The Doomsday Prophecy

by Scott Mariani

  ‘This is making no sense to me,’ Murdoch rumbled. ‘Let’s take it from the top. You’re claiming that Special Agent Jones was part of some kind of ghost organisation, working from within the Agency.’

  ‘Right under your noses. He and his associates have been making use of your resources for their own aims.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘It took me a while to work it out,’ Ben said. ‘But like I told you, I study the Bible. It’s all in there. It’s been there for thousands of years, written into prophetic scripture.’

  Callaghan shook his head in confusion.

  ‘The Book of Revelation,’ Ben said.

  ‘Give us a break,’ Callaghan sneered. ‘The Omen. Number of the Beast.’

  ‘Can’t you shut this cretin up?’ Ben asked Murdoch.

  ‘Shut up, Callaghan,’ Murdoch said, keeping his eyes on Ben. ‘Mr Hope, I would like you to explain this to me clearly.’

  ‘The organisation is a militant evangelical Christian cell. Their goal is a terrorist strike in Jerusalem.’

  Callaghan burst out laughing. Murdoch glanced at him, his serious expression holding.

  ‘If you don’t believe me,’ Ben said, ‘maybe you’ll believe one of your own people. You took my phone away from me at the farm. Let me have it back.’

  ‘Who do you want to call?’ Callaghan chuckled. ‘Your lawyer? Or your priest?’

  ‘Give him the phone,’ Murdoch said.

  Callaghan made an exaggerated gesture of surrender, reached down into his case and brought out a clear plastic bag. He tipped the phone out of it. Ben picked it up, turned it on and scrolled through the menu. Then he placed the phone on the table with the screen facing the two men, and played back the video recording of Jones for them.

  The man sat framed on the tiny screen. He talked. They watched and listened. Callaghan loosened his tie and shifted in his seat. Murdoch’s sombre expression drew darker. The playback ended with Jones disappearing out of the frame, and the sound of the wooden stake punching through his body as he fell to his death. Ben reached across and turned it off.

  ‘You realise this confession was obtained illegally,’ Murdoch warned. ‘It doesn’t constitute evidence.’

  ‘Nothing very legal about any of it,’ Ben said. ‘I administered the truth serum that Special Agent Jones was going to give to Zoë Bradbury. They didn’t exactly have a doctor’s prescription.’

  Murdoch glared heavily at him. ‘Keep talking.’

  Ben filled in what he knew. He started at the beginning and worked his way through to the end, leaving nothing out. By the end of it, he knew he had Murdoch’s attention. Deep furrows had appeared on the man’s brow.

  But Callaghan was staring sceptically. ‘This Slater, the guy you claim Jones was taking orders from. Shame he never mentioned that name during his statement.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Alex cut in, glancing nervously at Ben.

  ‘Did you personally meet this man?’ Callaghan asked her harshly.

  She paused a beat, then shook her head. ‘No, sir, not as such.’

  Callaghan smiled and pointed at Ben. ‘So we only have his word for it.’

  ‘You got a first name for him?’ Murdoch said.

  ‘I never got around to asking,’ Ben replied. ‘We weren’t really on first-name terms.’

  ‘So basically you have no idea who he is,’ Callaghan said.

  ‘I could describe him,’ Ben said. ‘He’s about my age, North American Caucasian, red hair, slight build, about five-eight, professional, moneyed, expensive watch.’

  ‘Not exactly hard data,’ Callaghan spat.

  ‘But still, I’d like to know more about him,’ Murdoch cut in. ‘If this guy exists, he’s on our database.’ He laid his hands flat on the table, lips puckering in concentration. ‘Let’s leave that aside. I just don’t get what you’re telling me here. Why does a Christian group want to start a war?’

  ‘Let me make it simple,’ Ben said. ‘Someone is staging a deliberate attempt to force biblical prophecy to come true. Perhaps because they truly believe it’s going to happen. Maybe they’re tired of waiting for God to make the first move. Or maybe it’s a trick, to make it look as if it’s about to come true, in order to dupe millions of believers into thinking the End Times are about to start. Either way, I believe the motive is largely political.’

  ‘Involving whom?’ Murdoch asked calmly. ‘And at what level?’

  ‘I don’t know. But it’s at a high level. Whoever this is, they have a lot to gain by steering the world towards war and generating mass panic, or mass euphoria, among a core of more than fifty million American voters.’

  ‘This is totally absurd,’ Callaghan said. ‘Crazy. Purely speculative.’

  Murdoch ignored him, watching Ben with a look that said he was taking this very seriously now. ‘How do you get to this conclusion?’

  ‘Think of Jerusalem from a strategic point of view,’ Ben said. ‘You’ve got the holiest sites of Judaism and Islam side by side in the same city. A place of anger and frustration. A religious powder-keg, just waiting for a spark to set it off. And it’s Ground Zero for the End Time movement. Fifty million pairs of eyes glued to it, interpreting every incident that takes place there, and every development in world politics, strictly and exclusively in terms of apocalyptic Bible prophecy.’

  Murdoch nodded. ‘OK, I’m with you. Go on.’

  ‘The prophecy states that the war will begin with an attack on God’s chosen people of Israel,’ Ben said. ‘Now, what would you do if you wanted to set something like that in motion?’

  Murdoch thought for a moment. ‘I’d take advantage of the religious tension in Jerusalem. I’d look for a way to provoke Muslim leaders into wanting to strike at the Jews, big time.’

  ‘So the first blow struck would have to target the Muslims,’ Ben said, ‘in the certain knowledge that the Islamic world would want to launch a strong reprisal against their enemies.’

  ‘Therefore we’re looking at an initial attack on Islam.’

  Ben nodded. ‘Correct. Something that would significantly upset the Islamic world. Something designed to shock and provoke them like nothing ever before, that would be guaranteed to gain that kind of dramatic response from them.’

  Murdoch raised his eyebrows. ‘Specifically?’

  ‘I’d be speculating,’ Ben said. ‘An act of terrorism. A high-level assassination. Very daring, and extremely insulting to them.’

  Murdoch clicked his tongue. ‘That’s a pretty broad field. We have no idea what’s planned, or who the perpetrator would be. We don’t know where to start.’

  ‘We do know two things,’ Ben said. ‘One, it’s going to happen within something like the next twenty hours. And two, it’s going to get blamed on a Jewish operative.’

  Callaghan grimaced and slapped his palm on the table. ‘This is ridiculous.’

  Murdoch paid him no attention. ‘Let me tell you why I’m worried about this,’ he said. He turned to the mirrored window and Ben saw that he’d been right. Murdoch gestured. ‘Stop filming, stop transcription.’

  Then he turned back to Ben and Alex. He frowned. ‘What I’m about to tell you does not leave this room. Three months ago an Israeli MOSSAD agent, a professional assassin known to the CIA as Salomon, vanished suddenly off the radar screen. Presumed dead. No body was found, and nobody has stepped forward to claim responsibility for his killing, if that’s what it is. This is highly speculative, but I don’t find it hard to put Salomon’s disappearance together with what you’ve told me here today.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you find his prints on the assassination weapon,’ Ben said. ‘And his wallet full of credit cards lying nearby.’ He smiled. ‘Like the ones they just happened to find in the burned-out wreckage of 9/11, with the terrorists’ IDs on.’

  Murdoch’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m going to ignore that comment.’

  ‘I know all about dirty war,’ Ben said. ‘You don’t get used as a pawn without lea
rning how the game works.’

  Callaghan slumped back in his seat, staring hard at his colleague. ‘You’re not going to take this man seriously, are you, sir? He’s a loose cannon. An anarchist.’

  Murdoch slowly turned and glared at him. ‘I take this very seriously indeed,’ he rumbled. ‘And, Callaghan, if you have nothing more constructive to say, I suggest you say nothing at all.’

  Callaghan went quiet.

  Murdoch leaned across the table. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then exhaled noisily. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’m going to have to clear this with my superiors. But when they hear what I have to say, it’s extremely likely that you, Mr Hope, will be on a flight to Israel.’

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘To try to stop this catastrophe from happening, if indeed that’s what’s being planned. You’ll be supplied with everything you need once you touch down in Jerusalem. Callaghan will put you together with our people there.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘I don’t work for you.’

  ‘Consider yourself enlisted. Unofficially, of course.’

  ‘I gave you the information,’ Ben said. ‘I’ve done my part. Now I want to go home. This is your problem.’

  Murdoch’s frown-lines deepened. ‘I think that, if you’re right about this, World War Three is going to be everybody’s problem. And apparently we don’t have a lot of time to figure out a solution.’ He clicked his tongue thoughtfully. ‘I can’t send company agents in on this. It’s the kind of situation where an outsider would be more useful to me. Someone who can’t be traced to us.’

  ‘You mean, if something were to happen to me,’ Ben said. ‘Collateral damage. Easy to bury.’

  ‘Consider it a favour to us,’ Murdoch said. ‘And of course we’d show our appreciation by forgetting the incident in Georgia. Maybe there’s some delinquent with other murders to his name that we can find to pin the cop killing on. You get my drift?’

  ‘Sir, can I remind you I’m a witness to the fact that Agent Jones murdered those two officers,’ Alex protested.

  ‘I think you should keep your mouth shut, Agent Fiorante. There’s also the issue of your involvement in this situation. You admit to having shot a fellow agent. That’s not something we can just skip over lightly.’ Murdoch settled back in his chair and folded his hands across his belly. ‘So, Mr Hope. Either you co-operate with us in this matter, or you’ll be charged with the murder of two police officers and several Government agents. And Agent Fiorante will spend the next decade in a federal prison for her own actions. Your choice.’

  ‘What makes you think I’m the right man for the job?’

  ‘Let’s not mess around, Major. The clock is ticking. If it comes down to a sniper-counter-sniper situation, I have evidence that proves to me that you’re just about the best guy in the world for this job.’ Murdoch reached into his pocket and took out a matchbox. Slid the tiny drawer open with his finger. Took out a spent match and tossed it on the table. ‘Ring any bells?’

  Ben stared at it. ‘Let’s say I go along with this. I have some conditions.’

  Murdoch nodded. ‘I’m a reasonable man. I’m listening.’

  ‘I want Zoë Bradbury flown home to her family.’

  ‘Not an option,’ Callaghan cut in. ‘She’s a witness.’

  ‘She’s also a victim,’ Ben said. ‘A victim of the fact that your agency is corrupted and people within it are abusing its power. So, unless you want that information getting out there, you arrange for her to be flown home under close guard and given top priority police protection in the UK until these people are caught.’

  Murdoch thought about it for a moment. ‘OK, agreed. But she will have to come back here to testify, if required.’

  ‘And I want your personal guarantee that in return for my co-operation, there’ll be no question of any charges levelled at Agent Fiorante.’

  Murdoch nodded slowly. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘I left behind a complicated situation in Greece. There’s a Corfu police captain called Stephanides who’d probably like to talk to me again.’

  Murdoch waved his hand. ‘We can take care of that. He never heard of you. Anything else?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘Then we have a deal,’ Murdoch said. ‘And you’re on your way to Jerusalem.’

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  It was after 10 p.m. when Ben and Alex emerged from the conference room. The operations office was still as bustling and hectic as before. Murdoch led them down a hallway and through a set of doors to a computer lab that was so crammed with equipment there was barely room for the half-dozen or so staff manning it.

  Callaghan was hunched over a terminal with one of the technicians. He looked up as Murdoch walked up to him. ‘There are over twenty-two thousand males named Slater between the ages of thirty-five and forty-five in the USA,’ he said.

  Murdoch leaned on the desk ‘Can you narrow it down? Hair colour, height, build, profession.’

  ‘It’s going to take a while to factor in those kinds of parameters,’ Callaghan said testily.

  ‘Don’t take too long. Time is short.’

  Then Ben and Alex were left alone in a quiet lobby for a few minutes while Murdoch went off to make some phone calls.

  ‘Thanks for what you did in there,’ she said. ‘It’s not fair, what they’re doing to you.’

  ‘Promise me two things,’ Ben said.

  She nodded. ‘Name them.’

  ‘First, you’ll make sure Zoë gets back to her family safely.’

  ‘Of course I will. And the other promise?’

  ‘That you’ll look after yourself. Have a good life, all right?’

  She smiled uncertainly. ‘This is your way of saying goodbye?’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know what’s going to happen.’

  ‘Can I give you a call sometime?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ he said. He told her the number of his mobile. She repeated it.

  A door swung open and Murdoch reappeared. ‘It’s done,’ he told Ben. ‘Your plane leaves for Israel at midnight.’

  ‘What happens when I get there?’

  Murdoch frowned. ‘You’ll appreciate that we’re busking this to a large degree. I’m hoping I’ll know more by the time you touch down in Jerusalem. Our agents there will be figuring out the likely targets. You’ll be contacted.’ He looked at his watch and winced. He turned to Alex. ‘You’re working under Agent Callaghan now. We’re releasing Miss Bradbury into your care. She knows you, she’ll feel safe with you. She’s a little uptight, and maybe you can help calm her.’

  ‘No problem,’ Alex said. ‘She can come home with me tonight.’

  For the first time that evening Murdoch looked pleased, real warmth in his eyes. ‘Thank you, Alex. There’ll be three agents outside your door, although I have a feeling Miss Bradbury’s no longer under threat.’ He gestured towards the door, looking expectantly at Alex.

  She hesitated, glanced at Ben.

  ‘So this is it,’ he said to her.

  ‘I guess so,’ she replied. ‘I’ll see you around, then.’

  ‘Sometime,’ he said.

  She touched his hand. Their fingers interlocked for a brief moment, then parted. Murdoch noticed it and looked away.

  ‘Take care,’ Alex murmured, and then she turned and Ben watched her walk away and disappear through the door.

  ‘Now let’s see if you and Callaghan can find your man Slater,’ Murdoch said.

  Ben spent the next seventy minutes alone with Callaghan in a dark room filled with screens, sifting through the hundreds of ID photographs that the agent and the computer lab tech had narrowed down from the original thousands of files. When they’d gone through the whole lot, Ben sat back in his chair and shook his head.

  Callaghan narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘Absolutely sure,’ Ben said. ‘I never forget a face.’

  ‘Then he gave you a false name. Which I knew all along. I can’t figure out w
hy Murdoch can’t see it. It’s obvious. And it leaves us with a big fat zero. Waste of time.’

  Ben said nothing.

  Callaghan peeled back his sleeve to check his watch. ‘Let’s move. I need to get you on that flight.’

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Shady Oak, Fairfax County, Virginia

  11.30 p.m.

  The CIA staff vehicle pulled up outside Alex’s little white wood house in the sleepy town a few miles from the Headquarters at Langley. Alex and Zoë climbed out of the back doors, and two agents walked them up the pathway through the tiny garden to the front door. The street was empty and quiet. Alex opened the door and the guards checked all over the house. Everything was fine. They returned to the car. In a few hours another would come to take its place.

  Alex showed Zoë inside the open-plan living room. ‘Make yourself at home,’ she said, flipping on sidelights. The house felt a little cold and unlived in, she thought, and went over to the fireplace and turned on the imitation gas fire for instant flames. She checked her answerphone. No messages. Life with the Company.

  Zoë flopped on a white leather sofa, rubbing her eyes.

  ‘You look exhausted,’ Alex said. ‘I think we both could do with a drink. What do you say?’ She walked through to the neat kitchen and took a bottle of red wine from the rack, opened it and poured them each a large glass. Zoë accepted hers gratefully.

  ‘Well, here we are,’ Alex said.

  Zoë smiled. ‘Here we are.’

  ‘It’s been a hell of a time, hasn’t it?’

  Zoë nodded. ‘I don’t even want to think about it. It feels so strange to be here. I can’t wait to get home.’

  ‘Your parents will be glad to see you again.’

  ‘I called them from Langley.’

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘They cried.’

  ‘There’ll be more of that when you get there,’ Alex said.

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘I’m going to make us some dinner. You like pizza?’