Dark Rising (7 page)

Al Janaddi sensed Parvid Davoodi watching him closely. ‘Severe burning?’ the vice-president asked.

Al Janaddi’s lips moved as if testing his words before he spoke them aloud. He shook his head and looked down at the ground before continuing. ‘Yes, there was gamma insult to the physiology, and some of the personnel recovering the body suffered quite severe secondary radiation poisoning, but that was not what confused us.’

The scientist drew in a deep shuddering breath and opened another file on the laptop – a single colour photograph that filled the screen. Though he had seen it before, he winced at the image. The top half of the body was almost unrecognisable as human. The head and face were the worst – they seemed to have stretched and widened. An eye a foot long stared out of the image, while the mouth – held open by the swollen, distended tongue – seemed to be screaming from the very pit of hell.

Even the veteran soldiers, who had seen all manner of mutilations on the battlefield, sat with mouths open in either disgust or shock. After a few moments, most of the group looked away, all except Mahmoud Moshaddam. The president’s gaze burned into the scientist; Al Janaddi felt as if it penetrated to his very core.

‘What else?’ Moshaddam said softly. ‘There is something more – I can feel it. I will not ask you a third time, Professor. Tell us everything.’

The scientist wrung his hands and nodded. ‘The Persepolis anomaly occurred just forty hours ago and over 400 miles from where we are now. However, when the body was recovered it was severely decomposed, as if Dr Shihab had been dead for many months. Somehow, between his disappearance under four days ago and reappearance, his body has undergone nearly half a year’s decomposition. We believe that when he disappeared, he didn’t just go
somewhere
else – he went some
when
else.’

Mohammed Bhakazarri was shaking his head. ‘Professor, are you aware how many billions of rials that site cost the Islamic Republic of Iran? Are you aware of the camouflage and misinformation that we needed to facilitate to mask it? And for what? What have we got for our billions and all that work other than a deformed, dead scientist?’

Al Janaddi had expected this from the military. They resented the fact that scientific personnel were in charge of the Jamshid projects. But his defensive strategy wasn’t aimed at the military; it was for the benefit of the president. It was common knowledge that Mahmoud Moshaddam was a deeply religious man who saw the hand of Allah in every event that occurred. This knowledge had shaped Al Janaddi’s argument.

‘Yes, I am aware of the cost, Chief Commander Bhakazarri – both in terms of the loss of personnel and rials. But I think we may have expended our money very wisely. This may be the greatest gift Allah, may his name be praised, has bestowed on our great land for a thousand years.’

The president’s brow knitted and he sat forward. Silence hung in the room and all eyes were now firmly on the scientist.

‘Black holes are the deadliest and most powerful entities in our universe,’ Al Janaddi continued. ‘And Iran just created one in a laboratory. The Europeans and the Americans are still theorising about the ability to achieve this with their giant particle accelerators. They know that creating and securing a black hole would deliver an energy source unparalleled on this planet. Gamma-ray bursts from outside our galaxy have enormous power that could supply the entire world’s energy needs for a billion, billion years. Rather than bury the Jamshid project, we must try to reproduce the work that was done at Persepolis and see if we can harness these mighty entities and their almost limitless power.’

Davoodi raised an eyebrow and half-smiled at the scientist. ‘I am not an expert, but I understand, Professor, that a single gamma burst can release more energy in ten seconds than our sun will emit in ten billion years. How do you propose to contain this monstrous force once created? Also, what would stop these unstable entities from escaping your facility and devouring Jamshid II, Iran, or the entire planet for that matter? We just lost Jamshid I in the blink of an eye, and probably alerted the West that we are working with fissionable material. The next
accident
could be the last for everyone in Iran.’

The vice-president leaned forward and steepled his fingers. ‘I suggest we shut down all testing until we have a better understanding of the risks of trying to tamper with these monstrous freak occurrences.’

Al Janaddi closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, opening his arms as if in resignation. ‘Perhaps you are right. There is much we don’t know at this point, Vice-President Davoodi. But maybe that is why we must undertake further study to understand and perhaps harness this power. If we don’t, the West will.’

There was complete silence. All eyes turned to the president. He seemed deep in prayer: his eyes were closed, his hands were clasped and he was murmuring softly to himself. At last he opened his eyes and spoke.

‘It is clear to me that this is Allah’s gift to the Iranian people. He has shown us the path forward and it would be blasphemy to ignore his message. No more will our enemies be able to threaten embargoes on our petroleum or the destruction of our oil fields. When we have an energy source that does not need to be sucked from the ground, that we can pluck from the very stars themselves, that has been given to us by Allah, blessed be his name, then we can lead the entire Muslim world to a new age of superiority. We will be able to stop our oil production and watch the West return to chaos when the source of the black blood that their machines gorge themselves upon is suddenly turned off.’

Then the president’s brow furrowed as if he had just had an unpleasant thought. He reached out to Chief Commander Bhakazarri and took hold of his upper arm. ‘They will come – either the pigs of Zion or the Americans. If enough of the radiation escaped, they will have seen it.’

Bhakazarri made a fist and brought it slowly down on the table in a subconscious act of crushing his enemies. ‘You are right. Either by air or by stealth, they will come. We must be ready.’

‘And what of Persepolis – what remains of the facility?’ The president turned from Bhakazarri back to the scientist, his eyes narrowing in contemplation.

‘Nothing, my President. Nothing except the tunnels leading to the complex. There was no heat, no noise and no ground tremors – the facility was either totally absorbed . . . or sent somewhere else.’

The president nodded slowly. ‘Truly a gift – Allah and all the prophets be praised.’ He turned to Bhakazarri, his eyes now alight with the fire of excitement. ‘We must be ready – with words and a plan, and some steel as well, my friend. We will tell the bureaucrats at the United Nations that we wish to discuss closing down the Natanz facilities, with their assistance, in return for their lifting of all sanctions. They already know about the Natanz operation, and that will keep them satisfied. It will also be enough to keep the Americans in check, at least diplomatically.’

He spoke to Al Janaddi again. ‘Professor, you are authorised to bring the Jamshid II facility up to full production capability immediately. You are personally responsible for the success of this project.’

The president closed his eyes and leaned his head back, as though listening to some distant voice. ‘We need to keep the unbelievers away from Jamshid II at all costs. They may know about the Persepolis site, but there is nothing there for them now. Perhaps we should have a reception waiting for them nevertheless. To draw them out, sap their strength.’

Bhakazarri gave a flat smile. ‘I will ready the Takavaran immediately, my President, and cast a net around Persepolis. I will also ensure that our professor and Jamshid II are doubly safe. Around them I will place a noose.’

Al Janaddi suppressed a groan. The Takavaran were the most brutal fighting force in the entire Middle East. All fanatics, they likened themselves to the Persian Immortals and their death squads had a habit of crushing enemies and locals alike. Their chain of command included Bhakazarri and God – in that order. The Jamshid II facility at Arak was about to undergo a very unpleasant experience.

The president had asked Mostafa Hossein, the leader of the Islamic Guardian Council, to remain behind when the others left. He motioned for the old cleric to be seated next to him and took him by the hand.

‘I heard it,’ he said. ‘I heard Israfil’s horn. The hour has come.’ The president began to quote from the Qur’an: ‘At a time unknown to man, but preordained, when people least expect it, Allah will give permission for the
Qiyamah
, the Day of Judgment, to begin. The archangel Israfil will sound a horn sending out a blast of truth. The Earth, Moon and Sun will be joined together and swallowed by darkness.’ Tears ran freely down his face, but his eyes were shining and rapturous. ‘The scientist Shihab was returned to us a disgusting beast. I believe he stood at the crossroad of Jannah and Jahannam, of heaven and hell, and was judged by Allah to be sinful. He was sent back to us in that foul, deformed shell as punishment.

‘The angels themselves have revealed to me that soon the Hidden One, the Mahdi, will reveal himself. Allah has led us to discover this great power so we may prepare the world for the arrival of the Enlightened One.’ The president recited again: ‘The ground will move and the skies will blacken. All men and women will be made to cross over the black abyss, whence the flames of Jahannam will leap up. The believers will cross safely to Jannah; the others will be cast down as beasts. Afterwards, the Mahdi, the Hidden One, will lead the truly faithful to a land that is returned to the empire of Allah and cleansed of all idols, non-believers and sinners.’

The leader of the Islamic Guardian Council was a deeply religious man, but he was wary of the way the young president drew on an unfounded personal spiritual authority. He knew the president believed that the teachings of the Prophet signalled a resurgent Islamic caliphate and the coming apocalypse. His fiery rhetoric when it came to the might of Iran or his dealings with the West were both exciting and intimidating, but it seemed everyone but the president himself knew Iran could never survive a head-to-head conflict with the West, especially with the American forces. Iran’s weapon was the threat of withholding oil production, not firepower. Now Mostafa Hossein was concerned that Moshaddam was positioning himself to draw on an ancient prophecy to proclaim himself as some kind of prophet, perhaps even a descendant of the greatest prophet of all. Moshaddam was obsessed with the Mahdi, or Hidden Imam, a direct descendant of the prophet Mohammed, whose return would herald the Islamic Day of Judgment and the end of the world.

The president closed his eyes and gave a small backhanded wave, signifying the meeting was at an end. ‘I can hear the horn still,’ he whispered. ‘Israfil speaks to me even now, my friend. He tells me: ready yourself for the return of the prophet.’

Mostafa Hossein leaned over to kiss both of the president’s cheeks then moved to the door. He needed to talk to the Supreme Leader.

TEN

‘W
hy not drop us into Iraq? That’s secure now.’ Alex was looking at the map of the Middle East that Hammerson had spread out on his desk.

The Hammer shook his head. ‘Secure, maybe. Sealed and silent, not a chance. We put you down anywhere in Iraq and Tehran will know about it within the hour. Same goes for Kuwait, Saudi and Bahrain. There’s no backup, and time is your enemy – you’ll need all the head start you can get. Has to be Israel, then you cross over to the target zone.’

Alex raised an eyebrow at his superior officer. ‘Cross Syrian airspace, over Iraq and then drop into Iran – that’s a lot of unfriendly eyes. Choppers are too slow, and that also rules out trekking in from the Gulf . . . Hmm, HALO?’

Hammerson smiled, pushed his chair back and brought his large hands together behind his head. ‘Oh, yeah. I’m thinking I’m going to throw you all out the back of a B2 Spirit at 35,000 feet and see what happens.’

‘Night drop?’ Alex asked.

Hammerson nodded. ‘High and dark. Twice the fun.’

Alex grinned. If a human being truly wanted to experience speed, forget about travelling in the cockpit of a jet or racing car. Just do a High Altitude Low Opening jump. All HAWCs had to perform HALOs as part of their special training; however, 35,000 feet was the absolute maximum without wearing a full pressurised suit. The air temperature was well below freezing at that height and frostbite, hypothermia and glass-eye were a possibility. Usually, though, you weren’t there long enough for any of those to occur; the real danger came from the low air pressure that could cause pulmonary or even cerebral oedema – swelling of the lungs or brain. The latter led to blackouts or hallucinations – you simply forgot why you needed to open your chute. Terminal velocity was around 200 miles per hour for a freefall, but with the low air pressure you could reach double that velocity. Hit the ground at those speeds and they’d be collecting you with a mop and bucket.

‘The new suits you’ll be using with the visors down will give you adequate environmental protection and we can rig in disposable oxygen,’ Hammerson said. ‘Drop will take around three minutes, two minutes of which are going to be pretty unpleasant, doubly so for our Israeli contingent.’ Hammerson pulled a more detailed map and photographs out of the pile on his desk.

‘Israelis? New suits?’ Alex knitted his brows.

‘Some regional collaboration – we’ll get to that. Infiltration will be approximately one mile south of the Persepolis ruins. Extraction point to be determined by you. We’ll have a surface-skimming gunship ready; by then we won’t care if anyone hears or sees us.’

Alex studied the map of Iran and the photographs of the Marv Dasht basin spread out before him – nearly 650,000 square miles of dry desert, mountains and age-old hostility. ‘Surveillance?’ he asked. Getting captured in Iran as a spy wouldn’t make for a very pleasant few days – torture and execution would ruin a good holiday every time.

‘Nothing electronic, but you can bet there’ll be a few lenses pointed skyward. The B2 will be well above that for your drop, and your suits won’t show up on the way down. On the ground . . . maybe.’