The two leaders would then occupy all seven safe houses, residing at a location for a week or two before secretly being carted off to the next safe house, and almost never together.
At least that was the plan...
Those residing at safe houses in which Holmes or Hartings just happened to be visiting would be strictly prohibited from sharing this crucial information with other ETSM refugees.
Aside from them, only a limited number of ETSM members would ever know the exact whereabouts of their two leaders at any given time. This would never become a topic of debate on any level.
“Good morning, Charles,” Clayton Holmes said, answering his cell phone. “You’re up early.”
It was 11:45 a.m., Jerusalem time. But on the east coast of the United States of America, it was 4:45 in the morning.
“Been awake since three-thirty. Wouldn’t miss this for anything. I’ve heard the term, ‘history’s about to be made’ on numerous occasions, but nothing compares to this.”
“Yeah, but in this case, we can be certain of the outcome even before it happens. There’s no element of the unknown. Now, what happens after the signing is altogether different…” Holmes had no idea how wrong his “no element of the unknown” comment would turn out to be.
“I heard that!”
“Not to cut you off, Charles, but it’s nearly show time. I wanna watch it from start to finish. Let’s touch base after the treaty’s been signed. If not, I’ll see you in Atlanta in the morning.”
“Lord willing, I’ll be there bright and early.”
“I look forward to seeing you again, brother.”
“Same here, Clayton. Call if you need me.”
“Likewise.”
The call ended.
“Hey, Travis, it’s about to begin,” Holmes yelled to his partner.
“Be right there.” Hartings sent an e-mail to Doctor Lee Kim reminding his lead IT man to extend the crimson red shadow on the website homepage from Revelation chapter 6:1 to 6:2, the moment the peace treaty was signed.
“Okay, boss,” came Kim’s quick reply.
Travis rose from his cluttered desk and refilled his coffee cup, then joined Clayton in the living room.
Both had no clue as to what was about to transpire in Israel...
40
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG for the chopper transporting Salvador Romanero to reach Jerusalem. The world watched expectantly as it gently touched down on the Mount of Olives.
Romanero was the first to get out of the chopper. Thunderous applause ensued all throughout Jerusalem.
The Miracle Maker wasted no time mounting a majestic white stallion and slowly descended the Mount of Olives, for the 1.3-mile trek west to the Wailing Wall. His white suit gleamed brilliantly under the bright Middle Eastern sun.
Meanwhile, the Pope was led to an armored limousine and escorted to the holy site. Romanero’s parents rode in a separate limousine and were seated in the front row next to the Pope. UN Secretary-General Li Ping and NATO Secretary-General Jurgen Staat joined them, along with the Prime Minister of Israel.
It was then that the first incoming planes raced above the Holy City at top speed. All were painted a flat midnight black that looked more like primer than paint. Not only that, all identifying registration features—including tail codes and serial numbers—were scrubbed off each plane.
Hmm, what’s this, Romanero thought, craning his neck back to see the aircraft racing overhead. At first, he shrugged it off thinking perhaps it was some sort of miscommunication. Then two more planes flew overhead. Then four more. What in the world?
His entourage were too focused on the massive crowds in front of them to look skyward. But the thunderous sound of jet engines rocking the mid-day air shook each of them to the core.
Salvador Romanero burned with anger. This isn’t part of the plan!
“THOSE AREN’T OUR PLANES,” said a UN radar technician to his NATO counterpart, monitoring the screen before him.
“Whose planes are they then?”
“Don’t know, but I told you security was too lax,” came the reply.
“It was Romanero’s wish that it be this way. You know, for peace and all.”
Suddenly, two UN planes patrolling the skies above Western Jordan, to the east of Israel, fell off the radar screen. “Whoa! Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“Two of mine just fell off radar,” said the UN radar technician, fearfully. “Sound the alarm!”
“Were they shot down?”
The man didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He was too petrified. Dozens of more planes appeared on his radar screen, this time speeding in from the Southwest.
Meanwhile, the NATO radar technician watched five of his own planes patrolling the skies above Egypt vanish from his radar screen. Panic set in. In the blink of an eye, hundreds of enemy warplanes appeared on radar—all headed for the Holy Land!
Not now, thought the UN and NATO Military Air Traffic Controllers. How could this be on the day of the peace treaty signing? They both started hyperventilating.
Thankfully, the Israeli military acted more quickly than their UN and NATO counterparts.
Dozens of Israeli warplanes were already airborne. Dozens more were being prepped for takeoff, armed to the teeth with various weaponry.
Peace treaty or not, Israeli pilots would protect their homeland at all costs. Even if it meant losing their lives, it would be done...
41
“TAKE ROMANERO TO THE fallout shelter at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel at once!” barked an Israeli military commander.
“Come again?” Romanero’s chief security person replied, suddenly anxious.
“Do not bring Romanero to the Western Wall! I repeat, do NOT bring him to the Western Wall! Israel’s about to come under attack! Take him to the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel immediately!”
“Don’t you mean the King David Hotel?”
“No! Have the decoy car go to the King David. Let everyone think Romanero’s there. But take him and the Pope to the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel fallout shelter immediately.”
“Why the Waldorf-Astoria?”
“Just do it!” came the stern reply.
It didn’t take long for the command to reach the ears of the guards protecting Salvador Romanero.
Two men rushed the Miracle Maker and pulled him off of the white horse he was riding on. Both men felt a strong electricity ripping through them, as if they’d been struck by lightning.
“What are you doing?!” Romanero hissed. “Why did you touch me?” His temper went from zero to maximum in the blink of an eye.
“I’m sorry, your Eminence,” one man said, “but we’ve been ordered to take you to the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel at once!”
“Take your hands off of me! Now!”
“I’m sorry, your Eminence, but Israel’s fallen under attack! You must seek shelter. We’re taking you to the Waldorf-Astoria fallout shelter at once.”
“Who gave that order?” Romanero brushed himself off, as if the two men had just contaminated him. His radiant skin suddenly looked ashen. “You shouldn’t have touched me! Especially with the whole world watching!”
“Sorry, your Eminence, but we’re simply following orders. Now please get in the limousine. We must hurry,” the man said. Fear twisted through him.
It wasn’t the words Romanero spoke or the anger behind them that nearly caused both men’s knees to buckle; it was the uneasy energy ripping through them, plus what they saw in their leader’s eyes. Even among the chaos, it was almost enough to stop their hearts from beating.
Hearing more planes flying overhead, the Miracle Maker glared at the two men and grit his teeth. He was amazed at how tight his own fists could clench. “Take me to the Waldorf-Astoria at once,” Romanero grunted, knowing their days were numbered.
They weren’t the only ones...
“Yes, your Eminence.”
Two terror-filled minutes later, Romanero joined the Pope three stories beneath
the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, in a state-of-the-art fallout shelter—under heavy guard—where he would remain until the conflict was over.
Meanwhile, Romanero’s parents were whisked away to the King David Hotel.
Warning sirens roared to life all throughout the Holy Land of Israel.
Again...
42
TRAVIS HARTINGS WAS TAKING a sip of his coffee when the “breaking news” bulletin flashed on the TV screen. ENEMY AIRCRAFT RACING TOWARD ISRAEL! He spit the contents inside his mouth all over himself. What in the world?
His hands started trembling. He placed his cup on the table in front of him to avoid spilling more coffee on himself and shot a desperate glance at his partner. “Why is this happening, Clayton?”
Holmes scratched his head in astonishment. “Not sure. Far as I know, this was supposed to happen after the signing of the peace treaty, not beforehand.”
Their mobile devices roared to life with countless phone calls and text messages from ETSM members. Holmes and Hartings silenced their phones. Now wasn’t the time to provide commentary. Once they had time to absorb it all and process things, they would then share their findings with everyone else.
Clayton Holmes adjusted the volume on the TV and listened carefully with the rest of the world. His stomach churned.
“I’ve just been advised that the Holy Land’s about to be invaded!” the TV reporter announced. Sirens started blaring all throughout the city. The woman had to shout into her microphone in order to be heard. She wasn’t the only one.
Hundreds of reporters on the scene kept breaking away from the camera’s trained eye, to make sure they weren’t in harm’s way. Looking skyward, there was this unmistakable fear in their eyes that their viewers found most unsettling.
The peace that lay thick in the air just a few short moments ago was quickly replaced with unbridled chaos.
News choppers were ordered to land at once, along with all other commercial and private aircraft. Here we go again, was the silent outcry of the masses.
Quick measures needed to be enacted or all hope for peace in the Middle East could be lost again.
Within a matter of minutes, they watched in stunned horror, as bombs started falling from the sky, aimed at key strategic targets in Jerusalem, including the Wailing Wall vicinity where the peace treaty was to be signed.
Bone-crushing explosions were felt all throughout the Holy City. Nearby buildings that weren’t hit shook violently from the impact. Panic ensued.
The many lining the streets, suddenly terror-stricken, dispersed in all directions seeking shelter. Those who were camped out for days hoping to get as close to the Western Wall as possible, now wished they were nowhere near the Holy site.
It didn’t take long before the many bomb shelters dotting the Holy land were full of terrified souls. With no room to spare, most were left to hide in basements, bathrooms and in closets.
They hoped and prayed that someone would say it was all just some crazy drill gone haywire and that everything would soon be fine. That message of assurance never came.
Nearly every window in every building in Jerusalem had people peering skyward, hoping theirs wasn’t the next building to be leveled. They listened and watched and waited in stark terror, with fear etched across their faces. It was spine-tingling eerie.
As missile-laden UN, NATO and Israeli aircraft dominated the skies above Jerusalem, doing all they could to form a perimeter above the city, citizens of Israel felt like they had for far too many decades, fearful of possible destruction. Again.
This time with the eyes of the world fully upon them.
The bombing grew even more fierce. Midnight black enemy planes zigzagged this way and that dropping bombs on Jerusalem, with Psalm 83:4: “Come,” they say, “let us destroy them as a nation, that the name of Israel be remembered no more” painted on them.
Black smoke billowed up as far as the eye could see. Hundreds were killed with each new explosion.
“How could this be?” they cried.
The billions of netizens watching online were stunned into utter silence.
Peacekeeping forces among the crowd were powerless from safeguarding anyone on the ground. Frightened for their lives, many fled the posts they were sworn to protect to seek shelter with everyone else. Some made it. Others didn’t.
The first plane shot down over the Holy Land was a UN fighter jet. It was fired upon by an enemy aircraft, approaching from Lebanon in the north, headed due south toward Israel.
The UN pilot unsuccessfully fired off a round before the air-to-air missile fired at him made a direct hit. His plane exploded on impact, sending what was left of it and himself to the ground, killing many in its wake.
Minutes passed like hours, as horrified onlookers hid beneath cars, buses, trucks and even trees. Even in harm’s way, some were too afraid to take a single step for fear of sudden destruction.
Most of them were killed.
Travis Hartings was desperate to ask his best friend a million questions as to why it was happening, but seeing the perplexed expression on Clayton’s face, he remained silent.
Both men knew this day was fast approaching. They’d been warning the millions of visitors to their website to be prepared for this inescapable time for many months now.
But neither expected anything like this to transpire just moments before the peace treaty signing! It didn’t seem to fit God’s prophetic timetable. Had it happened one minute after the signing, it would be so much easier to explain to everyone else.
Who was behind it all? Clayton Holmes opened his Bible to Ezekiel 38 and 39 and started reading but couldn’t peel his eyes off of the TV screen long enough to concentrate.
Travis Hartings received a text message from Dr. Lee Kim: Shall I extend the crimson red line?
He replied: No. Definitely not!
“ARE YOU WATCHING BRO?” Brian Mulrooney yelled into the phone, in a growing panic. Jacquelyn Swindell was seated on the couch next to him.
“Yes, I am,” said Charles Calloway. “I keep trying to reach Clayton and Travis, but I can’t get a hold of either of them.”
“Their phones must be ringing off the hook by now. Thought this wasn’t supposed to happen until after the signing?”
“You and me both, bro. I’m sure they’ll explain it to us once the dust settles. I’m supposed to meet them tomorrow in Atlanta. Hopefully they’ll know something by then.”
“Not to change the subject, Charles, but have you heard anything from Tamika?”
“I keep calling her, but it goes straight to voice mail each time.”
“Same here. I’m concerned for her. It’s been several days. She never goes more than a day or two without getting back to me. Think she’s okay?”
“Don’t know, bro,” Calloway said. “But if something terrible happened to her, at least we know it is well with her soul.”
“Amen to that. Still, I need to know either way.”
“What about your friend, the one Tamika always sees?”
“Craig Rubin?”
“Yeah.”
“Haven’t heard from him since I gave him the Bible from Justin. It’s like he wants nothing to do with me now.”
“We both know why. Call him. This is an emergency. Perhaps he’ll know how to contact her.”
“Okay.”
“Let me know if you hear anything.”
“I will, bro. You too.”
“You got it. And keep praying for Israel.”
“Absolutely.” Brian’s phone vibrated. “Gotta go. My mother’s calling me.”
“Talk to you later, bro!”
Brian clicked over. “What’s going on over in Israel, Brian?”
“Don’t know, Ma. Far as I know, this sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen until after the peace treaty signing. But I trust that God knows and there’s a definite reason for it.”
“Can you pray for me, son?”
“I always do, Ma. What kind of prayer do you n
eed?”
“For God’s protection. Can you do that for me?”
“Of course!” Sensing God was using this tragic situation to wake up his mother spiritually, Brian’s joy knew no bounds. Open her eyes, Father, as only You can...
PRESIDENT JEFFERSON DANFORTH WAS among the many whose phone calls and text messages were ignored by Clayton Holmes and Travis Hartings.
Deeply confused by what was happening in Israel, he needed the kind of clarification his security team couldn’t provide. Feeling that Holmes and Hartings could point him in the right direction, instead of leaving a voice message, President Danforth arranged to have the two ETSM founders secretly brought to him again.
Until then, come morning, for the first time since becoming President of the United States, Jefferson Danforth would read his thick briefing intelligence books with an open Bible next to them.
43
THE FOLLOWING DAY
THE SKIES ABOVE JERUSALEM were free of aircraft—enemy and friendly alike.
On the week that was intended to usher in peace to a perennially ravaged land, more blood was shed, and more dead bodies were removed from the streets of Jerusalem than during any other time in Israel’s turbulent history.
Much of the city was in shambles. Buildings still smoldered. While most peace-seekers were fortunate to find safe refuge in the nick of time, thousands died trying to escape the chaos, including many of the world’s elite.
Some were killed when the buildings in which they sought shelter were struck by falling bombs. Others were killed by falling debris or by stray gunfire. The damage was severe.
Search and rescue forces combed through debris looking for trapped humans, as cadaver dogs sniffed around for human remains.
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