Fire Of Heaven 03 - Fire of Heaven

by Bill Myers

  “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “I do. We’re a team, Brandon. That’s what the Lord has always told us — in the Scriptures, in the prophecies. We’ve gone our different directions, but we’re together now, just like he said. We’re a team.”

  Brandon nodded.

  “If you go up there, I want to go up there.”

  “But … what are you going to do, what are you going to say?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “That’s not the point.” He shook his head and resumed walking. “No, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Brandon …” She caught up to him. “If you and I are supposed to represent Christ and his bride, isn’t there a time when the bride has to stand up with her husband and share in his suffering? Isn’t that one of the things you learned in Turkey, that the bride should expect persecution?”

  “Yes, but —”

  “So what type of symbol am I if I sit back and let you take all the heat?”

  He picked up his pace, obviously agitated. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he repeated.

  She stayed glued to his side. “Why not?”

  “It’s … it’s not right.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Brandon …”

  He said nothing.

  “Brandon, talk to me. Brandon.”

  He didn’t slow until they reached the front of the old woman’s home.

  Finally he turned to her. “Look, you know the prophecies. If they’re to be taken literally, you know there’s a chance that tomorrow could be our last day alive.”

  “Exactly. Our last day.”

  “It’s not right.”

  “You keep saying that. What’s not right?”

  “Jesus Christ laid down his life for his bride.”

  “Yes … and he requires the bride to do the same for him. That’s what you’ve been learning, Brandon. That’s what those letters say.” He tried to look away, but she wouldn’t let him. As she searched his face she saw the fear and concern. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “I want to do this.”

  “But … I’m afraid. I mean it’s one thing for me … but for you …”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Sarah …”

  She put her fingers over his lips, silencing him. “You’ve given up your life,” she whispered, “now let me give up mine.”

  He looked into her eyes a long moment. But this time she felt no uneasiness. This time she had nothing to hide. At last, he began to nod, almost imperceptibly.

  She rose up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  They turned back to the house. He reached for the steel garage door and pulled it open. Both were surprised at what greeted them. The lights were off and the old lady was nowhere to be found.

  “Hello?” Brandon called. “Hello.”

  Everything was dark except for faint flickering coming from the next room.

  “Hello …”

  They exchanged looks, then moved in to investigate. They passed the table and chairs, the car seat sofa, until the other room came into view. But the woman wasn’t there, either. Instead, a queen-sized mattress with clean pillows and a pulled-back sheet lay in the center of the floor. Beside the head of the mattress sat an ornate wooden tray with two recently filled champagne glasses and an opened bottle of sparkling grape juice. From the ceiling hung several white crepe paper streamers. They came together in the center above the bed, where two cardboard wedding bells hung. Everything was bathed in the soft romantic glow of a dozen flickering candles.

  Brandon and Sarah stood speechless.

  When Sarah found her voice it was barely above a whisper. “How did … how did she know?”

  Brandon shook his head and nervously cleared his throat. “Do you think maybe the Lord’s trying to tell us something?”

  Sarah said nothing.

  “Well.” Brandon cleared his throat again. “It’s not exactly Chicago’s Hyatt Regency …”

  By now Sarah was so overwhelmed she could barely speak. “No,” she whispered as she wrapped both arms around Brandon. “It’s a thousand times better.”

  CHAPTER 20

  BRANDON HELD SARAH IN his arms throughout the night. He found everything about her intoxicating … the slow breathing of her sleeping body against his, the softness of her breath upon his chest, her warmth, her smoothness, the smell of her hair. Everything filled him with both peace and exhilaration. And, as the hours passed, he tried his best not to fall asleep so that he might savor the time for as long as possible.

  But her presence was more than physical or even emotional. Yes, he was whole now, complete. But there was something else here. Something deeper, something … spiritual — a truth he could almost grasp, but not quite. If Sarah’s presence could bring him such joy and if Sarah represented the bride of Christ … was it possible that he, as a part of that bride, could bring equal joy to his Lord? Was it possible that as a mere human he could bring such pleasure to the Creator of the universe … simply through his presence and fellowship? Could this be part of the “profound mystery” Paul spoke of in Ephesians?

  Brandon tried to explore the idea, but it was deeper than he could think — at least for now, at least for tonight. Instead, he was content to simply lie beside his sleeping wife, enjoying her presence. Eventually he rose up on one elbow and looked down upon her lovely face, quietly thanking God for his goodness. But soon his eyes grew tired and he had to lay his head back down on the pillow. Still, even as he drifted off to sleep, he was rejoicing over his bride and silently worshiping his Lord.

  “Brandon … Bran …”

  He woke to see Sarah smiling down at him. It was morning and she was already dressed. Even more surprising, she had cut her hair. So short, that it no longer hid the scar.

  She bent over and kissed him lightly. “Good morning.”

  “Hi.” He grinned, then reached out and pulled her to him.

  They kissed again, and when they parted she whispered, “It’s getting late.”

  “You cut your hair.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s like the picture,” he said. “The one Gerty sketched of us confronting the serpent head. Remember?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Suddenly he understood. Sarah had finally accepted all of Gerty’s words. And all of Revelation’s.

  “Today’s the day, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  He sat up. “Are you frightened?”

  “No.” She shook her head and sat beside him. “Not when I’m with you. When I’m with you, I can face anything.”

  Her long jagged scar was in plain view now, its shiny pinkness accentuated by the harsh morning sun. As he looked at it, he felt his hands beginning to grow warm. The palms first and then radiating out into his fingers. He glanced down and saw their growing redness.

  So did Sarah.

  He looked back up into her face. Then, slowly, tenderly, he raised his hand toward the scar. But before his fingers touched her cheek, she took them and gently moved them away. “No, Brandon.”

  He looked at her, puzzled.

  “This is who I am. Today of all days, I want to be exactly as he’s made me.”

  A smile spread across his face. He didn’t fully understand, but he realized this was her way of accepting all that God had called her to be. Like the cutting of her hair, this was a confirmation, a marker proving she had totally and unequivocally given Jesus Christ complete control of her life.

  He leaned over and kissed her again. She sighed in quiet contentment, then whispered, “We better get going.”

  He nodded and rose to dress.

  Moments later she called from the other room. “Brandon. Come look at this.”

  He slipped on his shoes and entered the room. On the table sat two sesame bread rings, several slices of goat cheese, some grapes, and two oranges.


  “This wasn’t here last night, was it?” she asked.

  Brandon slowly shook his head. “I guess there’s no end to her surprises.”

  “I guess not.”

  Although there wasn’t a lot of food, it was enough and it was refreshing. After they’d finished eating, Sarah suggested they spend some time in prayer. Kneeling had never been their habit, but they both felt it was appropriate for today. Lowering to their knees, they held one another’s hands and began to pour out their hearts to the Lord. They thanked him for his goodness and his faithfulness. They blessed him for his protection these many months and for accomplishing his will regardless of their doubts and failures. Finally, they asked for the courage and faith to finish the task he’d set before them.

  “And, above everything,” Brandon concluded, “we ask for your perfect will to be done. Regardless of our success or our failure, we ask that you accomplish your purposes fully and completely …”

  “Yes,” Sarah agreed. “Your will and only yours.”

  “Because it is in your name that we pray … and that we live or die …”

  They both said amen together but remained kneeling in silence for several more moments. When they finally looked up, Brandon saw Sarah’s eyes were brimming with moisture. So were his. But they were not tears of sadness or fear. They were tears of appreciation.

  As they rose and prepared to leave, they outlined the plan one more time. The installation and groundbreaking were scheduled to begin at 11:00. Lucas and his entourage would have already left the hotel. Sarah would speak with him at the Temple Mount, confirm his decision, and get word to Brandon, who should be standing nearby.

  “Do you know what you’re going to say yet?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “It’s like I have two different topics. One is a judgment against evil, and the other is a warning and encouragement for the bride. I’m not sure which he wants.”

  “It will come,” Sarah assured him. “Whatever is to be said, it will be said.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.”

  “We just prayed for his will to be done, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah.”

  She broke into a grin. “Then even you can’t mess that up. Whatever is to be said, will be said.”

  He chuckled softly and they started for the door. “What about Tanya?” he asked. “If Lucas says yes to showing the tape, how will you get word to her?”

  “She said she had other avenues. I don’t think we have to worry about Tanya Chase.”

  Something about the phrase rang truer than Sarah had intended, but Brandon couldn’t tell what. All he knew was that she was safe now — very, very safe.

  “What about Katherine?” he asked.

  Sarah turned to him. “As you’re praying about what you’re going to say, send up a prayer or two for her — she needs it.”

  Brandon caught something terribly troubled in her eyes, but she said no more. He made a point to pursue it later, as they headed toward the city. They stepped outside. The haze of ash was much thicker and the heat was already unbearable. He reached for the steel door and slid it shut.

  “Do you think we should lock it?” Sarah asked.

  “Probably wouldn’t hurt.” He reached for the padlock and snapped it into place. Finally, they turned and started up the steep road leading toward the Old City.

  “She was so sweet,” Sarah mused. “I wish we could have left her a gift or note or something to show our appreciation.”

  Brandon nodded in agreement, though he suspected she already knew. She seemed to have known nearly everything. They’d barely taken a half-dozen steps before they spotted a middle-aged Palestinian at the next house, locking his own door.

  “Excuse me,” Brandon called. “Excuse me. Do you speak English?”

  The man turned. “Of course.”

  “I was wondering. The old woman that lives there?” He pointed toward the garage.

  “What?”

  “The old lady that lives there … in that garage? If you happen to see her, would you mind —”

  “There is no old lady living there.”

  Brandon pointed, “No, I mean in that garage, right there.”

  “That’s what I said, nobody lives there.”

  “Well, actually,” Sarah explained, “there is. We had —”

  “The owners, they have been away for nearly a month.”

  Brandon frowned. “But the woman who lives in the garage —”

  “I told you, no woman lives there.”

  “Well … maybe she’s like homeless or —”

  “I watch their property. I feed their canary. There are only two keys, one for the garage, one for the house. I have them both. Nobody lives there.” He finished locking his door, then turned and headed past them up the road.

  Brandon and Sarah looked at each other, then back at the garage. Neither could say a word.

  “Momm … whas woong? Mommm …”

  Katherine put her hand to Eric’s forehead. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re burning up.”

  He frowned, obviously trying to clear his mind. “Whas … gooing on …”

  “You’re delirious, dear. We’ve got to get you back to the hospital. Here, let me help you get dressed.”

  It pained Katherine to lie to her son, but she could think of no other way. This would at least ensure his cooperation. And if Heylel should drop in and experience Eric’s drugged state, he might buy it as well. She had her doubts, but it was worth a try.

  He’d winced slightly and stirred from his sleep when she’d injected the Versed a few minutes earlier, and now it was performing exactly as Sarah had promised. She’d already called a taxi, leaving clear instructions for the driver to meet them down in the lower service entrance. She wanted to avoid the lobby and the security personnel she knew would be present.

  After dressing Eric and grabbing her handbag with the other vial of the drug, Katherine led him out the door and down the hall toward the elevator. Unlike Ponte’s Royal Suite, upstairs, there were no guards on this floor. The two of them arrived at the elevator and waited as Eric drifted in and out of coherency … sometimes appearing nearly wide awake, other times dozing off into dreamy sleep.

  The elevator arrived. Katherine walked them both inside and pressed the button to the basement. With any luck they’d be able to go straight to the service entrance without stopping on any floors.

  Unfortunately, Katherine’s luck had never been good. They stopped at the fourth floor to let on an old Jewish couple and at the second to let on a child. Neither party asked questions, and she didn’t offer any explanations. It took forever, but they finally arrived at the lobby. The doors opened and it was just as she had feared — the place was crawling with security.

  The child exited first, followed by the couple. As they left, Katherine did her best to block Eric from any curious onlookers. When the doors were clear she reached out and pressed the close button. Once again time seemed to crawl until the doors started to shut.

  “Ms. Lyon … Ms. Lyon.” A hand suddenly appeared between the doors, slamming one side and causing them to reopen. It was the security guard from yesterday. The one who had led her and Brandon up to Sarah’s room. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  She nodded. “For the most part.”

  He’d already spotted Eric. “Is he okay?”

  Eric opened an eye, gave a smile, then drifted back to sleep. As he did he shifted his weight against Katherine, nearly throwing her off balance.

  “Whoa.” The guard moved to the other side to assist.

  “I’m not sure what’s wrong,” Katherine said. “It’s probably a complication from yesterday. I told them they should have spent the night at the hospital for observation, but with today’s installation and everything …”

  “Here, let’s get him out and —”

  “No, that’s okay. I have a taxi downstairs. He’s waiting to take us back to the hospital.”

  “Without security?”r />
  “No, I called you guys. There’s probably somebody waiting there now.”

  “Just the same.” He pushed the close button. “I better go down with you and make sure.”

  “No, really, you don’t have —”

  But the doors were already closing. Fortunately, Eric remained sleeping as the elevator crept to the basement. Doing her best to make small talk, Katherine asked, “Is everybody else over at the Mount?”

  “Just about. Couple more groups to transport, including yourselves. I’ll let them know the situation and see what arrangements we can make for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  At last the doors opened.

  “Here …” The guard began to help Eric out of the elevator.

  “That’s okay, I can handle it from here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  They stepped out of the elevator and headed down a dimly lit hall with Eric between them. The boy did little to help.

  “That’s funny,” the guard said. “I don’t see anyone here. You sure you called us?”

  “Absolutely.” Katherine breathed harder as Eric grew heavier. “He’s probably just outside.”

  But when they stepped through the doors and into the bright sunlight there was no one there. Just an idling taxi with its Palestinian driver standing outside, grabbing a quick smoke. When he spotted them he quickly crossed to the passenger door and opened it.

  “You seen anybody else here?” the guard asked as they arrived. “Any security people?”

  The driver ground out his cigarette and shook his head.

  The guard surveyed the area. “This is not right.”

  “Maybe he’s up on the street,” Katherine offered. She pulled Eric toward the door. “Here, help me get him inside.”

  The guard obliged, easing Eric into the car. But when he rose again, he still saw no sign of help. “Listen,” he said, raising his sleeve toward his mouth. “Just stay put a moment and we’ll find out what’s going on.”

  “We don’t have time to wait,” Katherine insisted. “He’s getting sicker by the minute.”

  The guard motioned for her to hang on and then turned to speak into the mike hidden in the cuff of his blazer sleeve. As he did, Katherine quickly crossed to the other side of the car and climbed in. “Mount Scopus Hospital, hurry.”