by Tim LaHaye
Did that make Carpathia innocent? Buck certainly hoped so. He had never in his life wanted to believe more in a person. In the days since the disappearances, he’d hardly had a second to think for himself. The loss of his sister-in-law and niece and nephew tugged at his heart almost constantly, and something made him wonder if there wasn’t something to this Rapture thing. If anybody in his orbit would be taken to heaven, it would have been them.
But he knew better than that, didn’t he? He was Ivy League educated. He had left the church when he left the claustrophobic family situation that threatened to drive him crazy as a young man. He had never considered himself religious, despite a prayer for help and deliverance once in a while. He had built his life around achievement, excitement, and—he couldn’t deny it—attention. He loved the status that came with having his byline, his writing, his thinking in a national magazine. And yet there was a certain loneliness in his existence, especially now with Steve moving on. Buck had dated and had considered escalating a couple of serious relationships, but he had always been considered too mobile for a woman who wanted stability.
Since the clearly supernatural event he had witnessed in Israel with the destruction of the Russian air force, he had known the world was changing. Things would never again be as they had been. He wasn’t buying the space alien theory of the disappearances, and while it very well could be attributed to some incredible cosmic energy reaction, who or what was behind that? The incident at the Wailing Wall was another unexplainable bit of the supernatural.
Buck found himself more intrigued by the “whys and wherefores” story, as he liked to think of it, than even the rise of Nicolae Carpathia. As taken as he was with the man, Buck hoped against hope that he wasn’t just another slick politician. He was the best Buck had ever seen, but was it possible that Dirk’s death, Alan’s death, Eric’s death, and Buck’s predicament were totally independent of Carpathia?
He hoped so. He wanted to believe a person could come along once in a generation who could capture the imagination of the world. Could Carpathia be another Lincoln, a Roosevelt, or the embodiment of Camelot that Kennedy had appeared to some?
On impulse, as the cab crawled into the impossible traffic at JFK, Buck plugged his laptop modem into his cell phone and brought up a news service on his screen. He quickly called up Eric Miller’s major pieces for the last two years and was stunned to find he had written about the rebuilding and improvement in Babylon. The title of Miller’s series was “New Babylon, Stonagal’s Latest Dream.” A quick scan of the article showed that the bulk of the financing came from Stonagal banks throughout the world. And of course there was a quote attributed to Stonagal: “Just coincidence. I have no idea the particulars of the financing undertaken by our various institutions.”
Buck knew that the bottom line with Nicolae Carpathia would have nothing to do with Mwangati Ngumo or Israel or even the new Security Council. To Buck, the litmus test for Carpathia was what he did about Jonathan Stonagal once Carpathia was installed as secretary-general of the United Nations.
Because if the rest of the U.N. went along with Nicolae’s conditions, he would become the most powerful leader in the world overnight. He would have the ability to enforce his wishes militarily if every member were disarmed and U.N. might were increased. The world would have to be desperate for a leader they trusted implicitly to agree to such an arrangement. And the only leader worth the mantle would be one with zero tolerance for a murderous, behind-the-scenes schemer like Jonathan Stonagal.
CHAPTER 20
Rayford and Chloe Steele waited until one-thirty in the afternoon, then decided to head for their hotel. On their way out of the Pan-Con Club, Rayford stopped to leave a message for Hattie, in case she came in. “We just got another message for her,” the girl at the counter said. “A secretary for a Cameron Williams said Mr. Williams would catch up with her here if she would call him when she got in.”
“When did that message come?” Rayford asked.
“Just after one.”
“Maybe we’ll wait a few more minutes.”
Rayford and Chloe were sitting near the entrance when Hattie rushed in. Rayford smiled at her, but she immediately seemed to slow, as if she had just happened to run into them. “Oh, hi,” she said, showing her identification at the counter and taking her message. Rayford let her play her game. He deserved it.
“I really shouldn’t have come to see you,” she said, after being introduced to Chloe. “And now that I’m here, I should return this call. It’s from the writer I told you about. He introduced me to Nicolae Carpathia this morning.”
“You don’t say.”
Hattie nodded, smiling. “And Mr. Carpathia gave me his card. Did you know he’s going to be named People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive?”
“I had heard that, yes. Well, I’m impressed. Quite a morning for you, wasn’t it? And how is Mr. Williams?”
“Very nice, but very busy. I’d better call him. Excuse me.”
Buck was on an escalator inside the terminal when his phone rang. “Well, hello yourself,” Hattie said.
“I am so sorry, Miss Durham.”
“Oh, please,” she said. “Anybody who leaves me in midtown Manhattan in an expensive cab can call me by my first name. I insist.”
“And I insist on paying for that cab.”
“I’m just kidding, Buck. I’m going to meet with this captain and his daughter, so don’t feel obligated to come over.”
“Well, I’m already here,” he said.
“Oh.”
“But that’s all right. I’ve got plenty to do. It was good to see you again, and next time you come through New York—”
“Buck, I don’t want you to feel obligated to entertain me.”
“I don’t.”
“Sure you do. You’re a nice guy, but it’s obvious we’re not kindred spirits. Thanks for seeing me and especially for introducing me to Mr. Carpathia.”
“Hattie, I could use a favor. Would it be possible to introduce me to this captain? I’d like to interview him. Is he staying overnight?”
“I’ll ask him. You should meet his daughter anyway. She’s a doll.”
“Maybe I’ll interview her, too.”
“Yeah, good approach.”
“Just ask him, Hattie, please.”
Rayford wondered if Hattie had a date with Buck Williams that evening. The right thing to do would be to invite her to dinner at his and Chloe’s hotel. Now she was waving him over to the pay phone.
“Rayford, Buck Williams wants to meet you. He’s doing a story and wants to interview you.”
“Really? Me?” he said. “About what?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I suppose about flying or the disappearances. You were in the air when it happened.”
“Tell him sure, I’ll see him. In fact, why don’t you ask him to join the three of us for dinner tonight, if you’re free.” Hattie stared at Rayford as if she had been tricked into something. “Come on, Hattie. You and I will talk this afternoon, then we’ll all get together for dinner at six at the Carlisle.”
She turned back to the phone and told Buck. “Where are you now?” she asked. She paused. “You’re not!” Hattie peeked around the corner, laughed, and waved. Covering the mouthpiece, she turned to Rayford. “That’s him, right there on the portable phone!”
“Well, why don’t you both hang up and you can make the introductions,” Rayford said. Hattie and Buck hung up, and Buck tucked his phone away as he entered.
“He’s with us,” Rayford told the woman at the desk. He shook Buck’s hand. “So you’re the writer for Global Weekly who was on my plane.”
“That’s me,” Buck said.
“What do you want to interview me about?”
“Your take on the disappearances. I’m doing a cover story on the theories behind what happened, and it would be good to get your perspective as a professional and as someone who was right in the middle of the turmoil when it happened.”
What an opportunity! Rayford thought. “Happy to,” he said. “You can join us for dinner then?”
“You bet,” Buck said. “And this is your daughter?”
Buck was stunned. He loved Chloe’s name, her eyes, her smile. She looked directly at him and gave a firm handshake, something he liked in a woman. So many women felt it was feminine to offer a limp hand. What a beautiful girl! he thought. He had been tempted to tell Captain Steele that, as of the next day, he would no longer be just a writer but would become executive editor. But he feared that would sound like bragging, not complaining, so he had said nothing.
“Look,” Hattie said, “the captain and I need a few minutes, so why don’t you two get acquainted and we’ll all get back together later. Do you have time, Buck?”
I do now, he thought. “Sure,” he said, looking at Chloe and her father. “Is that all right with you two?”
The captain seemed to hesitate, but his daughter looked at him expectantly. She was clearly old enough to make her own decisions, but apparently she didn’t want to make things awkward for her dad.
“It’s OK,” Captain Steele said hesitantly. “We’ll be in here.”
“I’ll stash my bag, and we’ll just take a walk in the terminal,” Buck said. “If you want to, Chloe.”
She smiled and nodded.
It had been a long time since Buck had felt awkward and shy around a girl. As he and Chloe strolled and talked, he didn’t know where to look and was self-conscious about where to put his hands. Should he keep them in his pockets or let them hang free? Let them swing? Would she rather sit down or people watch or window-shop?
He asked her about herself and where she went to college, what she was interested in. She told him about her mother and her brother, and he sympathized. Buck was impressed at how smart and articulate and mature she seemed. This was a girl he could be interested in, but she had to be at least ten years younger than he was.
She wanted to know about his life and career. He told her anything she asked but little more. Only when she asked if he had lost anybody in the vanishings did he tell her about his family in Tucson and his friends in England. Naturally, he said nothing about the Stonagal or Todd-Cothran connections.
When the conversation lulled, Chloe caught him gazing at her, and he looked away. When he looked back, she was looking at him. They smiled shyly. This is crazy, he thought. He was dying to know if she had a boyfriend, but he wasn’t about to ask.
Her questions were more along the lines of a young person asking a veteran professional about his career. She envied his travel and experience. He pooh-poohed it, assuring her she would tire of that kind of a life.
“Ever been married?” she asked.
He was glad she had asked. He was happy to tell her no, that he had never really been serious enough with anyone to be engaged. “How about you?” he asked, feeling the discussion was now fair game. “How many times have you been married?”
She laughed. “Only had one steady. When I was a freshman in college, he was a senior. I thought it was love, but when he graduated, I never heard from him again.”
“Literally?”
“He went on some kind of an overseas trip, sent me a cheap souvenir, and that was the end of it. He’s married now.”
“His loss.”
“Thank you.”
Buck felt bolder. “What was he, blind?” She didn’t respond. Buck mentally kicked himself and tried to recover. “I mean, some guys don’t know what they have.”
She was still silent, and he felt like an idiot. How can I be so successful at some things and such a klutz at others? he wondered.
She stopped in front of a gourmet bakery shop. “You feel like a cookie?” she asked.
“Why? Do I look like one?”
“How did I know that was coming?” she said. “Buy me a cookie and I’ll let that groaner die a natural death.”
“Of old age, you mean,” he said.
“Now that was funny.”
Rayford was as earnest, honest, and forthright with Hattie as he had ever been. They sat across from each other in overstuffed chairs in the corner of a large, noisy room where they could not be heard by anyone else.
“Hattie,” he said, “I’m not here to argue with you or even to have a conversation. There are things I must tell you, and I want you just to listen.”
“I don’t get to say anything? Because there may be things I’ll want you to know, too.”
“Of course I’ll let you tell me anything you want, but this first part, my part, I don’t want to be a dialogue. I have to get some things off my chest, and I want you to get the whole picture before you respond, OK?”
She shrugged. “I don’t see how I have a choice.”
“You had a choice, Hattie. You didn’t have to come.”
“I didn’t really want to come. I told you that and you left that guilt-trip message, begging me to meet you here.”
Rayford was frustrated. “You see what I didn’t want to get into?” he said. “How can I apologize when all you want to do is argue about why you’re here?”
“You want to apologize, Rayford? I would never stand in the way of that.”
She was being sarcastic, but he had gotten her attention. “Yes, I do. Now will you let me?” She nodded. “Because I want to get through this, to set the record straight, to take all the blame I should, and then I want to tell you what I hinted at on the phone the other night.”
“About how you’ve discovered what the vanishings are all about.”
He held up a hand. “Don’t get ahead of me.”
“Sorry,” she said, putting her hand over her mouth. “But why don’t you just let me hear it when you answer Buck’s questions tonight?” Rayford rolled his eyes. “I was just wondering,” she said. “Just a suggestion so you don’t have to repeat yourself.”
“Thank you,” he said, “but I’ll tell you why. This is so important and so personal that I need to tell you privately. And I don’t mind telling it over and over, and if my guess is right, you won’t mind hearing it again and again.”
Hattie raised her eyebrows as if to say she would be surprised, but she said, “You have the floor. I won’t interrupt again.”
Rayford leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, gesturing as he spoke. “Hattie, I owe you a huge apology, and I want your forgiveness. We were friends. We enjoyed each other’s company. I loved being with you and spending time with you. I found you beautiful and exciting, and I think you know I was interested in a relationship with you.”
She looked surprised, but Rayford assumed that, had it not been for her pledge of silence, she would have told him he had a pretty laid-back way of showing interest. He continued.
“Probably the only reason I never pursued anything further with you was because I didn’t have any experience in such things. But it was only a matter of time. If I had found you willing, I’d have eventually done something wrong.” She furrowed her brow and looked offended.
“Yes,” he said, “it would have been wrong. I was married, not happily and not successfully, but that was my fault. Still, I had made a vow, a commitment, and no matter how I justified my interest in you, it would have been wrong.”
He could tell from her look that she disagreed. “Anyway, I led you on. I wasn’t totally honest. But now I have to tell you how grateful I am that I didn’t do something—well, stupid. It would not have been right for you either. I know I’m not your judge and jury, and your morals are your own decision. But there would have been no future for us.
“It isn’t just that we’re so far apart in age, but the fact is that the only real interest I had in you was physical. You have a right to hate me for that, and I’m not proud of it. I did not love you. You have to agree, that would have been no kind of a life for you.”
She nodded, appearing to cloud up. He smiled. “I’ll let you break your silence temporarily,” he said. “I need to know that you at least forgive me.”
/> “Sometimes I wonder if honesty is always the best policy,” she said. “I might have been able to accept this if you had just said your wife’s disappearance made you feel guilty about what we had going. I know we didn’t really have anything going yet, but that would have been a kinder way to put it.”
“Kinder but dishonest. Hattie, I’m through being dishonest. Everything in me would rather be kind and gentle and keep you from resenting me, but I just can’t be phony anymore. I was not genuine for years.”
“And now you are?”
“To the point where it’s unattractive to you,” he said. She nodded again. “Why would I want to do that? Everybody likes to be liked. I could have blamed this on something else, on my wife, whatever. But I want to be able to live with myself. I want to be able to convince you, when I talk about even more important things, that I have no ulterior motives.”
Hattie’s lips quivered. She pressed them together and looked down, a tear rolling down her cheek. It was all Rayford could do to keep from embracing her. There would be nothing sensual about it, but he couldn’t afford to give a wrong signal. “Hattie,” he said. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”
She nodded, unable to speak. She tried to say something but couldn’t regain her composure.
“Now, after all that,” Rayford said, “I somehow have to convince you that I do care for you as a friend and as a person.”
Hattie held up both hands, fighting not to cry. She shook her head, as if not ready for this. “Don’t,” she managed. “Not right now.”
“Hattie, I’ve got to.”
“Please, give me a minute.”
“Take your time, but don’t run from me now,” he said. “I would be no friend if I didn’t tell you what I’ve found, what I’ve learned, what I’m discovering more of each day.”