Chapter 11.
Toward the end of the day King Abdullah stepped onto the podium and faced the audience.
He and Amon had discussed at length the moves which must be made to stabilize the assemblage, to back them carefully away from the precipice. Too many had openly advocated a show of force against the west, particularly since Grismon had still not been willing to reveal with whom he would align.
Still others had said now was the time to strike against Israel, since it was obvious they now stood alone. They were convinced the Europeans were impotent without Grismon’s backing, and would offer no resistance.
Now, with Syria entering the fold, the aggressive ones would be more emboldened.
The time was now ripe, thought Abdullah, to take this young Prince Mujah in hand, to force him to publically take a stand in favor of non-aggression. Though the prince had begun to develop alliances, particularly with the Chinese, he was still un-tested in the political realm. The fact that the Hague attack had not brought the desired results had called his credibility into question. And because of that perceived weakness, he was vulnerable to political pressure, something Abdullah was adept at applying.
Amon, sitting to the rear of Abdullah’s seat, was reviewing the notes he would speak from shortly after the king finished his public manipulation of the prince. He watched intently as Abdullah called Mujah to come forward to stand at his side.
Amon noticed a stirring off to the right of the podium where the servants were seated. A young man, (wasn’t it Mujah’s aide?) had risen from his chair, moved to the end of the row and was standing with arms folded, close to the curtain which hid the servants from the rest of the audience.
As the young prince approached the podium, the servant took a few short steps forward. Amon could see the tension in his body as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Amon unlatched his briefcase and carefully slid his hand inside.
Prince Mujah had no sooner arrived at Abdullah’s side when the servant lunged forward, yelling “Traitor! Murderer!” as he pulled a handgun from under his jacket and began firing.
Amon was prepared. He stood abruptly, 9 millimeter in hand. Quickly he took aim for center mass and squeezed the trigger twice. The servant dropped like a wet rag. None of his shots had found their mark.
The room erupted in pandemonium. Everyone hit the floor as security personnel swarmed toward the podium. The prince was crouched behind the king’s robes, quaking with fear. Abdullah had not moved, only turning his head when he saw the assailant’s approach.
Amon dropped his gun and raised his hands. Seeing that he was unarmed, security surrounded him and the two others and rushed them off the stage.
After a few minutes calm was restored. The servant’s lifeless body was carried away and everyone resumed their seats. The two dignitaries again approached the podium. Mujah was simply too shaken to stand, so he was escorted back to his seat.
Amon and Abdullah conferred briefly before the king addressed the audience.
“In light of what has just happened, I have decided not to speak at this moment, but will have my assistant speak in my stead. Listen carefully to his words as though they were mine.
Amon approached the podium, but left his notes sitting on the chair. Abdullah knew what was about to happen.
Amon stood motionless and silent before the microphone. He looked intently across the room, at the dignitaries, at the audience, even at the servants. Then, after several more long moments he began.
“I will not speak about the proceedings of this conference. That rhetoric and repetition has been endured long enough. I will not speak about lofty ideals or vain accusations. They serve no purpose other than to stir emotion rather than stimulate intelligent discourse.
“Instead, I will speak truth unvarnished and direct. You WILL NOT like what you hear. It will make you uneasy. It will make you angry. But, if you are wise, it WILL make you think.
“In this room I sense no humility. Instead, I sense arrogance, vanity, self-aggrandisement.”
The crowd stirred but he continued.
“The fact that you still consider yourselves to be somehow, morally superior, in spite of everything which has come to pass right here, before your very eyes, leaves me gasping in disbelief. How can you be so self-engrossed as not to recognize the presence of malevolence all around you? Are you blindingly naive, or are you all willing participants? I think the latter. . . .”
The room seemed to decompress as everyone gasped in astonishment at his statement. Everyone began at once, shouting indignantly and gesticulating madly. Premier Lin spoke first, though his remarks were barely heard above the din.
“How dare this, this ‘assistant’ be so brash as to interfere in these proceedings?!” His normally composed expression was fracturing under the tension.
“I demand that this person be removed from these proceedings immediately! His credentials identify him as only a special assistant to King Abdulah. As such, he has no standing to address this . . .”
Abdullah rose slowly from his seat to the right of the podium. Seemingly taking no notice of the eyes that were now all locked on him, he took great care to insure all his robes were in proper order. With one hand he straightened a small wrinkle in the opposite sleeve, taking care to brush it smooth. Adjusting his sleeves to cover his wrists, he clasped his hands and turned toward the podium.
The commotion in the room began to subside immediately as the king walked forward. Premier Lin stopped in mid-sentence, his jaw frozen in place just as was the rest of his body.
Total silence fell upon the room when the king stopped a few steps short of the podium, then bowed ever so slightly toward Amon, who was still standing at the microphone. Breathing seemed to stop. The King of Tunisia! The most powerful man in the world . . . bowing to this man?
All eyes saw the king’s gesture. Who was this man, this “assistant,” who drew such respect from such a powerful man? All were stricken to see Amon acknowledge the king only with a slight nod of the head.
The silence was complete. No one knew what to say. What could they do? Compared to King Abdullah, no man was his equal in stature among the citizens of the world. The king moved to the microphone.
“My fellow delegates.” He paused and smiled at Amon before continuing.
“My friends . . . my enemies.” He looked around the room. Some eyes smiled back at him. Many averted.
“Oh, my!” he laughed. “Does it surprise you that I speak so boldly? It shouldn’t, you know. I have done so in the past, as many of you will recall. This time I speak boldly again . . . maybe for the last time.”
What could he mean . . . ’last time’?
Once again bowing ever so slightly toward the onlookers, he continued.
“Let us be candid with each other, if only for a few moments.” He looked around the room slowly, seeming to make eye contact with everyone at once.
“We have known each other for a very long time, some of us. Others, not so long.” He glanced at Prince Mujah, sitting there in his father’s chair, clammy hands groping each other nervously.
“Yes!” he thought to himself. “My suspicions about him are true. Soon all these delegates will understand why I have responded to him the way that I have. ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’ Such words have served me well in the past. They will, very soon, do so again. Soon the world will know what many have suspected for lo these many years, that the Prince conspires with whomever he can to bring his evil plans to fruition. But for now I will hold him close, building his confidence, letting him believe that I’m unaware of his plans to overthrow me, just as he did his father.”
Focusing once again on the issue at hand, he continued:
“Within this room reside all the major powers of the planet. I am not embarrassed to acknowledge that I am considered by most to be first among equals. Please, take no offense to what I say. I do not say this to arouse anger or suspicion. The time for such pe
ttiness is past. I remind you of my stature here among you only for one reason. Perhaps when you consider what I say in light of what you have come to know about me, you will weigh my words more carefully.
“A few of you I have known for many years. Some of you, all my life. I do not give my trust easily. Those who know me well know this to be true. Whether you have been an ally, or an adversary, you all know me to be a just man. Though many of you will not willingly admit it, I am deserving of your respect.”
There was a stirring in the room as people shifted their positions, clearing their throats, whispering secretively.
“And I give as good as I get.” Abdullah gripped the sides of the podium with both hands, leaning forward for emphasis.
“Many in this room have earned my respect. Some have yet to do so. I do not give it lightly. Nor do I offer condemnation of those with whom I disagree.”
“What I say here and now before this assembly is vital for your understanding of my position, and by extension, the positions of the other members of the Triumvirate.”
He motioned toward Premier Lin and President Abramov. Both men sat stoically, unmoving.
Abdullah suspected that, given an opportunity, the Chinese and the Russians would combine forces and move against him in support of aggression toward their foes. Their alliance, even between themselves, had been tenuous at best, but after defeating the ‘Arab Alliance,’ they would most certainly turn on each other.
At some point, when the looser felt desperate enough, restraints would be discarded, hell would be unleashed, and . . . no one would be the winner.
Abdullah looked directly at the man sitting across from him. Mujah felt his piercing stare. In their private conversations, Abdullah had been reticent regarding what should be done about Israel, and by extension, the western powers. The prince knew now that, no matter what had been said previously, Abdullah had taken a firm position regarding Israel and the North-American Conglomerate, and was now going to make it public.
King Abdullah continued:
“This man,” he gestured toward Amon. “has earned my respect, and my complete trust. Never before in all my dealings with the most powerful people around the world have I heard such direct and blatantly honest commentary.”
Premier Lin could be seen whispering to his assistant, who quickly rose from his seat and hurried out of the room. Ever so discretely Lin and Mujah exchanged glances.
Abdullah saw the exchange, but continued.
“Does it make you uncomfortable that I say these things? Well it should. For how many generations have we bickered and negotiated, and sometimes fought and died, and all for what? Power? Prestige? Wealth? And what have we gained in the process but more bickering and negotiating, and death? And as we do so, the people of our world struggle for survival, while we, the ‘elite’ sit in our high places congratulating ourselves for our ‘accomplishments.’
Abdullah looked directly at Premier Lin, who stared coldly back at him.
“This ‘assistant’ as you call him, possesses more knowledge and insight regarding our present dilemma than do any of us here.” He could hear gasps here and there as he paused. Premier Lyn broke eye contact long enough to whisper something to a nearby aide, then stared back coldly.
Abdullah knew that what he was about to say would forever alter his position and standing, in this group, and throughout the world. By voluntarily taking a subordinate position to Amon, he was risking everything, most particularly his power. All he could do was trust that his reputation and influence would carry the day. He stood there for several more seconds, forcing back that fleeting moment of doubt. He cleared his throat, waiting for the murmur in the room to cease.
“This man has gained my confidence in such a way that I find it difficult to explain. And even if I could explain, you would not believe me.
“His insights, even his very presence causes one to know the truth which he brings forth in any setting, in any context. He possesses the wisdom of one of ‘ancient days.’
“In the past I foolishly thought of myself as wise beyond my years. Yes, I had been raised in privilege. But I chose to spend most of my formative years among the masses . . . out in the barren deserts, or on the sweltering shorelines of rivers and seas.
“I saw first hand the disparity between the struggling, and the privileged. I vowed then, and I reaffirm now, that my people and I are one. We each share the one most precious commodity. Life! And so do all of you.
“And so I ask you now, to search within yourselves. Can you find even the smallest recess wherein honesty resides? If you can find such a place, then I beseech you to listen to the words of this man and let them fill that void. I have done so, and I have learned. Listen then, and learn for yourselves.”
The king stepped aside so the man of ‘ancient days’ could continue.
Amon stepped forward again and stood still, hands folded on the lectern. The air in the room felt heavy, even oppressive as the ‘ancient of days’ looked around the room gathering his thoughts. The words he was about to deliver must penetrate all within the room, ripping through their façades, drilling into their consciences, stripping each of them bare before the truth they could not deny.
“Are you so comfortable,here in your insulated, sterile protective shells that you cannot, or will not, see how your world is decaying, falling apart even as we speak? Why is it that instead of seeking genuine cures for the ills of your world, you spend your time maneuvering for your own personal gain? What possible more advantage could you ask for than that which you now possess? You hold the fate of your world in you hands, and here you sit, filled with contempt for any and everyone who chooses to disagree with you. Your arrogance is outweighed only by your naivete. Know you not that you are no greater or better than any other here at this confluence?
“Yes. A confluence. This time and this place are the loci for a confluence of powers, of peoples, of ideologies. Though many there are who would argue against it, this is the time of reckoning which all previous generations have regarded with dread and awe. These are truly the last days. Not years, months, or even weeks. What will be decided here, this day, will forever set the course this planet will follow.
“Know you not that there are worlds beyond number, all of whom strive for recognition among the vast reaches of the universe? All of them have struggled with the same issues you now face. You are not unique in this regard. Nor are your feeble rationalizations which you call solutions. If you are to survive as a race . . . a human race, you must accept one another . . . or do away with civilization.
“How others have dealt with these issues has determined whether or not their race has survived long enough and grown mature enough to warrant the recognition they so fervently desire.
“Many there are in the universe who strive for recognition. Few there are who possess the strength of character necessary to achieve it.
“Know this then. When you endeavour to serve those beneath you, you perform service unto yourselves and to the world. When you choose to subjugate, to dominate, the burden of that choice is yours alone to bear. Your actions reveal your true character, and you WILL be held accountable. When you speak disparagingly of others, your words are as barbs which turn back on you. And when all your words have become fading echoes; when all your vanity has turned to despair, still you must decide. Choose the right. Or perish. Above all else remember this. Stasis will not abide.”
The room was silent. Amon turned away from the podium. A shot rang out. The crowd gasped. Abdullah lay crumpled on the floor.
OMEGA