Note:
Chapter totally revised: 12-03-14
The Second Coming
Chapter 1
Man in Brown
1500 words
The plane jittered, wine glasses chinked on the shelf behind the bartender; those who stood righted themselves against the minor air turbulence. Rupert took another swig of his Moscow Mule, the ice rattled in the glass as he drained the last droplets of ginger beer; he sucked hard on a single ice cube and hoped it melted to release a hidden drop of vodka. Not known for being the best of flyers, twenty minutes into the flight, two cocktails drunk and he still rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. Discontented, he ordered another.
As the barman mixed his drink, Rupert visually flicked through the limited bottle labels on the shelves, pondered what his father would say if he saw him drinking at the Business Class bar aboard the Emirates’ airbus. Rupert earned this comfort, besides, better he arrived in Dubai more relaxed for the conference, especially after a few more Mules inside him, and the short, but deep sleep that would ensue.
‘Compliments from the gentleman in the brown jacket, sir,’ the barman said, as he handed over the cocktail.
The Emirates man nodded towards a man who sat by a window. Rupert turned and saw the man, his glass aloft in a friendly salute. He raised his own glass in return and turned back to the barman.
‘Did he leave a name?’ he asked.
The barman shook his head. ‘Sorry, sir, he did not. He did say that you looked in need of a drink though.’
‘I do,’ he confirmed, checked his appearance in the mirror behind the bar, then gathered himself up and made for the vacant seat next to the stranger.
‘Hello, Rupert. Please. Sit,’ the man said, and gestured to the empty seat.
‘Have we met?’ Rupert said, careful to balance his drink, as he fell into the seat; the result of more buffeting turbulence.
‘I feel that we are in for a rough flight,’ the stranger said. He looked at the drink in Rupert’s hand. ‘I expect you will need a few more of those.’
‘You noticed. They help; I’m not the best flyer,’ Rupert knew the alcohol wasn’t just to ease his flying fears. ‘Cheers by the way.’
‘Indeed, cheers.’
Both men took large swigs from their tumblers before they rested them on their thighs in a mirrored move.
‘My name is Levi,’ the man said, and stretched out his hand.
Rupert shook it confidently, he noted how unexpectedly warm and soft it was.
‘Have we—’
‘Met? No, well, yes, but no. It was a long time ago,’ he said, then rapidly changed the subject. ‘I read your blog and note your Twitter feeds with great interest. I also follow many of your other social pages. You are quite prolific and certainly an authoritative voice.’
‘Thank you,’ Rupert said, slightly curious that Levi knew so much; obviously done his homework. He decided to undertake some research himself; the smart suit; neat clothing, albeit entirely brown; a lack of any jewellery; and his eyes. Familiar, yet unfamiliar, purple eyes are a thing of folklore and fiction, they are witches or warlocks eyes, women with the Alexandria’s Genesis, or allegedly, Elizabeth Taylor, not brown-suited men on airplanes.
Rupert’s eyes were purple.
They were extremely rare, rarer than albino red, even against rules of science; he often attributed them to his emotional state. Of such scarcity, Rupert understood that he was the only person with such a colouring, now apparently there was someone else. He wondered whether the guy had made the same connection. ‘Well, business or pleasure?’
‘Business, ultimately pleasure, but business first,’ he said. ‘Do you realise our interests are similar?’
‘Is that right?’ Rupert dropped his gaze, aware that it turned to a stare, and focused on his drink. ‘Religion or theology?’
‘Both!’
Rupert looked back to Levi, ‘Anything specific?’
‘An all encompassing interest across the board, similar to yourself. I am never disappointed in what I read that you publish. Take your recent piece “Twenty-five Reasons Why Modern Belief is Failing”. You explored online religion to great depth and compared its growth, albeit out of sync, with the larger decline of regular worship,’ he said with great zeal. ‘Your cross-referencing of several ranges of religious thoughts and ideologies, from Anti-theism to Zoroastrianism, is impressive and conclusive.’
‘I’ve studied hard.’
‘Clearly, a natural aptitude, Rupert, which, one assumes, is why educational establishments from around the world are so in demand of your talks; Dubai this week, Geneva the next, then on to Estonia; one of the most unreligious countries in the world.’
‘You’ve done your homework,’ Rupert said, disconcerted with Levi’s in-depth knowledge of him.
‘I needed to.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re important to me.’
‘Important?’
‘Rupert,’ Levi leant forward, then in a lower voice said, ‘I cannot hide it from you; I have been monitoring you for a while, your movements, contacts, every bit of your work: speeches, conferences, seminars; your successes, and your failures.’
‘You’re not the police, are you?’
‘Hell no!’ he sat back in his seat.
‘So, why the interest?’
‘I want to share something with you, a gift let us say.’
‘A gift,’ Rupert sipped his drink. ‘Go on …’
‘An offer of a relic,’ he said and copied the sip.
‘A religious relic. Sorry, I don’t think I can help you. I’m no archaeologist, or historian for that matter.’
‘Actually, this item is recent, an electrical device of scientific interest from the last century.’
‘Well I can’t say I do much science stuff either.’
‘What about your friends?’
‘Friends?’
‘Yes, your friends who study physics and your friends who study the other sciences. Indeed several friends who study many subjects.’
‘This is strange,’ Rupert looked at the man, his face calm. The plane flew through an air pocket and dropped momentarily, the man in front remained steady. ‘When you probed into my life, Levi, just how deep did you delve?’
‘I have met many people throughout my life, Rupert, I trust few, especially with what I need to show you. I make no apologies for my research and hope you will understand the importance of our meeting.’
‘Forgive me, I too, have met many people in my young life and found many of “them” to be religious, or non-religious, devotees, freaks or weirdoes,’ Rupert’s terse reply grated. ‘From where I sit, I’m unsure which category to put you in right now.’
A silence filtered between them. With ears taken over with the constant drone of jet engines, Rupert felt his body begin to give way to alcohol he had consumed. Even so, paranoia still stalked his mind.
‘You and I are alike,’ Levi restarted the conversation with a smile, ‘and I sense a connection. I trust in you, Rupert. If you have any questions, ask them.’
‘Ok, why here? Why now?’
‘Well the plane is easy, comfortable—for some,’ he signalled the barman to bring two more drinks, aware Rupert’s glass was nearly empty. ‘And, your undivided attention: you choose not to answer calls, or email; you cannot run away; or call for help. As for now; you are ready; besides, the agency is closing in on you.’
‘The agency?’
‘With an impressive online presence, you are becoming a powerful young man; too powerful for certain people. They are getting close to you, Rupert. I can help, but I need your trust and in return, your help.’
‘Who’s getting close?’
‘Have you heard of eviFive?’
‘The UN anti-terrorist organisation.’
‘Well, if you’re concerned about me, they are openly digitally monitoring you and your colleagues, around the clock.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Let us say, I cannot afford not to know.’
‘We have picked up interesting hacking activity around our websites. We’ve managed to stave it off, but—’
‘They will not stop Rupert,’ Levi interrupted. ‘You are dealing with the big boys now, an international organisation with no financial ceiling. They are determined, you better be ready.’
The barman arrived with another round of drinks. Levi slipped him a crisp brown twenty-pound note from a shiny brown wallet. Rupert detected a generous tip, and wondered if there were any other colour notes in his wallet.
‘Thanks,’ Rupert said.
‘To our successful enterprise,’ Levi raised his glass; Rupert’s remained lowered.
‘You’re confident that I’ll say yes.’
‘Of course, I am not wasting my time, your intelligence knows that you can trust me.’
‘If I agree, where is that electric gizmo of yours?’
‘Well, coincidently, just outside Geneva,’ he smiled. ‘That leaves you a week to consider. We can then meet on your next scheduled flight.’
‘You’ve got the angles covered?’
‘Always,’ he re-toasted his glass.
‘If I find something I don’t agree with, I’m out.’
‘You will not, trust me!’
Both raised, chinked their glasses and swigged back a decent measure.
‘Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ Levi stood steadily and offered his hand, ‘until our next flight together.’ They shook.
Rupert sat alone, a sudden wave of tiredness came over him, helped by Levi’s generosity, and he closed his eyes.
