“I hope your sons worked out better for you than I did for Redbeard.”
“You’re much too modest.”
Rakkim caught the slight change in intonation. The faint whiff of regret. “Your sons must have been quite a disappointment.”
The Old One adjusted his cuffs. “Fortunately I have many sons.”
“You’re going to need every one of them.”
The Old One didn’t acknowledge the threat. “Do you believe in God, Rakkim? One who takes an active interest in the world? One who rewards submission and obedience?”
“I think God has better things to do.”
“I used to say the same thing when I was young. At least I hoped He had better things to do. That way He wouldn’t notice what I was doing.” The Old One folded his hands. “You haven’t lost your faith, you merely misplaced it. God has plans for you. That’s why you’re here right now. Why you didn’t die when the police shot you. Why I had Darwin bring you here, and why I had your wounds tended. We are both chosen by God to do great things—a burden and a blessing.” He peered at Rakkim with those deep-set eyes. “Some think me a devil and some think me the Mahdi, but I am a Muslim. As are you. We are brothers. We should not make war on each other.”
Rakkim moved closer. “It’s a little late for that.”
The Old One was against the railing. Exposed to the night with only the stars above and the concrete far below. “Yes…it wouldn’t take much effort to toss me over the side.”
“Hardly any effort at all. Maybe you should have invited Darwin to join us.”
“Darwin has never been allowed up here.” The wind was picking up now, and the Old One faced into it. “Besides, you’re smart enough to know what would happen to Sarah if a single hair on my head was disturbed.”
“Yeah, but even so…it is a temptation.”
The Old One didn’t react. “Darwin told me he returned your knife. Quite a blade. They say the only thing more deadly than a naked Fedayeen is a naked Fedayeen with a knife, but then, I’ve always felt the Fedayeen were overrated. That image of the invincible holy warrior was necessary in the early days, but in spite of the training and those genetic cocktails, you’re still only human. Of course, I’m speaking of the Fedayeen assigned to the strike battalions. A coup in Ghana? Muslims massacred in Rio? Russian Spetznats airlifted into Quebec? Send in the Fedayeen!” He wagged a finger at Rakkim. “You, though, you’re a horse of a different color. You and Darwin.”
“Equating me with Darwin is a mistake. I didn’t think you made many of those. It only takes one, though, if the mistake is big enough.” Helicopters dipped and soared over the city like dragonflies. “The unexploded nuke you left in China, that was a serious mistake. They don’t make them any bigger.”
The city lights blinked before the Old One. “It’s not in China.”
Rakkim stared.
The Old One’s eyes were calm as smoke. “The fourth nuke is in the South China Sea, somewhere off the coast of Hainan. Thanks to my own faulty judgment. You look surprised, Rakkim.”
“I had expected…a denial.”
“There should be no secrets between us. That’s why you’ve been given free rein of the city, without being followed or restricted in any way. I have enough slaves. I require a free man.”
“Of course.”
“I anticipated your doubts. As with all things, they too shall pass.” The Old One half closed his eyes, pained. “I should have planted the fourth nuke under the Vatican as my son Essam wanted. The blast would have set the Catholics irrevocably against the Jews…and Essam would be by my side instead of you.” He shook his head. “Essam was the oldest son of the last wife I truly loved. First in his class at MIT. A brilliant boy. Essam wanted to detonate the nuke under Saint Peter’s Cathedral, but I was worried about China’s growing economic might. I said Shanghai and he was obedient. Now he is dead.” The breeze rippled his fine white hair. “It was no windier than this when their fishing boat went down. Safar Abdullah, who had shepherded the fissionable fuel rods, Safar Abdullah, who was already dying, he was the only one to survive.” He gripped the railing. “Surely Allah was teaching me a lesson in humility.”
“You killed at least twenty million people that day. It’s a little fucking late for a lesson in humility.” Rakkim noted the minute tightening at the corners of the Old One’s mouth—the profanity annoyed him.
“I’ve done whatever has been necessary to defend the faith. To spread the faith. As the Holy Qur’an commands—”
“Twenty million—”
“They died to restore the caliphate, as has been prophesied. The faithful who perished in Mecca are already in Paradise. The others…they are smoldering in hell.”
Rakkim forced himself calm. The man who shouts wins battles; the quiet man wins the war, that’s what Redbeard had taught. “If the bomb is at the bottom of the ocean, you have nothing to fear. So why did Darwin kill Marian Warriq? Why did he kill Fatima Abdullah? What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of running out of time,” said the Old One. “Redbeard has already cost me twenty-five years. That’s how long it took me to put my pieces back into place on the chessboard. Allah loves a patient man, but I may not have another twenty-five years.”
“If there’s no proof—”
“Redbeard doesn’t need proof to cause me grief—haven’t you learned that much from him?” The Old One clasped his hands, the backs spotted and blue-veined, the nails yellowed. The hands of a mummy. “The president is dying. I have labored to assure that his successor will owe his allegiance to me. These are…tenuous times. Even without proof, Redbeard’s digging up the Zionist Betrayal will spread doubt and confusion among the people. I can’t allow my plans for a smooth succession to be jeopardized.”
“I’m going to enjoy fucking you up.”
“Open your eyes, Rakkim, and see what I am offering you.” The Old One spread his arms to the Strip, and the whole world was there in perfect miniature—Paris, Rome, Pirate World, the Great Pyramid, Sugarloaf and Rio, Mount Kilimanjaro, Beijing, the Kremlin. “All you see and more can be yours.”
Rakkim looked out at the world. He believed the Old One.
The Old One grabbed Rakkim’s shoulder, and the current ran through both of them. “A great wind is rising. You can either become the storm or be swept away by it. I’m offering you a place beside me. Join me and nothing will be denied you. Nothing.”
Rakkim shook him off. “How…how about a case of Twinkies? They’re supposed to be incredible, and I’ve heard there’s a whole warehouse full of them somewhere. I mean, you did say nothing would be denied me, right?” Rakkim’s teeth were chattering. “So, okay, a case of Twinkies and a…copy of Batman number one, for Sarah.”
The Old One’s laugh rattled. “I haven’t thought of Twinkies in thirty years.” His grin was smooth. “Ibrahim, my oldest son remaining, is not going to like you. He’s going to be threatened by you, and no matter how much I reassure him, he will recognize that I prefer your company. You are not descended from the Prophet, all blessings upon Him, so you will never ascend to my place. These facts should soften his jealousy, but they won’t. Ibrahim fears Darwin, but he will despise you.”
“Your boy sounds like he’s got marshmallows in his nut sack. You might want to rethink this little campaign to restore the caliphate. You haven’t got enough backup.”
The Old One measured him. “That’s why you’re here, Rakkim. You and Darwin.”
“Well, that’s flattering. Are you trying to seduce me? Because if you are, you should know I’m going to end up breaking your heart.”
“I’ll take that risk.” The Old One looked past him. “I wish you and Essam had met. He would have liked you. He wasn’t afraid of anyone.” His lower lip trembled. “Such a beautiful boy…now lost in deep, dark sea. I hate the ocean now. I used to swim every day, but I can’t bear the sight of the waves anymore. I sometimes think that’s the reason I chose to live in the middle of the desert.”
&nbs
p; Rakkim watched him. The tears in his eyes seemed genuine.
The Old One cleared his throat. “I’ve been waiting for you a long time. Same with Darwin. I searched for a retired assassin for years, someone off-the-books, someone who had broken his leash to the Fedayeen. I used all my resources, but it was only later, when I finally found Darwin, that I learned why it had taken so long.” He leaned closer. “Assassins and shadow warriors are linked. Both are elite units of the Fedayeen, fiercely independent…and both ultimately betrayed by their leaders.” The Old One smoothed his lapels. “Assassins average nineteen missions before they are terminated. If they survive that long, they become too dangerous, too resistant to control, mad with bloodlust. It’s the great secret of the Fedayeen, known to no more than a dozen senior officers. Assassins aren’t aware of this, of course, they believe the lie of the retired assassin, his identity unknown, living out his years like a pasha. It’s not so. There are no retired assassins. Except for Darwin. He’d completed forty-five missions when they decided to kill him.” His amusement was icy. “They waited too long.”
“How do you kill an assassin?”
“Are you taking notes?”
Rakkim didn’t answer.
The Old One nodded. “The Fedayeen sent three assassins to kill Darwin, experienced men told by their superiors that he had gone rogue.” The red lights of the city were reflected in the Old One’s eyes. “Darwin killed all three of them. Then he killed General Cheverton, head of the assassins unit. The man who had given the order. So you see, you and Darwin have something else in common.”
The Old One was trying to impress Rakkim with his knowledge. A sign of his vulnerability or his ego. Rakkim wasn’t sure which it was.
“Shadow warriors are extraordinarily valuable, even more useful strategically than assassins, but equally dangerous to the high command. Shadow warriors always go native. It’s what makes them shadow warriors to begin with. The ability to blend into the environment, to assume the protective coloration of the enemy…well, really, what did they expect?” The Old One shook his head. “There are plenty of retired Fedayeen, but no such thing as a retired assassin. No retired shadow warriors either. You and Darwin, you’re each one of a kind.”
Far beyond the city’s lights, beyond the mountains, Rakkim could see the stars. There was comfort in their unimaginable distance. Close enough to see, but too far to reach. He imagined God living out there among the galaxies. That’s where he would live if he were God.
The Old One leaned against the railing. “That last mission of yours…what exactly happened? I’ve tried to find out, but all the files have vanished. It must have been something special. All I know is that you were gone for months. Much longer than anticipated. It was assumed you were dead. Then you were back. Untouched as always. If you were debriefed, no records survived. Then, a few days later, the two officers above you in the chain of command disappeared. Two top Fedayeen gone. As though they had stepped into a mist one morning. From the disposition of the body, Darwin made his displeasure with General Cheverton quite apparent, but no trace of these two officers was ever found. Still, the message was clear. Perhaps that’s why they let you retire. Or perhaps it was Redbeard’s intervention. He was more powerful then.”
“Thanks for the conversation, and the nice view, but I’m a little tired. Still not fully recovered from my wounds. I think I’m going to take a nice warm bubble bath.”
“Be careful. You wouldn’t want to doze off in the tub. I hope you’ll consider my offer.”
“Sure, I’ll give it the full ponder. Either way, you win, right? If I sign up, you gain a shadow warrior. If I pass on the deal, Darwin dogs me and eliminates anyone who might harm you. I find the evidence, he gets rid of it.”
“There is no evidence.”
Rakkim shrugged. “Twenty million people dead…you didn’t even get what you wanted. Here we are all these years later, and you’re still worried you won’t make it. Pathetic.”
“I’ve acknowledged my mistakes. I misjudged the spiritual resiliency of the Christians. I had lived too long in the city. I believed their faith was flabby and would be quickly discarded. I never imagined the great migration after Kingsley was elected, millions of Baptists and Pentecostals and Catholics trekking to the Bible Belt. I would have expected this from Muslims—did not the Prophet himself, all blessing upon Him, flee Mecca for Medina in his own hour of need? But Christians? It would not have mattered if Redbeard had died that day along with his brother. My men at State Security would have taken over, and Kingsley’s days as president would have been brief. Then we would have crushed the Bible Belt. The nation needed to be unified then, and it needs to be unified now. No, the loss of the fourth nuclear weapon was an accident, but I take responsibility for underestimating the faith of the Christians.”
“That’s big of you. Still, you have to admit, that’s a major miscalculation. Don’t you wonder what else you might be wrong about?”
“Do you expect me to run and hide?” snapped the Old One, his mouth pinched. “When the West wallowed in greed and vice and vanity…I prayed. And paid the politicians. When the West banished religion…I prayed. And paid the ex-diplomats and journalists, people for whom everything has a price. There were times I thought I would never be able to wash myself clean. The nuclear attack merely toppled a rotten tree. Look at the map: China may dominate the globe now, but I’ve planted seeds in Russia too, and don’t you think there were many already there who hated their borders being thrown open to the Zionists? No, Russia is ripe…South America is ripe. China remains resistant, but look at the map. Iran, Iraq, Indonesia, Pakistan, East Africa, Nigeria, the whole patchwork of believers awaits only a caliph to stitch them together. A caliph come to lead Muslims to greatness. The long wait is over, Rakkim. We’ll start here.”
Rakkim applauded, the sound ringing hollow across the penthouse. “Wow. That’s a great little speech. I bet you don’t get interrupted very often. You just build up momentum and roll right on forever. That kind of power is fine when things are smooth, but it can be a disadvantage. You get so used to having your own way and your own say that, when things fuck up, and things always fuck up, you don’t know what to do. That instant of doubt shakes you. Not so that anyone can see it, you’re too good for that, but you know, and it scares you. So you call in somebody like Darwin, but he’s hard to control. You can’t even invite him up here, because he might do something you haven’t anticipated. I bet you haven’t even told him what you told me tonight. Am I right?” Rakkim wagged a finger. “See, that could be another mistake. It’s dangerous telling Darwin what you’re really up to, but it’s even more dangerous to keep secrets from him. Assassins and shadow warriors…we take things personally. I’d watch out for him if I were you.”
“Thank you for your advice.” The Old One gave no indication of anger or any other emotion. Not now.
Rakkim smiled. “Well, it’s been a nice view, a really nice view from the top of the world here, but I’m going to take that bubble bath.”
CHAPTER 54
Before afternoon prayers
“Nervous?”
“Excited,” said Sarah.
Rakkim checked the mirrors as they left the Joy Luck Boutique. The main mall was crowded, filled with eager shoppers from all over the world. Sleek oil barons from West Africa, technos from Japan and Russia, Arabs trailing their retinues. Tourists in the brave new world. No sign of anyone tracking them; in fact he hadn’t sensed any stragglers in days. The Old One said they had free rein, but Rakkim always assumed he was being followed. Always assumed he was being followed by the best.
Sarah had gotten her hair styled at one of the fashionable shops in the Mangrove Hotel, had it cut and stiffened into layers of ringlets. Rakkim hated the flashy look, but it would wash out and allow her to change her appearance quickly. She wore Mylar pants and jacket, purple snakeskin stiletto half-boots, real attention-getters, but in one of the shopping bags Rakkim carried was a change of clothes a
nd shoes.
“I saw Ibn Azziz on TV again, screaming about Zionists,” said Sarah. “His whole face looks infected.”
“It matches his soul.”
“I know you don’t think it was Redbeard,” said Sarah, “but who else would have gone after Ibn Azziz? Redbeard must have heard he tried to kidnap us at Disneyland and wanted to send him a message.”
“Ibn Azziz is too hard-core for messages. Redbeard knows that with someone like Ibn Azziz, you either kill him or turn them. Maybe another one of the Black Robes tried to assassinate him. Mullah Oxley had plenty of friends.”
Sarah swayed to the music piped through the mall. Calibrated cash, that’s what it was called, harmonies designed to give shoppers energy, to increase their pleasure and sensuality. Sales had increased 17 percent after the music service had been installed, but it was the subaudible program that really made the difference, a vibration tucked under the music that released endorphins in the brain. The music selection was changed every five days, but the subaudible stayed the same. The human constant. “Smile, Rakkim.” She wiggled her hips, the Mylar outfit throwing off sparks.
Rakkim smiled. It wasn’t an act or the subaudible, she was genuinely happy. Las Vegas didn’t apply Web filters—yesterday she had walked into a toy store, picked up a wireless stuffed bear, and tapped into the Devout Homemaker site. There had been a coded message from her mother. Katherine was in Seattle! Sarah posted her intention to taste the recipe for victory radishes soon. They had spent the next half hour in the toy store, playing with nano-bots, Sarah all the while keeping up a commentary on the history of toy soldiers and dolls with body functions and how it all meant…something.
Sarah danced for Rakkim beside the light fountain in the mall, and a couple of Chinese college girls loaded with jewelry mirrored her moves, the three of them dancing for each other while Rakkim stood transfixed. The Chinese girls finished with bows to Sarah, and she responded with a deep curtsy.
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