micro-recorder, her starry gaze turning clinical once more. ‘How about all this recent economic and political turbulence? Do you think it benefits the Christian Evangelical movement?’
Stokes shrugged. ‘Certainly humbles even the non-believers … forces introspection.’
‘Are the End Times here? Are scripture and prophecy being revealed?’
He swivelled his chair, peered out the window to the distant city centre where construction cranes hung motionless over the skeletons of unfinished casino resorts. Though not in a literal sense, sulphur and fire were raining on Sodom and Gomorrah. ‘Best to assume that judgement can come at any day, any hour.’
‘Do you think God’s judgement will fall on terrorists, like Fahim Al-Zahrani, for past atrocities and the recent attacks orchestrated against religious monuments around the world?’
The preacher’s expression turned severe.
Two months ago, Fahim Al-Zahrani - Al-Qaeda’s newest top lieutenant and the man rumoured to be Osama Bin Laden’s heir-apparent - had claimed responsibility for the most fearsome terror attacks since 9/11. With the industrialized nations still in the throes of global economic crisis and waning political support for an increased military presence in the Middle East powder keg, his timing had been perfect. He’d masterminded wide-scale attacks on soft targets with the express intent of unravelling the fabric of Western society. Al-Zahrani was like a patient torero weakening the bull for a final thrust of the sword.
Stokes’s voice went down an octave as he replied, ‘Any man who sends suicide bombers into holy places like St Peter’s Basilica and Westminster Cathedral should expect eternal punishment beyond human comprehension. To murder innocents on such a grand scale is unconscionable, even by the standards of fundamentalist Islam. Regardless of what happens here, on this earth … whether perceived as justice or injustice … no manhunt, no supreme court, will ever compare to the wrath of God.’
The reporter had to catch her breath before continuing. She held up her pen, cleared her throat, and said, ‘On that note …’ She skimmed her list of questions. ‘With the tide reversing on the recent troop withdrawals in the Middle East, some say we may soon embark on a modern Holy War. A new crusade between West and East. In your opinion, will military intervention ever change the dynamic in the Middle East?’
His reply was anything but direct. ‘Not until every human being has accepted Christ as humankind’s saviour will the war for souls end.’
Stalemate.
The desk phone buzzed quietly - a ring-tone assigned to a secure, dedicated line. ‘Excuse me.’ Hiding his alarm, Stokes stiffly picked up the phone. He listened as the caller calmly reported without preamble: ‘They’ve found the cave.’
Chirp. Delay.
‘I see,’ he replied. ‘Hold a moment.’ Stokes glanced up to the reporter. He covered the receiver and said to her, ‘I’m afraid we’ll need to stop here.’
4
IRAQ
While Camel and Jam scoured the interiors of the four pickup trucks the Arabs had abandoned on the roadside, Jason strode towards the rectangular mobile command shelter his team had erected in east-west orientation at the bottom of the foothill. From a distance or from the sky, the structure’s black goat-hair sheathing and simple wood framework were easily confused for Bedouin - a purposeful ruse since Arabs shunned nomads in much the same way as Westerners spurned gypsies.
However, nomads weren’t as common in the north as in southern desert regions like the Ash Sham, the Sahara, the Sinai and the Negev. Plus a Bedouin bayt , or family unit, typically travelled with women, children and small livestock such as sheep or goats. So it was no surprise when four months earlier the team had been approached by an overly eager Iraqi Security Force patrol unit. Luckily, a pair of marines had been shadowing the Iraqis, and Jason had pulled them aside
Stokes shrugged. ‘Certainly humbles even the non-believers … forces introspection.’
‘Are the End Times here? Are scripture and prophecy being revealed?’
He swivelled his chair, peered out the window to the distant city centre where construction cranes hung motionless over the skeletons of unfinished casino resorts. Though not in a literal sense, sulphur and fire were raining on Sodom and Gomorrah. ‘Best to assume that judgement can come at any day, any hour.’
‘Do you think God’s judgement will fall on terrorists, like Fahim Al-Zahrani, for past atrocities and the recent attacks orchestrated against religious monuments around the world?’
The preacher’s expression turned severe.
Two months ago, Fahim Al-Zahrani - Al-Qaeda’s newest top lieutenant and the man rumoured to be Osama Bin Laden’s heir-apparent - had claimed responsibility for the most fearsome terror attacks since 9/11. With the industrialized nations still in the throes of global economic crisis and waning political support for an increased military presence in the Middle East powder keg, his timing had been perfect. He’d masterminded wide-scale attacks on soft targets with the express intent of unravelling the fabric of Western society. Al-Zahrani was like a patient torero weakening the bull for a final thrust of the sword.
Stokes’s voice went down an octave as he replied, ‘Any man who sends suicide bombers into holy places like St Peter’s Basilica and Westminster Cathedral should expect eternal punishment beyond human comprehension. To murder innocents on such a grand scale is unconscionable, even by the standards of fundamentalist Islam. Regardless of what happens here, on this earth … whether perceived as justice or injustice … no manhunt, no supreme court, will ever compare to the wrath of God.’
The reporter had to catch her breath before continuing. She held up her pen, cleared her throat, and said, ‘On that note …’ She skimmed her list of questions. ‘With the tide reversing on the recent troop withdrawals in the Middle East, some say we may soon embark on a modern Holy War. A new crusade between West and East. In your opinion, will military intervention ever change the dynamic in the Middle East?’
His reply was anything but direct. ‘Not until every human being has accepted Christ as humankind’s saviour will the war for souls end.’
Stalemate.
The desk phone buzzed quietly - a ring-tone assigned to a secure, dedicated line. ‘Excuse me.’ Hiding his alarm, Stokes stiffly picked up the phone. He listened as the caller calmly reported without preamble: ‘They’ve found the cave.’
Chirp. Delay.
‘I see,’ he replied. ‘Hold a moment.’ Stokes glanced up to the reporter. He covered the receiver and said to her, ‘I’m afraid we’ll need to stop here.’
4
IRAQ
While Camel and Jam scoured the interiors of the four pickup trucks the Arabs had abandoned on the roadside, Jason strode towards the rectangular mobile command shelter his team had erected in east-west orientation at the bottom of the foothill. From a distance or from the sky, the structure’s black goat-hair sheathing and simple wood framework were easily confused for Bedouin - a purposeful ruse since Arabs shunned nomads in much the same way as Westerners spurned gypsies.
However, nomads weren’t as common in the north as in southern desert regions like the Ash Sham, the Sahara, the Sinai and the Negev. Plus a Bedouin bayt , or family unit, typically travelled with women, children and small livestock such as sheep or goats. So it was no surprise when four months earlier the team had been approached by an overly eager Iraqi Security Force patrol unit. Luckily, a pair of marines had been shadowing the Iraqis, and Jason had pulled them aside
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