Dark Rising

SIXTEEN

Mostafa Hossein, the leader of the Islamic Guardian Council, watched President Moshaddam climb the podium in the UN Assembly hall. It was the first time an Iranian president had delivered an address to the world’s leaders and their representatives and he received a standing ovation as he stood at the lectern and looked out over his audience. To date, the president’s rhetoric had swung between brilliantly pragmatic to frighteningly apocalyptic, and Hossein knew that his appearance at the Assembly had been eagerly anticipated – by some for the entertainment value alone.

Hossein nodded to several of the Middle Eastern representatives as he took his seat. Though Iran was in diplomatic conflict with many of the Western nations, Moshaddam had his international supporters and could count on them to deliver enthusiastic applause for any barb he may wish to sling at the West today.

The president had been embarrassingly excited in the car, almost feverish. He was like a small boy who was only just managing to keep some great secret behind his lips, Hossein thought. He was calm now though – smoothing his slightly crumpled brown jacket before drawing from his pocket a wad of notes which he spread on the lectern. He shuffled them, looked up and smiled, then went back to silent reading and more shuffling. The silence in the room thickened, until it was almost a living thing filling the room with expectation and suspense.

Moshaddam raised his arms, held forth both his open hands, closed his eyes and finally began to speak.

‘Distinguished heads of state, distinguished representatives, excellencies, ladies and gentlemen, praise be to Allah the merciful, the father of us all, the all-knowing and almighty God, for blessing me with this chance to speak to you here today, representing the great but humble nation of Iran before you, the international community.

‘The Almighty did not create humanity to make war on each other. He did not create humanity to lie, steal or cheat each other. Nor did he create humanity so it could batter, burn and bomb each other. Some nations are rich beyond belief, but they want more; they have nuclear arms, but don’t want others to have them; they profess to follow God, but allow their own people to degrade each other with unspeakable acts.’ The president lowered his hands, opened his eyes and sought out the unblinking stare of Harvey Benton, the United States’ UN representative. Moshaddam smiled slightly.

His voice rose in volume and emotion as he continued. ‘How can any nation profess to love its fellow men while it allows its own people to murder each other in numbers the size of a small nation?

‘Distinguished people, I ask you, can you drink oil? Will money soothe the father of the child who has been crushed beneath a building that was destroyed by a bomb? Can you be happy amassing ever more wealth while there are nations that endure ever more poverty, suffering and misery?’

There was total silence in the great hall. Moshaddam smiled condescendingly at Benton and leaned towards him slightly, as if daring him to challenge his words.

‘Who has more authority? The man who rules with the sword, or the man who leads with love and infinite wisdom? I tell you, the people of Iran choose love and wisdom. Today, most honoured dignitaries, when you sit down to your cake and sweetmeats, remember those who do not have even a single piece of bread due to the evil sanctions imposed by this gathering of nations. I have met many good and great leaders from around the globe who are living in fear, who are being strangled and bullied by a few permanent members of this very council. How can… no, why can a few nations, through the power of their wealth, their bombs and armies, decide to occupy and harvest the riches of other nations while we all sit idly by?’

Hossein saw Benton catch the eye of the ambassador for Britain, who shook his head and rolled his eyes. Many other Western nation representatives wore expressions of disbelief or disdain. Hossein wasn’t surprised. He stole a quick glance at the Israeli representative. The man’s expression was stony, but his face was blood red. However, the Middle East nations, a few from South America and even some from Europe were nodding enthusiastically. And so the geopolitical lines become drawn again, thought Hossein as he stroked his long grey beard.

The president lifted his hands in an almost beseeching manner – theatrics not lost on Benton or the other Westerners. ‘I say on behalf of all people of the Middle East: please leave our lands, we do not need you. Leave our people, they do not want you. Leave our faith, or you will answer to Allah and be judged most harshly.’

He fell silent for some minutes, and a murmur began to ripple around the Assembly. At last, the president put his open palms on top of one another over his heart. ‘There are over six billion people in our world,’ he said, ‘and they are all equal before Allah. Do you think he would let some be free and others be subjugated? All are God’s creatures and worthy of respect. May the Almighty bless the heroic struggles of those valiant warriors of any faith who fight aggression, oppression, invasion and subjugation. For those who defend their faith, they shall talk to God before all others.’

Moshaddam closed his eyes and spoke softly, as if in prayer. ‘Oh almighty God, all men and women are your creatures, and we beseech you to reveal the Hidden One, the Twelfth Imam, the Last Prophet, to guide us. Show us the Perfect Human who has been long promised, and let us be among his followers who strive for his cause. Make us worthy for the return of the Prophet.’

The president’s eyes remained closed as he raised his finger and wagged it at the gathered delegates as if they were misbehaving schoolchildren. Hossein wondered if he was going too far.

‘The Last Prophet will return, the Hidden One, the Mahdi, and make himself known to the world of humanity. His return will be the most significant event since the coming of Mohammed, and will have dire consequences for the infidels and the apostates. His return will herald the Final Judgment and the end of history. He shall return at the head of the Forces of Righteousness to do battle with the hordes of evil in one final, apocalyptic war. When evil has been defeated once and for all, the Mahdi will rule the world for a thousand, thousand years and bring about perfect spirituality among all peoples.’

Moshaddam opened his eyes, looked up at the spotlight high above him and smiled. He covered his heart with his hands once again, bowed and gathered his notes.

Every representative from the Middle East was on his feet, stamping and applauding. The rest remained seated, with expressions of rancour or confusion on their faces. Not since Yasser Arafat brought a gun into the Assembly had there been such an obvious division amongst the gathered nations.

Hossein saw Harvey Benton head quickly for the door, his phone in his hand.

Hossein sat in the black Mercedes and watched as the Iranian president was rushed towards the waiting car. Two massive, black-suited bodyguards pushed photographers and journalists roughly out of the way to clear his path. A huge grin split Moshaddam’s face and his eyes shone with excitement. He climbed into the car and pulled Hossein in close to him so he could be heard over the flash of cameras and the shouts of the demonstrators held back from the vehicle.

‘My friend, they were like flies in honey. I believe Allah put them all under a spell as I spoke – and I know why. I felt the Divine light again. Did you see the halo appear around my head when I mentioned the Mahdi?’

Hossein smiled but his eyes remained flat and impassive. The president was a deeply religious man, more so than any other president they had ever had, and like all good Muslims he lived his life solely by the teaching of the Qur’an. His fervour went far beyond that, however, and he was prone to seeing portents and prophecies in the most ordinary of things. It was said the president could see the names of the prophets in the curve of a hummingbird’s tongue.

Hossein closed his eyes and sank back into the plush leather seat. He would talk to the Supreme Leader on his return. It was one thing to poke a finger in the eye of the United States; it was quite another to stand before them and talk of war.