The Rozabal Line
Page 25
‘Five. After the war on terror, Osama-bin-Laden went into hiding in the Waziristan district of the tribal regions on the Pakistan–Afghanistan border. His new focus was to support local Islamic terror groups with ideology and cash. He wanted to expand his activities by creating local franchises. One of these was the Lashkar-e-Toiba in Pakistan. When, as a fallout of the war on terror, the Lashkar-e-Toiba was banned by the Americans, they spun off the ultra-elite Lashkar-e-Talatashar, or the Army of Thirteen, with Ghalib as the head.
‘Six. In the last 11 months, the group has carried out eleven attacks in different parts of the world. Each attack has been on the twenty-first, leading us to believe that the big one will be on 21 December this year.
‘Seven. We know that a nuclear weapon is in the hands of Ghalib and that the Crux Decussata Permuta have played a role in making this possible. Valerio, Dawood Omar and A.Q. Khan, Pakistan’s head of nuclear research, studied at the University of Leuven in Belgium around the same time. Thus, it is quite possible that they were friends. We believe that Ghalib is taking his instructions from Osama-bin-Laden’s right-hand man, the Sheikh.
‘This is where you come into the picture, Father Vincent Sinclair. We need your help to understand why elements within the Crux Decussata Permuta would be willing to risk a nuclear war for the sake of Ghalib. Is he truly of the lineage of Jesus Christ? Moreover, what is the significance of 21 December, particularly at Tel Megiddo?’
No one noticed that Martha’s knuckles had gone completely white.
Vincent sat stunned and motionless as he heard the general give his speech. Memories of 11 September 2001 came flooding back. He had been in the staff room of Stepinac High School along with his friend, the permanently unshaven janitor, Ted Callaghan. The television had been turned on in the staff room.
Then on that day, at 8:46 am, American Flight 11 from Boston had crashed into the North Tower. Seventeen minutes later, at 9:03 am, United Flight 175 from Boston had crashed into the South Tower.181
Vincent and Martha attended Mass at St Patrick’s Cathedral on Sunday, five days after the attack on the World Trade Centre. Cardinal Egan decided to hold Mass for all those who had died in the tragedy.
Two thousand people turned up.
After the memorial Mass was over, Vincent walked over to Thomas Manning and said, ‘I need to talk to you.’ Thomas had nodded. Martha left them alone, and Thomas and Vincent strolled over to Murray’s Bagels on 6th Avenue. They bought a couple of bagels with a variety of cream cheeses and settled down at a table. ‘So, what’s all this I hear about you and Opus Dei? An Opus Dei-connected FBI agent was arrested and they’re saying he was a parishioner at your church,’ Vincent asked.
‘Vincent, you know I value our friendship. I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that FBI agent who was arrested. He simply attended prayers at St Catherine’s, the same church in which I preached. Period.’
‘Point taken. Are you a member of Opus Dei?’
‘What is this? An inquisition?’ asked Thomas, visibly irritated. ‘Vincent . . . look . . .’
‘Just answer the question, Thomas! I need to know.’
‘No. I am not Opus Dei. And I promise you—that’s the absolute truth.’
It was the truth. He was not Opus Dei.
He was Crux Decussata Permuta.
The group was deliberating on what the general had just told them. ‘Martha, you have regressed your patients into the past, but isn’t it possible to progress them into the future? Some gurus, such as Weiss, have indicated that our futures are variable, which means that the choices we make in the present could determine the quality of our future,’ said Vincent.182
Martha thought about it before replying. ‘Well, progression is not very different from regression. The problem is that it is difficult to distinguish between fact and fantasy. What if one sees something in the future that may not be true? It could do irreparable damage to the psyche of the patient.’
‘Could you progress me?’ he asked.
‘Sure. But I don’t feel very comfortable doing it. You must understand that hypnotic projection is the exact opposite of regression and implies projecting the mind into the future. The purpose would be to see what will happen in the future or what is likely to happen in the future. If this is crazy to a “normal” mind, consider the basic fact that the human mind can not only regress or progress but can also move sideways. Take the concept of dreams; isn’t it possible to dream through the passage of an entire year in a matter of an hour?’
‘So why won’t you progress me if it could tell us something critical?’ demanded Vincent.
‘If the mind “sees” an event happening often enough, there is a strong possibility that such an event would eventually play itself out as a self-fulfilling prophecy. I don’t want to put you in that situation, Vincent.’
Pandit Ramgopal Prasad nodded his agreement. He said to Vincent, ‘Son, your future is not a predetermined one. That is the essence of Hindu philosophy. Even though there is always a “most probable” scenario, it is definitely in our hands to change the outcome via our actions. That is the basis of karma.’
Vincent was adamant. ‘We are living in a moment of crisis. We need to do something dramatic that may help us. I think I can live with the consequences.’
‘Okay, Vincent, you win. What do you want to see?’ asked Martha helplessly.
‘Do we have a bloodline of Jesus here in India? Is it Ghalib? Is he the anti-Christ? Does he have a bomb? Where is it? Where do they plan to set it off? Will the world tomorrow be a better place than the world today? Will there even be a world left tomorrow?’ Vincent was on a roll.
‘I get the picture, Vincent,’ remarked Martha caustically. ‘Let’s get you settled. Please understand that projection can be either directive or non-directive. Directive progression is better suited for curing ailments or traumas. My progression will be non-directive, in which you will be free to choose the path yourself. Understood?’
‘Sure.’
‘Why don’t you settle down comfortably on the bed and let me pull this chair near you. Comfortable?’ Vincent nodded as he settled onto the hotel bed. Martha pulled up the chair beside him while the others continued to remain seated on the floor cushions.
‘Okay, settle back into the pillow and begin to relax . . . that’s right . . . just . . . relax.’ The voice was soothing, reassuring, but firm. She continued, ‘Just relax, and concentrate on my voice. You have absolutely nothing to do right now. You don’t need to move. Just relax.’
She continued with the same soothing voice, ‘Now drift deeper with every breath you take. Feel your body getting heavier and sinking down further. You’re comfortable and relaxed, but you’re heavy and sinking. Deeper. Deeper. Okay. Now I want you to allow your mind to drift back in time . . . drift back to this morning . . . drift back to last night . . . drift back to last week . . . to your high-school days . . . drift back to your infancy . . . drift back beyond your infancy . . . that’s right.’ Martha now began to probe with gentle questions.
‘Where are you now?’
‘Yerushalem.’
‘And what do you see around you?’
‘Temple fires. It’s night. I can see Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin assembled, judging Jesus. They are irritable because no reliable witnesses are coming forth with evidence against Jesus.’
‘Anyone familiar from your present life?’
‘Thomas Manning.’
‘Who is he?’
‘He is Caiaphas—poisoning the minds of those assembled against Jesus. In this life too, he continues to seek vengeance.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘The Japanese woman who kidnapped me. Swakilki. She’s present. She’s Mary Magdalene!’
‘Anyone else?’
‘You, Nana!’
‘What am I doing?’
‘You’re Mary Magdalene!’
‘You’re confused Vincent . . .’ began Martha nervously. She tried to switch track
s. ‘Anyone else there?’
‘Another woman—I don’t know her. She’s Mary Magdalene!’
‘Vincent, you seem to think everyone is Mary. Let’s move on . . . now what’s happening?’
‘I can see Jesus and three women walking towards Damascus . . . I can only see their backs.’
‘Why Damascus?’
‘Damascus is a stronghold of the Essenes. He can remain hidden and protected there till they decide where to go.’
‘Vincent, I will now count forward from one to five. You will feel yourself floating forward along a continuum of time into a lifetime ahead with each number . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . Okay, Vincent, where are you?’
‘Megiddo.’
‘In Israel?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who are you?’
‘A Roman soldier—my name is Antonius.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘I am searching for a fugitive. The fugitive is a Roman soldier. His name is Gaianus.’
‘Why are you after him?’
‘He is a secret Christian. All Christians are enemies of the state!’
‘What can you learn from this?’
‘I persecuted Christians in my former life. Destiny has made me a Christian priest in my present one.’
‘I will again count forward from one to five. Float forward . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . Okay, Vincent, where are you?’
‘China. I am an advisor to the Emperor Gaozong. The chief concubine, Wu Zhao, has seized the throne and wants to eliminate me. Luckily, she has not succeeded, even though she has crippled me.’
‘Anyone familiar?’
‘Yes . . . It’s her, the evil Wu Zhao who is my captor—she’s Swakilki!’
‘Counting forward from one to five. You will move forward in time . . . one
. . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . Okay, Vincent, where are you?’
‘I’m an Inca warrior protecting Sapa Inca Pachacuti. I am the bodyguard for Mama Anawarkhi, the wife of Sapa Inca Pachacuti.’
‘You like her?’
‘No. I am killing her. I have to. She is plotting against the Sapa Inca. She’s Swakilki!’
‘Anyone else familiar?’
‘Yes. General Prithviraj. He is the Sapa Inca. I protected him. That’s why he is protecting me!’
‘I will again count forward from one to five. You will move forward in time . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . Okay, Vincent, where are you?’
‘It’s 1794. I’m in France. The guillotine is bloody with the heads that have rolled.’
‘Anyone you recognise?’
‘The woman, Charlotte Lavoisier, she is being guillotined; she looks like Swakilki. Her executioner, Sanson, looks like Terry Acton. He takes her head in one life . . . she will take his in another.’
‘Counting forward . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . Okay, Vincent, where are you?’
‘I’m a doctor in London. World War Two is going on. I am working for the Red Cross. I can see the Sossoon home, which is a supply depot.’
‘Anyone familiar?’
‘Clementine Sossoon. She is very sick . . . cancer. Her face is like yours, Nana. Wait. It is you, Nana! I took care of you, that’s why you love me so much. Isn’t that so?’
Martha smiled as she continued: ‘Counting forward . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . where are you?’
‘In the backyard of my parents’ home in New York. My dad and I are playing catch in the backyard. My mom is barbequing hot dogs in the corner.’
‘Moving forward . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . where are you?’
‘At my parents’ funeral. It’s raining. I cannot make out whether my face is wet because of my tears or on account of the rain.’
‘Moving forward . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . where are you?’
‘In captivity. Swakilki is holding me prisoner. She leaves me inside a windowless toilet in the Shaitana nightclub. It’s stifling hot inside.’
‘Moving forward . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . where are you?’
‘Back in Megiddo.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘I am at a kibbutz in Israel. The hill that overlooks the valley of the kibbutz is where the final showdown will happen.’
‘Where is this hill located?’
‘Very close to the intersection of Highway 65 and 66. Nearby is a large prison holding many Palestinians who have been arrested for terrorism against the Israeli state.’
‘What do you see?’
‘A mosaic.’
‘What sort of mosaic?’
‘It belongs to an ancient church. It was uncovered recently. It belongs to the third century. It has a sign. It says that Gaianus donated his own money to build this church.’183
‘The same Gaianus you saw earlier? The one you were chasing when you were a Roman soldier?’
‘It’s him!’
‘Who?’
‘Him! Gaianus! Ghalib!’
‘What else do you see?’
‘Little boy.’
‘Who?’
‘A bomb. It looks like the one used in Hiroshima. It was called Little Boy.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Martha.
‘Yes.’
‘Anyone familiar near the bomb?’
‘This can’t be! No! You?’
‘Relax—Vincent. Who are you seeing?’
‘Jesus! Gaianus! Ghalib!’
‘You see Jesus?’
184
‘Vincent. I need you to float above the scene. Speak to me in English, not Arabic!’ instructed Martha.
‘Hey, you! What are you doing? Think of what this will do to the world!’
‘Who is saying this? To whom?’
Blank. Vincent was completely quiet.
Martha realised she had reached a blind spot. She continued, ‘Moving forward . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . where are you?’
‘I can’t say. It’s deserted here. No food. No water. Corpses and vultures. It’s as if the world has been laid waste by fire.’
‘Is it war? Famine?’
‘I warned everyone that religious polarisation was going to get us nowhere. No one listened. See what happened. We now have nothing left to fight over.’
‘Can you identify the date?’ asked Martha.
‘An extremely close conjunction of the winter solstice sun with the crossing point of the galactic equator and the ecliptic path of the sun.’
‘When is that, do you know?’
‘21 December 2012.’
Pandit Ramgopal Prasad Sharma nodded; the very date that he had seen as the end of the world.
‘What can you see?’
‘The radiation produced by the explosions has destroyed all the vegetation.’
‘What else?’
‘Burning trees. Burning grass. Rivers and oceans of blood. Complete darkness.’
‘Can you see anyone else?’
‘I can see him.’
‘Who?’
‘The man who started it. The man who finished it.’
‘What did he start or finish?’
‘The end of the world.’
Waziristan, Pakistan–Afghanistan border, 2012
The Sheikh needed to reconfirm the contents of Ghalib’s note. He asked his loyal attendant to fetch him his mirror. When this was in front of him, he held the note up and re-read it from the mirror image:
OH.IMAM.MY.OATH.TO.YOU
TO.HIT.ATOM.AT.ATOM.TWO
AIM.AT.THE.MOUTH.AIM.AT.THE.TEETH
HIT.HIM.AWAY.WITH.WHITE.HOT.HEAT
AYE.WITH.MY.TOY.TIE.HIM.TO.WOE
TO.THY.WHIM.MY.YOUTH.I.OWE
OUT.WITH.HIM.OUT.WITH.ME
I.AWAIT.THY.TIME.TO.ATOMIZE.ME
Chapter Twenty-Five
Herr Egloff, the investment advisor from Bank Leu, was sitting in the dining room of his chalet near Lake Aegiri consuming his usual breakfast of Birchermuesli mixed with fruit and yoghurt. This particular batch had been made with chopped filberts, chopped almonds, sweetened wheat germ, rolled oats, dried currants, and dried apricots. Herr Egloff attributed his good health to this wonderful concoction that had been invented by the renowned Swiss Dr Bircher-Benner.
The other reason for Herr Egloff’s good health was the excellent state of his clients’ portfolios. More specifically, the portfolio managed for Brother Thomas Manning. A single-sheet summary lay on the dining table.
Next to it lay an unsigned draft press release. It spoke about a nuclear threat in the heart of the Middle East. The fallout of such an event would be a reduction in the production and supply of oil in the region. Prices would further rise. Brother Manning would be pleased.
Crude Oil Future Contract Number One that he had purchased for his clients at $51.06 per barrel was now trading at $203.11 per barrel.
He had made a similar investment for his biggest client, a radical outfit called the UNL Militia. Herr Egloff did not ask too many questions about where the money came from. It was just one of the reasons for his tremendous success.
Before doing anything else, he had an important assignment to carry out for His Eminence. He transferred $30,000 from the Oedipus account to that of Iscariot. He then took a phone call from Washington DC and transferred a million dollars from the UNL Militia to Iscariot.
Jerusalem, A.D. 27
Then went one of the twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot, to the chief priests. And said to them: ‘What will you give me, and I will deliver him unto you?’ And they appointed him thirty pieces of silver.
Srinagar, Kashmir, India, 2012
She had come here to Srinagar to meet him. It had taken several months of effort to finally get him to agree on a deal. He was the junior assistant director of Archives, Archaeology, Research and Museums for Kashmir. His name was Yehuda Moinuddin a.k.a. CIA Trois a.k.a. Iscariot a.k.a. Judas.