew up the United Nations building. Yes, you and I have blood on our hands. God is the only salvation for us. Stop worrying and start doing what you’re told.”

  Pendleton nodded.

  “With George’s help, Edison reversed much of Ammad’s damage,” Cline said. “But this is only a temporary fix. He opened two lines of communications covering ninety-three primarily Christian complexes. I wrote down the shuttle schedules, and I need you and Pope Peter to record a message for broadcast over each line. Sooner or later someone will break down and reveal Edison’s location and we’re finished.”

  “I should have maintained an army and kept surveillance on the Muslim complexes.”

  “Quit your bitching and beating yourself up. Do what you can now. Forget about the past.”

  Pendleton squirmed in his seat, pushing his shoulder blades back against the spindles. “I will. What else did George tell you? You talked for quite a while.”

  “If you mean, did he ask about you?” Cline’s comment irritated him. Because it hit home. “He did. He said they all miss you, and for you to do what needs to be done. He also said Connor has prepared to fight
to the death. He sees no way out for us but up—one way or another.”

  Pendleton gulped down some tea and fixed himself another cup before saying anything. “I doubt we’ll ever leave this complex. Unless it’s on a shuttle. But I will be the last person out.”

  “A noble thought.” Cline bumped his cup against Pendleton’s. “Let God decide that.”

  Chapter 28

  Howard White didn’t make it to the tunnel when Ammad’s people ransacked Cline’s London laboratory. He hid inside a cabinet until he thought the attackers had gone. A mistake. They found him, pulled him out, and threw him down onto the floor. Since then, he’d been confined in the dark at the former Blundeston Prison—the only prisoner there in over twenty years. Howard White forgot his name and everything else in his life. He only knew pain.

  “This can stop, Howie,” a voice called to him for the umpteenth time. “Where is Edison?”

  “Howie, Howie, come home nowie,” he cackled and drooled a bit. “Yes, Mommy.”

  The men surrounding him laughed as the screw man turned the iron handle forward a notch. Howard, caught in a crouch between the iron jaws of a Scavenger’s Daughter, groaned as his ribs cracked a little more. Where is Edison? Where is Edison?

  “Soapie, Dopie, I don’t know pee. Somewhere in the mountains near Soapie.”

  “Soapie?” His tormentor wondered.

  Then Howard White forgot to breathe.

  #

  Atash Akbari reviewed the tape of White’s last words. He knew his gut feeling shouldn’t be ignored, but he didn’t expect a good result. He called his connection to Sayyid. “Find any location sounding like Soapie nearby a mountain range.”

  Ammad had left the Dubai Complex a few hours earlier to join his forces approaching Rome. Akbari needed this time to find Edison and seal his masters’ fate as supreme ruler of the non-Asian world. Once secure, he could fulfill his plans to enslave the Jews and defeat the Asian Empire led by Tzu Chui.

  His cell buzzed. Rabbi Levinson calling with another request for assistance, he thought. “How can I help you?”

  “I need more workers.” Levinson sighed. “Also, I have quarrels among some of the religious workmen that fire will burn them if the time isn’t right. You know how it is. Two Jews equal three opinions.”