The Spear of Tyranny

by Grant R. Jeffrey

  Now the supernatural had engulfed him. And he had never felt so frightened.

  He needed help . . . from someone who understood such things. Sarah’s father might be the man to ask for guidance; he really seemed to live according to his beliefs.

  Isaac rapped his hand on the wall, grateful for an answer that seemed to have come from nowhere. Tomorrow he could use his free time in Jerusalem to visit Aaron Lerner.

  That thought brought another in its wake, with a barb that struck the center of Isaac’s heart. Strange, that Archer’s aide had suggested that Isaac visit his father instead of his wife. Did he know about Sarah’s infidelity? Had Romulus told his entire staff? If so, why?

  An ugly swarm of thoughts he scarcely dared formulate came welling up as Isaac walked back to his room. Archer had undoubtedly lied to him about his contact with the prime minister’s office. In an effort to win Isaac’s loyalty, Romulus himself might lie. Romulus wanted Isaac to be an obedient puppet. He wanted a Jewish war hero to stand before a television camera and lift his hand in an oath of loyalty to the Universal Faith Movement . . . and what better way to convince a reluctant warrior than to cut him off from his Shin Bet wife and Orthodox father-in-law?

  Reaching his room, Isaac walked to the closet and pulled out a dark coat, then slipped back down the staircase. Madame Blanchette had already gone to bed; no one in the house would see him leave. And if a surveillance team lingered on the street, well, he’d give them a challenge unlike any they’d faced before.

  He paused at the back door and plucked Madame Blanchette’s bright pink rain hat from the pegboard above her gardening clogs. He stuck the hat on his head, turned up his collar, then pulled the hems of his pants up beneath the edge of his coat. Madame Blanchette was not exactly a petite creature, and she might be inclined to step down to the corner store for a bottle of milk for tomorrow’s breakfast.

  Darting into the shadows, Isaac hurried toward the store and its public phone . . . his link to Sarah.

  Wearing pajamas, a heavy chenille robe, and socks, Sarah sat on the floor before the television in her front room. A stack of videotapes leaned against her left knee; a scrawled legal pad occupied the rug at her right. Behind her, Lily lay stretched out on the carpet, snoring in a steady rumbling sound.

  The television screen displayed the bumpy video footage of a woman and her small children who were playing in a clearing adjacent to the Peace Forest, a spot near Kibbutz Ramat Rahel, a southern point of Jerusalem. The woman appeared to be about Sarah’s age, and the children, a boy and a girl, were both younger than school age. Sarah stared at the little boy, her vision still gloomily colored with the memory of her own small son. Binyamin had hair just as dark as this boy’s, but he had been quiet, not loud and boisterous like this little fellow . . .

  Suddenly, without warning, a puma emerged from the darkness of the forest and leaped onto the mother. As the large cat crumpled the woman beneath its weight, the air filled with the screams of the children and the predator. For a sickening instant, Sarah saw one of the puma’s claws rake the victim’s face, then the screen went black. The husband had dropped the camera.

  She glanced at the report that had accompanied the tape. The husband had been unable to frighten the animal away, and after ten terrifying minutes a policeman had appeared and shot the crazed animal. The woman had been taken to the hospital, but arrived DOA, a victim of extreme blood loss. The puma had severed the woman’s jugular vein.

  At least the children had been spared.

  Sarah picked up the remote and pressed the off button. Melman had sent her home with more than a dozen videotaped incidents of bizarre animal attacks that had occurred in the last six months. For no apparent reason, three European circus elephants had trampled their handlers, a newly captured African lion had nearly decapitated a zookeeper with one swipe of his claw, and a California jogging trail had reportedly been haunt-ed by a pair of mountain lions that killed nearly a dozen suburban athletes who refused to believe wild animals would attack with impunity in broad daylight. And domestic animals were not immune from whatever had infected creatures in the wild. Included among the videotapes was footage of a pet boa constrictor that had asphyxiated a two-year-old while the enraged father hacked at it in horror with a butcher knife.

  What had happened to the world? Though civilized society had been on a downward slope from the beginning of time, since Gogol’s Invasion it seemed as though creation and everything in it had begun to disobey even the laws of nature. Though the numbers had not been widely publicized, various governments had reported deaths by animal attack that totaled in the hundreds of thousands. In the last six months, the Israeli government alone had documented over 250 incidents of vicious, unprovoked animal attacks. Thirty children had died, including ten from a preschool class on a field trip to a dairy farm. While the children watched the milking opera-tion from behind the safety of an iron gate, two cows broke through a restraining bar and began to trample the youngsters with what Sarah could only describe as mad vengeance.

  The destruction did not end with animals. In certain spots of the globe, anarchy reigned as the poor rioted against the rich. The devastation of the earthquakes and nuclear attacks associated with Gogol’s Invasion had effectively destroyed many governments, and in some provinces even Romulus’s Universal Force could do almost nothing to stop criminal gangs’ widespread reigns of terror. The lack of rain and resulting famine only exacerbated the problem—in many areas a single bag of groceries cost a full week’s wages.

  Disease had begun to stalk the earth in numbers unheard of since medieval times, when the Black Plague had wiped out entire cities. Without proper food and nutrition, children and the elderly fell prey to viruses that would not respond to modern antibiotics. The war-torn countries fared far worse than those that retained a degree of civilization, but even Israel had lost several thousand people to viral infections that had responded to chicken soup and decongestants in Sarah’s youth.

  The scientists, of course, had not hesitated to blame the planet’s condition on Vladimir Gogol. They insisted that the madman’s biological and chemical attacks had upset the delicate balance of the environment. But in time, they promised, mankind and nature, working in harmony, would set things right.

  Sarah took a deep breath and flexed her fingers, irritated as always by the smug, superior experts who continued to ignore the truth. The world’s situation was not improving; it had worsened in the four years since Gogol’s Invasion. Mankind would never rise above the calamities that men themselves had inflicted upon the planet. Situations never improved without intervention, and she could see no miracle on the horizon of this dark and forbidding planet.

  Isaac’s call earlier this week had been a sort of miracle, but he had kept the conversation focused on business except for that cryptic farewell just before hanging up. Melman assured her that Mossad had dispatched an agent to meet Isaac in Paris, but they had not given her any further information. Apparently, Isaac had not needed exfiltration; he was safe and Romulus still trusted him.

  Why, then, could she not stop worrying about him?

  She looked at the pile of videos on the floor, then laughed aloud. No wonder she had such difficulty finding peace. She had surrounded herself with turmoil and despair.

  For the briefest moment, the picture of her father’s face hung in her mind’s eye—faint at first, then as vivid as a photograph emerging in a tray of developer. She had not seen him in over a month, when she visited his apartment to light the candles and enjoy a Shabbat meal with him.

  “Sarah,” he had said, placing the Talmud in her hand, “read what will happen in the last days, before the son of David will come. In the first year it will not rain, and in the second year the arrows of famine will be let loose. In the third year famine will be severe, and men, women, and children will perish. In the fourth year there will be plenty and not plenty. In the fifth year there will be great abundance, and in the sixth year there will be voices fro
m heaven. In the seventh year wars will occur, and at the conclusion of this seven-year period the son of David will come.”

  Lifting her head, Sarah blinked the images of the past away. People were always placing books in her hand. Just before leaving the office today, Danny Melman had given her a black notebook and said, “Read this tonight.”

  She read the typed label. “An Analysis of the Current Environmental Calamity in the Light of John’s Revelation?”

  Melman’s eyes clung to hers, analyzing her reaction. “I’m not saying you have to agree with it—I just want feedback. We’re supposed to consider every possible angle, right?”

  The notebook sat beside her now. She lifted the thin volume and opened it, relieved to see that it contained no more than forty typed pages. Despite her reluctance to read material that had probably originated with a raving Christian lunatic, reading seemed infinitely preferable to watching bizarre animal attacks on video.

  She thumbed past the first few pages and halted as an indented quote caught her eye:

  He required everyone—great and small, rich and poor, slave and free—to be given a mark on the right hand or on the forehead. And no one could buy or sell anything without that mark, which was either the name of the beast or the number representing his name.

  Sarah paused, recalling her father’s aversion to the Universal Chip. Had he read this?

  She flipped backward a few pages and halted when another section grabbed her attention:

  As I watched, the Lamb broke the first of the seven seals on the scroll. Then one of the four living beings called out with a voice that sounded like thunder, “Come!” I looked up and saw a white horse. Its rider carried a bow, and a crown was placed on his head. He rode out to win many battles and gain the victory.

  When the Lamb broke the second seal, I heard the second living being say, “Come!” And another horse appeared, a red one. Its rider was given a mighty sword and the authority to remove peace from the earth. And there was war and slaughter everywhere.

  When the Lamb broke the third seal, I heard the third living being say, “Come!” And I looked up and saw a black horse, and its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand. And a voice from among the four living beings said, “A loaf of wheat bread or three loaves of barley for a day’s pay. And don’t waste the olive oil and wine.”

  And when the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the fourth living being say, “Come!” And I looked up and saw a horse whose color was pale green like a corpse. And Death was the name of its rider, who was followed around by the Grave. They were given authority over one-fourth of the earth, to kill with the sword and famine and disease and wild animals.

  The phrase wild animals stopped her cold. For a moment, she had thought she was reading about some past event, but never in recorded history could she recall so many deaths by animal attack. And though the history of the Jews recorded terrible sieges where the scarcity of food forced people to do unspeakable things, the warning about bread selling for a day’s pay seemed as contemporary as her morning newspaper.

  A tide of goose flesh rippled up her arms. Did this passage pertain to this day and age? The entire world had certainly experienced warfare and famine and disease and wild animals. Did more atrocities lie in the future?

  Unable to stop herself, she kept reading:

  And when the Lamb broke the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of all who had been martyred for the word of God and for being faithful in their witness. They called loudly to the Lord and said, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long will it be before you judge the people who belong to this world for what they have done to us? When will you avenge our blood against these people?” Then a white robe was given to each of them. And they were told to rest a little longer until the full number of their brothers and sisters—their fellow servants of Jesus—had been martyred.

  I watched as the Lamb broke the sixth seal, and there was a great earthquake. The sun became as dark as black cloth, and the moon became as red as blood. Then the stars of the sky fell to the earth like green figs falling from trees shaken by mighty winds. And the sky was rolled up like a scroll and taken away. And all of the mountains and all of the islands disappeared. Then the kings of the earth, the rulers, the generals, the wealthy people, the people with great power, and every slave and every free person—all hid themselves in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains. And they cried to the mountains and the rocks, “Fall on us and hide us from the face of the one who sits on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb. For the great day of their wrath has come, and who will be able to survive?”

  Sarah felt her heart leap uncomfortably into the back of her throat as the telephone rang.

  TWENTY-ONE

  GENERAL ADAM ARCHER STOOD OUTSIDE THE CLOSED door that led to Romulus’s private study. He waited a moment, straining for sounds from behind the paneled door, but he could hear nothing but the quickened beating of his own heart. Half in anticipation, half in dread, he knocked.

  The butler, Charles, opened the door and gave Archer one of those looks that always made him feel like some species of bug. The butler was a classic beta male, subservient to the core, yet he always made Archer feel inferior.

  “Yes?” The man sang the word, the latter note a bass growl.

  “The president sent for me.”

  Charles arched a brow in what looked like wry amusement. “Then enter. Please.”

  Archer strode past the butler, glad to be done with that encounter. Romulus was sitting before the fire in a velvet-covered wing chair. His feet—which seemed too small for a man, really, and almost feminine—were propped upon a richly upholstered footstool, while his hands were uplifted and pressed together, fingertip to fingertip. He stared silently into the fire, but Archer could see thought working behind those dark eyes.

  “Good evening, sir.”

  “Please, General.” Romulus spoke in a polite tone, yet he did not lift his eyes from the flickering flames. “Have a seat and give me another moment.”

  Archer sank into the chair, idly wondering what had precipitated this summons. He had received the call at ten, and Romulus did not usually conduct business at this late hour. Whatever problem had spurred this meeting must have recently come to Romulus’s attention.

  Archer rested one elbow on the arm of his wing chair, then propped his head on his fist, turning toward the fireplace while he discreetly studied the profile of the man across from him. Romulus’s classically handsome features seemed as composed as always, but Archer had begun to know the man well enough to see behind the facade. The eyes were the window to the soul, or so they said, and tonight insecurity and trouble shadowed Romulus’s gaze.

  A deep silence filled the room, broken only by the occasional snap of a log and the brush of oak branches against the windowpane. Archer waited, patiently biding his time, until finally Romulus spoke: “I’m concerned about Isaac Ben-David.” He shifted his gaze from the fireplace to the general. “When he invested me with the spear, I saw doubt in his eyes, and we know he met with a Mossad agent later that night. I’m worried that he might desert our cause . . . and he has seen too much to leave us now.”

  Archer shook his head in disbelief. “He has done nothing this week out of the ordinary, and we’ve had him under nearly constant surveillance. He has not been able to sneeze without one of our agents taking note—”

  “I saw the doubt in his very soul.” A thin gleam of resentment entered Romulus’s eyes. “At what should have been the greatest moment of his life, I glimpsed doubt and fear, not honor and humility. I am not easily fooled, General, and I know what I saw. Isaac Ben-David is not sure of us, and his confusion has grown over the last few days. I’m not certain he can be trusted.”

  Archer shrugged. “We could get someone else to meet with the prime minister.”

  “We’ve invested too much in the major. I have brought him this far, and the Israelis respect him. In addition to his personal recommendations, hi
s father is a respected archeologist and his father-in-law a respected rabbi who will greatly influence the religious Jews.” Romulus’s gaze shifted back to the fire and thawed slightly. “I have caused a rift between Ben-David and his Shin Bet wife. Their marriage was dying; I made certain the ax would fall.”

  Archer pressed his fingertips to his lips, thinking. Romulus was not often unsure of himself, and Archer could see no clear reason why Ben-David should be considered dangerous. He had kept a low profile these last few days, and tomorrow he would only be in Jerusalem for a few hours. They certainly didn’t have to worry about him briefing his comrades or masterminding a revolutionary plot . . .

  Archer straightened himself. “Let me assure you, Mr. President, that Major Ben-David will prove worthy of your trust. Tomorrow he will travel with us, then he will perform for the cameras as planned. All Israel will see him join the Universal Faith Movement and accept the UFM code on his microchip. Afterward, we will immediately bring him back to Paris.”

  Romulus’s eyes, alive with calculation, shifted to Archer. “And how can you be sure he will do as you say?”

  “I could call upon his father.” A reluctant grin tugged at Archer’s mouth. “Surely Dr. Ben-David would like to be present when his son takes such an important oath. And as long as the good doctor stands by my side, the dutiful son cannot help but do as I ask.”

  When he spoke again, Romulus’s voice was firm and final. “I am beginning to see your point, General. Set agents upon the major and monitor him every moment. And take the father into your custody until the ceremony has concluded.” A thoughtful smile curved the president’s mouth. “I know the time is not yet right, but I almost wish I was going to Jerusalem myself.”

  Sarah gasped when she recognized the voice on the phone. She opened her mouth to say Isaac’s name, then caught her breath when he identified himself as “Uncle Laban.”