Ben-Gurion smiled. He thought he had the edge. “I will listen,” he promised.
“This nation is intended to be based upon democracy,” Shahan said. “We have five different types of Muslim here alone, not counting the Christians in Lebanon and Iraq. Any attempt at setting up a religious-based nation would be doomed to failure.”
“Of course,” Ben-Gurion said mildly.
“The fact that the existing power structure has been badly damaged offers an opportunity to change it,” Shahan said. “We – the founder members – will create a state based on democracy, where the sexes are equal before the law, and where all religions are equal before the law.” He smiled. “Even Jews.”
“I imagine that you’ll have a lot of opposition from your own people,” Ben-Gurion said finally. “We bought that land – but look at all the people who claimed we stole it.”
“Land won’t be such a problem in a few years,” Shahan said. “The techniques for making the desert bloom are well understood in 2015. Give us five years and we’ll have gardens surrounding Mecca.” He smiled. “As for opposition, how many of them can really afford to start a pogrom against such a useful minority?”
“As they’d also be minorities,” Ben-Gurion said. “I trust that you will allow immigration?”
Shahan shook his head. “Not for the first few years, except for family members,” he said. “South Africa is accepting Jewish refugees, so they will have somewhere to go. If any of your people have problems with the agreement, we can buy them a ticket there and wave goodbye.”
“It’s tempting, I admit,” Ben-Gurion said finally. “What guarantee do we have that you’ll keep your word?”
“We would absorb the Haganah into the ranks of the Arabian Army,” Shahan said. “You would be in a strong position.”
“But not strong enough to force Israel out of you,” Ben-Gurion said. “You’re a very brave young man, President McLachlan; your own people will behead you.”
“Perhaps,” Shahan said. “To paraphrase a very great man; keep running if you stumble and you won’t fall. Mr Ben-Gurion; I need to know soon.”
“I can’t say that I like the actions of Turkey,” Ben-Gurion said slowly. “I will have to consult with my allies, but I think I will accept. There is one condition, however; you agree to the Haganah regiments being based within the Jewish regions.”
“Some of them, yes,” Shahan said. He’d expected that demand. “However, we will rotate the divisions around, just to ensure that they do build up a relationship with the entire country.”
“Then I agree for myself and the Haganah,” Ben-Gurion said. “Now, how will the Government be organised?”
Shahan smiled as they started to discuss the nuts and bolts of the proposal. Perhaps this crazy idea will work after all, he thought. Perhaps we can build a proper nation for us all.
When he was younger, he’d known a girl called Anisa, who’d been a good friend before he married. With his wife’s permission, he’d named his daughter after her, and was playing with her by the fire. Tomorrow, they would be heading back to Salaam, to oversee the integration of the Jews into the provisional government, but for the moment there was peace.
“A fine daughter,” Hanover said. Shahan looked up; they’d all been placed in the same building. A flicker of suspicion passed through his mind; Hanover could have organised it. “What is her name?”
“Anisa,” Shahan said. “Did you arrange for us to have the same block?”
“It would have been impolitic to have given each of us separate buildings,” Hanover said. His voice was coolly amused. “Did you have a good meeting with David Ben-Gurion?”
“Didn’t you have the room bugged?” Shahan asked. “We agreed that we would try to integrate the religions.”
Hanover nodded. “Thank you,” he said seriously. “Have you thought about long-term status?”
“We’re going to model it on Britain,” Shahan said. “A Parliament; districts which will elect Members of Parliament, but with a proper constitution.”
“There have been demands for one in Britain,” Hanover said absently. He bent down and gently picked up Anisa. “You’ll have to be careful not to leave any loopholes.”
“We will,” Shahan said. “So… what next for you?”
Hanover shrugged and passed Anisa to Sameena, who had just entered the room. “You mean, British relations to here?” He asked. “I imagine that we won’t have any difficulty in continuing to provide you with support, particularly since you’re going to be a member of the Commonwealth. Given ten years, you could really develop this region.”
“We hope so,” Sameena said. She held their child closely. “What else did you want to say?”
If Hanover was surprised, he didn’t show it. “We will not support you if you turn this into a religious dictatorship,” he said seriously. “That’s the warning you had before, and now you have what you want… well, getting what you want can be very dangerous.”
Shahan looked up at him. “I understand,” he said. “We won’t mess this second chance up.”
“Please don’t,” Hanover said. “You carry the only hope of Islam’s survival in this strange new world.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Kamikaze
The Kremlin
Moscow, Russia
8th May 1942
Molotov stepped through the security guards – Moscow had become even darker as the NKVD cracked down on the citizens – and entered Stalin’s inner sanctum. For once, the dictator wasn’t unhappy; he was smiling darkly. Molotov felt panic; only the certain knowledge that the guards would shoot him down if he tried to run kept him walking towards his chair.
“Have a seat,” Stalin said. He held up a box of cigars. “Georgian, I’m afraid, but they’ll have to do.”
Molotov’s mind worked rapidly as he took a cigar. Stalin was in a good mood, and he was certain that that meant trouble. The cigar was thick and smoky, from Stalin’s native Georgia… which was in revolt. He felt his blood run cold; was Stalin making a subtle point?
“Quite weak really,” Stalin said. “They really should have been more grateful to me. After all, did I not make them strong?”
Agreeing with Stalin was always a good idea when a person was unsure of their ground. “Yes, Comrade General Secretary,” Molotov said. He was astonished; ‘weak’ was not a word he would have applied to his cigar. The future claimed that smoking was bad for you, and smoking the cigar he could believe it. His lungs wanted to curl up and die.
“I received interesting news from our good friends the Germans,” Stalin said, his tone only mildly sarcastic. “They have a high-ranking source within America, and it seems that the capitalists intend to stab us in the back, at Vladivostok.”
Molotov thought quickly. Asking for a map would be a sign of weakness. “Would they not have to go through Japan first?” He asked. “They are not at war with Japan.”
“They would certainly have to go close to Japan,” Stalin agreed. He smiled darkly. “I think its time that the Japanese earned the resources we’re pouring into Manchuria for them.”
Molotov considered. “Comrade General Secretary, they do not have a fleet anymore,” he said. “What can they hit them with?”
Stalin laughed throatily. “So formal,” he said. “It turns out that the Japanese have prepared a new weapon; they crash their planes into British ships and blow them out of the water. Think how many little capitalists they could drown.”