Revelation

9 The Temple of Celestial Truth

Jesus Christ Incarnate, corporeal vessel of the soul of Tati from Sirius. Transmogrified from the world of the ethereal to that of base matter. Messenger from the Higher Level and conduit to the transcendental. And leader of the Apostles, who alone will attain Heaven.

The executioner was first to arrive. She was a middle-aged, motherly woman, of the type one might associate with coffee mornings and home-made jam. She was wearing a red anorak and a long, black skirt, and was carrying a large but featureless black leather handbag. Her taxi driver turned right at the village of Maybole, away from the traffic heading south for the Irish ferries, and drove for some miles along a quiet stretch of road along almost uninhabited countryside, towards the sea. The entrance to the Castle was blocked by traffic cones, and a notice said 'NO ENTRY DUE TO STORM DAMAGE', but a storm-swept gatekeeper removed the cones and waved the taxi in.

Heaven? The dwelling place of the Angels, located amongst the awesome halls of the Milky Way. Its specific location, the innermost planet orbiting the white dwarf companion of Sirius.

The extraordinary proof to match this extraordinary claim? Listen to the prehistoric stories handed down by generation after generation of the Dogon, the Saharan tribe contacted by the first wave of extraterrestrials. Listen to them repeat the ancient Dogon myths that describe the white dwarf orbiting Sirius in a fifty-one-year period, a star discovered by the astronomers only last century. How else to understand this except as information given to the primitives by visitors from that binary system?

And how else to understand the Book of Revelation's 'mighty angel come down from heaven, clothed with a cloud, and his face was as it were the sun, and his feet as pillars of fire', except as a visiting UFO, glowing with the heat of re-entry, smoke and flames pouring from its nozzles?

The Castle faced the Atlantic Ocean on an isolated rocky promontory in south-west Scotland. In spite of this isolation, it was only ninety miles from Edinburgh where, somewhere within that city, the diaries were located. Cannons faced landwards from the front of the Castle but to ensure privacy Jesus preferred to rely on men who stood under golf umbrellas in glistening raincoats and spoke to each other through mobile telephones.

The south wing contained private apartments, and these had been prepared by the Outer Circles, the trainees and ordinary faithful, for the arrival of Jesus and the Inner Circle.

By nine p.m., as the evening flights from Europe started to land at Glasgow, Edinburgh and Prestwick, an unusual traffic began to flow along the narrow access road: taxis, hired executive cars, the occasional chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce.

Jesus Christ arrived at midnight. His helicopter, glistening wet and windblown, landed on the broad lawns outside the castle, on a landing pad hastily improvised from sheets weighed down by stones and lit up by spotlights.

Prophet of Apocalypse, as announced by the Seven Angels from Sirius. How else to understand 'thy wrath is come, and the time of the dead, that they should be judged, and that thou should give reward unto thy servants the prophets, and them that fear thy name, and shouldest destroy them which destroy the earth', except as a second coming, and a call to destroy those whose unbelief is preventing the arrival of the second wave of UFOs which will transport the Apostles to Heaven?

A buffet had been laid out in the nearby stables restaurant and people ate as and when they pleased. Little groups wandered around the armoury, its walls thick with the deadly weapons of two hundred years ago; others preferred to linger amongst the columned elegance of the spectacular oval staircase. With the arrival shortly afterwards of Nan Rice, Warden of All Souls College in Oxford, who turned up in a battered old Ford Escort, the Inner Circle of the Temple of Celestial Truth was at last complete.

Because time was short, the meeting began almost immediately. The Circle had dressed in the long, black, Mandarin-collar robes which they used for formal occasions. Only Tati alias Jesus had an additional adornment, a pendant in the form of a silver Earth symbol — a cross within a circle — hanging from his neck. He was a small, stout man of about fifty with a neat, grey beard and short grey hair. A large Bible and a Pepsi were on the table in front of him.

Tata, the human transfiguration of the woman clothed with the sun and with the moon under her feet, and companion of Tati, sat next to him at the end of the table. She was tall, in her thirties, smooth-skinned and with hair swept back in a bun. She had dark, watchful eyes and a broad, somewhat lascivious mouth. Amongst the faithful, celibacy was encouraged, but there was also a discreet understanding that rank hath its privileges.

The windows of the big conference room were lashed by an Atlantic storm, and the flames in the open fire leaped and flickered in the draught. The Brothers faced each other around a square of polished oak tables littered with carafes of water, and Seven-Ups and Cokes.

'Perhaps Shin Takamara would be good enough to report on our Far Eastern concrete project.'

Shin Takamara was small, sixtyish, with a near-bald head and over-large spectacles. He had a gentle, scholarly air, and he spoke modestly, but with an undertone of quiet pride. 'I am pleased to report that we have made an excellent start. Our pilot trial, as you know, took place in Seoul in the nineties. There we induced a builder to use our sub-standard concrete in the construction of an apartment store. As you know it collapsed with the loss of five hundred lives.'

'A fine achievement,' Jesus agreed.

'How did you get round the quality-control inspectors?' The question came from Ricky Ross, the West Coast American.

Takamara smiled slightly: the American was new to the group and still learning. 'It's much cheaper, in the Korean context, to bribe an official than it is to pay for high-quality concrete. Economic arguments have a powerful influence in the tiger economies.'

'He accepted a bribe knowing that the store could collapse?' the American asked.

Takamara explained patiently. 'The concrete we used was sub-standard, but not enough to make either owner or official believe that the store would fall down. The safety margin was simply shaved away. And our engineers made sure that the air-conditioning design was inadequate for the hot Korean summer. Then, when the store changed hands a few years later, the new owners installed a new air-conditioning unit on the roof. They knew nothing about the weakened concrete. Once the unit — a thousand tons of metal — was on the roof, it was only a matter of time.'

'Not only a fine achievement, but untraceable to us.' Jesus expressed his satisfaction.

'In the last year we have created over a hundred high-rise apartments in Korea and Taiwan in a similar condition. They will all start to collapse within a few months of each other. The scandal may bring down governments.'

'Splendid. Now, our brother from Western Europe.'

Herr Bund, a stooped, middle-aged man, addressed the table. He spoke in BBC English. 'Our infiltration of Aryan supremacy groups is beginning to pay off. All they really needed was intelligent leadership. We have already incited race riots in Austria and Germany. The actual loss of life has so far been small, but a wonderful climate of fear is beginning to spread through many districts of our major cities. Give it another year and I expect the spectre of a fascist revival will begin to dominate the agenda of the European Union.'

'Congratulations, Brother Bund, to you and the West European chapel. We will follow developments with great interest.' Herr Bund smiled his satisfaction, and Jesus Christ turned to a small, weak-chinned man. 'What about the Irish question, Brother McElvaney?'

'The situation needs very little help from us. We have decided that our best course is just to stand back and let it run. We don't even need to advise on channels for the delivery of weapons and Semtex.'

Jesus frowned. 'It is not part of our philosophy to stand back and do nothing. There is no situation so bad that it cannot be made worse with judicious effort. Can't you develop it further? Perhaps even foment a civil war between north and south?'

McElvaney gulped nervously. 'We did look into such a scenario. It involved creating a series of escalating tit-for-tat outrages attributed to each other's security services.'

'Take it from the shelf, Brother, dust it down and revive it; who knows where it might lead? Let us have a detailed plan by our next meeting. And now, the United States?'

Ricky Ross could hardly contain himself. 'Of course my country is a rich source of resources for our purpose. The gun problem has spiralled out of control; crime impinges on every aspect of life; there are countless racial, economic and cultural tensions; the drug problem is overwhelming all segments of society; there is almost no sense of social cohesion; there are many small religious or backwoods groups isolated from the rest of society and hostile to federal government or any government at all.'

'A rich brew,' Jesus agreed. 'And what are you doing with it? I note there have been a few high-profile bombings.'

'I regret that my West Coast chapter can't claim credit for them. But we are spreading our message. We have already, on the internet, circulated simple cookbook recipes for creating deadly nerve gases. Our immediate hope is to repeat the Aum Shinri Kyo Tokyo subway attack, without the errors in preparation and dispersal of the sarin gas which the Supreme Truth made.'

Shin Takamara said, 'Only eleven passengers were killed, although five thousand were injured.'

'But according to expert testimony to the US Senate, if the Supreme Truth had done the job professionally, thousands would have died,' Ross said enthusiastically.

'What do you have in mind?' Jesus encouraged him.

'Simultaneous attacks in all the major cities with subway systems. I already have a team of chemists in a ranch west of LA preparing the botulism aerosols and sarin gas. We're using hobos and drifters to calibrate the lethal toxin count.'

'I am impressed,' Jesus said. 'The Americans are a young and energetic people. The speed of your spiritual enlightenment is an inspiration to us all.'

Ricky Ross acknowledged the compliment with a broad grin.

'And now, Brother Voroshilov?'

A small, gaunt, grey-faced man nodded. His accent was hardly recognizable as that of an East European. 'With respect to my West Coast Brother, we have achieved far more in my country. In America you are plagued by specialist agents, not least the FBI. Your military machine is under control. Your judiciary is independent and more or less uncorrupt. Our judiciary and bureaucracy, on the other hand, have been almost totally subverted. And our co-operation with criminal power has been an overwhelming success, creating the greatest threat to our peace and economy. The fiscal crisis, which we have at least partly engineered, is undermining the maintenance of our strategic nuclear forces and making criminals out of our most able generals and admirals.'

'We know all this —' Jesus began.

'But I have an even greater enterprise to report. We have a nuclear suitcase operation nearing completion. I had thought to surprise our brothers and sisters with the result. However when we next meet I hope to report a spectacular success, involving a major European city.'

'You need no praise from me, Brother. Your successes speak for themselves. I can hardly wait until our next meeting.' Jesus nodded. 'And now, we come to the climax of our proceedings. Not only of our proceedings, but an opportunity which has come only once in all our history. It is a great moment for us all. Our brother from the United Kingdom will now report.'

Attention focussed on a man sitting across from Jesus. The man was about forty, gaunt, with thick lips, metal-framed spectacles and short, vertical sandy hair. He was unconsciously gripping the sheets of paper in front of him, and his cheeks were flushed. 'I have to report a temporary setback,' he said in a neutral, slightly northern accent.

Tata sensed fear in the man's face, felt her heart beat faster. Under the long oak table, her hand slid over to Tati's heavy thigh, and squeezed it tightly.

There was a heavy silence around the table. The Apostles waited.

'Our quest for the doomsday machine still continues,' he said. His voice was unsteady.

'I don't wish to interrupt,' said Jesus, 'but perhaps we should use plain language here. You were assigned to obtain certain documents. Did you, or did you not, fulfil that task?'

Unconsciously, the man's mouth was twitching. 'In plain language, I did not.'

Jesus spoke quietly. 'Perhaps you should explain the circumstances.'

Sweat was making the man's brow glisten in the light of the chandelier high above the table. He sipped nervously at a Seven-Up. 'As you know certain facts were brought to our attention by one of our brothers in NASA. A routine unclassified surveillance by a French satellite had revealed the presence of aircraft wreckage at the mouth of a glacier in Eastern Greenland. The location of the wreckage indicated that the wrecked aircraft was probably the one which was intended to transport the nineteen fifties atom spy, Lev Petrosian, to the Soviet Union, along with certain documents.'

'Was this information classified?' Takamara asked.

'It was in the public domain, but had attracted very little interest or attention. We had information suggesting that the documents in the aircraft —'

Jesus interrupted, '—were the key to the doomsday machine described by the fifth angel.'

The man gulped. 'Yes. An American scientific team, manning a weather station on the Greenland Ice Cap known as Shiva City, was nearby. Through a large donation by us to the Polar Research Institute which financed the station, we were able to persuade the team, reinforced by some of our people, to head for the wreckage. Unfortunately the glacier calved off and the Shiva City expedition found itself afloat on an iceberg. Although we had succeeded in infiltrating the group, our Brothers went down when the iceberg broke up. An icebreaker, however, had by this time reached the berg.'

'A simple rescue operation?' asked Ross.

'We suspect not. The icebreaker was the property of Norsk Holdings, the oil exploration company. At any rate an individual aboard the ship, a polar scientist by the name of Findhorn, acquired the documents and disappeared with them before we could get to him.'

Jesus snapped his fingers. The executioner leaned down to her handbag, pulled out a syringe and a small bottle with a straw-coloured liquid. The wooden floor creaked slightly as she tap-tapped her way across the room to Jesus. The rain battered the window, and the fire was crackling. And yet the big room was enveloped by a strange silence.

The UK brother licked his lips. His breathing was heavy.

Jesus contemplated the syringe. Then he stood up and walked over to the rain-lashed window. He was a surprisingly small man. The lights of the Castle showed a white-capped sea, merging into darkness beyond. The lights of a fishing boat were about a mile out; they were bobbing up and down: the boat was making heavy weather. Lighthouses flashed from Holy Island, Ailsa Craig and Pladda. On the horizon somewhere beyond, he knew, was Arran, but only an occasional glimpse of light could be seen in the black. Down and to the left was a boathouse; he could make out a dark figure: someone under an umbrella, talking into a mobile phone.

He turned to the UK brother. The man's face was grey. Jesus said, 'As we all know our human bodies are hosting our souls temporarily, pending our completion of the cleansing programme which the first wave initiated over five thousand years ago, when the Egyptians first worshipped our home star. That programme is to be completed within the first century of this millennium. Only by freeing the earth of its unclean souls can those of us who are the Apostles be freed to enter the bodies which await us on our true home, Tatos, the innermost planet orbiting the white dwarf Sirius B.'

'I know this, Tati.'

'But you need to be reminded of it.' Jesus nodded to Tata. She opened the Bible at a bookmark, and read out:

Tata paused, threw a brief, mirthless smile at the UK brother and then said:

A fanatical edge was creeping into Tati's voice. 'What does this passage describe but a cosmic machine intended for the destruction of mankind? We have always understood this prophecy. How to explain the timing of this iceberg event, if it was not caused by the Angels of Revelation? They have clearly used their powers to send the doomsday machine of this Petrosian to us. They have given us the task of fulfilling their prophecy, a task which was delegated to you. You were entrusted with fulfilling our destiny.'

Bund said, 'You have failed not only us, depriving us of our homeward journey, you fail all of the Apostles going back five thousand years to Menes of the First Dynasty.'

'And you fail the Sothic brothers and sisters who await us on Tatos,' the Warden of All Souls pointed out.

Jesus said, 'Look what you have done to us.'

The man looked as if he was about to faint. He stared wildly around the table, but saw no compassion: the faces of his brothers and sisters were uniformly grim. 'It's only a temporary setback. I can find this man. I can get the diaries back.'

The executioner had been standing quietly, away from the table. Now Jesus nodded to her. She filled the syringe slowly from the bottle, approached the man slowly.

'Please…' He had seen the liquid at work.

Brothers on either side seized the man's arms. The executioner held the man by the hair. He felt the point of the needle on the side of his neck, at the carotid artery. 'I can retrieve the documents,' he gabbled. 'The man hasn't left Edinburgh. My entire northern chapter has converged there. He can't set foot on the Edinburgh streets without being seen. We know that the documents are in Armenian and we're combing the city for every translator of the language.' The woman was exerting a gentle pressure with the needle; the man felt the skin about to puncture; his eyes were wide with terror. 'He'll be found within days.'

'How many days?' Jesus asked.

'Three. Three at the most.'

Jesus looked around. 'What do you say? Shall we give this wretch another chance?'

There was a murmur of agreement around the table. Tata shook her head.

Jesus looked at her, assessed the opinion around the table. 'Very well, Brother. Find this polar scientist…'

'Findhorn.' The voice was a croak.

'… this Findhorn, and the documents. Do so within twenty-four hours.'

'Twenty-four hours?' The man's voice quavered incredulously, but then his eyes went to the needle, still only inches away from his neck. The executioner was pursing her lips in annoyance. 'I will!' he whispered. 'I will!'

'One other matter.'

'Say it, Tati. Give me your instructions.'

'Findhorn's theft is an insult to our extraterrestrial fathers. Convince him of this, and have him repent, before you destroy him.'