Sam Bourne 4-Book Thriller Collection. Sam Bourne

this vast complex of suites, corridors and stairwells was the Chapel? He rifled through his press pack until he saw an internal map. Third floor.

      There were so many doors; but finally he saw one with a sign, a diagram of a stick-man kneeling, at prayer. Will pressed his ear close to the door:

      ‘. . . how many centuries have we waited? More than twenty. And sometimes our patience has worn thin. Our faith has faltered.’

      Will heard the ding of an elevator. Out came three men, around Will’s age, dressed in neat dark suits – just like the one he was still wearing from his late-night trip to Crown Heights. Each held a bible and they were heading, purposefully, towards him.

      As they got nearer, Will saw that at least one was out of breath. They were late. This was his chance.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ said Will as they reached him. ‘I think we can still sneak in at the back.’

      Sure enough, one opened the door, allowing the whole group to enter – the embarrassment divided by being shared. Will was simply one of the group; he even carried his own bible.

      Jammed in at the back, Will tried to survey the room. To his surprise, it was large; the size of a banqueting hall. There must have been more than two thousand people inside. It was hard to tell who they were; all heads were dipped in prayer. Will did not dare raise his eyes.

      Finally an amplified voice broke the silence.

      ‘We repent, O Lord, for our moments of doubt. We repent for the pain and hurt we have inflicted on each other, on the planet your Father entrusted to us and on your name. We repent, O Lord, for the centuries of sin that have kept you from us.’

      In unison, the congregation replied, ‘On this Day of Atonement, we repent.’

      Will looked up, trying to work out who was speaking. A man was standing at the front, but he had his back to the room. It was impossible to see if he was young or old: most of his head was covered with a white skullcap.

      ‘But now, O Lord, the Day of Reckoning is upon us. At long last Man will be held accountable. The great Book of Life is about to be slammed shut. Finally, we are to be judged.’

      In unison: ‘Amen.’

      The man turned around: about Will’s age, studious looking. Will was surprised. He seemed too young to be a leader and that voice too strong to have come from him.

      ‘Your first people, Israel, strayed from your teaching, O Lord.’ The voice was continuing, even though the man Will had identified as the leader was not speaking. Only now did Will take in the huge screen at the front of the room. It bore just two words, black on white: The Apostle. At last Will realized the voice filling this room did not belong to anyone inside it. Perhaps it was on a tape; maybe it was relayed live from the outside. It had an odd, metallic quality. Either way, the Apostle was nowhere to be seen.