Excerpt
PROLOGUE THEY BURNED INCENSE on the runway. The plane hadn't even touched down yet, but the smoke was already rising. In Kingston, Jamaica, tens of thousands waited like disciples at the edge of a new gospel, their eyes fixed skyward. Children climbed telephone poles. Women wept. Dreadlocked men held banners that read “God is Coming” — and they meant it. When the door opened, a lion stepped out. Not literally, of course. But it might as well have been. The man who emerged wore a dark military coat, adorned with medals and golden cords. His beard was silvered, his eyes calm and deep. The moment his foot hit the tarmac, the crowd surged forward — screaming, crying, collapsing. Rastafari, they...