A Covenant with Death: The Peacock Trilogy - Book 3

by Bill Wetterman

  “Guarda il tuo passo, Signora.” Called out an official passing her.

  “Grazie.” She ascended the steps of the Basilica with ease. Strength entered her body. Her lungs filled. She realized she stood whole and healthy even with her scars and old wounds. Ammad would see his handiwork had done nothing to weaken her mind, body, or spirit. Through the Basilica she traveled with full stride and purpose acknowledging the few individuals—mostly nuns—as she passed.

  She left the Basilica out a side door and headed through a huge parking garage next to the Palace of the Holy Office and toward The House of Hospitality Saint Mary. Built by Pope John Paul II and Mother Teresa to serve the poor of Rome. The House of Hospitality had fed, clothed, and housed the poor before her husband’s reign. During his time as First Citizen, it had been converted into living quarters for those left within the Vatican walls with no residence elsewhere during the reorganization. Only three people were housed there now, her husband, Thad Cline, and Eduardo Duarte. God revealed things to her with every step she took.

  Peacock pushed opened the main door and slid inside. All the men were seated with their backs to her watching a Global broadcast. She let the door slam shut. “I’m happy to see you’re all alive. The hour is upon us.”

  #

  George Pendleton, head still smarting from the shock of the annihilation outside Supai, lifted the lid on a cold storage container and grabbed a pre-packaged Global Realm approved dinner, including every vitamin, mineral, and antioxidant the human body needed to sustain itself. He tossed it in his heat kit and four seconds later had a fully cooked meal. Even the exquisite taste didn’t brighten his spirits. Harry and Connor’s deaths grated on his nerves. His hands shook and the knots in his stomach stayed with him regardless of his efforts to relax.

  His father had less than a fifty-fifty chance of escaping on the last outbound shuttle from Rome. That shuttle was still four hours from touching down, and Ammad and his band of cutthroats were within an hour of entering the Rome Complex. After that, it would be only a matter of minutes before he’d enter Vatican City and search for his enemy.

  The whereabouts of his mother still unknown, his gut told him she was alive. His head said that was impossible. He wiped his lips and headed for a meeting of the Christian Central Command, the government of believers who represented eighty percent of those going on the Mars mission.

  “We’re on our schedule, but not on my father’s.” George frowned and plopped down in the only available chair. “The last earthbound shuttle is touch and go to get him out before Ammad’s forces overwhelm him.”

  One of the men in the back muttered, “I question the man’s even a Christian.”

  George shot a nasty glance at him. “No matter what he’s done, a Christian he is. It’s not for you to judge him. Tell me one crime my father committed that David or Moses, or the Sons of Israel didn’t. You’re here because of my father.”

  “He’s right,” A tall man sitting next to the accuser answered. “Arthur Pendleton and Pope Peter got our group together and with George’s help we made it out of that place. Let’s not bicker or point fingers.” He put his strong right arm on the man’s shoulder and said, “If you say you are without sin, the truth is not in you.”

  The rest of the group nodded agreement. The man reddened but remained silent. The look on his face said but not repentant.

  “The landing area is near the Fountain of the Aquilone.” George sighed. “On the other side of the Vatican grounds from where my father’s hiding. He has to make a run for it now.”

  “We are only one day from Mars launch,” the tall man said. “That shuttle captain will have a short window to drop off passengers and board.”

  George nodded. “Close calls seem to be the norm. You’re right. We’re committed to leave when we’re fully powered up and the trajectory for a perfect Mars orbit is upon us. We go then, whether others miss the connection or not. So let’s discuss government options once we’ve completed our journey.”

  The mission clock read 25:18 and counting down. Only 800,000 plus Christians had agreed to leave. Four space-crafts housed 200,000 people each. These massive structures were scheduled to colonize Mars anyway, but Ammad had no interest in the souls leaving Earth. The smaller the number of Christians remaining the better, as far as he was concerned.

  Arthur Pendleton wished all the Christian population could leave. But sheer numbers made that impossible. Only God wielded that kind of power.

  After his meeting, George headed to his post in the lead ship’s command center for final preparation. He connected to the shuttle captain and asked, “What are your options once you land back at the Vatican?”

  “One, they’re ready. They board, and we leave. I estimate the best case scenario at 10%. Two, some individuals will board immediately. In that case, I’ll wait until 8:45 before launch. I have to be gone by then.”

  “Give them some more time. Leave at nine.” George gulped at the thought that his father might not make that schedule, but other lives were at stake.

  “I understand.” The shuttle captain answered. “But no can do. Three. I approach, but Ammad has control of the launch area. In that scenario, I abort and return to you, Georgie.”

  Georgie! How he disliked being called that. He was George, a Pendleton, not Georgie Porgie.

  “Ten-four.” George wondered why everything had to be so damn hard.

  Chapter 33

  Ammad entered the Rome Complex to the cheers of his supporters, few in number though they were. Global Realm media carefully orchestrated their camera shots to give the appearance of multitudes of adoring citizens greeting the new First Citizen. Ammad reasoned that with his enemies all but gone, the crowd would increase. He’d play on their emotions and provide them entertainment. Worthy entertainment to celebrate of the rise of humankind to its peak—a heaven on earth.

  “Citizens, I’m here to issue in a new day. I thank Arthur Pendleton for uniting the world. But, I criticize him for all the rules and deprivation he forced upon us.” His smile radiated a kindly appearance—one that he’d practiced for months to achieve. “I’m here to thank him for his work on our behalf.”

  How he’d explain his enemy’s demise? Well? He wouldn’t. He would never mention the man’s name again. People forget you quickly and put another champion in your place when you lose. Still, he was now on record, praising his enemy. The Jews, Islamists, the non-Christian world, and some deceived Christians believed him to be a sincere man of peace. Chui now became his top concern.

  Some Italians who attended Mass daily because of tradition shouted Ammad’s praises. Most stayed away with a wait and see attitude. All in all, Ammad expected them to be watchful. He loved the idea of gradually playing on their lusts for things unholy. How simple-minded humans were. Why God made them puzzled him. And yet, without them, his fight with God would be boring. In the cave years earlier, he received the vision of power and authority given to him. The promise of global rule and revenge against the Jew and against Pendleton. This vision guided his every decision. Now he had accomplished his task.

  Once Ammad finished speaking, he headed into the Square and straightway to visit the Pope. The Pope’s butler and personal valet met himoutside the Domus Sanctae Marthae, named after Saint Martha and used as the Pope’s residence, the same used by Pope Francis.

  “His Holiness has no interest in seeing you, First Citizen. He bids you a good day.”

  Out of sight of the main entrance, no cameras existed. No opposition faced him to withstand his men. He waved a hand. Three of the thugs with him grabbed the butler and gutted him, leaving him dead in the empty street.

  “Search the residence.”

  Akbari raised his arms, dropped to his knees, and chanted incantations. A greenish light misted around him, as if a floating ocean blocked the sunlight. When he finished, he said. “The redheaded-witch is near.”

  #

  Peacock held up her hand. “Don’t try to touch me, dar
ling.”

  Arthur Pendleton stopped his advance a few feet from her. “Thank God you’re alive.”

  “Alive? Yes. More alive than I’ve ever been. But you have to stop thinking in earthly terms. I have a mission from God, as do you. Only yours is done and mine is still ongoing.” She smiled at him and ached at seeing him in agony. “I promise you. We’ll see each other again soon, but not in this life.”

  Pope Peter motioned to her from across the entry room. “I’ve tried to tell him that since he arrived. God asked him to rally willing Christians to prepare for the end, and he has done his job.”

  “Lovey,” Pendleton said. “You can’t defeat Ammad. Come to the shuttle with me.”

  She huffed. “I’m going to do what God asked me to, not what you wish I would. The time is short. Your fate isn’t here. Mine is.”

  “Ammad has entered Vatican City,” Pope Peter said. “I sent my personal assistant to delay him. I’m not going on the shuttle, but Arthur, Thad, and Eduardo should board with the last group.”

  “I’m not . . .”

  She stopped Pendleton mid-sentence.

  “You are going, Arthur.” Face burning and at full strength, Peacock stomped her foot. “My purpose here is to confront the monster now. Go, I’ll see you in Heaven.”

  #

  Pendleton followed shaking his head as Pope Peter led the three men out and around the back of the complex away from the entrance to Domus Sanctae Marthae. Two guards from the papal service escorted them west through the palace of Saint Charles and out through the Residence of the Arch-Priest. His feet moved, but his mind toyed with foreboding visions of his Lovey and that maniac who pursued her. Could she destroy Ammad? Impossible for a mortal, but not for God.

  They continued west between the railroad station and the Mosaic School’s underground parking unit. This route blocked the view from the east where Ammad would surely come. They circled back north past the Palace of the Governatorate. The Pope and the guards stopped. “You go on ahead. As I told you before, I’m not going.” He gave the sign of the cross. “If I live, I’ll shepherd those left behind as best I can. If I die, God will receive my soul.”

  Why does he have such great faith, and I have so little? Pendleton thought. No power to change anything, he decided to do as told. “I’ll see you in Heaven.”

  That seemed to be the place each person hoped to go, including him, the greatest tyrant of them all according to some.

  He grabbed Duarte’s hand and the three dashed around The Fountain of the “Aquilone” into the field cleared for the shuttle runs. The Tower of Gallinaro stood as a guidepost to the northwest. Pendleton checked his watch. The shuttle should . . .

  A roar and blast of wind hit Pendleton and he dropped to the ground. Heat from the shuttle’s engines burned his face.

  Thad yelled. “Come on. The landing is good and bad news. We’ve got a chance, but Ammad’s people now know where we are.”

  Pendleton, leg bleeding from a nail embedded in his calf when he fell, limped along toward the shuttle. About a football field ahead of him, it glided to a stop and made a swift turn around for departure. Not the heavy craft of the past, these shuttles were made of ultralight metals and could lift off the ground straight up before blasting into space. But without Edison, the pilot relied on his onboard computer and the computer on the space station for accuracy.

  Duarte stopped and wrapped his arm around Pendleton’s for leverage. Pendleton increased speed with assistance and reached the shuttle out of breath and out of time.

  “I’ve got aircraft approaching,” the shuttle pilot hollered, “and less than a minute to lift off. Climb in.”

  No sooner did Pendleton, with Thad and Duarte’s help, clear the door when the pilot yelled. “Strap in.”

  He found himself shooting straight up and climbing and lost consciousness on the ascent.

  Chapter 34

  Atash Akbari signaled to Ammad to cease pursuing Pendleton.

  “Let the idiot go,” Ammad said to the command center. “Gone is gone. We’ll launch a team and dismantle the Space Station and the Space Complexes. Once they leave, they can’t come back. See how long they survive without support.”

  Akbari raised a hand. He chanted more incantations as the arms of his robes fluttered in the wind.

  “This way,” he cried, and headed off in the direction of The House of Hospitality – St Mary, Ammad and his guards followed after him. As he went, his robes transformed from normal greens into shades of incomprehensible, never before seen, shades that cause even Ammad to gasp.

  Akbari scaled the stairs two at a time to the entrance door, but Ammad collided with an unseen force and fell to the ground.

  Akbari yelled, “Wait until the door stands open before coming up the stairs.”

  He gripped the door and pulled it open, only to come face-to-face with a tall glowing creature whose eyes pierced his soul with the heat of an unquenchable fire. He dove inside the room as the door slammed shut.

  “Hear me,” he cried. “I summon the power of my tariqa, the path I follow. I have completed my perfect tawhid. My Bektashi journey is complete. The four gates have been traversed—the Sharia, Tariqah, Marifa, and, Haqiqah. Naimi is my teacher.”

  “Well, I am Custos,” the angel said, as the two circled the room. “Almighty God forbids you stay.”

  “But my master’s time has come.” Akbari grew. “Let me pass, Marid.”

  “Deceived, you are. A Marid, I’m not.” Custos filled the room and a golden light encompassed Akbari. “Be gone evil one. Your master and God’s servant must meet and settle their issue themselves.”

  Custos pointed to the back door, and Akbari pulled himself up and exited.

  #

  Ammad saw flashes of light, fell to his knees, and momentarily froze. He pulled himself to his feet and heard thunderous voices—one of them Akbari’s. Then silence and the pressure holding him back from ascending the stairs subsided. The door to the entrance opened on its own.

  Trembling, he paused and prayed to the entity he’d encountered in the cave in the Valley of the Magi. Then he straightened up, strode up to the entrance door, and edged through. He drew out the dagger hidden within his robes. At first the room appeared empty. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he perceived the shadow of a female outlined against the far wall. Shivers crawled over him. The she-devil!

  #

  Peacock sensed her husband had escaped Ammad’s clutches. Not that his outcome wasn’t already sealed. His fate would not take him to Mars. Unaware of what his future was, other than secure with God, she concentrated on her approaching enemy. Custos had left her alone to complete her task. The outcome remained solely in her hands and mind. For indeed a mind game was to be played.

  Ammad flipped the dagger from hand to hand as he stopped in the center of the room. The only light came from a skylight in the ceiling several feet above him.

  “The first report I received about you,” Ammad said, “told of a woman who used sex to entrap men—a spy, an adulteress, a murderer. You are the breaker of most of the commandments.”

  She gulped. God confirmed his words in her spirit. Then she said, “I’m a repentant sinner.”

  Again, her words were confirmed by God. She quoted the Bible without thinking. “’Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.’” Then she smiled. “I have experienced His forgiveness, but I’m paying for my past in this life.”

  “In Jahannam are seven gates. Destructive jinns, their followers, and hypocrites dwell in the lowest of the depths.” Ammad’s sword glowed red. He held it up. “I have Solomon’s ring, forged again to exact specifications by Akbari. I will put an end to your miserable life and send you to a place even worse than Scriptures state.”

  “My life is not yours to take, nor is it mine. God has me in His hands. Where I spend eternity is God’s decision alone.”

  Ammad raced at her and thrust his knife.
She rolled left and tripped him. He fell backward and the knife, still glowing, slid across the floor.

  Peacock leaped to her feet and revealed a knife of her own. A white light streamed from its blade. She ran at him, but he rolled to his right and scrambled for his weapon. His hand reached it as she closed in on him. The two thrust their blades. Ammad let out an excruciating wail, as the two blades clanged. Ammad’s blade burst downward embedding into the ground. Peacock’s hit its mark.

  Well done. My good and faithful servant.

  She heard the words as the vision of her former life dissolved and the brightness of a new world took its place.

  #

  Akbari raced back inside the moment his master howled. The power that had held him outside fell away in the same instant. At first the room looked empty. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw Ammad, a dagger embedded in his skull an inch above his right ear. Ammad’s hair smoldered around the area. His skull appeared matted with blood and ash. Akbari checked his master’s pulse. There was a slight beat—steady but weak.

  He used his cell and called for the best neurosurgeon the Complex of Rome could find to attend to his master. Looking around, he realized the red-headed devil woman had vanished. The clothes she wore lay crumpled on the floor. Ammad’s weapon steamed, as if hit by lightning, embedded in the floor.

  “You’ve destroyed her. I’ll not leave you, master. Never. You are the chosen one. You bring the ultimate victory to our people and all who accept Allah. Hold on.”

  #

  An environmental supervisor aboard Mars Colonization Vessel 8 realized he was alone in the power control room where he and four other technicians were monitoring fuel consumption. He spoke to the computer, “Connect me to Director Lee.”