by Tim LaHaye
Sahib nodded. “Yes, Mr. Mazda.”
“Your handgun, please.”
Sahib produced a .44 revolver.
Mainyu Mazda hefted it and turned it over in his hands. “My old friend and I are twenty thousand Nicks apart, and he is the solution. What is the bounty on unmarked citizens again, Sahib?”
“Twenty thousand.”
“That makes fifty. And we don’t even have to do the job.”
He pointed the barrel between Albie’s eyes and pulled the trigger.
________
Her cell, Chloe thought, was in a strange location. It consisted of a cage in the corner of a larger room. A metal shelf protruded from the wall. Her bed, she imagined. And a combination sink and toilet stood in plain sight. It was what wasn’t there that concerned her.
Nothing was movable or removable. There wasn’t so much as a toilet seat, a blanket, or a pillow. No reading material. Nothing.
Faint from hunger, Chloe crawled onto the shelf and lay on her side, facing the door. She was supported by woven strips of metal about four inches wide that might have given a bit if she weighed a hundred more pounds. Not even the formerly ubiquitous Nigel was anywhere to be seen. The outer room was bright enough, the sun streaming through the windows and bars. But the room was otherwise drab, all tile and linoleum and steel in institutional greens.
Chloe wanted to call out, to tell someone she was hungry, but her pride overcame her discomfort. She sat up quickly when she heard the door open, and a man in a custodial-type uniform hurried in. Cleaning bottles hung from his belt next to his cell phone. He carried a rag and had another in his back pocket.
“Oh, hi,” he said. “Didn’t know we had somebody in custody.”
“You’re not supposed to,” she said, dying to be charming.
“Pardon?”
“I just wandered in here. Locked myself in like an idiot.”
He laughed, a smile radiating. “And you had the bad fortune of wearing a jumpsuit today that makes you look like an inmate too.
Unlucky.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” she said.
“Maybe they locked you up for your taste in clothes, huh?”
“Must have.”
“Well, I’m just getting a bucket over here. Best of luck to ya.”
“Thanks.”
He grabbed a bucket from the corner under a suspended TV set and headed back toward the door. Then he stopped and turned on his heel. “They gave you your phone call, didn’t they?”
“Oh, sure. I’ve been treated like a queen. I called Santa Claus.”
He set the bucket down and moved to within a few feet of the cage. He looked over his shoulder at the door, then turned back and lowered his voice. “No, I’m serious. That’s the one thing I don’t
like here. I mean, people get what they deserve, not taking the mark and all, like you. I’m not so naïve as to think there’d still be a trial for that after all these years, but what ever happened to one phone call? I mean, this is still America, isn’t it?”
“Not the one I remember.”
“Me either. Hey, you wanna make a phone call?”
“What?”
“You gotta promise not to tell. I’d be in a lot of trouble.”
“What, with your phone?”
“Sure. Here.” He slid it from his belt and angled it so it would fit between the wires of the cage. “But just one, and you gotta make it quick. Then hide it. Or slide it across the floor like I dropped it or something. I’ll come back for it in a while.”
“You’re serious?”
“Sure. What’s the harm? Go ahead. Knock yourself out. Pretty little thing like you. I’ll be back.”
Chloe’s hands shook as she went to a corner with her back to the door. How dumb do they think I am? Thing probably doesn’t even work, and if it does, not from here. She didn’t care. It was worth a try. She had to talk with someone. She didn’t dare risk calling the safe house, assuming this was a setup and that any call would be traced.
Chloe dialed her dad’s phone number. He had to be back in Petra by now.
________
Rayford had awakened Krystall in the palace yet again. “I’ve been thinking about your request,” he said.
“My request?”
“For eyes.”
“Don’t play with me.”
“No, it kept working on me, and I might just know of a pair you could use. You remember, just before you and I spoke, someone opened the door, then shut it again and ran off?”
“How could I forget? That’s when you scared the life out of me.”
“He’s a believer too, and he can see in New Babylon.”
“I’m listening.”
“I might be able to talk him into coming back and helping you when everyone else is gone. He can tell you where stuff is, do all sorts of things for you.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“There might be things in the files I’d like to know about.”
“More than you know.”
“See? He helps you for a few days, or for however long you want, and you give him access to things that might help me. Deal?”
“What’s in it for him?”
“I’ll take care of that. In fact, I’ll call him right now and see if I can set it up. Well, I’ll call him tomorrow. No sense waking him.”
“No, why should I be the only one up at this hour?”
“Sorry.” Rayford heard a tone that told him he had a call coming in. “Hang on just a second, Krystall.” He checked the caller ID. A San Diego area code, but a number he didn’t recognize. “I’d better take this. If I can get this deal arranged, I’ll have the guy call you.”
He punched his call button twice, ending one call and picking up the other. “Steele here.”
“Daddy, it’s me.”
“Chloe!”
“Please, just listen. You still have that record feature on your phone?”
“Yes, but—”
“Turn it on right now. Do it. Did you? Is it on?”
“Yes, but—”
“I know this call is being traced and your phone is going to be useless after this, but I couldn’t call anyone else. I’m in the San Diego GC jail, and they’re trying to bargain with me to get to the others. Tell Buck and Kenny I love them with all my heart and that if I don’t see them again before heaven, I’ll be waiting for them there. Dad, this was all my fault, but I was jogging within thirty miles of our place and, oh, listen, I just wanted to tell you that I’m all right for now. I’ve just been sitting here reminiscing about that wonderful trip you and Mom and I took to Colorado when I was five or six. Remember?”
“Vaguely. Chloe, listen—”
“Dad, I don’t dare stay on long. It’s important to me that you remember that trip!”
“Honey, that had to be more than twenty years ago. I—”
“It was! But it was so special, and I wish everybody could go there again. If I had one dream, it’s that we could all go there right now, as soon as possible.”
“Chloe—”
“Dad, don’t. You know they have to be listening. Just please give my love to everybody and tell them to pray that I’ll be strong to the end. I will give nothing away. Nothing. And, Dad, think of the Colorado trip so I know we’ll both be thinking of the same thing at the same time. I love you, Dad. Don’t ever forget that.”
“I love you too, honey. I—”
“Bye, Daddy.”
And she was gone.
________
“You’re supposed to be the combat guy, George,” Buck said. “And all you want to talk about is packing.”
“I just want you to know, Buck, that I’m not going to hold you responsible for any mean thing you say to me until Chloe is back safe and sound. Then I’m going to tell on you.”
“Yeah, and she’ll ground you,” Priscilla said.
Buck owed George a smile, and it never ceased to amuse him when Priscilla vainly tried to add to or improve
on her husband’s humor. It was just that Buck’s spirits could not be lifted. His father-in-law had confirmed where Chloe was through his contact at the palace, and the local GC headquarters simply was not a place vulnerable to a raid.
“The best thing we have going for us,” Sebastian said, “is that as soon as they determine who she is, she’s most valuable to them alive.”
Buck knew it was true, but talking about his beloved as a commodity of war left a bad taste.
Late in the afternoon Ming brought Beth Ann Sebastian and Kenny into the workout room. Ree leaped to his feet and uncharacteristically embraced Ming. Buck knew the Chloe situation had sobered him. He wondered if it had even given Ree second thoughts about marriage.
Beth Ann ran back and forth between her parents, showing off.
Kenny, frowning, trudged to Buck and climbed in his lap.
“He didn’t nap,” Ming said.
Buck nodded and held Kenny’s cheek to his chest. “Sleepy, bud?” he said.
Kenny shook his head. “I want Mommy.”
“She’ll be back later.”
The boy closed his eyes.
Buck looked at Priscilla, biting his lip and unable to stanch the tears. “This is the part I’m going to hate,” he mouthed, his chest convulsing. Kenny roused, but Buck tucked the boy’s head under
his chin and wrapped both arms around him, rocking. And weeping.
Priscilla pushed Beth Ann toward her dad and leaned close to Buck. “Don’t you dare give up, Buck. None of us are.”
________
Chloe wanted to call everybody she knew, but she had little question she’d been set up. It had all been too easy. The global positioning system in her father’s phone would tell the GC right where he was. She had assumed Petra, but from the ambient sounds, he was in the air. How long had he and Abdullah been in New Babylon if he was just heading back now? It didn’t compute.
Of course he would have been informed of her disappearance.
Maybe he was on his way home. She only hoped he could get rid of the phone before getting close to California. The last thing she wanted was to lead the GC right to the safe house.
Chloe reached as high as she could and pushed the phone through an opening in the cage. It flew about eight feet before landing on the floor and breaking into pieces. “Oops,” she said.
“And after that nice man entrusted it to me.”
Inside a minute Custodian returned, still dressed the same but this time with no props. No bucket, no cleansers, no rags. No smile either. He knelt to pick up the pieces.
“Thanks for the use of your phone. That was most thoughtful.
Maybe you could smuggle me in a cake with a file in it or get word to my people. Sorry about the damage.”
“That’s all right, doll,” he said, not looking at her. “We got what we needed. Looks like Daddy’s just off the East Coast. Gotta think he’s due to refuel by now. Should be able to alert the most likely airports. You wanna do yourself a favor, work with Jock.
He’s a fair guy. No, he really is. I’m not saying he’s got your best
interests at heart, but he’s a realist. You’ve got what he wants, and he knows that’s going to cost him.”
“Well, then by all means, friend, tell Jock I’m ready to wheel and deal. I’ll give him everything he wants, now that I know he’s fair. I mean, I heard that from you, and I’ve known you long enough to trust you completely.”
“Be as much of a smart aleck as you want, kid. See where it gets ya. Oh, by the way, Nigel’s got your energy bar. Should I tell him you’re hungry?”
Chloe sat on the metal bed. She was famished but still more proud than desperate. “Nah. I had a big breakfast. I couldn’t eat another thing just yet.”
“Maybe some television then.”
“Spare me. I’ve heard enough propaganda to last a lifetime.”
“But it’s time for the news.”
“Oh yes, the eminently objective Global Community News Network. Hey, okay, all right! That’s plenty loud enough!”
He ignored her, leaving the volume up and heading for the door.
“Turn it down, please! Sir?”
“Can’t hear you,” he said. “TV’s too loud.”
Jock must have been choreographing everything. The five o’clock news was just coming on, Anika Janssen anchoring live from Detroit.
“Good evening. Darkness continues to plague Global
Community International Headquarters in New Babylon at this hour. It is confined to the borders of the city and is believed to be an act of aggression on the part of dissidents against the New World Order.
“GC Chief of Security and Intelligence Suhail Akbar spoke with us by phone earlier from the beleaguered capital. In spite of
the turmoil there, he reports good news, constituting our top story tonight.”
“Yes, Anika,” Akbar said, “following months of careful planning and cooperation between the various law-enforcement branches of the Global Community, we are happy to report that a combined task force of crack agents from both our Peacekeeping and Morale Monitor divisions has succeeded in apprehending one of the top-echelon Judah-ite terrorists in the world.
“The arrest was made before dawn today in San Diego after months of planning. I’d rather not go into the details of the operation, but the suspect was disarmed and arrested without incident. Her name is Chloe Steele Williams, twenty-six, a former campus radical at Stanford University in Palo Alto, California, from which she was expelled six years ago after making threats on the lives of the administration.”
“Thank you, Chief Akbar. We have further learned that Mrs.
Williams is the daughter of Rayford Steele, who once served as pilot for Global Community Supreme Potentate Nicolae Carpathia.
He was fired some years ago for insubordination and drinking while on duty, and GC intelligence believes his resentment led to his current role as an international terrorist. He was implicated in the conspiracy to assassinate Potentate Carpathia and is a known associate of former Israeli statesman and now leading Judah-ite Dr.
Chaim Rosenzweig. Both are known to serve on the cabinet of Rabbi Tsion Ben-Judah, head of the Judah-ites, the last holdouts in opposition to the New World Order.
“Mrs. Williams is the wife of Cameron Williams, formerly a celebrated American journalist who also worked directly for the potentate before losing his job due to differences in management style. He edits a subversive cyber and printed magazine with a limited circulation.
“Williams, his wife, and her father are international fugitives in exile, wanted for more than three dozen murders around the world.
Mrs. Williams herself heads a black-market operation suspected of hijacking billions of Nicks’ worth of goods around the world and selling them for obscene profits to others who cannot legally buy and sell due to their refusal to pledge loyalty to the potentate.
“The Williamses, who have amassed a fortune on the black market, have one child remaining after Mrs. Williams apparently aborted two fetuses and an older daughter died under questionable circumstances. The son, whom they have named Jesus Savior Williams, pictured here, is two years old. Acquaintances report that the Williamses believe he is the reincarnation of Jesus Christ, who will one day conquer Nicolae Carpathia and return the globe to Christianity.”
Chloe sat staring at a toddler, clearly not Kenny Bruce, who had a Bible in his lap and wore a tiny T-shirt that read “Kill Carpathia!”
“Chief Akbar reports that his forces traced the leading cell of the Judah-ites in the United North American States to San Diego, where Mrs. Williams was apprehended today. Local GC operatives there say she is already, quote, ‘singing like a bird, offering all kinds of information on her colleagues, including her own family, to avoid a death sentence.’
“Here’s San Diego GCNN reporter Sue West with Colonel
Jonathan ‘Jock’ Ashmore. Sue?”
“Thank you, Anika. Colonel Ashmore, how important would you
say this arrest is?”
“It’s almost inestimable,” Jock said, nervously tugging at his uniform jacket, which came short of covering his middle. “And Mrs. Williams has proved to be the typical terrorist who knows when it’s time to bargain. When the reality hit her that she had been positively identified and we informed her of the
overwhelming charges against her, it was only a matter of minutes before she began offering various deals to save her skin.”
“Are you at liberty to say what some of those might be?”
“Not entirely, though she has already pledged to enroll her son in Junior GC as soon as possible. She did reveal the whereabouts of a low-level Middle Eastern black marketer named Al Basrah, after the Iranian city of the same name.”
“I believe that’s in Iraq, Colonel, but go ahead.”
“What?”
“Al Basrah is in Iraq, sir.”
“Whatever. Anyway, this character shot himself to death rather than be arrested.”
“We are about to show a picture of the dead Al Basrah,” Sue West said, “but we warn you that the picture is very graphic.”
Chloe stood and stared as the photo was displayed. It showed Albie with a black hole between lifeless eyes, a pool of blood behind his head. It was clearly him. But was it real or doctored?
Chloe shouted, “Jock! Jock! Nigel! Get Jock!” Her screams became sobs, and she demanded, “Is that true? I want to know if that’s true! Is Albie dead? Tell me Albie’s not dead!”
But no one came. No one responded. As the TV blared, Chloe slid to the floor, wailing, “God, please! No!”
SEVEN
“GOT ME a friend in Florida,” Mac said. “Jacksonville. Co-op guy. We can refuel there and avoid the normal spots.”
“And I can put this phone under one of the wheels before we take off,” Rayford said. “If they find a mass of metal and plastic on the tarmac, what’re they going to do with it?”
“Wouldn’t you rather drown it? Won’t take but a minute to drop it in the drink.”
“What’m I going to do, Mac, roll down my window and toss it out?”
“Nah. There’s a dandy little thing we used to do in the military when we wanted to drop something from altitude. You stick it in the speed brake well, which is, of course, closed on the ground.