The Atua Man: A Novel

Jason was alone in a chair in one of the interrogation rooms at the MI5 headquarters. He could tell that a group of men were watching him from behind a mirrored wall. An older man entered the room, senior interrogator Jason assumed, and sat opposite him at the metal table.

“Mr. St. John,” the man began, “you are not being charged with a crime. The purpose of this meeting is to ascertain the reliability of reports that you appeared in a terrorist house in the Baghdad area while British soldiers were engaged in anti-terrorist operations there. Would that be a correct statement?”

“As I told you before, I will not answer any questions until I’ve consulted with my lawyer, Sir William Boyd.”

“This is not a criminal proceeding. You are not entitled to legal representation. What were you doing in Baghdad? Why were you in a terrorist’s house? Were you shot by British soldiers?”

Jason didn’t answer.

“We can play this game for a long time, Mr. St. John. We just want to find out the truth. I find the report that you were in Baghdad three days ago hard to believe, but I have to verify it one way or another. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we can all get back to business.”

“And what business is that?” Jason said.

“The business of keeping this country safe from terrorists. Are you a terrorist, Mr. St. John? Is your preaching just an elaborate cover? Help us out. Prove us wrong.”

The interrogator walked out. Jason mentally debated whether to meditate and establish the Peace but decided that would be putting his pearls before swine. Then again, if he could slip into that dimension of oneness he could disappear and be free. The words “agree with thy adversary” came to him. This was just another form of material power that couldn’t touch him—unless he resisted or fought. His human agenda could always be changed and if he maintained his dominion and remained calm and detached, nothing important would be lost.

Hours later, well after dinner according to Jason’s stomach, two men Jason hadn’t seen before entered the interrogation room. Spiritual facts and inspiration were running through Jason’s mind: “Be at peace.” “Do not resist.” “Love your enemy.” The same interrogator followed the younger men into the room.

“Please take off your sweater and pants,” the older man ordered.

Jason started to resist but decided against it. He pulled his turtleneck over his head and removed it and then undid his pants and stepped out of them. He could feel the shock when they saw his tattoos. They ordered him to remove his undershirt, and he did. Very few people had ever seen the scope of the tattoos that covered Jason’s body. The guards stepped back, almost like they had been accosted by the tribal images. Their reaction was visceral. It was as if they subconsciously understood what the tattoos meant, and the icons were as toxic to these Brits as they were to the native Hiva people.

The lead inspector warily examined Jason’s torso, afraid to actually touch his tattoos, and found no sign of gunshot wounds. Embarrassed, the inspector told Jason to get dressed. “We have you on a twenty-four-hour hold, so you will be spending the night,” the inspector said as he left.

“On what grounds?”

“Aiding and abetting terrorists,” he called back.

“Are you out of your mind? I demand to be released immediately.”

“I’m sorry sir,” one of the younger inspectors said, taking hold of Jason’s arm. Jason wondered where Sir William was, and realized there was nothing he could do at that moment. He followed the man into the heart of Thames House where he was locked up for the night.

Alex was called from class fifteen minutes before school ended. He thought it was another security situation and picked up his backpack assuming he wouldn’t be coming back. One of the school secretaries took him into the foyer of the headmaster’s office where a middle-aged man and woman waited for him. They identified themselves as being from Social Services and showed Alex a court order authorizing them to take him into custody to examine alleged abuse at Stanford House.

Alex refused to go. He started yelling and barged into the headmaster’s office. “This is all fake! I’ve never been abused!

The headmaster put down his newspaper; the headline read “Jason St. John in Custody at MI5.” He looked at the warrant and told Alex he had to comply with the order, but he would ring his mother and things would get straightened out very quickly. The male social worker dragged the still resisting Alex from the office, as the headmaster, shaking his head in disbelief, phoned Lillian.

Gary Howell sat in Reverend Germaine’s office. A stack of flyers for the St. John Royal Albert Hall Healing Assembly, scheduled for the following night, laid on the Reverend’s desk. Gary was waiting for a response. He thought it was ecumenically important for Reverend Germaine to witness a healing demonstration.

“You say you want to save souls,” he continued while Germaine studied a flyer. “Here’s your chance. Why not send your followers to see firsthand what a St. John Healing Rally is all about? Maybe you’ll be surprised by what happens.”

“You don’t see the light, do you? He’s lied to you from the beginning. He’s the devil. I don’t need any more evidence to support that,” Reverend Germaine told Gary.

“Doesn’t it say in Second Thessalonians that the breath of the Lord will put an end to him? Wouldn’t the presence of your congregation there be that breath? You said that in your healing services you call on Jesus to enter the hearts and minds of your people. Couldn’t He enter the heart and mind of Jason St. John? You said Friday night that you have seen many miracles. I’m inviting you to put aside your concept of Mr. St. John and see for yourself, not just on television but in his presence, where you might feel something extraordinary.”

“You’ve been sent on a fool’s errand. I don’t understand why you’re here when I’ve so publicly challenged your guru. Jason St. John can do nothing for me or my congregation.”

“In the beginning Mr. St. John reached out to the medical profession, which was probably more skeptical and hostile to what he does than you are. We want to extend the olive branch to you, Cyrus. Come and see what a healing meeting is like. Nothing can change the truth. If what you believe is true, Mr. St. John wouldn’t have the power to change that. What are you worried about, that you’ll lose your flock?”

Reverend Germaine looked at Gary with contempt. “You and your kind are so arrogant, Gary, so sure that you’re right. You come here and insult me and my religion by inferring it isn’t true, and you expect a civil response? You’re as evil as your master. The sooner that evil is eliminated the better off mankind will be.” He dumped the flyers for the assembly into his wastebasket and walked out on Gary. “My secretary will show you the door,” he said without looking back.

Sir William opened the door of the St. John’s apartment and let David in. Lillian was furiously pacing around. Sir William tried to calm her. Melanie and Michael had come to some sort of truce.

“Child Protective Services took Alex from school today. They had complaints that he was being psychologically abused living here at Stanford House,” Melanie said to David as he entered the parlor.

“What about J.J.? I just heard that he was at state security?”

“Who told you that?”

“Some damn reporter. They were filming me on my way over here.”

“This is Tony’s full-court press,” said Lillian. “No one else has the contacts or the clout to get these agencies to do something like this.”

“It’s diversionary,” Michael replied. He paused a moment not sure his opinion would be welcome. The others waited, so he continued, “We would do similar things in the investment world; make a problem over here, while you get to your target over there first. So, what’s the target? What is Tony afraid of? The assembly tomorrow?”

“J.J. disappearing?” Melanie said.

David turned to Lillian. “How does J.J. conduct his rallies today?”

“That’s it!” she shouted. “They want him to sit behind a table and disappear. They want to blow this whole thing up. If Jason disappears, they take over everything. Nobody’s left and they step into the driver’s seat. Alex and I are screwed. Their concern about the credibility of the Ministry was a bluff. Tony wants to create a religion.”

“What does this have to do with sitting behind a table?” David wondered.

“That’s when J.J. travels. Alex and I have seen it. J.J. enters such a state of spiritual unity, I mean the atmosphere is incredible, and he begins melting into his environment, for lack of a better term. He pointed out to us that there is a lot of space between molecules, or something like that. The solid state of matter dissolves. I wish I could explain it like he did. I’m not sure if he can disappear if he’s not completely still.”

David started pacing and thinking. “Then we’ll make sure there is no table or chair. Can J.J. do a healing rally walking around like he used to?”

Lillian gave David a big hug. “That’s it. We’ve only had Jason sitting behind a table recently. It seems people quiet down faster that way, but we never did that in the beginning.”

“But how would anybody know that’s how Jason travels?” Melanie asked.

“I don’t know.” Lillian sat in her meditation chair. “But it seems obvious, in a way.”

“Can J.J. walk around and do healings?” David said.

Sir William finished a call on his mobile and put the phone in his pocket. “That was the commissioner’s office. They’re bringing Alex back as we speak.”

Lillian jumped up from the chair and gave David another strong hug. “Thank God! What about J.J.?”

“He’ll be out tomorrow, I’m told.” Sir William eyed Lillian in David’s arms. She gave Dave a quick kiss and pushed him away, feeling slightly embarrassed.