Scott Mariani - The Sacred Sword

‘You’d like an explanation,’ Brown said. ‘I certainly owe you one, and I’ll be as open and honest with you as my position allows me. I head an organisation that very few people have ever heard of, for the simple reason that its existence was never intended for public knowledge. This organisation goes by the name of the Trimble Group. It was founded many years ago by some very influential men whose names I’m sure you’d recognise, though you’d find no mention of it on any official record. Needless to say, there never was a Trimble either.’

‘Let me take a wild guess,’ Ben said. ‘We’re talking about a secret government agency?’

Brown made a casual gesture. ‘We’re all chess pieces on the same board, cogs in the same machine, and all of that. Although the Trimble Group is far more autonomous than most similar organisations. It’s enough for you to know that we operate behind the scenes and are involved in many planning and decision-making processes that shape our world. Ordinarily, of course, I would never be revealing our existence to an outsider, not even one with such a distinguished record of service to your country. I trust I’ll be able to count on your discretion.’

‘Do you really.’

‘Yes,’ Brown said with knowing emphasis. ‘I do. Just as I can count on the fact that you wouldn’t do anything foolish as we stand here talking. There are expert marksmen in those trees observing you at this very moment, with orders to shoot if you make any false move. Another four very well-trained guards on the other side of that door, and more personnel watching us on camera. I might add that they are not privy to our conversation. The information I’m about to reveal to you is highly classified.’

‘I can’t wait to hear it,’ Ben said.

‘Then I’ll get right to the point.’ Brown paced the rug as he went on. ‘The Trimble Group exists to help create a new world, Mr Hope. A world of stability and peace, in which nations and the communities of citizens within them can co-exist harmoniously, comfortably, productively. A homogenised world, by necessity, discarding many of the things that have made people unhappy and created social division and disorder in the past. Class. Tradition. History. Things we no longer need. Things we have to eliminate in order to achieve our vision.’ Brown made a flapping motion with his hand, as if whisking unseen obstacles out of his way.

‘A new world order,’ Ben said.

‘That makes it sound much more sinister than it really is,’ Brown said, wryly amused. ‘There’s nothing new about rulers of nations aspiring to create a happy world. Believe me, it’d be a lot easier to run than the old one. But it’s only now, in the modern age, that we really have a chance to make it happen. Forget the old. Tear down the crumbling relics, the outdated institutions, the churches and cathedrals. They only remind us of a dark and distant past that’s no longer relevant to modern life. Let’s look to the future.’

‘So your Trimble Group’s aim is to dismantle religion,’ Ben said.

‘That’s correct.’

‘You don’t think it’s been tried before? Mao. Stalin. A whole procession of past dictators who wanted to impose an atheist state, and all failed in the end. Religion doesn’t go away. For better or worse, it’s part of who we are.’

‘They failed because they tried to create change by force,’ Brown said. ‘Open dictatorship is crude, unsophisticated, ineffective. The way you create change is to make the people want it, or to think they do. But you’re right about one thing. There’s something about the human spirit that seems irrevocably driven to revere a greater power. We can cater for that, however. We have new gods and idols for them to worship. Ones that we can control and manipulate.’

Ben remembered what Michaela had said that night in the restaurant about churches turning into McDonalds drive-throughs. ‘Consumerism is the new faith, is that it?’ he said. ‘Your god is one that hands out glittering little toys and gadgets to the children like Santa Claus.’

‘Rewards,’ Brown said. ‘That’s the key. The children of the new world aren’t interested in moral rectitude, or thought, or philosophy. It’s too much hard work. Give them what they really desire, and the faithful will rally and be repaid.’ He shrugged. ‘Granted, in reality they may be no less enslaved to the state than the oppressed citizens of Hitler or Stalin, but they’ll be willing, happy slaves, believing in a bright future.’

‘And that’s your Utopian vision?’ Ben said.

Brown held out his hands. ‘Look around you. We’re already halfway there. The Christian faith is dying. Once the fading embers have been stamped out, we’ll move on to the Islamics. That’ll be a bigger job, admittedly, given that their faith is so much stronger. But the first steps are already in place. One by one, we’ll knock down the hardline pockets in the Middle East, remove the ruling powers there and institute our own, under the banner of what we call democracy. Once we have full control, the old order will be eroded away little by little until there’s nothing left.’

Brown smiled. ‘We’re winning this war, Mr Hope. But as you know very well, in war one can never be too careful. That’s why we’re always looking out for special individuals to recruit to our cause. And this is where we come to the part that involves you.’

Brown clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the French window, gazing out across the snowy garden as he went on. ‘Earlier this year, the Trimble Group recruited a new agent. A university professor who has made a career out of attacking and undermining Christian belief, something he’s proved rather good at. He’s extremely educated, intelligent, and above all, committed. His name is Penrose Lucas.’

Ben’s mind flashed back to the videotaped TV programme he’d watched briefly at the vicarage the night after the crash. Professor Penrose Lucas had been Simeon’s opponent in the debate on religion.

‘Publicly, Professor Lucas is known as an author and militant atheist activist with a growing following,’ Brown continued. ‘Privately, he’s been actively pursuing an agenda to discredit the Christian clergy. Every new allegation of corruption, whether financial or sexual — sexual misdemeanours strike the most scandalous note with the public, as you can imagine — serves to alienate society at large further from the church. War by attrition. Professor Lucas understood the concept very well, and even on a very limited budget he was getting impressive results.’

‘And so you decided to give him a helping hand,’ Ben said.

‘My colleagues and I considered that Lucas could become a very valuable asset to us indeed. We offered him a generous deal, to which he readily agreed. He’d be working for us, assisted by a Trimble Group liaison officer but with more or less complete independence to go on doing what he’d been doing before, except on a more ambitious scale. He was given free rein to pick his own targets, draw on our resources to set up phone taps and surveillance, hire whatever investigators or administrative staff he might require. Virtually anything he wanted, even his own personal jet. Lucas settled into his new headquarters on Capri and got down to work. Almost immediately, he announced his intention to target one Reverend Simeon Arundel.’

Ben was beginning to understand where this was leading, and his muscles were tensing with cold rage.

‘Naturally, we trusted Lucas’s instinct,’ Brown continued. ‘We weren’t unaware that he might have had some personal motive for choosing Arundel so specifically out of all the thousands of potential targets he might have picked, but we gave him a free hand nonetheless. It was clear that Arundel was the kind of go-ahead, popularist clergyman who might be capable of generating new interest in the church. He was a threat.’