‘On the winged horse, Buraq, who was named so because he is fast as lightning.’ The boy’s eyes shone brightly as newly minted coins.
‘That’s right. On Buraq, who was tall and white, bigger than a donkey but smaller than a mule. Off they flew into the Long Night.’
The boy stared into the fountain, and the Ayatollah knew Vali was imagining what that flight must have been like. The Ayatollah had done the same thing when his father had told him the story.
‘The journey was only just begun. Gabriel took Mohammad to the “farthest” mosque.’
‘To Al-Aqsa Mosque, right, Father?’
The location and the name of the mosque wasn’t definitely listed in the Koran. The Ayatollah nodded. ‘It was Temple Mount.’ It could be no other. ‘That is where God made the first man, though it was from blood, not dust as the Jews and the Christians tell their stories.’
‘They do not know, Father. They are very stupid people.’
‘Yes, and those that will not take the wisdom of enlightenment when it is offered to them will perish.’ I will kill them myself if I must. ‘While Mohammad was at Al-Aqsa Mosque, he visited with the other Prophets of God. With Moses, Joseph, and Christ — who was not the son of God but merely a man, though he was a Prophet. He talked of God’s Will and the messages that must be carried throughout the world.’
‘Such as how many times a day a man must acknowledge and give thanks to God.’
‘Exactly. He also saw God in all his glory, surrounded by angels. Mohammad saw paradise, and he saw hell.’ The Ayatollah took a deep breath. ‘Now I will tell you a story that you must not repeat to anyone until the day I tell you that you may. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Father. I understand.’ The boy’s eyes rounded in fear and curiosity, and the Ayatollah knew his own must have matched his son’s when his own father had told him the rest of the story.
‘Do you swear before God?’
‘I swear.’ Vali nodded solemnly.
‘While he was on the journey of the Long Night, which only took one night in our world, Mohammad had time to write his own Koran. The true Koran. From God’s own sacred lips.’
The boy gasped.
‘For all of these years, the Muslim faith has been split over what is Mohammad’s teaching and what is not. But that Book, writ in Mohammad’s own hand, tells the one truth.’ The Ayatollah paused. ‘Even better, Mohammad was given a Scroll that foretold the future of our faith, of the plans God has for us in this world before we go into the next.’
‘The future, Father?’
‘Everything, my son. God gave Mohammad all he would need to lead this world to its salvation. Unfortunately, on his way back to this world, Mohammad — overcome by all that he had seen and God’s beauty — dropped his Koran and the precious Scroll.’
‘How could he do such a thing?’
‘Despite God’s mission for him, Mohammad was only flesh and blood. He was stronger than men but weak in that moment, as men sometimes are.’
‘Where did he drop his Koran and the Scroll?’
The Ayatollah took a breath and tried to decide how much to tell the boy. He knew his family was sequestered away from the rest of the world, that nothing he told them would make it outside the palace walls, but the knowledge was a burden. Finally, he made his decision.
‘At first, my son, the few who knew of the loss — and even Mohammad himself — believed he had lost his Koran and the Scroll in the other worlds. If that had been so, we could never have gotten them back. However, as time has gone on, this has proven not to be the case. The Book and the Koran are here, in this world.’ The Ayatollah ran a hand through his son’s black hair. ‘In fact, I nearly have them within my possession.’
‘That is so wonderful.’ The boy smiled.
The Ayatollah’s heart softened at the sight of his son’s excitement. ‘When I get the Book and the Scroll, Vali, I will place them in your hands and let you know the truth.’
All his agents had to do was find the man who had the book that revealed the whereabouts of Mohammad’s Koran and the Scroll. They would. Of that, the Ayatollah was confident. They almost had him now.
The infidel Klaus Von Volker knew no master except profit, and the Ayatollah had taken advantage of that. The man’s greed and ambition shackled him more completely than any chain.
Then the resulting jihad would unleash a rain of holy fire that would cleanse the world. The early Muslims had spread God’s word with their swords. The Ayatollah had new weapons at his disposal, a nuclear arsenal that was being planned and built at that very moment.
And in time, by my hand shall the unbelievers perish, he thought as he gazed fondly at his son.
7
‘Mr. Youssef.’
Colonel Imad Davari of the Guardians of the Islamic Revolution of Iran sat at a small table at an open-air café. Darkness filled the city just beyond its lights.
He felt naked without a sidearm, but getting one into the country with false papers was almost impossible and certainly lethal if he got caught. Thank God he was also trained to be deadly with only his hands. And he was a big, burly man used to fighting.
The speaker was a slim man with dark, intense features. He wore a thin cotton shirt and gray cotton pants. The only hidden weapon he could possibly have was a knife.
‘I am Youssef.’ Davari sat calmly at the table and sipped his coffee.
The man came forward. ‘I am Lutfi. I was sent to get you.’
Davari pointed to the chair across from him. ‘Sit. Have a cup of coffee.’ He motioned to the waitress.
With obvious reluctance, Lutfi obeyed. ‘I was told not to delay.’
‘You need to relax.’ Davari stared at the man. ‘If not, you’ll give us away to the two men following me.’
The man started to look around, then caught himself. ‘You were followed?’
‘They were at the airport waiting for me.’ Even after twenty years of military experience, nine of those on the Quds Force, the extraterritorial operations arm of the Revolutionary Guard, sitting there with the men watching him had been hard for Davari. He preferred to do the watching, and he didn’t like having to trust outsiders. He worked with a team of men he’d trained, whom he knew like the back of his hand. None of them were with him now. The Ayatollah had entrusted him alone with this vital mission.
Lutfi shook his head. ‘This meeting is over.’
‘If you leave so quickly, those men will follow you. Do you think there are only two of them?’
Frustration tightened the man’s mouth. ‘You should have warned me.’
Davari laughed. ‘Your boss is the one that wanted no radio contact on the ground.’
‘You could have waved me off.’
‘Do you seriously think they wouldn’t have noticed that?’
The man cursed.
‘If I had warned you off, I would be facing them alone.’ Davari sipped his coffee. ‘I don’t think they would have let me sit here much longer without taking me into custody.’
‘Or killing you if they are Israeli.’
Davari shrugged. That, of course, was a possibility. He was confident that the men didn’t know him or his work personally. Somehow they had intercepted Commander Meshal’s communications.
‘What are we going to do?’ Lutfi didn’t look happy.
‘Now that you are here, and I have made contact, we’re going to escape.’ Davari finished his coffee. ‘You have a car?’
‘Of course. But I have no weapons.’
‘That’s fine. I’m sure they’re carrying enough for all of us.’ Davari stood. ‘Let’s get your car.’