He was lying on a dark plain, his head upon a rock, with rough hills etched against a moon lit sky, when the heavens opened and steps appeared leading all the way to earth. Shadowy figures appeared on these steps, moving up and down. He couldn't tell who most of them were, but then he saw Khan descending the steps and coming closer to him and, on his left, Javed and Hassan were ascending the steps. Suddenly, he recognized Bishop Rawlings coming down the steps. Then he was lifted up and placed on his feet and, effortlessly, he moved toward the base of the steps and began his climb from earth to heaven.

Paul awoke with a stiff neck. The bunk was almost as hard as the stone he'd just been dreaming was under his head. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hands and massaged the muscles that led from his neck to his shoulders. He was so sore and stiff that it was painful just to move.

The dream was still vivid in his mind. It reminded him of the picture from his Children's Bible in the story of Jacob. As a young man, Jacob fled his home after stealing the blessing meant for Esau, his older brother, from his blind father, by lying and pretending to be Esau. When Esau threatened to kill him to have his revenge, Jacob's mother, Rebecca, who had helped him trick Isaac, sent Jacob away to hide with his uncle, Laban. On his first night of flight, as he lay sleeping in the wilderness, Jacob had a vision of angels descending and ascending from heaven.

Paul recalled visiting a West Indian church in Birmingham and singing: "We are climbing Jacob's ladder, we are climbing Jacob's ladder, we are climbing Jacob's ladder, soldiers of the cross." But why had this image occurred in his dream? He hadn't read the passage from Genesis for years, and the memory of the picture from his Children's Bible was even further removed from his daily life.

In the story Jacob interprets the dream to mean that he will be safe and has God's blessing. He sets up a pile of stones on that place and calls it Bethel, which means gateway to God. Might the dream have the same meaning for him? Was it to assure him that God was with him, even here in this prison cell?

But Jacob saw angels descending and ascending on the steps that connected heaven and earth. Paul had seen shadowy figures that, for the most part, he couldn't identify. He did remember seeing Javed and Hassan, however, ascending on the left side of the steps and Bishop Rawlings had been descending on the right. There was one other person he knew coming down the steps, but the dream was fading now and he couldn't quite recall who it was. He remembered, however, that he had been surprised to see this person in his dream.

Paul stood up slowly, feeling the soreness in his ankles and the dull ache between his legs. Carefully, he walked back and forth in his cell a few times. Then, when he felt a little more limber, he relieved himself in the excrement bucket and sat back down on the bed. He glanced at the drain and wondered if some relative of the dead cockroach would pay him a visit soon. Would he be looking for his kin or just for food? Paul didn't think there was much kinship among cockroaches. In the insect world it was kill or be killed. Female black widow spiders, he recalled, even killed their partners after mating, which is why they were called "black widows."

In the human world was it more than kill or be killed? Were the Social Darwinists right? Was human life just a more sophisticated version of survival of the fittest? He couldn't accept that. No one with faith in God could believe that. Like Jacob, he felt chosen by God for some special purpose. But what was it? In the dream he, Javed and Hassan were ascending the steps. Perhaps the dream means that the petition against the blasphemy law is right, and that the three of them were doing the will of God. But if that was so, then why was Rawlings descending the steps? In Jacob's dream all the figures on the steps are angels. They all represent the working out of God's plan. Was Rawlings' offer part of God's plan? Had God wanted him to accept the deal Rawlings had proposed to him, so he might continue to work for human rights in Pakistan outside the country?

That didn't seem to make sense. If he could only remember the other person, perhaps he could figure out the meaning of the dream. The sound of the door being unlocked quickly brought him back to the reality of his cell. As the door opened, he stood up and faced two men in green uniforms. There was no prison guard with them. "Come with us," they ordered. Paul hesitated. Had Rawlings sent these men? Were they going to take him to the hospital, despite his refusal to cooperate? "Where are we going?" he asked.

The taller man drew a pistol from his pocket and aimed it at Paul. "Move," he said. Paul walked slowly out into the hall and followed the shorter man to the security door. It was opened from the other side, and the three of them walked down the hall. When they went through a different door than the one that Paul had entered when he had been tortured, he felt relieved. This door led to another hall and then to a door that opened, after the man in front of him knocked twice.

Entering this room, Paul saw three men sitting behind a table. They were also dressed in green but were wearing black robes over their uniforms. Two flags stood in stands on either side of the table. One, Paul recognized, was the flag of Pakistan, but he didn't know the other flag. In front of the table was one empty chair, obviously for him. This looks like a court, Paul thought, as he sat down. But why would there be a court hearing here in the prison? And why weren't any prison guards present?

The man sitting immediately across from him cleared his throat. "This court is now in session. The accused, who is charged with blasphemy, is present. Let's have the evidence."

Paul was stunned. "Wait a minute," he protested. "This isn't a legitimate court. Who are you to try me? And I haven't had a chance to meet with my lawyer. I need my lawyer here if there's to be a trial." He realized, as he was speaking, that he was jumbling his arguments up. He was flustered, he thought. He needed to get control of himself.

"Be quiet," the presiding judge said. "If you make another outburst, we'll gag you."

Paul glanced around the room. There were about a dozen men there, all dressed like the two, who had led him from the cell. Suddenly, he knew who they were. They were from the Security Forces! The second flag must be theirs. His hands began to sweat as he realized what was happening. But they had no proof that he had committed blasphemy. How could they pretend that this was a trial?

He heard footsteps behind him and then saw an arm reach past him and place a tape recorder on the table in front of him. He turned to see that it was Khan's hand that pressed a switch on the tape recorder. In the silence of the room he could just make out the sound of the spools turning. Do they expect him to confess to blasphemy? There's no way I'll do that, he thought.

Then, he heard his voice on the tape. "My name is Fr. Paul Gill. I have committed blasphemy. Mr. Javed and Mr. Hassan helped me. We are responsible."

Paul was devastated. He recognized from the sound of his voice that this tape had been made using his confession to Khan after he'd been tortured. He turned and looked into the cold eyes of Khan, who smiled as if recalling a friendly recent conversation. All Paul could remember was the excruciating pain and the humiliation of lying on the floor and betraying his friends.

Clearly, Khan had altered the tape to construct this confession. Paul had used the names of Hassan and Javed. He said they had filed a lawsuit against the blasphemy law. Paul had accepted sole responsibility for this action. But Khan had rearranged the words on the tape. All at once Paul remembered his dream. The other person he had seen descending the steps from heaven was Khan! He was sure now. But what could that mean?

"I protest against this evidence," he said plaintively. He knew there was no hope. But he couldn't remain silent. "I'm being framed."

The presiding judge motioned to the two men who had brought Paul into the room, and they quickly came forward and tied a cloth across his mouth. Then they pulled him to his feet, slipped handcuffs over his hands and restraints on his ankles with a chain connecting the two. The men held him erect as the three robed officers of the Security Forces stood. "This court finds you guilty of blasphemy under the laws of Pakistan," the presiding judge said, "and sentences you to death."

Paul felt his body slump in the arms of the two men, who continued to hold him tightly. He felt like he was going to throw up. He struggled to clear his mind and get control of his legs. He heard his chains clanking as he was forced to shuffle slowly toward the door. One of the men he passed spit on him and another kicked him in the groin. He doubled over in pain, fighting to keep his balance, as he moved slowly down the hall to a stairs, and then down the steps and through a door into an alley, where two cars were parked one behind the other. He was shoved into the back seat of the first car. The men who had brought him down got in on both sides of him. Khan got into the front seat, and the driver started the car.

As the car began to move, Paul saw in the rearview mirror in front of him that a tall man had stepped out of the second car. He was making a motion with his hand that almost looked like the sign of a cross. But that couldn't be. What Christian could possibly be blessing him while he was taken away to be killed! He strained to see more clearly the figure receding in the mirror. He couldn't see the face, but the light reflecting on the white hair told him who it was. Rawlings!

Maybe there never was a deal, Paul thought. Rawlings could just have been tricking him, so he would play along. But why do that? Rawlings had said a doctor would come to get him, and that hadn't happened. No, Rawlings must have offered him a genuine deal. But when Paul refused, then he had agreed to this plan to get rid of him. How could a man who had been a Christian bishop for decades do such a thing? How could he consent to this injustice?

Paul looked at the back of Khan's neck. Khan and Rawlings were together in his dream. It was as though he knew of their plan but hadn't understood it. He recalled what Caiaphas, the chief priest in Jerusalem, was reported to have said in the gospel stories about the death of Jesus. "It is better that one man die than that an entire people be put in jeopardy." That was why Rawlings had turned against him. He thought it was best for the Christian community in Pakistan that Paul be eliminated.

Sweat was pouring from his armpits and down his sides, yet his mouth was dry. His face felt flushed, and he was having difficulty focusing his eyes. Paul leaned over for a moment, trying to clear his head. He didn't want to be a martyr. He didn't deserve to be a martyr. He wanted to live.

It was dark. He saw that the car was moving out of the city towards the low hills that surrounded Islamabad. Paul found his voice. He tried to speak through the gag. He had to know if that was Rawlings in the car behind them at the prison."

As he became aware of Paul's muffled voice, Khan turned his head slightly and ordered one of the men to untie the gag.

Paul panted for a moment before asking. "Did Bishop Rawlings betray me?"

Khan laughed. "So, you recognized him? There are many Christians who believe your activities are not in their best interest, Fr. Paul. Bishop Rawlings is one of the more influential ones. Others have been helpful in surveillance and in trying to dissuade you. Remember the hand grenade that was thrown into your mission? It was intentionally a dud. It was just meant to scare you. Do you know who threw it?"

Paul hated even to think about one of those close to him doing that. They must have gotten to someone who would be near the mission and not arouse suspicion on the street. It might have been one of the drug addicts.

"It might have been any of a number of persons, but we selected Philip," Khan said. " He was the easiest to bribe. Only thirty Rupees, just enough for a fix that day. You thought he was coming to church regularly because he was breaking his habit. But he was keeping an eye on you for us."

Paul felt despair clawing at his mind. He realized that he'd been outmaneuvered all the time. How could he have been so naive!

The car was slowing now and headed up a hill. Soon it stopped and the men forced Paul outside. He smelled smoke, the acrid smoke of the city dump. Christ! They were going to bury him in the burning garbage of the city. His body began to shake uncontrollably, as fear and nausea gripped him.

At the top of the hill a number of men were huddled together in front of a large dead tree. Paul was dragged into the midst of them. Two of the men with hoods over their heads stood side by side, their hands and feet also secured with chains. One was a large man, the other quite small. As a hood was dropped over his head, Paul whispered, "Who's here? Who's about to die with me?" From the large man on his right he heard the muffled reply, "It's me, Paul, and Hassan. They've cut out his tongue, so he can't answer you." Paul recognized Javed's voice. It was just as he had dreamed. He, Javed and Hassan were going to go together.

Paul felt himself being lifted up onto something and then the pain of a noose being tightened around his neck. He could hear Javed and Hassan being secured on either side of him.

Javed had begun to pray. La ilaha illal Lah; Muhammadur Rasulullah. "There is no god but God, and Muhammad is God's prophet." Javed repeated this prayer again and again, clearly determined to die with the name of God on his lips. Listening to the sound of Javed's Arabic chant, Paul realized that he only had a moment before his own death. What should he say? What should he pray? He recalled the last words of the first martyr, Stephen, who prayed for forgiveness for those stoning him to death. Paul knew he should forgive these men from the Special Forces, Khan and the guards who had tortured him, even Rawlings and Philip who had betrayed him. But he couldn't. He prayed instead that God might forgive him for his hardness of heart.

The gospels of Mark and Matthew record that on the cross Jesus cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me." That was how Paul felt. But the crowd below Jesus could have understood that he was quoting the first verse of Psalm 22 and thus invoking the entire psalm, which ends with praise and commitment to God. If Paul were to say these same words, however, his witnesses would think he had lost his faith.

As he heard the men standing below mock the three of them by formally reading their sentences, Paul realized that a Christian prayer said aloud here would fall on deaf ears. They expected him to pray in the name of Jesus for God's intercession, because that's what priests do. It wouldn't mean anything special to any of those witnessing this sordid crime. But what could he possibly say that would express his faith to the men, who were about to kill him? The image of climbing Jacob's ladder with Javed and Hassan flashed into his mind, and suddenly he felt words come to him-as they sometimes did when he was preaching. At once, he joined with Javed in chanting in Arabic, La ilaha illal Lah. Then keeping the same rhythm, as Javed chanted Muhammadur Rasulullah, Paul chanted, "Alleluia, alleluia!"

"La ilaha illal Lah; Alleluia, alleluia!" Paul sang. "There is no god but God; praise God, praise God." For a moment the voices of Javed and Paul rang out clearly together, uniting for one phrase and separating for the second, then uniting again and separating. There was resonance between the two voices, the one a deep baritone and the other a high tenor. And, although the words varied in the second phrase, the rhythm was the same and the sound was harmonious. Even those gathered below them paused for a moment, as if struck by what they were hearing. But the voices of Javed and Paul were suddenly cut short, when the boxes on which the three men stood were kicked out from beneath their feet. The chains on their hands and feet rattled briefly, as their muscles quivered and strained against the inevitable suffocation. Then, there was only silence.