The Power of Five Oblivion

years before. There was something about him that inspired confidence even before he spoke. Perhaps it was his eyes, which shone with passion and self-belief. There were two men with him – older, weather-beaten and bearded – saying nothing. Tarik dominated the room.
    “You are Scarlett Adams,” he said. His voice was soft, his English perfect.
    “Yes.”
    “And Richard Cole. Mr Rémy has told me all about you. I am very glad you are here. I will confess that there were times when I wondered if the stories about you were even true, but my men saw for themselves that you came out of the Great Pyramid. We have seen the shape-changers. We must accept that the world is no longer as it once was and that we are fighting an enemy who comes out of our worst nightmares and who makes us re-adjust our beliefs.” He gestured at the table. “Please, will you sit down? I have asked for some tea to be brought. It is important that we talk.”
    Richard and Scarlett did as they were asked and a moment later a soldier came in, carrying a kettle of steaming green tea which he served in small glasses. The moment briefly reminded Scarlett of another time when she had been served the same drink. Then, she had been a prisoner of Father Gregory in the Monastery of the Cry for Mercy. Of course, this was different. Tarik was a freedom fighter. He was here to help them. But even as she accepted the hot glass, the memory nudged her and she had to repress a shiver down her spine.
    “You speak very good English,” Richard said.
    “My grandmother was English. I learned it as child.” Tarik seemed to dismiss the subject and turned instead to Scarlett. “A people’s army physician removed a bullet from inside your brain,” he said. His eyes were fixed on her, examining her minutely. “Without his help it is certain you would have died. You should be grateful.”
    “I am very grateful,” Scarlett said.
    “And yet many people are dying here every day. They are not as fortunate as you. Egypt was promised democracy but Field Marshall el-Akkad stole it from us. Anyone who dared to speak against him was imprisoned or killed, and in the end this war was all that was left to us.”
    “I’ll do anything to help you.” Scarlett wasn’t sure why she said that, but it seemed the right thing to say.
    Tarik nodded slowly. “Will you? Will you?”
    “The only way to defeat the Old Ones is to get the Five together again,” Richard said. “We need to send Scarlett back through the Great Pyramid and search for the others.”
    Tarik turned back to Richard. Now his eyes were hooded, thoughtful. “That may not be possible. Our enemies know the power of the doorway and they have been keeping it under close guard. Scarlett slipped through their fingers once. They will not allow her to do it a second time.”
    “Could she fly out of here? We’ve seen planes…”
    “The only planes belong to the military and the airfields are well protected.” He spoke briefly to Rémy in Arabic and Rémy answered in the same language. Richard realized that it was almost impossible to tell what Tarik was thinking, no matter what language he was speaking. He gave the impression of always being five or six steps ahead. Once again Tarik examined Scarlett. “Are you as powerful as they say you are?” he asked.
    Scarlett hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. There was a silence and she realized that they were waiting for her to go on. “I can control the weather.”
    “In Hong Kong, I understand, there was a typhoon.”
    “Yes. But I didn’t create it. Maybe I helped hold it back…” Her voice trailed away.
    “To hold a typhoon, to stop it in its path, that must have been worth seeing. You are just a girl. You are … how old? Fifteen? And yet we heard of this typhoon that killed so many people and caused so much destruction all those years ago. You did not create it. But maybe you could now?”
    Scarlett glanced at Richard. Both of them felt uneasy, unsure where this was going.
    “To control the weather…” Tarik continued in his soft voice, his hands cradling his glass of tea. “The heat of the sun, the force of the wind, lightning and thunder, perhaps the very air itself! If you could do it in just one street, Qasr el-Nil Street, for example…”
    “The presidential palace,” Rémy muttered.
    Tarik looked up suddenly and Richard saw a faint gleam in his eyes. “You say you want to help us, Scarlett. Could you do that for us? Could you