for men like us.'
'They tore the room apart…?' said the subordinate hesitantly, questioningly.
'As with us, they did not know where to look.' The elevator slowed down, then stopped and the panel opened. With quickening steps the two visitors walked to the staircase that led to the Mahdi's floor and former 'temple'. They reached the office door and the shorter man stopped, his hand on the knob. 'I've waited over a year for this moment,' he said, breathing deeply. 'Now that it's arrived, I'm trembling.'
Inside the huge, strange mosquelike room with its high domed ceiling filled with brilliantly coloured mosaic tiles, the two intruders stood in silence, as if in the presence of some awesome spirit. The sparse furniture of dark burnished wood was in place like ancient statues of ferocious soldiers guarding the inner tomb of a great pharaoh; the outsized desk recalled the sarcophagus of a dead revered ruler. And standing against the far right wall, in clashing contradiction, was a modern metal scaffold rising to a height of eight feet, side bars permitting access to the top. The taller Arab spoke.
'This could be Allah's resting place—may His will be done.'
'You didn't know the Mahdi, my innocent friend,' replied the associate's superior. 'Try Midas the Phrygian king… Quickly now, we waste time. Move the scaffold to where I tell you, then climb above.' The subordinate walked rapidly to the raised platform and looked back at his companion. 'To the left,' continued the leader. 'Just beyond the second slit of the window.'
'I don't understand you,' said the tall man, stepping on the slip clamps and climbing to the top of the scaffold.
'There are many things you don't understand and there's no reason why you should… Now count to the left, six tiles from the window seam, then five above.'
'Yes, yes… it is a stretch for me and I am not short.'
'The Mahdi was far taller, far more impressive—but not without his faults.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'No matter… Press the four corners of the tile at the very edges, then force the palm of your hand with all your strength into the centre. Now!'
The mosaic tile literally burst from its recess; it was all the tall Arab could do to hold on to it without falling. 'Beloved Allah!' he exclaimed.
'Simple suction balanced by weights,' said the shorter man below without elaboration. 'Now reach inside and withdraw the papers; they should all be together.' The subordinate did as he was told, pulling out layered sheets of an extensive computer printout held together by two rubber bands. 'Drop them to me,' continued the leader, 'and replace the tile exactly as you removed it, starting first with pressure in the centre.'
The tall Arab awkwardly carried out his orders, then climbed down the scaffold's crossbars on to the floor. He approached his superior, who had unfolded several sheets of the printout and was scanning them intently. 'This was the treasure you spoke of?' he asked softly.
'From the Persian Gulf to the western shores of the Mediterranean, there is no greater,' answered the younger man, his eyes racing across the papers. 'They executed the Mahdi, but they could not destroy what he created. Retreat was necessary, retrenchment demanded—but not dismemberment. The myriad branches of the enterprise were not crushed nor even exposed. They merely fell away and returned to the earth, ready to sprout trunks of their own one day.'
'Those odd-looking pages tell you that?' The superior nodded, still reading. 'What in Allah's name do they say?'
The shorter man looked curiously up at his taller companion. 'Why not?' he said, smiling. 'These are the lists of every man, every woman, every firm, company and corporation, every contact and conduit to the terrorists ever reached by the Mahdi. It will take months, perhaps several years, to put everything back together again, but it will be done. You see, they're waiting. For ultimately the Mahdi was right: This is our world. We will surrender it to no one.'
'The word will spread, my friend!' cried the older, taller subordinate. 'It will, will it not?
'Very carefully,' replied the young leader. 'We live in different times,' he added enigmatically. 'Last week's equipment is obsolete.'
