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Tehran, Iran

Nassir Ahmadian, the president of Iran, was not a stupid man. The world thought so, however. And for that, Ahmadian was grateful. It allowed him to make his way through the world without ever needing to reveal his true nature or his real thoughts.

Ahmadian bought the finest suits and dressed well. He kept his dark beard trimmed. He employed both a masseuse and a hair stylist. That allowed people to think of him as a cultured, fancy man obsessed by appearances.

But Ahmadian was anything but those things. His dark countenance masked a fierce belief in his own shining place in the world. He did not care about the material things of this world. He knew, in his heart, that he had been chosen to clear a path.

When he went to speak to the General Assembly of the United Nations in the great, sinful, sordid city of New York in the United States, he spent much of his speech scowling at the handful of representatives who’d remained behind to hear his words.

Ahmadian had not cared that much if the hall remained empty. There had been a presence in the hall as he’d spoken about the imminent return of the Mahdi on earth, and the others had felt it. He was certain.

Ahmadian truly believed he was chosen by his God and fate to serve as the president of the great country that would pave the way for the Twelfth Imam. It was not an act for his countrymen. It was, he was convinced, his calling, and the reason he was put on the earth.

Ahmadian had strongly objected to the path toward peace that Reverend Shahidi had pledged to forge. Ahmadian felt sure it was the exact wrong thing for his country. Iran was to be a beacon in a rapidly darkening world on the edge of apocalypse.

In order for the Twelfth Imam to return, the world must first be at war. There must be chaos on the planet. The principalities and powers, both seen and unseen, must surely know that the world was on the brink and that it was time for the Mahdi to return. Iran was the light on the path toward the return of the Twelfth Imam, and Ahmadian was the leader of that effort.

Perhaps the most direct route to worldwide chaos would be a terrorist attack on the Kaaba, Islam’s holiest shrine, as part of an apparent uprising and effort to throw off the monarchy in the Saudi kingdom, Ahmadian knew. It was for this very reason that he’d authorized his own network to plot with others seeking to destabilize the Saudi regime.

Because of his firm belief in this doctrine—and his willingness to commit what was needed to usher in those days—Ahmadian knew his days were numbered. The Reverend Shahidi had been slowly drawing a noose around his neck. Some of the more conservative clerics who did the Supreme Leader’s bidding had been calling for his impeachment of late.

For this reason, Ahmadian now traveled with an IRGC armed guard. He was certain that at least some members of the military guard surrounding him at all times were disloyal and answered in whispers and traitorous dialogue to those who served Shahidi.

Ahmadian didn’t care. He would fulfill his destiny and lead Iran as long as his body and mind was willing and able.

He’d been thoroughly briefed that Ali bin Rahman had brought to the Supreme Leader news of the imminent return of Muhammad al Mahdi. But what none of them knew was that Ahmadian was several steps ahead of all of them.

Ahmadian had his own spies inside the IRGC’s intelligence bureau who kept him apprised of developments. He knew the name of the Mahdi that was circulating among the al Qaeda leadership and was slowly making its way through the ranks of Iran’s intelligentsia.

There were some who were calling him the new Caliph of God, from a direct lineage that belonged to the House of Muhammad and, perhaps, the line of Imam Hasan and the family name of Abul Qasim. Some said his father had been Abdullah, a Saudi king, and that he was even now in Mecca. His name, it was said, was known to a close circle as Muhammad Abul Qasim al Mahdi.

Ahmadian wondered, to himself, whether the name alone would be enough to bridge the great gulf that separated the beliefs and hadiths of both Sunni and Shi’a about the Mahdi. Perhaps, if it can be proved that his lineage and family is directly from the House of Muhammad, it may be so.

If it could be proved that he was descended from Fatimah, the Prophet Muhammad’s daughter, and Ali ibn Abi Talib, the cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet Muhammad considered by the Shi’a faithful to be the first Imam and the rightful successor to Muhammad, then that would satisfy the Shi’a faithful. He could thus be perceived as an elect from God and descended from the Prophet’s family.

And if it could be proved that he was also connected directly to Abu Bakr, the father-in-law of the Prophet Muhammad who is known as the first, true caliph to the Sunni faithful, then there might be a bridge. Election from the Shura—from the community—could be addressed in this fashion.

While the Prophet Muhammad had no sons who lived to adulthood—assuring he would be the Last of the Prophets, according to hadiths—both Shi’a and Sunni agreed that Fatimah had children. The Shi’a believed succession was through Muhammad’s family. The Sunni believed that the Shura, or community of the faithful, selected successors. If this new Mahdi could draw connections through direct lineage while also indicating a connection to the Sunni line of caliphs selected through the process commonly known as Shura that had originated with Abu Bakr, then it would make things interesting.

It would not be an easy task. The disagreement that had split into the Sunni and Shi’a branches of Islam after the Prophet Muhammad’s death had lasted for centuries. This Mahdi’s direct lineage to the Ahl al-Bayt, the family of the Prophet Muhammad, and his service or direct lineage to the family and descendants of Abu Bakr would be critical to his legitimacy.

Recently, Ahmadian and his chief of staff had taken a highly secretive—and dangerous—trip to Iraq to meet with Shi’a warriors in service to Iran’s leadership. These warriors were careful not to make their presence known to the US military forces that continued to occupy Iraq. But they were loyal to Ahmadian and the cause.

Iran had carefully planted the belief that the US had taken control of Iraq for one simple reason. They’d plundered Iraq’s oil wealth. For this reason, there was a growing conviction among the Shi’a faithful in Iraq that it was only a matter of time before Iran would move and take control of Iraq as they had Lebanon, Syria, and other proxies.

Ahmadian knew the Americans would never truly leave Iraq—not since they’d allowed three of their largest oil companies to secure the vast reserves in the country for development. The world might have wondered why the US invaded Iraq, but Ahmadian suffered no such delusions. America had seized Iraq’s oil reserves and turned them over to the Western oil companies.

Today was a great day. It was Tuesday, the day of great vision. Ahmadian had set in motion a great event at the mosque on the outskirts of Qom. They were, at long last, going to dedicate the cornerstone of the newly renovated blue-tiled mosque in Jamkaran.

Tens of thousands of pilgrims would be there to offer their prayers to the hidden imam and drop their thoughts down the well there.

“Let us go,” Ahmadian said to his driver, who’d been waiting patiently for Iran’s president to leave the city.

“We must hurry,” the driver said.

“Yes, we must,” Ahmadian said. “I wish to get there in time to speak this evening to the people who will be gathered at the mosque. How long will the drive to Qom take us?”

“Less than an hour,” the driver said. “It is an easy drive south of the city.”

“Good,” Ahmadian said. “Then I will have plenty of time to prepare my remarks.”