Shadow of the Giant (14 page)

“Of course,” said Alai.

“Everybody strap down,” said the pilot.

There weren’t enough seats along the sides; the center was meant to hold a gurney. But Alai’s driver grinned and insisted on standing. “I’ve ridden choppers into battle. If I can’t keep my feet in a medical chopper, I deserve some bruises.”

The chopper tilted as it rose into the air, but soon it found a workable equilibrium, and the woman unstrapped and awkwardly dressed herself. All the men looked away, except her companion, who helped her.

Meanwhile, Alai and the pilot conversed, making no attempt to lower their voices.

“I don’t want these two with us for the main enterprise,” said Alai. “But I don’t want to kill them either. They need time to find their way back to God.”

“They can be held in Haifa,” said the pilot. “Or I can have them taken on to Malta, if that would suit you better.”

“Haifa will do.”

It wasn’t a long journey, even flying low and slow. By the time they arrived, the doctors were quiet and looked penitent, holding hands and trying not to look at Alai too much. They landed on the roof of a hospital in Haifa, and the pilot turned off the engine and got out to converse for a moment with a man dressed like a doctor. Then he opened the door. “I have to lift off again,” he said, “to make room for your transportation. So you need to come out now. Except those two.”

The doctors looked at each other, frightened.

“They’ll be safe?” asked Alai.

“Better if they don’t see your transportation come and go,” said the pilot. “It will soon be dawn and there’s a little light. But they’ll be safe.”

Alai touched them both as he left the chopper.

He and his men watched as the medical chopper lifted off. Instantly, another chopper arrived, but this time a long-range battlejet, large enough to carry many soldiers into battle, and armed heavily enough to get them past a lot of obstacles.

The door opened, and Peter Wiggin stepped out.

Alai walked up to him. “Salaam,” he said.

“And in you, too, let there be peace,” said Peter.

“You look more like Ender than the public photographs show.”

“I have them retouched by computer to make me look older and smarter,” said Peter.

Alai grinned. “It was nice of you to give us a ride.”

“When Felix told me the sad story of that lonely pedestrian in the Empty Quarter, I couldn’t pass up the chance to help.”

“I thought it would be Bean,” said Alai.

“It’s a whole bunch of men trained by Bean,” said Peter. “But Bean himself is on another errand. In Rwanda, as it happens.”

“So that’s happening now?” asked Alai.

“Oh, no,” said Peter. “We won’t make a
move
until we see how your little adventure turns out.”

“Then let’s go,” said Alai.

Peter invited Alai to take precedence, but then he himself entered before any of Alai’s soldiers. Ivan made as if to protest, but Alai gestured for him to relax. Alai had already bet everything on Peter’s being cooperative and trustworthy. Now was not the time to worry about assassination or kidnapping. Even though there were twenty Hegemony soldiers already inside, as well as a sizable amount of equipment. Alai recognized the Thai-looking commander as someone he knew from Battle School. Had to be Suriyawong. Alai nodded to him. Suriyawong nodded back.

Once they were under way and on jet power—this time without any embarrassed woman having to be officially rebuked and forgiven and dressed—Peter indicated the men who were with him.

“I assumed,” said Peter, “that the lone hitchhiker our mutual friend told me about didn’t need a large escort.”

“Only enough to get me to where a certain thick rope is coiled like a snake.”

Peter nodded. “I have friends currently trying to find his exact location.”

Alai smiled. “I assume it’s far from the front.”

“If he’s in Hyderabad,” said Peter, “then he will be under extremely heavy guard. But if he’s across the border in Pakistan, security will not be unusually heavy.”

“Either way,” said Alai, “I will not have your men exposed to danger.”

“Or observed,” said Peter. “It wouldn’t do for too many people to know you were brought to real power with the help of the Hegemon.”

“You do seem to be at hand whenever I make a play for power.”

“This is the last time, if you win,” said Peter.

“This is the last time either way,” said Alai, then grinned. “Either the soldiers will follow me or they won’t.”

“They will,” said Peter. “If they get the chance.”

Alai indicated his small escort. “That’s what my camera crew is here to ensure.”

Ivan smiled and lifted his shirt enough to show that he was wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying grenades and clips and a machine pistol.

“Oh,” said Peter. “I thought you had gained weight.”

“We Battle School boys,” said Alai, “we always have a plan.”

“You’re not going to fight your way in, then.”

“We’re going to walk in as if we expected to be obeyed,” said Alai. “With cameras rolling. It’s a simple plan. But it doesn’t have to work for very long. That thick rope, it always did love a camera.”

“A vain and brutal man, my sources say,” said Peter. “And not stupid.”

“We’ll see,” said Alai.

“I think you’re going to succeed,” said Peter.

“So do I.”

“And when you do,” said Peter, “I think you’re going to do something about the things Virlomi has been complaining about.”

“It’s because of those things that I could not wait for a more opportune time. I must wash Islam clean of this bloody stain.”

“I believe that with you as Caliph, the Free People of Earth can coexist with a united Islam,” said Peter.

“I believe so as well,” said Alai. “Though I can never say so.”

“But what I want,” said Peter, “is insurance that I can use in case you don’t survive. Either today or at some future point, I want to make sure I don’t have to face a Caliph I can’t coexist with.”

Peter handed Alai a couple of sheets of paper. It was a script. Alai began to read.

“If you die a natural death and pass on your throne to someone you have chosen, then I’ll have no need of this,” said Peter. “But if you were murdered or kidnapped or exiled or otherwise dethroned by force, then I want this.”

“And what if
you
are killed or otherwise forcibly removed from office?” asked Alai. “What happens to this vid then, assuming I say these things for the camera?”

“Try to encourage your followers not to think that killing me would be good for Islam,” said Peter, “and my soldiers and doctors will guard against any other possible causes of my untimely death.”

“In other words, I just have to risk it,” said Alai.

“Come now,” said Peter, “the only way this vid will be useful is if you aren’t around to repudiate it. And if I’m dead, it will have no value to my unworthy successor.”

Alai nodded. “True enough.”

He stood up, opened his suitcase, and dressed in the flamboyant costume of a Caliph as the Muslim people expected to see him. Meanwhile, Peter’s vidman set up his equipment—and the backdrop, so it wouldn’t be obvious it was taped on a battlecraft, surrounded by soldiers.

At the gate of the heavily guarded military complex at Hyderabad—once the headquarters of the Indian military, then of the Chinese occupiers, and now of the Pakistani “liberators”—three motorcycles pulled up, two of them carrying two men each, and the third a single rider with a satchel on the seat behind him.

They stopped well back from the gate, so no one would suppose it was an attempt at a suicide bombing. They all held up their hands so some trigger happy guard wouldn’t take a shot at them while one of the men pulled a video camera out of the satchel and fitted a satellite feed to the top of it.

That got the attention of the guards, who immediately phoned for advice from someone in authority.

Only when the camera was ready did the man who had been alone on his cycle peel back the traveling coat that had covered him. The guards were almost blinded by the whiteness of his robes, and long before he had his kaffia-cloth and ’agal-rope in place on his head.

Even the guards who weren’t close enough to recognize him by face guessed from the clothing and from the fact that he was a young black man that their Caliph had come to see them. None of the common soldiers and few of the officers suspected that General Rajam would not be happy to have a visit from the Caliph. So they raised their voices in cheers—some of them in an ululation meant to suggest the cries of Arab warriors riding into battle, though all the soldiers here were Pakistani.

The camera rolled as Alai raised his arms to receive the adulation of his people.

He strode through the checkpoint unmolested.

Someone brought him a jeep, but he refused and kept walking. But the vidman and his crew got into the jeep and rode along beside and then ahead of the Caliph. While the Caliph’s aide, Ivan Lankowski, dressed in civilian clothes like the vid crew, explained to the officers who trotted alongside him that the Caliph was here to bestow upon General Rajam the honors he had earned. He expected General Rajam and those men he wished to have share this honor greet the Caliph in the open square before all of the Caliph’s soldiers.

This word quickly spread, and before long, Alai’s progress was accompanied by thousands of uniformed soldiers, cheering and calling his name. They kept a path clear for the vid crew, and those who thought they might be within line of sight of the camera made an especially exuberant show of their love for the Caliph, in case someone from home was watching and might recognize them.

Alai was reasonably confident that whatever Rajam might be planning, he wouldn’t do it in front of a live satellite feed, with thousands of soldiers looking on. Rajam would have had Alai die in a plane crash on the way, or be assassinated somewhere far from Rajam himself. Now that he was here, Rajam would play a waiting game, to see what Alai was up to, meanwhile looking for some innocent-seeming way for Alai to be gotten rid of—killed, or trundled back to Damascus and kept under closer guard.

As Alai expected, Rajam waited for him at the top of the imposing stairs leading up to the finest-looking building in the compound. But Alai walked up only a few steps and stopped, turning his back on Rajam and facing the soldiers…and the camera. The light was good here.

The vid crew took their places at the bottom of the steps.

Alai held up his arms for silence and waited. The shouting died down.

“Soldiers of God!” he shouted.

A huge roar, but it subsided at once.

“Where is the general who has led you?”

Another cheer…but one that was noticeably less enthusiastic. Alai hoped that Rajam wouldn’t be too resentful of the difference in their popularity.

Alai did not look—he counted on Ivan to signal him when Rajam was near. He saw Ivan beckoning to Rajam to take his place at Alai’s left hand, directly in front of the camera.

Ivan signaled. Alai turned and embraced and kissed Rajam.

Stab me to death right now, Alai wanted to say. Because this is your last chance, you treasonous, murdering dog.

Instead, he spoke softly into Rajam’s ear. “As my old friend Ender Wiggin used to say, Rajam, the enemy’s gate is down.”

Then he let go of the embrace, ignoring the puzzled look on Rajam’s face, and took his hand, offering him to the cheering of the soldiers.

Alai raised his hands for silence and got it.

“God has seen all the deeds that have been done in his name here in India!”

Cheering. But also, on some faces, uncertainty. They had seen Virlomi’s vid, including the most recent one. Some of them, the brightest of them, knew that they could not be sure what Alai meant by this.

“And God knows, as you all know, that nothing has been done in India except by the will of General Rajam!”

The cheering was definitely half-hearted.

“Now is the day God has appointed to pay the debt of honor that is owed!”

The cheer had barely started when the camera crew pulled out their machine pistols and filled Rajam’s body with bullets.

At first many of the soldiers thought it was an assassination attempt on the Caliph, and there was a roar. Alai was glad to see that these were not the Muslim soldiers of history—few fled from the bullets, and many rushed forward. But Alai raised his arms and strode to a higher position, above the body of Rajam. At the same time, as he had instructed them, Ivan and the two men who were not holding the camera bounded up the steps and stood in line with Alai and raised their weapons above their heads.

“Allahu akbar!” they cried in unison. “Muhammed is his prophet! And Alai is Caliph!”

Again Alai raised his hands, and waited until he had relative silence and the rush toward the steps had ceased. Now there were soldiers all around him.

“The crimes of Andariyy Rajam have made a stink throughout the world! The soldiers of Islam came to India as liberators! In the name of God they came, as friends to our brothers and sisters in India! But Andariyy Rajam betrayed God and his Caliph by encouraging some of our people to commit terrible crimes!