Tamika felt utterly lonely and desperately alone. With those who mattered most to her no longer around, why remain alive on this evil, heartless planet without them? She was barely hanging on.
But who could she talk to at this late hour? It’s not like she had dozens of friends at her beck and call to confide in. Aside from her ex-husband, Isaac, whom she knew was a door best left closed, there was Craig Rubin from Mitzi’s Deli and Nila Mirano—her Filipino college friend she’d kept in touch with on occasion.
Unlike Tamika, Nila went on to earn a nursing degree and was quickly hired at Presbyterian Hospital in Lower Manhattan. As the years passed, she slowly rose up through the ranks until she became the hospital’s general nurse practitioner.
Had Tamika not gotten pregnant in her sophomore year, perhaps she, too, would have that same elite title at a different hospital. This was something else to lament over, especially since the two reasons Tamika didn’t have a nursing degree to begin with were both gone.
In fairness to Brian Mulrooney and Charles Calloway, Tamika knew she could call them any time she wanted. Both were generous with their time. The problem was that all talk was centered on the Word of God. She didn’t need them to constantly remind her that her days on Earth were numbered, that no one lived forever in their earthly bodies.
Tamika knew death was a certainty from which there was no escape. More days than not, it sounded like a comforting proposition. The only thing still keeping her alive were thoughts of Jamal and Dante. She wanted to believe what Brian and Charles kept pounding into her head that she still had a chance of seeing her two sons and mother again on the other side.
All she had to do was trust in Jesus...
On one hand, everything they’d told her since their paths crossed about the Bible coming to pass before their very eyes, was starting to make more and more sense; the signs were all around them! And good looking or not, something about Salvador Romanero gave Tamika the creeps!
On the other hand, the distraught woman still couldn’t brush aside her skepticism, negativity and bitterness and accept the Bible as complete Truth. She had no trouble believing certain parts, but all of it?
Then again, if it was 100 percent true, it would cancel out all other religious beliefs. But in order to come to that conclusion, Tamika Moseley needed to see or hear something with her own two eyes and ears, without anyone else’s involvement.
Then maybe, just maybe, she would embrace the Bible as the inspired Word of God. She would also embrace the Rapture theory. But until that time came along, if it came along, Tamika Moseley would remain confused and paralyzed with doubt.
For now, Charles’ and Brian’s words were just that—words! Words she was barraged with on a daily basis from both men.
Tamika appreciated their interest in her well-being and all, she really did, but it had gotten to where she no longer wanted to answer their phone calls.
Why answer, only to be reminded again that, despite what had already happened, she hadn’t seen anything yet, that more people would die in the next seven years than at any other time in history?
Who wanted to hear news like that? Certainly not her!
Yet, according to the two of them, Christian or not, billions more would soon perish from the face of the Earth. No one was guaranteed to still be alive when Jesus came back to rule Planet Earth as King of kings and Lord of lords.
They kept warning that if she died in her sins without first bowing down to the Lordship of Jesus Christ, she’d be sentenced to eternal damnation and transferred to a place infinitely worse than her current lot in life.
Even worse, she’d be forever separated from Jamal and Dante. That alone was enough to suck the very life out of her body.
Tamika wanted to believe she could be saved and forgiven her many sins in life. It sounded so comforting. But it also sounded too good to be true—believe in Jesus and be saved.
She still wasn’t convinced. Besides, she was still angry with Whoever, whatever, had stolen her mother and two children from her last November.
If it was God, why would she want to pray to Him after He destroyed her life the way He had? And why would He listen to her cry for help anyway? Why would He care?
Apparently, she was still on His bad list.
“Bless and keep me,” Tamika scoffed, turning on her side. “What a joke!”
Little did she know the Most High God was about to get her attention in a very big way...
8
CHARLES CALLOWAY WOKE THE following morning to find Clayton Holmes and Travis Hartings in the living room, laptops turned on, having a video conference with a man of Asian descent.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Calloway said softly, so he wouldn’t startle them.
“Good morning,” both men said in unison, without diverting their eyes from their computer screens.
“There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen,” Travis Hartings said. “Grab a cup, then come join us.”
Charles did as he was instructed and took a seat next to Travis.
Pointing to his computer screen, Hartings whispered, “That’s Doctor Lee Kim from Korea. One of the smartest minds on the planet. He’s an MIT graduate and world-renowned mathematician and physicist. He’s our lead IT developer.”
Charles nodded and took a sip of his coffee.
“You can continue, Doctor Kim,” Hartings said.
“With so many Christians being persecuted, worldwide, it’s just a matter of time before the moving of information electronically, from A to B, will be our only mode of spreading the Gospel to the outside world. With that in mind, we’ll need to remain on the cutting edge of technology to hopefully keep all transmissions sent and received free from the enemy.”
“Where do we stand at present?”
“For now, Clayton, I’ve developed a program which will cause all e-mails sent to ETSM headquarters to be channeled and filtered through dozens of scrambled cyberspace locations, before ever reaching us.”
“ETSM?” Charles queried.
“Tell you later,” Hartings whispered back to him.
“As an added security measure, as more and more people join the organization, I think all e-mails sent to anyone representing the ETSM should first be checked by someone at the top, for possible security breaches, before being forwarded to intended recipients.”
Clayton Holmes leaned up in his seat. “I agree.”
“Once the email has been replied to, it will once again require clearance from the top, before bouncing around in cyberspace again like a ball in a pinball machine. In short, the same process will repeat itself, only in reverse, until the original sender receives it.”
“Will this cause a delay?” Hartings asked.
“Yes, of course,” Lee Kim replied. “Perhaps a few minutes. Suffice it to say we’ll need many trusted e-mail readers on staff.”
“Are you sure it will work?”
“All we can do is hope and pray, Clayton. Now, regarding encryption, my staff is adding a few more digits to the public and private keys, as we speak, to keep the enemy further at bay. So long as Romanero doesn’t find a way to factor our prime numbers, they won’t be able to read our encrypted e-mails and text messages. At least for the time being.”
“Prime numbers?”
“Yes, Travis. Encryption is all about numbers and their length. The strongest systems are based on asymmetric public key cryptology. It’s the one thing that makes electronic transmissions safe and thus viable.”
“Can you be more specific? You know, in layman’s terms?”
“The standard public key is typically a very large prime number usually hundreds of digits long. The private keys are usually much smaller than that. The only way our members can r
ead what’s being sent is by unlocking both the public and private keys.
“Example: fifty may be the public key and five and ten could be the private keys. The public key is called that because, well, it’s public, meaning anyone can access it. But only those who know the private keys can read our transmissions.
“The way it’s presently set up, it would take a billion PCs several thousands of years to figure out the two factors. Even so, we can never be too sure. With computers getting faster all the time, encryption standards are always being ratcheted upward.
“Hence, our need to occasionally add a few more digits. But if someone figures a shortcut to factoring our prime numbers, or if a mole ever infiltrates our organization, no electronic transmission will be safe, and the ETSM will cease to exist, at least electronically.”
“Thanks for the update, Lee. Sounds promising.”
“For our sake, it had better be.”
“I’m tellin’ you,” Clayton Holmes said, downing the rest of the coffee in his mug. “We’ll get back to you later today.”
The conference ended and Holmes and Hartings powered down their laptops. The three men adjourned to the living room.
“Where’s Braxton?”
“Doing what he does best, Charles, spying on someone for us. He should be back in an hour or so to take you back to Atlanta. And don’t worry, your vehicle’s still safe.”
“Good to know.” Charles felt no need to inquire as to how they knew.
Hartings said, “Before you go, let’s pick up where we left off last night. Do you still remember?”
“How could I forget? You were saying how you must somehow find a way to turn the blessing of having so many people in your database into an advantage.”
“Precisely. It’s with that in mind that we’re in the process of forming an international group of believers that we intend to call the End Times Salvation Movement; ETSM for short.”
“Ooh, I like the sound of that!”
“It’s been in the works for two months now. The plan’s to meet next month. By invitation only. Hundreds of carefully chosen volunteers are working around the clock, even as we speak, to make it possible, including some of the brightest scientists and physicists on the planet.”
Calloway took a mouth full of coffee. “I like the way you gentlemen think.”
Hartings smiled. In his cultured southern accent, he said, “Praise God, thousands have already expressed interest in attending. But only those having particular dreams like you had will be invited. Once this has been established, by them, not us, and they’ve been properly vetted, a five-thousand dollar cash commitment will be required in order to attend.
“The only exceptions will be for those living in third-world countries. Our goal is to raise one-hundred million dollars next month for the start-up of our organization. Lord willing...”
“I’m intrigued. Where will the meeting take place?”
“Multiple locations, Charles. Two hundred and fifty worldwide, to be precise; twelve here in America. Each has been chosen solely for geographical purposes. The only location anyone will have any knowledge of will be the location they’ve been invited to attend. But not until the day of the meeting. Everyone will receive encrypted text messages telling them to proceed to that location immediately without drawing the attention of others.”
“Very wise of you,” Calloway said.
Clayton Holmes leaned up in his seat. “We can never be too careful, Charles. If by chance a mole infiltrates one of our meeting locations posing as a believer, by only knowing one location, chances are good the other locations will be safe.
“ETSM security guards will be fully armed to the teeth with non-lethal weaponry. Only they won’t wear combat fatigues. Nor will they stand guard out in the open. Too risky. Having a bunch of armed guards patrolling various churches and other locations might generate unwanted suspicion at some point. Passersby might wonder what was going on and phone calls would be made. Some locations might be investigated as a result. Definitely not good!
“To avoid all that,” Holmes said, “some guards will masquerade as homeless people, so long as it doesn’t cause others to loiter the premises as well. Other ETSM guards will be camped out in adjacent buildings or in windowless cargo vans, monitoring things with the highest surveillance technology known to man.
“The rest will monitor things from connecting buildings wherever possible. If a situation arises next month and someone needs to be turned away from one of our locations, that person will be met by a non-weapon carrying, plain-clothes or homeless-looking guard and told there’s a private service going on inside.
“If push ever comes to shove and hostility breaks out, there will always be seven or eight guns trained on the situation in doubt, and the potential troublemaker won’t have a chance. Anyone who won’t leave the premises after being asked very nicely to, will feel the effects of a tranquilizer dart. It won’t kill the subject, but it will knock them out for a few hours.”
Holmes shifted in his seat. “Killing a subject will never be an option. Even if some of our own are slain in the line of duty, which we can’t rule out, we’ll never retaliate by taking out the assailant. Once the subject has been knocked out by the poisonous dart, our guards will move them to an undisclosed location until they come to. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
Clayton nodded for Travis to take over, “As exciting as next month’s meeting promises to be, it’ll be equally unnerving. With thousands of believers gathered worldwide—above ground and underground—we can’t be too careful. Especially since each location will be linked by satellite at various intervals, as we share plans that’ll hopefully keep some of us alive in the next seven years.
“We know we’re taking a huge risk by attempting something so bold. But it’s a risk we feel we must take. As an added security measure, top-secret plans won’t be discussed at that time. With so much at stake, trust will come hard. Since everyone invited will have had dreams, we feel protected for now. But as we keep growing, that could all change if we ever get sloppy.” Hartings sighed. “One spy, one loose cannon could potentially bring us to our knees. Many are praying, literally without ceasing, that this will never happen.”
Hartings crossed his right leg over his left. “Now, if everything goes according to plan, we expect more than twenty-thousand people to attend. Some locations will have as little as ten members. Others will have several hundred.
“In order to accomplish this monumental task, so much still needs to be done. We’re relying on God’s divine guidance and intervention every step of the way. Lord willing, everything’ll go as planned.”
The front door opened. It was Braxton Rice.
“What can I say? Count me in!” Calloway said, still trying to wrap his mind around the hugeness of it all. “When would you like my five grand?”
“We’ll let you know,” Travis said. “For now, have a safe trip back to Atlanta. Give it to them straight on Sunday. Don’t hold back on anything, except of course, for our little meeting.”
Charles rose to his feet, “Mum’s the word, gentlemen. I will not betray your trust.”
“We believe you, Charles,” Travis Hartings said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here now.”
“We’ll be in touch,” Clayton Holmes said. “Until then, keep fighting the Good Fight. Pray for us as we pray for you. God is with us.”
Calloway smiled. Ahh, those words again! “I’ll be praying for all of you without ceasing from this moment on.”
“Likewise, Charles,” Braxton Rice said.
At that, the three men shook hands, and Calloway grabbed his suitcase and followed Braxton Rice out to the white van.
9
TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE SIGNING<
br />
PRESIDENT JEFFERSON DANFORTH LOOKED out the window of the Oval Office and slumped his shoulders. The world was passing him by with blinding speed and there was nothing he could do to slow down the life train just enough to hop back on board.
Nor did it seem he was invited.
Just a few short months ago his Presidency was fully intact. His approval numbers were respectable, and he was thoroughly enjoying being America’s highest civil servant.
When times were good, there was no better job in all the world than being President of the United States.
For Jefferson Danforth, the ego-stroking started the moment he woke up. There was nothing like receiving thick briefing intelligence books that were published the night before, and personally delivered to the Oval Office each morning by his national security advisers. He did have the option of receiving this information electronically, but never exercised that option.
The overwhelming feeling of holding “top secret” intel books in his hands never ceased to fill him with a level of invincibility he never felt prior to becoming President.
Then there was having his own airplane, a 747 that stretched out longer than even the White House. Air Force One was, by far, the most technically sophisticated aircraft ever built.
Equipped with an electromagnetic skin, if trouble arose anywhere in the world, the aircraft could shield off strong nuclear impulses, allowing the President to remain on Air Force One indefinitely and maintain the continuity of government.
Not only could the aircraft be refueled in mid-air as often as was needed, there was a fully functional health facility on board, with several pints of the President’s own blood, just in case. The President’s personal doctor also traveled with him.
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