“If you think Romulus is powerful now, just wait a while.” Isaac heard his own voice, as cool as the smoke off dry ice despite the hot fear that churned in his belly. “We have talked about the Spear of Longinus—well, Romulus now possesses it. I myself escorted it from Vienna to Paris, and I am convinced he believes that it is a talisman with which he can control the world through supernatural power.” He shifted his gaze to Sarah. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I believe he is correct. There is more than human effort involved in this situation. I have seen and heard things that cannot be explained by the laws of nature.”
Sarah gazed at him with chilling intentness for a long moment, then her fine, silky brows rose a trifle. “Well,” she said, glancing at the others around the table, “I suggest we get busy and do all we can to prevent the first order of business on Adrian Romulus’s agenda. My husband must not be used as a pawn. We must prevent him from leading others astray by joining Romulus’s false religious movement—”
“And yet we must protect him,” Ephraim interrupted. “He can’t simply walk away. Romulus will be watching Isaac’s every move.”
As one, every member at the table turned to Danny Melman, who had listened in silence. “I think,” he had said, glancing at his watch, “that if we hurry, we can formulate a plan.”
Now, as the elevator doors to the prime minister’s office opened, Isaac stared past them in silence and fervently prayed Melman’s plan would work.
General Archer drew in a hard breath as Major Ben-David and his wife walked into the room. Things had not gone according to plan, but if all went well here Romulus need never know. Archer had sent two men to tail Major Ben-David and another two to fetch Dr. Ephraim Ben-David to the prime minister’s office, and only the first two had met with any degree of success. Dr. Ephraim Ben-David had not answered his door and none of the neighbors knew where he was, but the major had kept his word and gone to the house of his estranged wife. According to the agents, she had greeted him without an embrace of any kind, then allowed him into the house.
Closed window shades had prevented any further visual surveillance until the couple emerged two hours later. The agents had followed them across town to the prime minister’s office. According to the phone records, the residence telephone had not been used all morning.
Archer rubbed his fingers on his trouser leg, a nervous habit he frequently indulged in situations where smoking was frowned upon. He thought it odd that the wife would accompany a soon-to-be ex-husband to such an important meeting, but the woman was a political agent. Perhaps she was thinking of her own career and wanted to be in the thick of the action.
He tilted his head and looked at her more carefully. He could see no lingering gleam of affection in those black-lashed eyes. Her brown eyes were sparking with emotion, though, her lips pressed tightly together.
Archer smiled. She probably wanted to claw Ben-David’s eyes out.
Archer retreated to a corner of the room and leaned against a wall, content to watch the drama unfold.
Feeling more nervous than he ever had in his life, Isaac stood behind the television camera, idly staring at the tiny black-and-white screen through which the cameraman peered at the scene before him. The prime minister sat at his desk, his expression tight with strain, and General Archer stood behind the prime minister—out of camera range but close enough to exert mental pressure on the obviously uncomfortable Israeli leader. To the prime minister’s left stood Elrad Altschul, a young rabbi in a black coat, black hat, and the long earlocks known to the Orthodox as pe’ot.
Isaac suppressed an expression of surprise. The little play they were to enact apparently had three acts: the first, in which the prime minister would express appreciation to Romulus for preserving the peace of Israel; the second, in which an Orthodox rabbi would accept a Universal Chip; and a third, in which an Israeli military hero would actually join the Universal Faith Movement.
Beside Archer, a young blonde nurse in a white uniform stood with a tray of instruments in her hand. Isaac knew they had considered using a doctor to implant the Universal Chip into the nervous-looking rabbi, but they finally chose to employ the most unthreatening administrator possible. The blonde certainly looked unintimidating—the corners of her mouth were tight with anxiety, and the instruments on her tray rattled with the trembling of her hands whenever the prime minister or General Archer looked her way.
The television news crew talked to one another through the headsets as the director, working from the mobile truck parked outside, called out settings for the lights and the boom microphone. Trying to ignore the confusion around him, Isaac stood with his hands folded and mentally rehearsed his role in the upcoming drama. Their plan had been formulated quickly, and Murphy’s Law was certain to intrude . . . unless the God who had foreordained these things sought to look down with favor upon them.
The feeling of an unformed thought teased his brain as the television lights brightened the room. If what he read this morning was true, then the man Isaac Ben-David was an insignificant player in events that God had foretold thousands of years ago. If God could foresee and foretell events that would happen in the months and years to come, then Isaac had been arrogant to rebel against him. As an egotistical creature, he had gazed upon creation with unwilling eyes, refusing to see the Creator. He had discounted the written record, a miracle in itself, as mere oral tradition and manmade myth.
He had behaved like a spoiled child when he declared that a God who would take his son was unworthy of worship. The God he glimpsed this morning was omniscient and so powerful that humans must seem like mere ants to him . . .
Sarah, who had ostensibly slipped away to the ladies’ lounge, came back into the room, flashed her badge at the guard by the door, then walked to Isaac’s side. Discreetly, he dropped his hand and felt her palm slide into his. A gentle squeeze—the signal. The last-minute details had been arranged.
A balding man wearing a headset and glasses stepped into the center of the room and held up his hand, fingers spread. “Sixty seconds until introduction. We need quiet on the set!”
Isaac looked up and caught Archer staring at him. The general studied Isaac’s face with an enigmatic gaze for a beat, then bent to say something to the tense nurse beside him.
Isaac felt Sarah squeeze his hand again. “It will work,” she whispered, not looking at him. “If there is a God in heaven, this will work.”
The bald man stepped forward again and held up his hand. “In five,” he shouted, his carnival barker’s voice sounding strangely out of place in the prime minister’s plush office. “Four!” He continued the countdown with his fingers alone, flashing them before the camera in a stiff, practiced gesture. Then a red light atop the camera began to glow, and the bald man wheeled and pointed at the prime minister.
“Aleichem shalom, citizens of Israel,” the prime minister began, his eyes focused on the unblinking eye of the camera. A cold, congested expression settled on his face. “It is with great pleasure that I would like to introduce you to a man who has done great things for Israel, and a man who has my full and complete support. Would you please give your full attention to Adrian Romulus, president of the Universal Movement.”
The bald man held up a warning hand, the prime minister remained erect, then the floor director’s arm fell in a sharp gesture. “We’re out,” he called, flashing a quick smile around the room. “The video feed will play for ten minutes, then we’ll need you, Rabbi. Will you take your position, please?”
With his hands clasped protectively in front of him, the rabbi crossed in front of the camera and sidestepped his way to an area behind the prime minister’s desk.
Har-Zion, his face flushed, rolled back in his chair and cast Isaac an apologetic look. “Sorry to drag you back here to do this,” he said, shooting Isaac a twisted smile. “But Romulus said you would be a great example for our people. I had to agree, of course.”
“It’s all right, sir.”
As th
e prime minister stood and vacated the area, an aide stepped forward and wheeled Har-Zion’s executive chair out of the way. The young rabbi glanced over at the young nurse, who managed a tremulous smile as she lowered her tray of instruments to the prime minister’s desk. “I promise to make this as painless as possible,” she said, her gaze fixed to the tray. “I’ve implanted hundreds of microchips, but never on television.”
General Archer eased his bulk forward and clamped a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, young lady. I know you’ll do an excellent job.”
Isaac said nothing, but thrust his hands behind his back and shifted his attention to a television monitor on the floor. The video feed from Paris was rolling, and Romulus’s image filled the screen. The volume had been turned low, but as the participants in the next phase of the telecast quietly adjusted to their positions, Isaac was able to hear Romulus’s words.
“Within thirty days from today,” Romulus was saying, a thin smile on his lips, “every citizen of Israel will be required to have the Universal Chip. We have not made this decision lightly or without great deliberation. We have been troubled of late by reports of sedition, destruction, and anarchy in provinces throughout the globe and in the streets of Jerusalem. Justice and fairness demand that we stop those who are disrupting the peace. By requiring a statement of cooperation, we can insure that the resistance movement will be snuffed out once and for all. Citizens who take the chip will have full access to all goods and services, including commercial shopping sites, Internet access, and employment. Any individual or group who refuses to submit to the greater good will be arrested and swiftly punished.”
Romulus’s image disappeared, replaced by footage of a male sniper on a rooftop shooting down at innocent women and children in a courtyard below. “This resister,” Romulus continued in a voice-over, “was detained only two hours after this rampage when he tried to purchase food from a small shop in Belgium. The store owner’s computer silently alerted the police, who captured the suspect within five minutes of his aborted shopping excursion.”
Romulus’s image shimmered back onto the screen. “Join us, citizens of the globe, in uniting to rid the world of violence. In a moment, you are going to meet an upstanding citi-zen of your community, a rabbi of Israel, who understands the potential for peace in this marvelous age. And after the rabbi leads you by his example in taking the Universal Chip, you will meet another man you know well—a man who has demonstrated loyalty through bravery and sacrifice. You will see this peacemaker, Maj. Isaac Ben-David, accept his registration number in the Universal Faith Movement. He is joining other citizens of the world who understand that matters of the spirit matter more than matters of the flesh.”
The camera zoomed in on Romulus’s magnetic eyes. “Won’t you join the rabbi and the major? You can follow in the footsteps of peace without worry. There is nothing to fear, my friends, unless you deliberately choose to remain outside the common good. So heed my warning. Those who are not for us are against us and will pay the penalty.”
The background music swelled from the monitor, then the floor director stepped forward and pointed at General Archer. The lights brightened as Archer stepped forward, and the rabbi blinked under the lights as the general introduced him.
Standing at attention, Rabbi Altschul nodded stiffly into the camera, then turned toward the nurse. She picked up the small surgical injector that would implant the tiny microchip beneath his skin, then paused for a moment. Her gaze fluttered to the ceiling for a moment as if she’d forgotten her next line, then she smiled in relief. “Rabbi, will you take the stamp on your hand or on your forehead?”
He thrust out his arm. “My right hand.”
She took his hand, held it on her own, then pressed the plunger on the device. The rabbi flinched slightly but did not speak.
She smiled brightly into the camera. “Did that hurt, Rabbi?”
“Not at all.” Altschul flexed his hand and held it aloft for the camera to see.
General Archer stepped forward and mugged for the camera. “And now I’d like you to meet Maj. Isaac Ben-David of the IDF.” He straightened, assuming a military posture, and Isaac automatically moved into position.
“Major,” Archer said, adopting a light tone, “do you believe in God?”
“I do,” Isaac answered truthfully.
“Do you believe that the path of peace with God holds the future for all mankind?”
Isaac nearly found himself smiling. “I do.”
“Then do you swear to support the Universal Faith Movement, to attend to all its bylaws and precepts, and to conduct yourself as an upstanding citizen of the world, endeavoring to keep the unity in the bond of peace?”
“I do.” Isaac accented his answer with a definitive nod. How ironic, that this moment had brought him to a firm conviction in the things of God . . .
Archer reached for the computer scanner and flashed it over Isaac’s hand. There was a brief hum as the subdermal receptors picked up the wireless transmission of his UFM code, then the scanner flashed DATA TRANSFER COMPLETE.
“You see, citizens of Israel,” Archer said, shutting off the scanner, “both of these processes are simple and painless. You will need your Universal Chip within thirty days. And if you wish to prove yourself a friend of peace, you can join the Universal Faith Movement at the same time you receive your identification chip. It cannot be lost or washed away, so there is no danger of ever losing your link with the Universal Movement.”
Isaac rubbed the flesh over his hand as the general showboated for the camera. In the last sixty seconds, he had either led millions of people astray or he and his friends had pulled off one of the most significant deceptions of his career.
Only time would tell what he had done.
In his Paris office, Adrian Romulus watched the Israeli telecast with a feeling of satisfaction. Isaac Ben-David and Rabbi Altschul were the perfect representatives, and they looked especially tall and striking alongside the petite nurse. Archer had appeared competent, and the prime minister, while not exactly enthusiastic, had performed his job as required.
Romulus frowned as the scene faded to a commercial for the Unitas, the Universal Movement newspaper. He had tried to convince Rabbi Baram Cohen to participate in the telecast, for that old man still commanded a great deal of respect among Israel’s Orthodox Jews. But the old fool continued to dig in his stubborn heels . . .
Swearing softly, Romulus pressed the remote and silenced the television. He would have consigned all Jewish religious leaders to prison long before this, but the Orthodox rabbis wielded too much power in Jerusalem. Things were changing, however, and soon he would control them like his puppets in Rome. In thirty days, if they did not cooperate and follow his orders, he would have them arrested and set to work in prison camps. If they would not join the system, they would labor for it.
Justice in the new world order would be swift and efficient.
Sarah caught herself holding her breath as the television floor director yelled “cut” and the light atop the camera winked out. She caught Isaac’s hand as he moved past, and together they left the prime minister’s office, neither speaking as they walked past the security checkpoint and out into the bright daylight. Only after they were well clear of anyone who might want to eavesdrop did she lift her head to whisper: “I have a number to call for confirmation.”
“Call it,” Isaac replied.
Stopping beneath the shade of a sprawling tamarind tree, Sarah pulled the cell phone from her purse and dialed the number. When a curt voice answered, she asked, “Is Rebecca in?”
“She’s out,” came the reply, just before the line clicked and went dead.
Sarah disconnected the call and looked up at her husband, her lips trembling with the need to smile. “We did it,” she whispered, barely daring to speak. “They managed to jam the signal. No one within one hundred miles of Jerusalem saw that broadcast.”
Isaac gave her a smile that sent her pulses racing
. “And your father?”
She held up the phone. “According to the response I just received, his message went out. While everyone in Europe watched your little drama, the citizens of Israel saw my father warning them not to take Romulus’s Universal Chip.”
The corner of Isaac’s mouth drooped in a droll smile. “I take it he didn’t quote Revelation in order to convince them.”
She grinned. “I think he was planning to quote a passage in Zechariah about the worthless and false shepherd. And the Book of Zerubbabel refers to a Romulus Armillus, who will be the enemy of Israel in the last days. My father is a learned man; I’m sure he knew what prophecies would convince them.”
For a moment they simply stood there, basking in each other’s smiles, then Sarah reached out and tenderly ran a fingertip along Isaac’s jaw. “So,” she whispered, looking up at him, “what do we do now?”
“We meet with the others,” he answered, slipping his arm around her shoulder. “And we celebrate.”
TWENTY-FOUR
THE LITTLE GROUP OF CONSPIRATORS MET TO MAKE merry at a small bistro called Mamma Mia, a kosher Italian restaurant in the heart of Jerusalem. Over sparkling glasses and a huge platter of meatless spaghetti, they toasted their success.
“You know, don’t you,” Isaac’s father said, meeting his son’s gaze, “that today was only a temporary measure at best. We know Romulus has spies scattered throughout Jerusalem. Sooner or later—probably sooner—he will know we have tricked him.”
“Romulus is nothing if not arrogant,” Isaac countered, not ready to dull the keen edge of victory. “He will not believe that we could fool him on such short notice. He will not want to believe that I could be disloyal.”
“But he will know,” Rabbi Lerner said. “And he will not be pleased when he sees you again.”
“That settles it, then. I’m not going back to Paris.” With a flourish, Isaac pulled the pager from his belt, held it up for all to see, then dropped it into the crystal water pitcher in the center of their table.
The Spear of Tyranny Page 20