Finishing up her scrambled eggs, Mariam buzzed in Bill and Hazel. They looked refreshed and were beaming with excitement and energy and had brought with them a BBC cameraman and sound engineer. The six of them crammed into Mariam’s apartment while she put her beloved espresso machine onto the stove. For Hazel she brewed some English Breakfast tea.
Bill outlined the day’s itinerary. “You are going back to the Sinai General. It’s the biggest hospital in the country. I have spoken to the hospital’s CEO. He’s a friend of my editor and he agreed to let us film on site with access to patients. I told him we were making a documentary.”
Mariam shot Bill a look. “What kind of documentary?”
“How the terminally ill respond to comedy.”
Mariam looked at Samuel.
Hazel spoke up. “Mariam, people need to see Samuel in action before they believe. If Bill had tried to persuade the CEO to let a healer into his hospital he would have laughed him off the phone. We just need to get Samuel in there. Once he starts healing nobody’s going to stop him and we will have all the footage we need to break the story.”
Bill continued, “We have a thirty-minute special programme going out tonight at seven. We are broadcasting globally. I want to make the evening and afternoon news cycles in Europe and the US.” Bill cautiously pointed at Samuel. “After we finish up at the hospital I want to sit down and interview you. It will provide some background and editorial context. We have some studio time booked.”
Samuel shook his head. “No interview Bill. I want this programme to make it easier for me to reach as many people as possible. So I can walk into any hospital or clinic and for people to understand what I’m doing there and just let me get on with it. I don’t want to make this about me.”
“Samuel,” said Bill gently, “an interview is important as people will have questions.”
Samuel shrugged. “I have no answers. I honestly don’t.”
Hazel floated the idea of obtaining the background they needed from Bill interviewing Dalia and Mariam. Mariam considered this for a moment and much to Samuel’s surprise she agreed.
“Okay, so the hospital wants us to sign these disclaimers,” said Hazel handing out some photocopied forms. “The hospital CEO has arranged that the registrar on duty will show us around. He is meeting us at the entrance of the hospital in thirty-five minutes. Also, before we go I want to show you both something. In the excitement of yesterday I forgot to mention this.” Hazel flipped open her laptop and she clicked through to a saved link. They saw a CCTV image of the Parisian skyline. “Nowhere else on Earth did this happen. The Electrical Phenomenon only grounded here. You can see two strikes, the second for a much longer duration than the first. The floor the lightning strikes is owned by VPC Capital, Managing Partner Victor Pierre Chaput. He was there when the lightning hit. It seems that Samuel and Chaput share a mutual connection to the Electrical Phenomenon.”
Samuel shrugged. “Shall we get going? I have work to do at the hospital.”
***
Timeline: The Pestilence minus 14 days. Information source: Telephone intercept between Victor Pierre Chaput and Stefano Grigori.
Victor Pierre Chaput: The story’s broken Stefano, he is on every media channel, every news organisation on the planet.
Stefano Grigori: Yes sir, I know.
Victor Pierre Chaput: What happened to your agent in Jericho? You were supposed to get me eyes on this man.
Stefano Grigori: Sorry sir, the phone we were tracking was only switched on intermittently. We can’t track a phone that is not communicating with a cell tower. Our field agent couldn’t acquire the target in Jericho, sir. The phone has been in use today in Jerusalem and we have eyes on them now.
Victor Pierre Chaput: As Mr Srour has so publically announced himself we won’t from now on have any difficulty in finding him. I want you to change the focus of the investigation to the people around him. I want background on his family and friends. Do your due diligence and report back to me in twenty-four hours.
Stefano Grigori: Yes sir, no problem.
***
DALIA Srour hung up the phone on the nice lady from the insurance company. Dalia had called more out of hope than any expectation. The nice lady had been professional and sincere. She offered her sympathies and said that even though officially the two countries were at peace, an airstrike was still an act of war and an act of war was specifically excluded from their insurance policy. Dalia would have to seek government assistance for the restoration of their loss. Given the chaotic state of the new government Dalia knew that they would receive nothing. Dalia sunk into Khalid’s sofa. The destruction of her family home was definitive. The call had underlined the bare fact that they had no means to rebuild their lives. After her son, the war had now wrenched another thing from her. Dalia blinked to try and catch her bitter tears.
Dalia’s cell rang. She felt a rush of relief to see Mariam’s number on the display. Mariam filled Dalia in on the events that occurred since they had spoken the previous day. Dalia dabbed her eyes and listened in amazed silence. Mariam asked Dalia to agree to be interviewed for the news special by Bill Irons, the journalist that had called her yesterday. Dalia liked Bill; his article rightly absolved her family of any blame for the attack. The BBC would send a car to Haifa to bring her to Jerusalem. Dalia didn’t know what else to say other than to agree.
***
“SO you’re a comedian,” said the registrar eyeing Samuel suspiciously. “I’ve never met a comedian before. I must say I’m mildly disappointed, I thought you would look funnier.”
“He is a comedian, not a clown,” said Mariam.
“And who are you?”
“I’m his manager,” she replied.
Samuel nudged Mariam as they walked up to the ward followed by the camera crew and the two journalists. “I do know a joke,” he whispered. Mariam looked unimpressed. “So, Jesus and Mary Magdalene were hanging out in Jesus’ apartment. They had a busy day and wanted to unwind. Jesus went to the fridge and took out a bottle. Mary Magdalene said to him, “Have you turned it into wine yet?” Jesus read the label and shook his head. “Nope, it says Still Water.”
***
Timeline: The Pestilence minus 14 days. Information source: Telephone intercept between Mariam Fara and unknown.
Mariam Fara: Hi, this is Mariam, how are you, how’s Dina doing?
Unknown: Mariam, hi. Yes, Dina is in good spirits, bursting with energy. She is playing football in the yard, can you hear her?
Mariam Fara: I can, she sounds wonderfully happy.
Unknown: We all are. What Samuel did for her, for me and my wife, is beyond imagination. We feel nothing but gratitude and love for him.
Mariam Fara: Thank you for your kind words. I called because I wanted to forewarn you. Samuel is going to be on the 7 p.m. news tonight. He believes that by going public he will be able to reach more people.
Unknown: I don’t doubt his wisdom.
Mariam Fara: We are only publicising his healing abilities.
Unknown: I understand.
Mariam Fara: I am sorry to bring this up, but I just got an awkward question today from a journalist. He was asking about rumours regarding Dina.
Unknown: I can assure you we have worked hard to keep our side of the bargain. There were a large number of people at Dina’s resurrection and we have spoken to everyone there.
Mariam Fara: Please try and speak to them again. I just want to buy a little time so we can work out what’s happening. Things are moving so fast.
Unknown: Sometimes, Mariam, honesty is the best policy.
Mariam Fara: Am not so sure.
Unknown: I’ll speak to my family again I promise. Mariam, I have been praying and consulting scripture about the miracle we witnessed yesterday. Do you read the Bible?
Mariam Fara: I have done, yes. I know what verse you are thinking about.
Unknown: I have the verse here right in front of me; can I read it to you?
/> Mariam Fara: You don’t have to, I know it, but go on.
Unknown: They came to the house of the ruler of the synagogue, and they saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. And when he had entered, he said to them, “Why are you making a commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. But he put them all outside and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and went in where the child was. Taking her by the hand he said to her, “Talitha cumi,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.” And immediately the girl got up and began walking (for she was twelve years of age), and they were immediately overcome with amazement.
Mariam Fara: It’s not the same. It’s not the same. Samuel is just a man.
***
Chapter 7
AT 7 p.m. Jerusalem time Rami Hussein was in the kitchen of his old restaurant. He had spent the previous night at Salim’s place. He needed a few days to get his affairs in order and Salim was more than happy to have his old friend close to him again. Other than dropping in to see his lawyer and the real estate agent Rami had no plans for tomorrow. He wasn’t thinking much beyond chopping vegetables for the evening service. In the corner of the kitchen, a small radio was tuned into the BBC World Service. The radio echoed the reports being broadcast around the world. Bill Irons made the introduction to the news piece and started by linking the airstrike and the Electrical Phenomenon back to the Srour family farm. At the mention of Samuel’s name, Rami grazed the cutting edge of the chef’s knife across the back of his thumb. An angry red gash appeared and began to bleed profusely. Still with half an ear on the radio Rami walked over to the sink and held his thumb under the running tap. He fished for blue plasters on the shelf above. The water ran red for a moment then quickly became clear once more. Rami opened the plaster with his teeth and withdrew his sliced thumb from the stream of water, drying it carefully with a dish-cloth. He couldn’t immediately see the cut. He moved into the light and held his thumb up. The light revealed nothing but unbroken skin. The wound had healed almost instantly.
***
AT 7 p.m. Jerusalem time Victor Pierre Chaput was sitting in the lounge of his private hanger. His plane a Boeing Business Jet, a modified variant of the standard Boeing 737-700, was being refuelled and his luggage loaded. He had a bed, gym, office, bar and lounge at his disposal on board. With a range of 11,500 kilometres, the Business Jet could take Victor practically anywhere he wanted in the world. Of course, in the eventuality the jet was grounded for maintenance or repair, Victor owned two.
He was bound for New York where he had scheduled meetings with potential donors to the Chaput Foundation. The television in the lounge was locked into rolling news. Victor glanced at the muted screen. He stood up immediately, couldn’t find the remote controller so he walked over to the television and manually increased the volume. Bill Irons was talking to Dalia about her son.
Bill Irons: Was Samuel religious?
Dalia Srour: Not at all. My family going back a few generations on my mother’s side were originally Jewish and Samuel’s father was Christian but we as a family don’t observe either faith; I suppose we wear the cloak of religion very lightly. I have left my children to choose their own paths. My other boys had some interest but Samuel had none. You know, he read everything, history, art, fact, fiction, but for all his reading, all the hours with his nose in a book, I never saw him read a single religious book or text. Even after his brother passed, he didn’t lean on faith.
Victor flicked over but all the channels were carrying the same story. Victor watched for a little while and then picked up his mobile and dialled Stefano Grigori.
***
AT 7 p.m. Jerusalem time Dr Shimon Biram was sitting down to dinner at his family home. He had left work early as he wanted to catch his daughter’s softball game. He wished he hadn’t bothered. Her team had been soundly beaten, she had dropped three catches and had sulked all the way home. He was rarely home for dinner so his wife insisted on a full family meal. She was shuttling in the food from the kitchen when she called out to him. Shimon entered the kitchen to investigate and found his wife pointing at the television screen.
“Isn’t that Dr Fara your colleague?” Shimon stared bemused at the screen. Mariam was being interviewed by Bill Irons.
Bill Irons: Why do you think he was chosen?
Mariam Fara: I don’t know, neither does Samuel. We don’t know why he has been blessed with these abilities. I know people will be looking to him for leadership, for guidance, but he doesn’t have those kind of answers. He really is just an ordinary man. He’s not interested in telling people how to live their lives or society how to function.
“Yes, that’s Dr Fara,” said Shimon.
“Well, it looks like her boyfriend is about to become the most famous person on the planet,” said his wife.
***
AT 7 p.m. Jerusalem time Dina’s father sat with Dina on his lap in front of the television. The set was expectantly tuned into the BBC World News. Dina squirmed and wriggled, her attention everywhere else but the television.
“Sit still, my darling, I want to show you the man who cured you. He is coming on TV. Look, there he is, that’s Samuel.” Dina settled slightly but she was still a fidgeting mass of pure energy. “He’s going to cure that sick woman. See how he puts his hands on her face. He did that with you. He has God’s power flowing from his hands. And now the woman is cured, she looks much better.”
“But why is she crying, Baba? She is better.”
“Oh my darling, when we are really, really happy sometimes we cry; like we did when Samuel cured you. We were so happy. We couldn’t stop crying for hours.”
“Is Samuel an angel, Baba?”
“Yes my baby, he is.”
***
AT 7 p.m. Jerusalem time Stefano Grigori was at his desk in Paris. He was receiving a briefing by videoconference from his agents on the ground in Jerusalem.
“Sir, we tracked Samuel Srour to Jerusalem through Dr Fara’s cell phone. She made a couple of calls today and we were able to track her cell consistently throughout the day. We now also have a visual from our agent on the ground. They spent most of their day at the Sinai General Hospital, they moved on to the BBC studios for a few hours and they are now on campus at the University of Jerusalem. We believe that Dr Fara has a residence there.”
“Why didn’t we know about this residence yesterday?”
“It’s a transient location not registered in her name. The university loans the apartment out on a grace and favour basis.”
An alert popped up on Stefano’s computer. The alert was sent by the cyber security division: Information pertinent to his current case.
“Hold on a second, gentlemen,” Stefano said as he clicked through to the link. The BBC News website flashed up. Front page a picture of Samuel Srour. He quickly scanned through the article and clicked on the video link to the news special. “Gentlemen, I suggest we reconvene in an hour. Our target is all over the news.”
Stefano picked up his phone and searched through his address book for Chaput’s number. He felt a familiar and unwelcome kick from his ulcer as his stress levels rose. This was going to be a difficult call to make. He was about to tap send when the phone rang in his hand. Darth Vader’s “Imperial March” from Star Wars echoed through his office, Victor Pierre Chaput calling.
***
AT 7 p.m. Jerusalem time Hazel was sinking a drink with Bill at the Whisky Bar at the Mandarin Oriental. Hazel nursed a gin and tonic while Bill uncharacteristically stuck to mineral water. The biggest story of their lives was breaking around them and they were taking a brief respite from the storm.
“You know, I feel different since Samuel fixed the hole you made in my hand. Difficult to describe how, and hard to put my finger on it but I have been noticing a few things.”
“Hmm,” said Hazel. She brought her glasses from her hair and placed them over her eyes. She downed her drink and looked over B
ill’s shoulder at a handsome IDF soldier in full dress uniform.
“I just feel strong, invigorated. I feel able. My sleep patterns are usually all over the place and I mostly need a nightcap to sleep. Not last night. I woke up this morning refreshed for a change, ready to face the world.”
Hazel picked at the bandage on her left hand. She was regretting not insisting that Samuel heal her. Bill did look better; somehow younger, more vigorous. She glanced over at the soldier once more. To her disappointment, he had been joined by a tall, blonde woman. “Maybe it’s the adrenalin rush from the story breaking,” she said.
“Yeah, perhaps, but I want to speak to the other people Samuel has healed. People from the hospitals they visited yesterday. How are they feeling, what are they doing with their lives since their interaction with him? There is something happening here bigger than this healing but I just don’t know what.” Hazel nodded. “One thing I do know is that I definitely don’t need these anymore,” he said fishing out his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and dropping them into Hazel’s empty glass.
***
AT 7 p.m. Jerusalem time Dalia was sitting on the uncomfortable sofa in Mariam’s apartment. The television was tuned to the BBC World News. Mariam lay lengthways on the same sofa with her feet tucked under Dalia’s legs for warmth. Samuel was making dinner. He looked at his mother’s aura for the first time. It was illuminating the room, far greater in size and stature than Mariam’s. A lifetime of thoughts and emotions danced in front of him full of their subtle textures and complexities. One emotion dominated all else and for the first time Samuel realised that this was the emotion which defined his mother, the emotion which bled into all aspects of her life; the ever present pain at the loss of her eldest son.
***
AT 7 p.m. Jerusalem time in a small apartment above a fishmonger’s shop four people were deep in discussion. They had flown in on separate flights from Tokyo and Osaka making their way to the pre-agreed meeting place in the Armenian Quarter of the Old City.
The Pestilence Page 8
