THE three elderly partners in Magi Consulting Ltd halted their convoy of SUVs and listened to the eerie silence of the midwinter desert somewhere in the Middle East. They had long since swapped their beloved camels for black Toyota 4x4s, the standard mode of transport in the Middle East of the 21st century. Camels were picturesque but lacked aircon and a decent GPS.

The trio of friends – referred to in the Wall Street Journal as “the Three Wise Men” – ran an international forecasting consultancy, with offices in London, New York and the Gulf States. They were paid big bucks to predict Black Swan events of the sort that turn markets upside down. Melchior was Iranian while Caspar hailed from Jaipur in India. Balthazar was from the Aramaic-speaking Assyrian minority in Iraq. Besides being forecasters, the Three Wise Men dabbled in the global commodities market – trading chiefly in gold, frankincense and myrrh futures.

They were on a deeply personal mission, which explained their risky venture into the Middle East. Lately, the new (and so far unpublished) 10.2 version of their acclaimed Astrology and Portents forecasting software had been yielding bizarre results that troubled the Three Wise Men. None of the usual algorithms was producing meaningful results. Politicians and bankers were doing crazy things.

For instance, the Saudi princes were deliberately pumping more oil than the world market needed, pushing the price of a barrel of petroleum to below $35 dollars.

“It’s their way of hurting the Persians and Russians while reminding the Americans that expensive fracked oil won’t provide energy security,” mused Balthazar.

“True,” replied Caspar. “But the Saudi regime is cutting off its nose to spite its face. It had to liquidate $90 billion of foreign investments in 2015 just to pay its bills. That included £1.5bn in arms purchases from Britain this year to use against Iran’s allies in Yemen. Cheap oil is bankrupting the Saudis.”

“It’s the Americans who are confusing me,” mused the normally taciturn Melchior. “Global inflation has dropped to levels not seen since the Great Depression in the thirties. This year is the first since 1932 that inflation is below two per cent in every economy in the G7. Yet the Yanks have just put up interest rates. Are they trying to kick-start a new recession?”

Casper shook his head: “If you want a real example of economic lunacy, look at the UK.”

Caspar had a degree from the LSE in London and took an interest in British affairs. “Chancellor Osborne wants to run a permanent budget surplus. That means always taxing more than you spend. Which means pension funds won’t be able to buy safe Treasury securities because the Treasury won’t borrow. So where will pension money go? Into an inflated housing market?”

The trio lapsed into meditation as a jet aircraft roared overhead, followed by an explosion a few miles away. Balthazar inspected the results through night-vision goggles. “Could be anybody’s – Russian, US, Israeli, Saudi, Assad’s, Turkish, French. The skies over Syria are pretty crowed these days. Might even be the Brits now they’ve joined in.”

“Do the British have much of an air force?” asked Melchior. “They are ranked 18th in the world by the number of their attack planes and 27 by the number of their fighters,” chimed Balthazar, who was a geek. “And the RAF’s Tornadoes are so old the cockpits still have dials. But don’t worry. George Osborne has just agreed to buy lots of new American fighters and patrol aircraft. It’s his idea of boosting exports – American exports.”

More bombs went off, though closer than before. The trio of Wise Men began to feel a little uncomfortable. Casper was the first to speak: “The British defence minister, Michael Fallon, says that the RAF never ever hits civilian targets, even by accident. He went to prep school outside Dunfermline and to St Andrews University to study ancient history, so he must know what he is talking about.” Casper’s voice sounded a trifle nervous.

“Don’t the RAF have a long way to fly from Britain to hit Syria?” asked Melchior, more to himself than the others. But Casper, ready to show his knowledge, replied: “Actually, the RAF planes fly from Cyprus where the Brits have kept a sovereign territory at Akrotiri, the same way the Americans have Guantanamo on Cuba. In fact, David Cameron just offered to let French planes use Akrotiri to bomb Syria. Don’t think he bothered to ask the Cypriots, though.”

“But how do the RAF Tornados get from Cyprus to Syria?” asked Melchior. “They can’t go straight into Syria, otherwise they’d risk overflying Russian and Assad missile batteries on the Syrian coast? I suppose the Israelis might let them transit…” Everyone contemplated the geography question in silence till dawn came up suddenly, revealing a scarred landscape.

Coming towards them was an elderly man accompanied by a very young women rising on a donkey. As the couple drew closer, it was obvious that the girl was heavily pregnant and close to term. They might have been Jewish. Or again, Kurds, Yazidis, Armenians, Turkmen, Circassians, Mandaeans, or a dozen other minority ethnic and religious communities uprooted by the turmoil in the Middle East.

“We should offer them water and food,” suggested Balthazar, who still respected traditional rules of hospitality. “Let’s be cautious,” murmured Caspar. “Suicide bombers come in many disguises, these days. What do you think, Melchior?” Melchior recommended speaking to the couple, who – on closer inspection – looked weary and a threat to no-one.

“My name is Joseph,” the man explained. “I’m a construction engineer. This is Miriam, my wife. We are refugees. Our home is under occupation and we are seeking somewhere safe for Miriam’s child to be born. We’ve had to avoid any number of insurgent groups, foreign fighters, militia, freedom fighters, jihadists, and interventionists. All are claiming to represent the truth though I strongly suspect that their truth lies mostly in a numbered Swiss bank account. I desperately need to find a bed for Miriam. She is due any time now. Unfortunately, our SUV and luggage were destroyed in an air strike last night.”

The Three Wise Men were deeply affected by the plight of Miriam and Joseph but perplexed as to how they could help. It was Balthazar who came up with the answer: “Listen, guys. We know the Middle East, from which we’ve made a fortune out of predicting oil prices, is now a complete mess. This is the result of Western greed, the piracy of local gangsters like the Assad family, and naked power struggles thinly disguised as religion. As a result, hundreds of thousands have died in Oil Wars while millions upon millions are refugees. We can’t help all these people. But we can certainly help one refugee family.”

So the trio helped Miriam and Joseph find a room – the underground garage of a bombed-out hotel. When Miriam’s son was born that night, Caspar got worried he could see a light in the sky from a drone aircraft, prospecting another air strike. “Don’t worry,” advised Balthazar. “That’s not a drone. The light you see is a Star heralding the Prince of Peace.”