by Tim LaHaye
“I don’t know, sir, but I’ll find out. Kat’s peace of mind is my top priority too, so I’ll get to the bottom of this as fast as I can.”
On his way home, Kenny tried calling everyone, starting with Ekaterina. Her phone immediately went to her message system, as did Raymie’s and Bahira’s and Zaki’s. Finally, as he was entering his own house, Kenny reached his mother.
“Oh, Kenny! Where are you?”
He told her. “What’s going on, Mom?”
“I wish I knew. It’s like our office has been vandalized.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, those silly things like the phony personnel report on Kat and the ridiculous note about you could have come from anywhere within the interoffice mail system. But someone walked off with our employee list, and now we’ve gotten another crazy report.”
So the list Kenny had seen in Paris had not been the result of a computer hacking; someone had provided the actual printout. He didn’t even want his mother to know that yet. “What crazy report?”
“Oh, it’s so upsetting, I’m not even going to try to tell you about it except in person. Can Dad and I come see you tonight?”
“Well, sure, but right now I’m looking for Kat. She’s supposed to be meeting with the Millennium Force, but I don’t know where.”
“You don’t know where? Just call Raymie and—”
“ ‘C’mon, Mom, you don’t think I’ve thought of that? Now what’s this report?”
“Like I told you, it’s not something I want to talk about over the phone.”
“Just tell me what it’s about.”
She hesitated. “Well, it’s about you. But that’s all I’m going to say for now.”
Kenny dropped his stuff in his room and noticed something strange. The chair before his computer was out, away from the desk. He tended to be fastidious about stuff like that. He always pushed the chair back in and left the mouse in the same position. It looked skewed too.
Great; now I’m imagining things.
He tried calling everybody again. What were the odds they had all turned their phones off without it being on purpose? They didn’t want to hear from him! Why? They couldn’t have known he was going to be home earlier, or he would have been invited to the meeting. Wouldn’t he?
Frustrated at being so helpless, he struck out for the Valley Bistro. The Force didn’t always have its meetings there, but it was worth a shot. At least it was a place Kat would know how to get to, and maybe they made it easy for her.
Kenny arrived to find them in the back room with, of all people, Qasim Marid. In an instant, Kenny knew something was terribly wrong. Raymie was pale and appeared grim. Zaki looked shell-shocked, as did Bahira. Qasim appeared stunned to see Kenny, but of course Kenny was most curious about Ekaterina. Her face was red, her eyes puffy. As soon as she saw him, she gathered up a sheaf of papers that appeared to be the same as everyone else’s and bolted from the restaurant.
Kenny followed, but she was sprinting. “Kat!” he hollered. “Wait just a minute!”
She stopped and whirled, pointing at him. “I don’t want to talk to you, Kenneth Williams. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
He stepped closer. “Kat, wait. I deserve to know—”
“Don’t you dare!” she said. And she turned and kept going.
Kenny staggered back into the bistro and into the back room. “I want to know what’s going on,” he said. “And I want to know now.”
Bahira was the only person who would look at him. And she looked like death. “You’ve been found out is all,” she said.
“Found out?”
Raymie looked up. “We know where your true loyalties lie,” he said. “You can end the charade.”
Kenny plopped into the seat Kat had vacated. “I’m listening,” he said. “What are the charges?”
Raymie said sadly, “You can have my copy. I don’t need to see any more.” He slid it across to Kenny and stood. The others rose also. “Why don’t you look this over, and if there’s anything more to be said, well, you know where to find us.”
“Well, but, what—?”
“We’re leaving, Kenny. The ball is in your court.”
“Can’t we talk about this, whatever it is?”
Raymie shook his head as the others left. “Not right now. We’re not in the mood.”
Kenny fingered the pages and looked at the first page as a waitress came and asked if he wanted anything. All he could do was shake his head as he read a memo dated three days prior:
To: Ignace Jospin, Executive Director
The Other Light International
Paris, France
From: Operative 88288, Kenneth Bruce Williams
Israel
Re: Progress
First, Ignace, it was great to reunite with you and your brother despite the sad occasion of your cousin’s death. It had been too long, and communicating like this is never as good as in person, especially when we share such a bond.
I very much look forward to seeing you and Lothair in Paris and thank you in advance for making available to me the lovely Nicolette again. The nights can otherwise be lonely in a strange city, even one as beautiful as your capital.
You’ll be pleased to know that my parents remain wholly in the dark. It’s nice that they are so naïve. I don’t doubt their sincerity, but the blind devotion believing parents have in their offspring makes duping them so easy. My dull-witted mother remains convinced that I share her beliefs and points to the night she claims to have “led” me to Jesus. Well, Mom, you have to mean it if you pray that prayer.
I trust you got the personnel printout. My mother is making noises about putting locks on the doors; my access to her office won’t cross her mind this Millennium.
My uncle Raymie suspects nothing. I’m sure he was brought in on the Risto personnel matter, plus the later defaming note about yours truly. Imagine if they even dreamed I planted both those myself.
Rest assured your fears over the new girlfriend are unfounded. She’s no Nicolette, but she’s cute enough and more naïve than my mother. Her parents are homely, swarthy little people who worship the ground I walk on. Her father was apparently a spectacularly unremarkable tradesman, and her mother is basically a nondescript homebody. They will not be an issue. I may even go through with marrying this girl, which will only make my work for you at COT that much easier. She is in another department, which merely broadens my reach.
I’ll provide a virtual core dump of other vital information when I arrive. Keep Nicolette warm until I get there. I’ll see you soon.
Loyal to the Other Light forever,
KBW
Kenny was nauseated. Where did one begin to try to defend himself against such a detailed, devastating document? He scooped up the pages and stood, woozy and feeling utterly alone. His parents would visit that evening. That loomed as an oasis. Surely they wouldn’t believe a word of this.
But who wrote this, and where did they get their information? The nuances, the detail, made it so much worse. And yet it was so dead-on that Kenny was surprised someone didn’t see through it. What were the odds that almost every line would incriminate him?
Naturally Kenny had never faced a crisis like this, but in the past when he had what now appeared minor, petty issues, he’d turned first to his mother, then maybe to Raymie or his dad. Who could he turn to now? For all they knew, he was what the document purported: a turncoat. Hardly anyone had been spared.
“Lord, You’re all I have left,” Kenny prayed as he headed toward home. “Please tell me You’re still here.”
He nearly wept with relief when he felt the peace only Jesus could give, but still Kenny had no idea how to dig himself out of this.
And what was that vehicle that had crossed at the corner ahead of him? It looked like the van that had delivered him back to Israel. When it stopped, turned around, and came toward him, he stopped and stared. The window was lowered and Nicolette leaned out.
&
nbsp; Kenny wanted to run, to warn her to stay away from him, but he couldn’t jeopardize his cover with TOL, regardless of whether they were behind trying to ruin him.
She jumped out and approached. “We missed our turn,” she said. “Ignace wants to fly out of Tel Aviv.”
“Back the way you came,” Kenny said, still reeling and desperate to cover. “That’ll take you to the main route toward Tel Aviv and the airport.”
“You’re a peach,” Nicolette said, leaning close to kiss him on the cheek.
“Yeah, yeah, see ya,” Kenny said, only realizing as she pulled away from him that Lothair had been hanging out the window and had shot a picture of the kiss.
TWENTY-NINE
CAMERON WILLIAMS sat steely eyed and somber in Kenny’s living room as Chloe wept. He didn’t know what to think. His son was denying everything, which he would do whether innocent or guilty. Admittedly, the document that Qasim Marid claimed he had retrieved off Ignace Jospin’s desk in Paris had so many glaring incriminations in it that it could easily have been a setup. But who would do such a thing, and who would know enough details to pull it off?
“There’s not a doubt in my mind that Qasim is behind this for all kinds of reasons,” Kenny said. “But how would I ever prove that?”
“Call me a typical mother,” Chloe said, looking pleadingly at Cameron, “but I believe him.”
“Of course you do, and I want to, too.”
“You want to, Dad? My word is not good enough for you? You always taught me to live in such a way that if someone brought a charge against me, no one would believe it. What have I done, how have I lived, that makes no one but my mother believe me?”
“Yes, Cam,” Chloe said. “That’s a good question.”
Cameron sighed. “Maybe I know something you don’t, Chloe.”
“Oh, great!” Kenny said. “There’s more?”
“I got an anguished call from Abdullah this afternoon. He saw you at TOL headquarters in Amman today, Kenny.”
“What? What was he doing there?”
“So you were there?” Chloe said.
“Of course I was! Didn’t everyone know where I was and what I was doing? I was undercover, infiltrating.”
“And—” Cameron said.
“Oh no, Dad. What now?”
“Qasim delivered our copy of the memo to COT. Raymie and I had it evaluated by a computer techie. It was sent from your computer, Kenny.”
Kenny just sat shaking his head.
“There has to be an explanation,” Chloe said. “Kenny, I need to hear it.”
“What can I say, Mom? It wasn’t me. You know we’ve never locked our doors around here. Anybody could have done it.”
Cameron was as conflicted as he’d been since the Glorious Appearing. How he wanted to believe Kenny! But the evidence against him just kept mounting.
“What recourse do I have, Dad? Is this a case I can take before the judges?”
“Only if someone charges you with a crime. Has anyone done that?”
“I wish Qasim would. He’s the one who seems to gain the most from this.”
“What is he gaining?”
“He makes me look bad. He costs me Kat.”
“Where is Ekaterina, by the way?” Chloe said.
“Where do you think? Anywhere but here. She won’t answer her phone, won’t see me. I guess I can’t blame her, but I thought we knew each other better than this.”
“Well,” Chloe said, “those things you said about her parents . . .”
“I didn’t say them! I love her parents. Listen, something else is going to surface, and I need your help.” Kenny told them about Nicolette and the picture. “I just know they’ll deliver it to Kat. Since I can’t get anywhere near her, could you warn her?”
“I don’t know,” Cameron said.
“Of course I will,” Chloe said. “And she’s going to want to know what to do about work. I’ll assure her that she can come and not worry about running into you.”
“And why is that? You’re finding me guilty too? firing me?”
“Call it a suspension,” Cameron said. “Just till we can figure this out.”
“What can I do, Dad, take a lie detector test? You know what this means if it’s true? I’m an infidel, an unbeliever. That means I die at one hundred and go to hell. Do you really believe that about me?”
“No,” Cameron said. “I don’t. But I don’t know what to do about your reputation now or countering all this evidence.”
They sat in silence a long time. Finally Kenny spoke. “It seems that with all the people you know, all the people you’ve worked with, we have access to spiritual power few others have. If everybody who’s worked with you and believed in you and supported you in the past would cooperate in prayer, I don’t believe Jesus would let this injustice stand. Do you?”
Cameron and Chloe looked at each other. Then Cameron addressed his son. “They would all have to know everything, Kenny. They would have to see all the evidence.”
“Dad, I’ve got nothing to hide. What have I got to lose? I believe Jesus is here and on His throne and that lies will be exposed. I’m open to anything.”
But that night Kenny couldn’t sleep. He sat at his computer and composed a message to the Millennium Force and copied it to Ekaterina.
Dear friends, you can’t know what I’m going through, but perhaps you can imagine. Think how it would be if you were in my place and wholly innocent. I am, you know. Let me get that on the record from the start. I confess I’m hurt, deeply wounded, that you assume me guilty. I suppose all I can do now is to endure a little more than two more years until I turn one hundred. And when I am still here the next day, you’ll know that I am a believer, that I belong to Christ, and that while I am not perfect—as I am a natural—I could not be guilty of this.
Kenny didn’t feel much better even after transmitting his defense, so he wrote separately to Ekaterina:
My dearest love, I can only imagine how phony and hollow that sounds coming from me now. You are convinced I am guilty, and I don’t know how to prove otherwise. Perhaps there is some deep pocket of love for me in your heart that misses what we had together and longs to believe all things, as the Bible says.
Kat, I fell in love with you almost from the beginning. I can’t even remember, nor do I wish to, life before you. I thanked God for you every day and looked forward to that great day when we would marry and be able to spend the rest of our lives together.
Do me a favor tonight, will you, and read the love chapter, 1 Corinthians 13. And while you are raw and aching, I know this may sound empty to you too, but I want you to know that one day in the future, when the truth comes out, I will not hold it against you that you didn’t trust me. I’d like to think that I would not have believed such charges about you, no matter how convincing, but I don’t know. Regardless, I will forgive you, so don’t let anything keep you from coming back to me. Whatever happens, you will always be my lifetime love, and there will never be another.
With my soul,
Kenny
Kenny lay wide-eyed on his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t know why he was so desperate to sleep with no obligations in the morning. Finally he rose and grabbed his Bible, taking it back to bed and reading what he had recommended to Ekaterina:
Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.
And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.
And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.
Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all
things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away.
For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.
When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.
And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
Kenny found himself weeping and longing for heaven, where Jesus had promised to wipe away all tears from his eyes. “Lord, I need You,” he said. “I need Your help.”
“Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
And, finally, Kenny was able to doze.
* * *
Abdullah called the Other Light headquarters in Amman before heading out the next morning.
Sarsour answered, “TTI.”
“TTI indeed,” Abdullah said. “Are your guests gone? Is the coast clear for me to return?”
“Oh, Mr. Ababneh! Yes! And you have no idea how much Mudawar wishes to see you. He is so appreciative of your acceding to his request yesterday and keeping him from an embarrassing situation. Of all the kind things you have done since you have been here, that was the kindest. Anyway, yes, please come in.”
* * *
Kenny arose not refreshed but with an interesting new outlook. It was as if the Lord had spoken to his heart even as he slept. It was the strangest feeling—something that those like him were unlikely to grasp without an ordeal such as the one he was enduring. He was getting a taste—albeit a very small and entirely less violent one—of what it must have been like for Jesus to be betrayed and abandoned by His friends. Of course, Jesus was mocked and spit upon and struck, had a crown of thorns thrust into His scalp, had His side riven by a sword, and was eventually put to death.