Ben left the carriage house and wandered over to the main residence. Mae greeted him with a smile, and chatted warmly as she led him into the grand hallway. He could hear Miss Vale’s voice, and a man’s, coming from the drawing room. He was shown inside. Miss Vale’s visitor stood up and strode over to meet him.

He was a man in his mid-fifties wearing a well-tailored light grey suit that looked Italian. He obviously played squash or tennis and was in good shape, with only a little spare padding around the middle and under his chin. He was about Ben’s height, just a little under six feet. His hair was thick and dark, swept back from his brow, maybe tinted to hide the grey. He approached Ben with a broad smile and an outstretched hand.

‘Clayton, this is the young man I was telling you about,’ Miss Vale said. She gestured towards Cleaver with a glow in her eyes. ‘Benedict, it’s my great pleasure to introduce you to my dear friend Clayton Cleaver. Or should I say Governor Cleaver?’

Cleaver flashed a white grin at her. ‘God willing, Augusta. God willing. But we’re not there yet.’

‘With ninety per cent of Georgia behind you,’ she said, ‘you soon will be.’

Cleaver seized and shook Ben’s hand in a dry and powerful fist, greeting him like a long-lost brother. ‘It is a true pleasure to meet you, Benedict,’ he said with absolute sincerity. ‘May I call you Benedict?’

‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you too, Mr Cleaver.’

‘Please. Call me Clayton. Augusta tells me you’re a believer. That’s just wonderful. Just wonderful.’

The maid came in with a tray of canapés and martini cocktails. They made small talk for a while, chatting about the difference between English and Georgia weather; the things Ben really had to see while he was staying in Savannah; what it was like to study theology at Oxford.

‘Final year, I guess you would have branched out a little,’ Cleaver said. ‘Do you have a specialised interest, Benedict?’

‘Actually I do.’ Ben sipped his drink. ‘My special subject for my final year dissertation is Bible prophecy.’

Miss Vale and Cleaver exchanged knowing, approving glances. ‘I just knew this was meant to happen,’ the old lady said. ‘You couldn’t be in better company, Benedict. Did you get a chance –’

‘To read Clayton’s book?’ Ben filled in. ‘I’ve been reading it this afternoon. I couldn’t put it down.’

‘Why, thank you, son. I can sign that copy for you, if you’d like.’

‘That would be an honour.’

The butler came solemnly into the room and announced that dinner was served. Ben followed Miss Vale and Clayton into a spectacular dining room. The table was more than fifteen feet long and glittering with silverware beneath a crystal chandelier. Miss Vale sat at the head of the table. Ben was shown to a seat on her right, as guest of honour, and Cleaver sat opposite him. The maid lifted the lid of a silver dish in the centre of the table.

‘The smoked salmon is from Miss Vale’s own fishery,’ Cleaver said. ‘It’s the best in all of the South.’

They ate and drank champagne. Cleaver looked completely at home.

‘So, Benedict. We were talking about Bible prophecy …’

‘Ask him anything you like,’ Miss Vale urged Ben. ‘Nobody knows the Bible like Clayton.’

‘For a young Bible student, you couldn’t be living at a more exciting moment of our history,’ Cleaver said. ‘The time isn’t nigh. It’s now.’

‘I noticed that in your book, you were very insistent that the great apocalyptic prophecies of the Bible are about to come true.’

‘You’ve read it, Benedict,’ Cleaver replied. ‘You know it’s going to happen.’

‘I know about the various interpretations that scripture scholars have made,’ Ben said. ‘For instance, some theologians say that the Book of Revelation isn’t a legitimate part of the New Testament.’

Cleaver reddened. ‘Interpretations my ass.’ He glanced at Miss Vale. ‘Excuse my language, Augusta, but I’m about sick of hearing about these scholars. The way I see it, these fellows are walking around with their eyes shut.’ He clenched his fist against the table. ‘Look around you at the signs, Benedict. Governments, the rule of law, economies, cultures, our whole world system is just about ready to collapse. Total chaos and destruction are right around the corner. Exactly as the Good Book tells us.’ He wagged his finger for emphasis. ‘All the signs are there. Time to get ready and accept our Lord Jesus Christ into your heart, because we are standing right now on the brink of the End Times. And all these scholars can do is chase their own tails talking about interpretations? How do you interpret the literal word of God? What’s wrong with just opening our ears to what he’s telling us?’ Cleaver paused for a sip of champagne.

The performance was beautifully polished. Cleaver was a fabulous showman, winding himself up into full-on televangelist mode, and it was all for Miss Vale. Ben could see from the rapt look on her face that she was completely captivated by this man. As far as she was concerned, he was worth every penny of her hundred million dollars. He wondered whether Cleaver had had his big payday yet. He might have, judging by his absolute confidence and composure.

‘You know, Benedict,’ Cleaver went on, ‘a poll in 2002 showed that sixty per cent of Americans believe the prophecies of John in the Book of Revelation will come true. Twenty per cent – that’s fifty million Americans I’m talking about – believe it will happen during their lifetime. That’s any time now. We could walk out of here this very minute, turn on the TV and see the events have already started rolling right before us.’ Cleaver’s eyes were locked hard on Ben’s. He stabbed his finger on the tabletop. Then he smiled. ‘Notice anything strange last spring, Benedict?’

‘All the plants came out too early.’

‘You got it. Not just in England. It’s happening here too. Weather systems are shot to hell. The seasons aren’t seasons any more. Earthquakes and great floods in places that never had them before. They call it global warming. I call it a global warning. And you know what, it’s all right there in John’s Book of Revelation. Disasters that level cities. The sun heating up so much, everyone is scorched.’

‘Don’t forget the giant hailstones,’ Ben said. ‘“And there fell upon men a great hail out of heaven, every stone about the weight of a talent.”’

‘You know your Bible. That’s about seventy-five pounds,’ Cleaver said. ‘Then there are the plagues. Well, Benedict, I hardly need to remind you about the superbugs that threaten us all, the rise of other diseases like the avian flu and untreatable new strains of tuberculosis.’ He waved his hands in the air expansively. ‘Then you open up New Scientist magazine and what do you see? Plagues of African locusts in the south of France. Just like the Bible says. And who knows what else is just around the corner?’ Cleaver thumped on the table with a flourish. ‘I’ll tell you who knows. John knows. And he tells me everything.’

‘Just to hear it the way Clayton tells it,’ Miss Vale breathed, ‘it sends a shiver down my back.’

‘I wish that was all of it,’ Cleaver replied. ‘But in the middle of all this chaos, John already predicted the rise of the one-world government. Satan’s one-world government. “And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads. And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name”.’ Cleaver smiled. ‘Does that sound familiar, Benedict?’

‘Here is wisdom,’ Ben said. ‘“Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred threescore and six.” Book of Revelation, chapter thirteen, verses sixteen to eighteen.’

Cleaver nodded. ‘You’re an educated man. But do you understand what this is telling us? It’s already happening. The forces of evil are already getting a grip on us. A one-world currency. They’ve already started it. Look at your euro over there. Credit cards. You use a credit card, Benedict?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Smart move. But then there’s the barcodes. The number 666 is already right there, all around us. And even more insidious technologies to get inside our heads are being developed right now, as we sit here talking.’ Cleaver helped himself to more food. ‘Then you have the instability in the Middle East,’ he went on. ‘More signs. The Bible already prophesied that God’s chosen people of Israel would receive their Promised Land. Now, the re-establishment of the nation of Israel in 1948 is a true sign that we are living in the Last Days. We’re witnessing the unfolding of God’s plan. And now we’re ready for the next phase.’

‘Which is what?’

‘That’s one your Bible scholars are missing. You have to dig a little deeper for it. It’ll happen in Israel. Israel is the linchpin of Bible prophecy; it’s the centre where the whole thing will play out. So what’s going to actually happen, and my guess is it will happen before too many more years go by, is that there’ll be a major military strike against the sacred nation of Israel. I’m not talking pot-shots across the West Bank, suicide bombers and petty diplomatic upsets. I’m talking full-blown nuclear conflagration.’

‘How do you figure that?’

‘“And thou shalt come up against my people of Israel, as a cloud to cover the land; it shall be in the latter days.”’ Cleaver smiled grimly. ‘The perpetrator of the attack is Gog. The ancient kingdom of Magog, right there in Persia. What nowadays we call Iran. Those are the guys who will launch their missiles at Israel. That’s what’s going to really set things in motion, big time.’

‘You really believe that’s what the Bible is saying?’ Ben asked. ‘That the Muslim nations will declare war on the Jews?’

‘There’s no doubt about it whatsoever,’ Cleaver said. ‘And the results will be profound. The Islamic attack on Israel is what will precipitate the world into the events prophesied by the Book of Revelation.’

‘You would consider the destruction of Israel to be part of God’s plan?’

‘God won’t let Israel be destroyed,’ Cleaver said. ‘They can fire all the missiles they like when the time comes, but they won’t harm a blade of grass. “And it shall come to pass at the same time when Gog shall come against the land of Israel, that my fury shall come up in my face.” See? God will step in and protect Israel, and its enemies will be destroyed.’

Ben smiled and didn’t reply.

‘Now things really start rolling,’ Cleaver said, undeterred. ‘In the aftermath of this terrible war, the world will reach a peace agreement, probably brokered by a European leader. Someone of great charm and charisma, who claims to be a friend of the people.’

‘You’re talking about the Antichrist.’

Cleaver nodded. ‘The Rider on the White Horse. Revelation, chapter six. He who comes to conquer, to wreak destruction and fire upon the earth and enslave us all. The son of Satan himself. And I’m sorry to say it, but I think he might be an Englishman. No offence.’

‘None taken,’ Ben said. ‘And I think I know who he is.’

Cleaver gave a chuckle.

Miss Vale frowned. ‘These things aren’t to be taken lightly, boys.’

‘You’re right, Augusta,’ Cleaver said. ‘Because then it gets pretty dark. The powers of the Antichrist will take control of the world. No pretending any more, right? They’ll just step in and take over. Anyone who protests will be slain. That’s the start of the great Tribulation. John tells us all about it in the Book of Revelation. Hail and fire and the destruction of the earth’s vegetation. The sea will turn to blood. Poisonous locusts. Mass torture. Billions of people killed most horribly. The faithful will be hideously persecuted as the Antichrist strives to gain complete dominion. Seven years of the most terrible, terrible suffering. It’ll make the Nazi holocaust look like a walk in the park.’

‘“Then there will be a time of anguish greater than any since nations first came into existence,”’ Ben said.

Cleaver nodded gravely and glanced at Miss Vale, who was gazing down at her plate with a look of distress glazed in her eyes. ‘But not for everyone,’ he said gently. ‘We can console ourselves that at some point during this time of Tribulation, the Bible tells us the faithful will be delivered from pain and torture.’

‘The Rapture,’ Ben said. ‘“For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout with the call of the archangel and the trumpet call of God. Then we will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air and remain with him forever.”’

‘Amen,’ Miss Vale whispered.

Cleaver smiled at Ben. ‘I’m glad you’ve taken our Lord Jesus Christ into your heart, Benedict. It would pain me to think of you being left behind. Nobody’s getting out of the Tribulation alive.’

‘Then after the seven years are over, Christ returns to confront his enemy at the battle of Armageddon,’ Ben said.

‘That’s exactly right,’ Cleaver replied. ‘And then begins the golden period for all the Christians who held onto their faith through the dark times. They shall be richly rewarded.’

After dinner, they retired back to the drawing room, where a decanter of brandy and crystal glasses were set out on a tray. Miss Vale excused herself for a moment, and left the room.

‘This has been a very interesting discussion, Clayton,’ Ben said, settling into an armchair with his glass of brandy. ‘But there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.’

Cleaver spread his arms. ‘Fire away, son.’

‘In fact, there’s someone I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘Is that a fact? And who might that be?’

‘That might be one Zoë Bradbury.’ Ben watched Cleaver’s face and let the words sink in.

Cleaver tried hard not to let his composure slip too far. ‘Uh-huh?’ He gulped a little.

‘You know who I’m talking about,’ Ben said.

‘I know of her,’ Cleaver said coolly, glancing at his fingernails. ‘She’s a friend of Augusta’s, I believe.’

‘And no friend of yours, apparently.’

Cleaver looked hard at Ben. ‘What exactly do you mean by that?’

‘I mean the twenty-five grand she got from you, and the ten million she wanted.’

Cleaver was quiet for a beat. ‘You know about that?’

‘And about Skid McClusky. I thought you might like to fill me in on some details I’m missing.’

‘Just who exactly the hell are you, mister?’

‘Someone looking for answers. Someone who’s going to get them.’

Cleaver toyed with his drink. His face had paled noticeably. ‘I think, uh, Benedict, this strikes me as the kind of topic that we ought to discuss elsewhere. In private.’

‘That’s fine with me,’ Ben said. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t want Miss Vale hearing too much. That’s a sizeable investment you have there.’

Cleaver said nothing.

‘But don’t think you can get away from me,’ Ben continued. ‘You’re going to talk to me.’

The old lady came back in, followed by a maid carrying a silver tray with a coffee jug and three delicate white porcelain cups on little saucers. She smiled. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she announced as she sat down. ‘I wondered whether our new friend would like to attend the tournament tomorrow.’

Cleaver laughed nervously. ‘Augusta, that wouldn’t be Benedict’s cup of tea. Him being English and all.’

Miss Vale blinked. ‘They don’t shoot rifles in England?’ She frowned at Cleaver. ‘Clayton, are you all right? You look as if you’d seen a ghost.’

‘I’m just fine, thank you,’ Cleaver said. ‘Maybe I overate a little.’

‘What kind of tournament?’ Ben asked.

Cleaver was fighting hard to stay natural in front of Miss Vale. ‘It’s just a little event I hold out at my place once a year,’ he said in a strangled voice. ‘But –’

Miss Vale chuckled. ‘A little event? Clayton’s being modest. All the best rifle shooters from across Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi take part. Twenty bucks a ticket, and we’re expecting over two thousand people.’

‘All strictly for charity, of course,’ Cleaver interjected, trying to smile.

‘Of course,’ Ben said, staring at him.

‘And this year all proceeds will be going to the Vale Trust Charity Hospital. That’s one of the many projects that my charity supports,’ Miss Vale explained, seeing Ben’s quizzical look ‘We help the poor and underprivileged families in Georgia and Alabama who can’t afford health insurance.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Last summer we opened a new wing to provide free treatment for child cancer patients. They do such good work there that I really want to expand it. So for this year’s tournament I’ve organised a special sponsorship initiative that I’m hoping will raise a lot of dollars to allow us to help the needy.’

‘Sounds like wonderful work, Miss Vale,’ Ben said, not taking his eyes off Cleaver.

‘You must come along,’ she replied. ‘It’ll be a great day.’

Cleaver reddened and cleared his throat. ‘But, like I said, Augusta, maybe it’s not something Benedict would –’

‘I’d love to,’ Ben said.