A Covenant with Death: The Peacock Trilogy - Book 3 Read online

  There was one worldly woman he knew would never see Jannah. His greatest prize had been brought to him. The redheaded she-devil lay imprisoned just outside the Dubai Complex. He and she needed to have a little talk. He instructed his valet. “Bring my escort team. I wish to go to Al Aweer prison.”

  Only ten minutes away outside the Complex’s fortification, Ammad arrived and entered without another word to anyone. He ran his affairs on a need-to-know basis, and he reasoned he’d been successful in concealing his plans to overthrow Pendleton by doing so. Once inside Al Aweer, he motioned to the officer-in-charge. “Take me to Cell Block 42.”

  The officer paled. “Yes sir. Do you wish to wear a mask?”

  “No.” The gruff response given, the officer grabbed a set of rusty keys. Ammad followed him through the maze of dimmed halls and locked iron gates until he stopped at Cell Block 42.

  “Which compartment?” the officer asked.

  “Nine lower level.”

  “She’s quite mad, you know.”

  “Good.”

  Without another word, the two headed into Cell Block 42. An immediate stench of human waste and mold filled the air. On the upper level, the women were chained to an eight-foot leg shackle, which allowed them the freedom of lying on cots and sitting to eat meals. The meals consisted of dates, rice pudding, and occasionally tuna.

  Ammad chuckled. “Less comfortable living conditions than in Pendleton’s prison colonies.”

  “Worse than Abu Grebe.” The official headed down the stairs guided by a 25-watt bulb. At the bottom of the stairs, the walkways divided into pitch black tunnels. The official turned on a flashlight and slowly guided his feet long the narrow concrete floor.

  “Here—she’s in here.”

  #

  Peacock pulled herself up off the cold floor. She rested her back against a stone wall in the far corner of her compartment. Nothing else was inside with her, except the urine drain and a water bucket for feces. Ammad’s people came close to killing her before they locked her away. She overheard the men torturing her say she must be insane. Well, no surprise to her, she had been most of her life. But that beating had been different. She felt nothing when punched or whipped. Her body bled and bruised, and her bones cracked. But no pain came with the beating.

  Her angel sang and spoke words of comfort to her. Most amazing to her was her memory. She couldn’t remember her own name a few days ago, but now her mind leaped with remembrances when she needed them.

  A creaking at the door caught her attention.

  “How has room service been?”

  Peacock knew that voice. She did not respond.

  Ammad placed his flashlight on the floor to illuminate the room. He let out a shriek.

  “Do I look that bad?”

  “He sees you as you were the day you slew his father.” Her angel stood against the far wall and smiled.

  Ammad stepped back. “This can’t be.”

  He took a whip from his belt and went to strike her, but the whip fell from his hand.

  Peacock heard her angel whistling a joyful tune. She responded. “The Lord is my shield.”

  Ammad quoted from the Quran. He named each verse as he spoke Al Faqua 113.1, 113.2 and so on. Then he said. “Your black magic has no effect on me.”

  His face told a different story.

  Peacock had no strength to stand upon save what God provided. She knew without her angel, death would be swift. Allow him to see me as I am.

  Ammad’s eyes widened. He sneered, picked up his whip, and swung. Again, the whip flew out of his hand, and he grabbed his shoulder. A cry of pain escaped his lips.

  “Keep trying to hurt me and you’ll never become First Citizen.” Peacock smirked. “You want me alive for some purpose?”

  “I live for the death of your husband and the end of your reign, you redheaded bitch.”

  “Not much of my hair is left.” She sighed. “Don’t attempt to hurt me again. My protector will not allow you the pleasure.”

  “You mumble nonsense, crazy woman. The Global Realm will go on, but without you or your husband leading it.” Ammad walked up to her and bent to meet her gaze. “When the time comes, I will kill you myself.”

  Fat chance.

  Her angel had a sense of humor.

  “Why do you want to ally with the Israelis?”

  A sinister chuckle filled her compartment. “You know more than you let on. You may be insane, but you’re cunning.”

  “Why do you want to find Edison?”

  He pursed his lips.

  “Why are you in league with Iblis? True Muslims abhor your concepts and teachings. But you will bewitch them.”

  “You bitch.” He flung himself at her and wound up smashing into a stone wall across the room from where she sat.

  He turned and fled, taking his flashlight with him. Peacock heard him tell the guard. “No one is to enter here. Slide her food and water in under the door.”

  #

  “I must be suffering from low sugar.” Ammad ordered a snack be brought him and ordered a speedy return to the Dubai Complex. As he reentered his suite, his aide raced in from the adjoining room. “Our missiles created the desired damage on the selected targets and complexes. The Global Realm only possesses fifty or less space-based rockets.”

  “I want a unified world when we’re done.” He lowered an eyebrow. “Unified under me. Any indication Pendleton knows where I am?”

  “No, Your Eminence. The Dubai Complex, according to our computer Sayyid, would not rank near the top of places he’d look.”

  “Let us hope Edison calculates things the same way.”

  “Sir,” his aide said, “Governor Chui rejects any partnership with you. He clearly supports the First Citizen. But he will not come to the aid of either side militarily, saying the issue is one for the people to decide by combining testing profiles and a Global Realm vote with Edison doing the math.”

  “That plays into my hands if my adversary is as weak as I think him to be.”

  “Agreed, Eminence.”

  “Put me through to Pendleton.”

  The aide pressed the Summit Button on the communications system and waited. Ammad possessed one of only twelve direct lines to the First Citizen.

  “Van Meer speaking.”

  “Chairman Ammad wishes to speak directly to First Citizen Pendleton.”

  Silence followed. “I’ll convey a message.”

  Ammad spoke up. “Either your boss agrees to a competency challenge and Global Realm citizens’ vote, or he faces all-out war. All-out war serves no purpose. If he wishes his wife back unharmed, he’ll agree. He wins the challenge. She comes back safely.”

  “Hold on.”

  Nothing but static and background bumps echoed over Ammad’s system. Ammad glanced at the time. Van Meer had been gone over ten minutes. Finally, he returned. “In fourteen days, per the operating rules of the Global Realm. All executive level leaders are eligible for consideration. If you lose, you will be arrested for treason and imprisoned for life.”

  “Not unless he wants war and the death of his wife to settle the conflict.”

  “He wants to see his wife to be sure she is in good health.”

  “The day before the citizens’ vote, but after the competency challenge, I’ll allow her to talk to the First Citizen.” The connection cut to silence. Ammad shouted. “Program Sayyid to run five variations of the test Edison will prepare. A Muslim-built computer will trump a pagan one any day of the week.”

  “Well,” his aide chuckled, “his rules state ‘No applicant can run a computer test study.’ But then, he doesn’t know Sayyid exists. Does he?”

  “Have Akbari come in.” Ammad couldn’t wait any longer to confide in his friend about the she-devil.

  A few moments and Akbari strode in as thought the world’s weight had fallen on him. “Don’t speak,” he said. “What you know I know. What you’ve seen I’ve seen. I suspect vast witchcraft at work. Allow me to study t
he books. Give me time to align my spirit with Jannah and its holiness. Then we will speak.”

  “But . . .”

  Akbari stomped his foot. “Cease your protest. Only on these issues am I in charge. Understood?”

  Ammad lowered his head. “Understood.”

  Chapter 12

  First Citizen Arthur Pendleton flung a wastebasket across his boardroom. It bounced harmlessly off the solid rock wall. “Dammit. I wish something would break.”

  “You say that every time you get mad. Pull yourself together. You have a meeting with your family and staff.” Van Meer straightened up the room and buzzed Duarte.”

  “Send in the family.”

  Connor entered first, eyes flaming red and hips swiveling.

  “I love it when you’re intense, Busty Rusty.” Van Meer said with a wink accompanying. He gave her a pat on the behind.

  “Seriously, pervert,” Connor scooted away. “Felicia hasn’t been gone that long.”

  “Ouch.” Van Meer’s face reddened.

  One thing his daughter learned from her mother was how to handle men—one tough woman, that one. George strutted in behind her, self-assured and handsome. He never desired a position of political power much to Pendleton’s dismay. He craved the adventure of space exploration and commanded the respect of the top astrophysicists in the world. Ah, Pendleton thought. Now for the tree hugger.

  Strolling in, hands in his pockets, his Global Realm shirt sticking out of his pants in the back, Harry Pendleton offered a nod, and said, “The prodigal returns home.”

  “Harry,” his father answered, wondering how someone so brilliant could be so laid back. “How was your trip in from Kampala?”

  “Concerning.” Harry wiped curly red strands off his forehead. “I viewed the damage to three major complexes from the Supersonic. They’re built to last. But how many missiles did we waste fighting that—skirmish, police action, or thingamabob?”

  Pendleton grumbled. “There are times I wish the things I do would just be accepted for what they are. We defended ourselves.”

  “As I see it, we’re leading in the death count. Is that what you want the world to know?”

  “Well, no.” Pendleton rubbed his lower jaw and cut off the conversation, as Duarte entered, notepad in hand. “We have little time to waste,” he continued. “Allow me to bring you up to speed. Ammad requests a competency challenge and vote. He has your mother, and by the law of the Realm, I can’t refuse even if he didn’t have her.”

  Connor blurted out. “The bastard woos the Jews. Chui will remain neutral or run against you both. If Ammad wins, there will be religious war and persecution, as we have never seen. I say we destroy him.”

  “I agree with your daughter.” Van Meer sighed. “Find him and destroy him, before the Global Realm falls from within.”

  “It’s not just Ammad. Over one-third of the world has already been influence by him.” Pendleton shrugged. “Kill one radical and you create millions more. We had that situation before I blew up half the world.”

  “We’ll have it again if you don’t act now,” Connor said.

  “No.” Pendleton had already mulled over his options. He remained resolute. “My plan worked. An improved humanity runs this planet, except for the fanatics. The system requires we practice what we preach. Last night I prayed. Your mother had a vision of the coming of Christ. She told me to prepare the Christian believers for His coming, not kill more people. That is exactly what I’m going to do. Prepare believers.”

  “Poppycock,” Van Meer blurted out.

  “No. He speaks wisdom.” George Pendleton stood, pulled himself full height, and flexed. Brilliant, good looking, and persuasive, this Pendleton carried himself with assuredness. “If we have no dignity, we have nothing. However, we must plan for all eventualities. We win, someone other than Ammad wins, or Ammad wins. Worst-case scenario, Ammad wins and declares Jihad on Christianity. What would our game plan be?”

  Van Meer bristled. “How the bloody hell could Ammad win?”

  “I asked. What if he does win?”

  Silence. But Pendleton’s smile broadened.

  “We leave.” George passed out detailed diagrams of the number, size, and locations of transport shuttles around the globe. “I head up the sub-surface colonization branch of Mars Research Program Warlord. Presently, we have thirty environmentally sound human biospheres being readied for departure to Mars. Our advance teams have equipment in place on the Martian surface and have started building underground complexes similar to our Earth Complexes.”

  “If Christianity is threatened, how many people would those ships hold?”

  “Each has room for over a hundred thousand onboard, plus the orbiting Space Complexes hold thirty thousand each. They’re miniature cities in themselves.” George placed his hands on his hips. “There are Earth shuttles capable of transporting us up. A few million Christians could leave soon with the proper planning.”

  “How soon is soon?” Pendleton asked.

  “We could be ready in two months.”

  It wasn’t what the Bible said should happen. But with the Christian leadership already alerted, what difference did it make whether Christ came to Earth, or Christians left the Earth? The latter, not being the preferred plan, but a sensible one. Either way, Christians would be safe.

  Pendleton smiled. “My orders to all Christian leaders are to prepare for Christ’s coming through prayer and peaceful spreading of the Gospel. I’ll add that as many as possible be ready to evacuate at a moments’ notice, if world conditions warrant.”

  “Understand a few million represents only a fraction of believers.” George sighed. “I’d hate to be you, Father.”

  Duarte rose. “I’ll prepare the necessary communiqués for your signature, First Citizen.” As he stepped toward the door, he said. “The word will eventually get out.”

  “Hopefully not, at least until after the election.”

  As Duarte left, Michael Ziebach came in and rolled his wheelchair up next to his boss, Van Meer. He handed him a file and stayed at his side.

  “Preparing for an evacuation is only a precaution,” Harry managed. “You aren’t going to lose the challenge.”

  Pendleton slumped. “I don’t know that I will or I won’t. Look at what’s happened without my knowledge.” His eyes moistened. “I lost Milton. He was my eyes and ears on the changes going on in the world. Sir Jarvis Franks developed Alzheimer’s disease. Over time, I relaxed, overconfident since we were making such positive progress.”

  Connor folded her father’s hand in hers. She could be a nasty witch or a loving daddy’s girl. He never knew to whom he’d be talking. “Specifically, how do we precede, Dad?”

  “Here’s the plan,” he said, as she helped him to his feet. Slightly off balance, he steadied himself with his hand on the table. “First, set September 12th as the date for the vote. Set the date of the competency challenge for September 6th. Second, notify all Tier 1 executives they must apply by September 5th. How many Tier 1 Executives are eligible?”

  Duarte reentered the room and answered, “Fourteen, besides yourself, First Citizen. The twelve governors, Mr. al-Sistani, and Mr. Van Meer.”

  “Four will run.” Van Meer pushed his chair back and tossed a foot up on Pendleton’s best boardroom table. “Ammad, Chui, Arthur, and me.” He pointed a finger at his boss. “Let’s even the odds.”

  Pendleton cocked his head, but didn’t respond. Let’s even the odds?

  “Hans, alert all our governors to prepare their defenses just in case. Arm defensive weaponry, and reinforce complex perimeters with a second line of concrete barriers. Connor, provide increased protection for Van Meer and myself until after the election. Finally, George, full speed ahead with preparing both the remaining Space Complexes and the shuttles for Martian colonization.”

  “I’ll start the preparations,” Ziebach said.

  “Begin by developing a combat plan for me, Michael.” Van Meer said, and shook hi
s head. “I’m not a military strategist.”

  Ziebach grinned. As Polaris working for Hercules, he exceeded most in offensive strategy. Defense, not so much.

  “You forgot me, Dad,” Harry said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Of course, I’m invisible to you most of the time.”

  “I need Harry.” George stepped to his brother’s side. “To achieve the optimum from the biospheres for sustaining life, Harry’s knowledge is vital.”

  I guess I’m not one to toss out compliments, Pendleton thought. “I’m proud of every one of my children.”

  He gave Harry a nod. Unfortunate none of them qualify to run against me. Maybe one day in the future, however long the future would be, a grandchild would wish to rule. “Harry, follow your brother’s directions. Now, let’s prepare.”

  #

  Connor Uba arrived back at the London Complex for looking forward to a day’s rest. Then she would be about the task of providing each candidate for First Citizen the full protection of the Global Realm Security Forces. The lack of evidence of another planned attack had her wondering what the purpose was for Ammad’s missile strike. Within a minute, the terror in the eyes of the average citizen cleared up the question. Global citizens’ faith in their security had been shaken.

  Yet, only a few complexes experienced the bombardment. The rest of the world knew nothing about it, save for the Muslim Complexes, which only heard the version Ammad sold them. Connor clenched her fists. Ammad had created the ideal time for a play to become First Citizen. Upwards of 90,000 deaths, mostly Muslims, assured him of their vote.

  When she flew through the open bedroom door, Obie was on his communications cell. She planted a kiss on his cheek and heard him grunt a reluctant, “Yes. I’ll prepare to leave August 30th. But you’ll have to clear this with the Complex Administrator.”

  A few more grunts and he hung up.

  “Your brother, Harry, commands me to some secret meeting near the San Diego Complex. I leave in a week.”

  “Yes, I know.” She rushed to the bathroom and undressed. “We’ll talk about the world situation later. I’m horny as hell. So be prepared after I clean up.”