CHAPTER 53

“I love this time of the evening,” said the Old One, resting his hands on the railing. “The wind dies down and there’s this brief moment of stillness before the thermals bring the cool desert air rushing down from the mountains.”

Rakkim surveyed the city spread out before them, a vast neon sea glittering in the night. They were alone atop the penthouse on the ninetieth floor of the International Trust Services building. Dozens of bright hot-air balloons drifted against the mountains, catching the last of the light. The Old One was younger than he expected; somewhere in his seventies, a distinguished Arab with a groomed white beard and a face like a hawk. Hint of a British accent. Dark blue suit, collarless linen shirt. A man comfortable with authority.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you when you’re fully awake. I remember getting a report that Redbeard had adopted some homeless urchin, and wondering what he was up to.” The Old One inclined his head toward Rakkim. “I quickly realized Redbeard’s wisdom. He and I aren’t that different. We each seek allies, instruments to carry out our will. People we can mold and shape. Most of all we seek a successor to carry on our work. I chose to have sons to carry on my legacy. Redbeard chose you.”

“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.”