The Alexandria Connection (29 page)

O’Connor nodded. His boss, he knew, was never one for taking a step back, but he drew the line at suicide missions.

‘That said, if there’s another shipment of missiles already in Manaus, I think it’s time we investigated EVRAN’s operations in Brazil. Rubinstein’s art gallery can wait a little longer,’ McNamara said, again looking at O’Connor. ‘If we can confirm a link between EVRAN and the missiles in the Korengal Valley, and perhaps those used in the Strait of Hormuz, it doesn’t give us Crowley, but it may be enough for us to request an audit of EVRAN’s books, especially if it turns out terrorists used Taipans in their attack on the
Leila
and the
Atlantic Giant
.’

‘And apropos your observations on Crowley’s links to Davis,’ Murray said, turning to O’Connor, ‘Crowley and his executive assistant, Rachel Bannister, are leaving no stone unturned. The intercepts indicate Davis’s White House campaign has the highest priority in EVRAN, and they’re putting a lot of energy into the evangelical vote . . . the same votes that Karl Rove tapped into to get George W. Bush elected. I know I’m not supposed to be tapping into American citizens’ phones and emails, but something’s not right here, and I’m backing my instincts . . . not that the cell phones of evangelical pastors are anything other than child’s play.’

‘I think your instincts are right, and I’ll cover you. I don’t care how we get it – Crowley’s iPhones, Du Bois’s computers, a posting on stampgeekcol.com or Pastor What’s-his-face’s laptop, but we need a break on this, and fast.’

‘Any closet homosexuals?’ O’Connor asked, grinning broadly.

‘You’d be surprised,’ said Murray, a conspiratorial look on her face. ‘Pastor Shipley may rail against homosexuals, but he may not be all he seems.’

McNamara looked at both of them over the top of his glasses.

‘Crowley will make sure he’s nowhere to be seen,’ Murray continued more seriously, ‘but they’re about to announce the Davis candidacy at the church Crowley attends . . . Pastor Matthias B. Shipley’s Hermit Road mega-church.’

‘Crowley attends church?’ McNamara looked genuinely surprised.

‘Not if he can avoid it, but his wife Lillian’s a staunch Christian, and as a result, Crowley’s a big donor – US $30 million toward the church building fund alone. Pastor Shipley wouldn’t expect his emails to be tapped, so he’s been fairly open, and even though Davis is coming in to the race late, they’re not worried. The rest of the Republican field is pretty lacklustre and they’re banking on the evangelical vote in the Iowa caucuses giving them a head start.’

McNamara nodded. ‘Well, there’s no doubt Iowa’s important, both as the first indication of a candidate’s potential, and in the presidential election. The Democrats won there in 2008 and went on to the White House, although you’d have to say they’re a mix of red, blue and undecided in the Hawkeye state.’ The nickname for Iowa went back to the 1832 war between Americans and the Sauks, Meskwakis and Kickapoo tribes, led by the native leader Black Hawk.

‘And the evangelicals are far from monolithic,’ Murray said. ‘Davis can’t hope to win them all, but they made up sixty per cent of the vote in 2008, which probably explains why Shipley’s invited a whole bunch of pastors to the announcement. When voting’s not compulsory, if they can get several thousand pastors to thump the pulpit on the Sunday before the first Tuesday in November, and urge their congregations to get out and vote for their man, Davis and EVRAN might just pull this off.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ McNamara muttered.

G
overnor Davis wiped the sweat from his brow. The hubbub from the cavernous church was clearly audible in Matthias B. Shipley’s palatial office. Shipley had delivered on his promise, and the front pews of the 10 000-capacity auditorium had been filled by over 1000 pastors. Courtesy of EVRAN, they’d been flown in from across the country. Behind them the comfortable church seats were crammed to capacity with ordinary worshippers, excited by the prospect of being able to question ‘the next Christian president of the United States’. Two hours of coaching from Rachel had Governor Davis wishing for a Montana pure malt whiskey, but he forced himself to focus.

‘Finally, what are you going to say if someone asks you how you’re going to convince the Lord to allow you to get into heaven?’ Rachel probed.

‘They’re not going to ask that!’ Davis grumbled.

‘Pastor Jerry Falwell was one of the most powerful televangelists this country’s ever seen, and that was one of his favourite questions to any presidential candidate.’

‘Well I guess I’ll say that throughout my life I’ve followed the teachings of the Bible.’

Rachel kept a straight face. ‘For evangelicals, that’s not the right answer,’ she said, handing him another page with a typed dot point for his folio. ‘Take a leaf out of George W. Bush’s re-election campaign – that’s what he said in 2004.’

Rachel looked at her watch. ‘Make-up’s down the hall, then it’s show time.’

‘My friends, we are moving into dangerous territory!’ Pastor Shipley thundered, warming up his audience for the introduction of the governor.

The director in the control room high above the rear seats called for a shift in coverage.

‘Zoom in, camera six.’

Shipley had a standing order that whenever a close-up was required, it was to be on the left, his best side. The huge screens above the stage and around the walls of the auditorium were filled with Shipley’s facial features, bloated by good living. But his blue eyes were energised by adrenalin. Many of the congregation were following the direct broadcast on their laptops through the Hermit Road secure wi-fi.

‘We need a committed Christian in the White House, someone who is a true servant of the Lord, because we are truly living in the end times! Those of you who have consulted the Rapture Index this morning will see that it’s now at 186 points. That’s close to a record high. God is giving us very clear warnings, but even the patience of the Almighty has its limits.’

Rachel watched with interest from the wings. Whatever might be said about these Christians, their unswerving belief that their God was in control was palpable. The Rapture Index website provided a running commentary on the fulfilment of biblical prophecies, covering forty-five categories, including the world economy, climate, oil supplies, unemployment, moral standards, Russia and Iran, a coming world government, and, most importantly of all, the peace process and Israel. Rachel too, had checked the Rapture Index, but only to prep her charge on possible questions. For her, there was one category missing and that was the ‘barking mad’ one.

‘You only have to look at what these crazed Muslims have done in the Strait of Hormuz,’ Shipley thundered. ‘The Bible warns us that the end times are approaching, and we will see in our lifetime a terrifying New World Order run by the rich and powerful. It’s right here in Chapter 7 of the Book of Daniel.’ Pastor Shipley held his well-thumbed leather Bible aloft. ‘When Daniel asks an angel to interpret his dream, the angel explains there will be a fourth empire after the Babylonians, the Persians and the Greeks. That fourth empire was not just the ancient Roman Empire, but a revival of that empire which we see rising today.’ In a portent of the terrible times ahead, Shipley lowered his voice. ‘“As for the fourth beast”,’ he said, reading from Daniel, ‘“there shall be a fourth kingdom on earth that shall be different from the other kingdoms; it shall devour the whole earth, and trample it down, and break it to pieces.” And we can see that starting to happen now, my friends. Make no mistake, there are powerful forces at work behind the scenes; the increase in wild fires, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions and floods has very little to do with climate change, my friends. Scientists continually fail to address the prophecies in the Bible, because if they did, they would come to the same conclusion as you and me. These are simply God’s warnings.’ Many in the congregation nodded in agreement. ‘Hurricane Katrina was sent by God because of the gambling and sodomy in New Orleans, where each year, the Southern Decadence Labor Day gala for gays, lesbians and transgenders is hosted. God
hates
gays! God
hates
lesbians and transgenders, and anyone who disputes that, only has to go to the first book of the Bible in Genesis 19 where “the Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire . . . and he overthrew those cities!” In Leviticus, God has told us “do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman, for that is detestable”! Homosexuals are an abomination, yet we take no notice.’ Pastor Shipley strode across the vast stage. ‘God sent the floods in Colorado to an area where pagan New Age religion thrives, and God timed those floods to coincide with attempts by Washington to divide Israel and Jerusalem, so the Muslims and Arabs can form a Palestinian state, with al Quds, East Jerusalem as its capital. We are messing with God’s will here!’ Rachel quietly shook her head.

‘That’s why we need a Christian in the White House, to get America back on track before it’s too late. Many of you will have heard the rumours that Hailey Campbell is planning on running.’ Shipley lowered his voice again to emphasise the danger. ‘My friends, we can’t afford to let that happen. When Campbell speaks out in favour of homosexual marriage, when she regrets she didn’t oppose the war against the Muslims in Iraq, she is defying the will of God! So please welcome
God’s candidate,
the next president of the United States of America, Governor Carter Davis!’

Pastor Shipley may have given Davis his endorsement, but his fellow pastors and the Hermit Road congregation were yet to be convinced, and Davis was greeted with polite but muted applause.

‘Get me the live feed for the Hermit Road announcement.’

It took Crowley’s new personal assistant nearly five minutes, but Crowley controlled his frustration. Miranda Vandenberg had other talents. Tall, with long, slender legs, blue eyes and long, blonde hair, what she lacked in intellect she more than made up for with rat cunning. She had sized up Crowley’s needs early, and accurately.

‘Pause it,’ Crowley said, as the secure phone rang on his desk. ‘In the fridge in the boardroom kitchen, you’ll find some Louis Roederer champagne – the ’82 vintage. Farid . . . what can I do for you?’

‘The stock market is starting to rise again, Sheldon. When do you expect Phase Two to commence?’

Irritated, Crowley took a deep breath. Khan was speaking on a scrambler, but in Crowley’s world, communications were kept to essentials. ‘The teams are in place?’

‘Yes . . . the materials have arrived,’ Khan confirmed.

‘And the teams for Phase Three?’ Crowley asked.

‘They are standing by as well, but we’re still waiting on the missiles.’

‘I will let you know in good time, once they’ve left Manaus,’ said Crowley, his voice steely. ‘Tell your people to be patient. This is a marathon, Farid, not a sprint.’

Crowley slammed down the phone but his mood softened as Miranda returned. ‘Get Reid in here, and once I’ve dealt with him . . . ’

Miranda set the Louis Roederer champagne on the polished cedar table, activated the feed from the Hermit Road church that was being broadcast live through the American Christian Broadcast Foundation, and settled back on the couch, letting her short skirt ride up her brown thighs.

Davis grasped the big lectern with both hands, and the director called for another shift. ‘Zoom in camera five.’

‘My fellow Americans,’ Davis began, looking toward the sizeable press contingent gathered in an area to one side of the church. ‘I’ve come here today, to announce my intention to run for the presidency of the United States, and to ask for your prayers. As governor of Montana, I’ve been privileged to run on a platform of “Faith and Family”. Today, I’ve added “Jobs” to that manifesto, because if you entrust me with this great office, I will build on what has served me well, both in my public, and in my private life.’

Rachel had insisted on the addition, but as she listened to Davis in campaign mode, she reflected on the not-inconsiderable payoffs for Abigail and the rest of his paramours. If any of those came unstuck, Rachel knew Davis and Crowley’s campaign would turn to custard in an instant.

Davis turned and waved toward the huge red and blue banner behind him emblazoned with:

DAVIS FOR PRESIDENT

Faith, Family and Jobs

‘Zoom in on the banner, camera five.’

‘This election will be about the economy and jobs,’ Davis continued. ‘In Montana, I’ve put the economy front and centre, and my record speaks for itself. Shale oil and gas drilling is reaching new heights in the Bakken formation, and you’ve only got to look at the thousands of new jobs . . .
new jobs
 . . . that we’ve created in the Sweet Grass and Park counties. We’re well on the way to making America self-sufficient in oil and gas, and if the American people entrust me with the White House, I will pledge till my last breath to rebuild what the Democrats have destroyed. Together, and with the help of Almighty God, we will make America great again!’

As Davis launched into the dot points Rachel had provided him, interspersed with regular mentions of the Almighty and the Lord Jesus Christ, she listened to the increased applause with grudging respect. She hadn’t changed her mind on Davis’s IQ, but as a snake oil salesman in campaign mode, he was without peer. She began to think they might just pull this off, reminding herself that stranger things had happened.

‘Murderer!’ shouted a clearly agitated man who had leapt to his feet in the middle of the auditorium. He took off his coat to reveal a black T-shirt emblazoned with a skull and crossbones. ‘You’re setting us up for an absolute disaster in Montana! There are now over 400 000 tanker cars moving across this country every year, and so far, there have already been three rail derailments of Bakken crude that have resulted in fifty people dead and millions of gallons of flaming oil creating walls of flame three hundred feet high. And in Lac Megantic in Quebec, the whole town went up. Bakken crude is dangerous! It’s light, has more methane, and burns easily!’

Shipley had already given orders for the protester to be evicted, but the man had carefully selected his seat in the middle of the vast auditorium, and the security guards were having trouble getting to him. The protestor was making the most of it.

‘And you, Governor Davis . . . you and EVRAN and the rest of Big Oil are liars! You maintain fracking has been around for decades, but it hasn’t! Deep horizontal drilling and the use of toxic chemicals only began in Ohio in 2011 and contrary to what you say, we know nothing of the damage to the water table and our drinking water! EVRAN has teams of salespeople tricking old retired couples into signing away the family farm for a pittance. You’re in bed with EVRAN and Big Oil up to your miserable neck!’