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The Phenomena of New Found Faith

The Boardroom Battle and an Angel in Manhattan

By Samuel

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Two stretch limousines sped across the airport apron to collect the delegation, whisking them away to their first meeting at a luxury Manhattan hotel. Upon arrival, a host of staff escorted them to the front desk to receive their keys. In each room, a welcome note invited them to refresh themselves before being collected in an hour for the inaugural boardroom session.

On cue, simultaneous knocks sounded at their doors. Standing there were the bellhops, accompanied by American servicemen in crisp, well-pressed uniforms. They were ushered into a lavish boardroom where the finger foods catered to every dietary requirement. The dishes were clearly marked: Muslim Halal signs for the Sheikh’s party, Kosher signs for the Jewish attendees, and standard fare for the others.

Sheikh Rashad Al-Mustafa Kamaldien had just picked up a biscuit from the Halal tray. As he turned to scan the room, he bumped squarely into Ester Van Dhoon. The sudden impact sent the morsel flying from his mouth, landing directly in her open cleavage.

It was, by all accounts, a disastrous first impression. Shocked, Ester exclaimed, “Why, you imbecile! What is your problem?”

Rashad, equally stunned, could only manage, “I am so sorry; it was an accident!”

Just as she prepared to fire off a sharper expletive, she recognized him: the distinguished guest, Sheikh Rashad. Her face softened, and her voice dropped several decibels. “I am sorry, Your Highness. I was out of line and just as guilty for the collision.”

The onlookers, including the Sheikh’s bodyguards, stood rooted to the spot. To their amazement, Rashad responded with unusual charm.

“I still apologize as the ‘imbecile’ you implied me to be,” he retorted with a smile. “Despite our tragic introduction, can we start again? I am Sheikh Rashad Al-Mustafa Kamaldien of the Kingdom of Kqawarrie, at your service. And you, my erstwhile enemy, are?”

Ester removed the offending crumb, her face turning a light rosy hue. “Thank you for being a gentleman and not taking me to task for my remark.”

“A lady such as you cannot be held responsible for an accident,” Rashad replied. “I truly would like to meet you again under more pleasant circumstances—perhaps as a duet singing from the same song sheet, rather than a duel crossing swords over uranium.”

The delegates took their seats at the conference table, where nameplates were arranged to facilitate an amicable negotiation. The introductions began with the Americans: Graham Rogers of the CIA, General Joseph Black of Home Affairs, and Travis Landon of the FBI. When Ester spoke, she recounted her military service and her role as the Secretary of State’s representative.

The first few days were gruelling. Every demand was met with a rebuttal; neither side wanted to yield. It wasn’t until the following Thursday that Ambassador Yusuf Said, having just flown in, played his trump card.

“This marriage we are planning could be one of convenience, or one based on mutual respect,” Yusuf stated, his voice cutting through the tension. “Money, mineral resources, and trade agreements can be stumbling blocks or stepping stones. What is it to be? Shaking hands to fight, or shaking hands for mutual benefit?”

A blanket of silence fell over the room. Ester then rose to support his sentiment, reminding the American contingency that Russia or China could easily court the Sheikh if they failed to reach a fair agreement.

“Are we holding a winning hand,” she challenged her colleagues, “or will they call and say, ‘Read them and weep’?”

The Americans withdrew for a private caucus. When they returned, the dialogue became constructive. A week later, a deal was struck: America would receive uranium at a discounted price, and in exchange, Kqawarrie would receive its new hospital, a specialized trauma centre, and six heavy-duty transfer trucks. Furthermore, the U.S. would provide the protection detail from the mine to the airport.

True to his word, Rashad arranged a private dinner with Ester at a refined Halal restaurant. When he arrived to collect her from her office near the United Nations Building, he was struck by her beauty. She wore a white knitted dress that complemented her slender figure and piercing blue eyes.

During dinner, the conversation turned from the “biscuit incident” to deeply personal matters. Rashad was curious about her faith as a Messianic Jew.

“I felt the call of God while watching the movie Ben-Hur,” Ester explained. “It’s a story of friendship, betrayal, and the encounter with the Messiah. It led me to the Tanakh and then the New Testament. I realized that the prophecies in Isaiah 53 and Psalm 22—written centuries before the Roman practice of crucifixion—pointed directly to Jesus.”

She spoke with an unshakeable conviction, explaining her belief in the Trinity and the nature of the soul. Rashad listened, captivated by her intellect as much as her spirit. However, as he walked her to her door that night, his mind was in turmoil. He was in love for the first time, yet he knew their difference in faith would be a significant hurdle for his mother and his subjects.

At three the following morning, Rashad was awakened by a loud banging on his door. Moussa and Farouk stood there, looking deeply concerned.

“We found out you went to meet Ester,” Moussa stated grimly.

“Master, you are playing with fire,” Farouk added. “She is not of our faith. Your mother and your people would never receive her. Please, end this now.”

Rashad looked at his oldest friends. “It is too late for warnings. I am already lost; I am drowning in a sea of love from which I cannot escape.”

The Generals insisted on an immediate return to Kqawarrie to avoid further complications. Rashad agreed half-heartedly. As the old Air Force One jet climbed into the sky, Rashad retreated to his private cabin. He called Ester on a secure line to explain his sudden departure.

“Do not lose sleep over it,” she told him softly. “I will look out for your return—not as a statesman, but as a friend. I shall be waiting for you.”

As he hung up the receiver, Rashad whispered to the empty room, “Yes, I shall be coming back for you, Ester.”