The sea is calm. Still as a windless moment before the storm. The sun lies comfortably in a canvass of blue. Mattwenele tries to relax, to prepare himself for what will be infinitely greater than this serene instant of his being. But he can't. Tsunamis of doubt rise on his horizon and something within warns him about the possible global warming of his soul. His mind is in turmoil but he listens to his heart instead.

"Rich hypocrites," he mumbles. If this package were for Israel, they would be clapping and applauding. But have this particular brilliant idea and they run like scared dogs. Even now he wonders it they have given him away. They had called Mattwenele crazy and twice tried to have him assassinated. Again he brings the binoculars to his eyes and searches. He walks slowly around the ship and intends to leave no patch of water unturned. There has to be a submarine out there somewhere.

Gesevtwe stands at a rail.

"Our moment will be soon, eh Mattwenele?" Gesevtwe asks.

He is such a young boy. He is only seventeen, tall, and very handsome. Mattwenele knows that the youth can get any girl he wants. And his family has money. They don't mind other people's sons, the poorer ones, sacrificing their lives. But their son could contribute to the cause by donating his money to the martyrs, he doesn't have to do this, they say.

"This event will be like Davy Crockett at Alamo. All those Mexican soldiers." Mattwenele snickers and raises his index finger. "No. It will be like sinking in quicksand. That is better way to say it."

Gesevtwe laughs, then puts one hand to his chin. "Like humanity swallowed by lava."

"Is that a submarine on the horizon?" Mattwenele squints his eyes for good measure and looks into his binoculars. He doesn't want any rumination about their mission. This is not the time for wavering. If the lad thinks too much about his parents and dear sister who knows what might happen. And God forbid if any of his co-conspirators has second thoughts.

The youth raises his binoculars.

"Just false alarm." Mattwenele says and lowers his field-glasses.

There it was again, stabbing him like a toothache. Why won't it go away? He has the ultimate weapon in his hands and this vacillation about the virgins is not good. When he thinks of virgins, he thinks of them not being virgins anymore after he gets to them -- ultimate relaxation. But something tells him that if they are virgins when he gets to paradise, they will stay that way because paradise is pure. This is disturbing. And it won't go away.

"We must almost be there." Gesevtwe says.

His feet struggles to weaken but Mattwenele's face stiffens. "Yes. Soon we will meet our glorious god."

"We are there!" Haglip shouts from the bridge.

Mattwenele runs up the steps to the department and slaps hands with Haglip. His underwater camera appears to work perfectly. He sees the stalagmite looking objects on the computer screen. They are almost like the pictures he'd seen in National Geographic or some magazine like that. They are a lovely Greenish-white and blowing bubbles. Soon the world will pay.

"Make sure captain stops ship! Shoot him afterwards," he whispers to Haglip, "He should not get to see our glory!" He heads back down towards the launch.

Hanier and Tallar stand at the launch. Hanier is rather handsome in his own right but Tallar is downright ugly. These are the kinds of kids the dukes don't mind sacrificing. These youths have seen hopelessness and despair.

A firecracker sound disturbs the quiet.

Mattwenele steps towards Hanier and Tallar. "Prepare to lower bomb."

The water remains calm. There are no protests.

"Lower it." Mattwenele turns and his feet clang up the steps and head into Observation. On the screen he watches as the container holding the bomb is steadily lowered. The destination is over eight hundred feet.

"For glorious god!" he shouts through the microphone. The small nuclear device will explode which will be greater than all the suicide bombings combined. Methane gas will be released into the air and all the evil people, the majority of the world, will perish. He knows that the glorious god will not let his loved ones suffer.

"Five hundred feet! See you in paradise my brothers." He rubs his hands together, presses the key, then kneels on his prayer rug and prays.

"Seventy-two, seventy-one, seventy,..." the voice sings from the timer.

Grey strings of mist rise out of the floor. He sees them. They glisten like diamonds and glow like the sun. Their hair is long and silky, and their skins look like velvet. And they are naked!

**Our glorious god is great** Mattwenele thinks. Lust, so soft and tender, stifles his body. He floats over to two of the ladies, one with yellow hair and blue flaming eyes, and the other with red hair that glitters like fire. Mattwenele wraps his arms around their warm midsections. His arms go through them.

A thought bursts into his mind. **Who told you there are no virgins in hell?