Silenced

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  She finally stopped pacing and leveled her eyes at him.

  He stared back at her. “I don’t know, Jae. What do you do?”

  “First,” she said, “I want to understand this. I want to know your thought process. I want to know how you went from what you were to what you are. When did it happen? How did it happen? Is there no turning back? Are you in for the long haul?”

  And so he told her. It began with his disillusion over what the NPO and the USSA did to people of faith. Yes, there were clear laws against what the rebels were doing, but the more he was exposed to them, the more he persecuted and yes, even killed some of them, the more he wondered what was so wrong about wanting to believe in something beyond one’s self.

  As he studied these people, he said, he realized what they really believed. That God was real. God was alive. God was the creator of mankind and the world. That mankind was evil, sinful at its core. “That was the hardest thing for me,” Paul said. “I had always believed in the basic goodness of people. That was rarely borne out in real life, and I was no example of it, but it sure sounded better than that we were all born in sin.

  “And then when I was injured and met Straight and started listening to the New Testament, I discovered the biggest surprise. I had always thought religious people lived by a certain code of conduct so they could earn their way to heaven. But that’s not it.”

  Jae was amazed when Paul began quoting verses about salvation by grace through faith, and that it couldn’t be earned by works so no one could boast. The same verses had jumped out at her.

  “My sight was restored miraculously, Jae. That was God, and no one can ever convince me otherwise. But even better than that, the blindness of my spirit was healed too. Once I allowed myself to believe that God was, and that He was alive and real, I needed Him in my life. Everything in life, my whole life, made sense only after I acknowledged that God made me and loved me and wanted to connect with me.”

  Jae returned to the couch and sat near Paul. “I don’t know where I am with all this yet, Paul, but your father’s letter first started working on me. And then I took the New Testament discs you left at home, and I’ve been listening to them for days. They puzzle me, they intrigue me, they mess with my mind, but I keep coming back to them. I even asked God to reveal Himself to me if He was real. I don’t know if that’s what He’s doing now, or if we’re both just crazy as loons.”

  She was close, Paul could tell. But she was not the type of woman who could be pushed. He’d learned that well enough over the years. Besides, this kind of an epic decision was personal. Trying to sell her on it, to browbeat her, would be futile, even if it seemed temporarily successful. Jae would resent it if she was badgered into it. Anyway, she was a woman with her own mind. If she came to this on her own, she would never waver. And that was the kind of faith she would need to survive the onslaught of life changes that would come with it.

  “I need to ask you about the manifesto, Paul,” she said.

  “Sure.”

  “That was your work? Your idea?”

  “My writing. I worked with the French underground on what they wanted. The idea to pray for the Old Testament plague was their leader’s, but after I saw what God could do—in Los Angeles—I wasn’t sure I supported it. The whole underground church around the world is praying about this, Jae. Mostly against it, I presume.”

  “I need to tell you, Paul, that this alone is enough to make me doubt the existence of God. Do you really, seriously, believe He would slay the firstborn males of unbelievers throughout the whole world? I mean, besides sounding ludicrous, does it sound like a loving God?”

  “I’m no expert, Jae. I’m new to this, and I don’t want to sound glib, but it sounds like a just God who has finally lost patience with a disbelieving and mocking world. This story from the Old Testament is not a fairy tale. It happened before. And it was preceded by nine other plagues. You want to read about it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Paul found the Bible Straight had given him and turned to Exodus. “When you’re ready, if you’re curious, this is the precursor to what we believe God could do twenty-four hours from now if the international leaders don’t listen.”

  Jae took the Bible, with her finger in the pages, which was encouraging to Paul. “But aren’t they going to assume Styr Magnor was behind all this craziness, and now that he’s gone, so is the threat?”

  “Yes. The government deserves to be told that that isn’t true. They need to know that Magnor was a charlatan, not part of us, and that the real threat comes not from a crazy man but possibly from God Himself.”

  “And who’s going to tell them that?”

  “I am.”

  “Oh, Paul, no. Now, please. Even if you believe this, and even if I am considering it, I could never agree to letting you declare yourself before the chancellor of the world.”

  “Someone has to warn him, Jae. And who else is in a position to? I know the man. He likes and trusts me.”

  “He won’t if you tell him that.”

  “So I just let it happen? Let him think the threat is gone? I owe him that much, Jae. A warning. So if it does happen, at least he’ll know I have credibility.”

  “By that time you’ll be in an asylum or solitary confinement.”

  “Where will I be in sixty days anyway, Jae? There’s no way I can sign a declaration of loyalty to atheism.”

  They stayed up most of the night, reading, discussing, arguing. Jae was unable to get past the unloving, spiteful (her word) nature of the plague some believers were asking God to mete out to His enemies. Paul tried and tried to explain that if it happened it would be a last-ditch effort, that after decades of mockery and scoffing, God may resort to desperate measures to get people’s attention.

  “Do you expect to drop this on Dengler and then just waltz out of there and back to me?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead, Jae.”

  “Well, don’t you think it’s time you did?”

  “One of us has to remain free; that’s for sure,” he said. “I propose you accompany me to the ceremony, whatever form that’s going to take. Then I’ll ask Dengler if you can be excused so he and I can talk business.”

  “Yeah,” Jae said. “I can plan my escape back to America in case my husband slips and reveals himself as a lunatic before the one man who can do something about it.”

  “I plan to be diplomatic.”

  “Paul, there’s no way in the world I will be able to do anything but sit in fear while you’re in there.” And then it came to her. “I could listen in. That way I’d know whether you were coming back to me or if I should fly home and try to tell the kids what’s become of you.”

  “And how would you do that?” he said. “Wait, don’t tell me.”

  Jae went to the closet and showed him the bugging device. “I said don’t tell me,” Paul said. “Well, I’ve got to hand it to Ranold. Nothing but the best for his newest special agent.”

  30

  PAUL WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN ABLE to say whether he actually slept or spent the rest of the wee hours praying and crying as Jae stayed up reading. Never had Paul wanted and ached and longed for anything more in his life than that she would come to the truth as he had and that she would become his partner in the faith.

  By the time they got to Bern, both were bleary eyed and quiet. “I know my role today,” Jae said. “I’m the proud, dutiful wife. Your role, or at least your goal, is to somehow return to me when it’s all over.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Paul said.

  “Frankly, that’s not terribly comforting. Paul, I don’t know where I am in all this, but you must know by now that I am not going to turn on you. Whether or not we ever agree about God, I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I can’t go on long with the NPO regardless, Jae. Even if I don’t reveal myself today, when I have not signed the loyalty document within sixty days, the truth will come out. You need to decide what kind of life that means for y
ou and the kids.”

  Chancellor Baldwin Dengler was effusive when meeting Jae. “I only apologize that for obvious reasons, this ceremony cannot be public. You must be very proud.”

  “You have no idea,” Jae said.

  Bia Balaam pulled Jae off to the side. “What a relief for you, hmm? Our fears only reflect how expert he is. The less you say about our suspicions, the better, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Jae enjoyed meeting Garuda Vibishana, who proved most courtly. “I’ve heard so much about you,” Jae said.

  “Oh, I am not so sure I would want to hear those details, madam.”

  The luncheon ceremony was attended also by Dengler’s staff and cabinet, about twenty in all, including the Stepolas, Balaam, and Vibishana. The chancellor presented Paul with the International Medal of Freedom “for exemplary service to the global community.” He draped it around Paul’s neck as a camera flashed, and the chancellor reminded everyone, “The photo is only for our files and Mrs. Stepola’s scrapbook.”

  At the end of the meal, Paul leaned close to Dengler. “Sir, if I may have a word. I’m wondering if I might have a few minutes with you alone.”

  Dengler looked at his watch. “We have arranged for your charter flight home, leaving about one-thirty. Does that give us enough time?”

  “Yes, my wife could arrange to have our things delivered to the plane.”

  The protocol of the congratulations and good-byes alone took longer than Paul expected, and when he and Jae embraced, she planted the invisible transmitter on the arm of his suit coat.

  Jae worked with a purser to have their luggage delivered to the charter, and then was told where she could wait outside for their ride to the airport. She found a bench in the bright sun, yet still sat shivering as she adjusted the earpiece and monitored Paul’s conversation. Here was a story for her grandchildren someday. Who would have ever guessed her life would have come to this?

  “Do you wish anyone else to join us, Doctor?” the chancellor said. “The major general or Chief Balaam?”

  “No, this is a private matter, sir.”

  “Very well.”

  Jae heard them walking, doors opening and shutting, pleasantries, and finally Dengler telling his secretary that they were not to be disturbed. Then she heard Paul whisper, “Sir, if I may be so bold . . . may I assume that all conversations in your office are taped?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I would like to respectfully ask that any recording device be turned off for this conversation.”

  “That is highly irregular, Doctor. Those tapes are used exclusively for my reference, specifically for my memoirs.”

  “If I may say, sir, you will have no trouble remembering the particulars of this conversation, and I really must insist.”

  “Very well.”

  Jae heard nothing, but she assumed Dengler was instructing his secretary to accede to Paul’s wishes. Finally it sounded as if they were settling into Dengler’s office.

  “Thanks for taking the time, sir,” Paul said.

  “Not at all. I think you have earned it.” Dengler chuckled.

  “Mr. Chancellor, I want to come straight to the point. My investigation determined that Steffan Wren was not behind the underground manifesto and should not have taken credit for it.”

  Silence.

  “In fact, sir, he was not really part of the rebel underground and was seen even by them as a charlatan who gave their cause a bad name.”

  Dengler cleared his throat. “He certainly did that.”

  “Yes, but do you see the implications of what I’m saying?”

  “I hope not. If he did not write the manifesto, who did?”

  Jae held her breath. Did Paul have to say?

  “That came from devout members of the true underground, sir.”

  A long pause. “So we did not eliminate the threat by eliminating Wren.”

  “That is what I am trying to say, sir. He needed to be eliminated, there is no question of that.”

  “Of course. For the attacks alone.”

  “Yes, and for potential attacks.”

  Dengler sniffed and shuffled in his chair. “Does the underground, without Wren, have the wherewithal to carry out this midnight threat?”

  “Sir, this is why I wanted to meet with you. The manifesto, to the best of my knowledge, is a sincere document.”

  “And by sincere, you mean . . . ?”

  “That these people believe it word for word.”

  “I am not following you.”

  “They will not be carrying out this threat by trying to kill anyone. They literally believe this could happen as an act of God, the same as it happened in the ancient passage they cited.”

  “Oh, nonsense.”

  “I just thought you should be made aware, sir.”

  “And for what purpose, Doctor? I appreciate knowing that Wren may have been on the fringes of the underground, not taken seriously there. But with him gone and the rest counting on God to do their work for them, need I worry?”

  “Whether or not you worry is up to you, sir. I just felt it my duty to be sure you were fully apprised.”

  Paul could only imagine how this sounded to Jae. She had to be encouraged that he had not revealed himself.

  “Well, thank you, Dr. Stepola. I do feel better informed. Tell me, do you believe this will happen, the way the puzzling drought in Los Angeles happened? That the firstborn sons of everyone other than believers in God will be spontaneously slain by Him at midnight?”

  Paul stared at him, praying silently. “I have never been able to explain away the L.A. phenomenon, sir. And regardless of what people think about it, it happened the way the underground there warned. As to whether the same might happen in this case, I guess we will know in less than twelve hours, won’t we?”

  Dengler laughed. “Yes, I suppose we will. You did not anticipate that I would announce this, did you, Doctor?”

  “I never try to predict your actions, sir.”

  “Well,” Dengler said, standing and reaching for Paul’s hand, “I have already announced that the threat ended with the death of Styr Magnor/Steffan Wren. I still believe that, and I would not want the world to needlessly fear otherwise. Would you?”

  “Want them to needlessly fear otherwise? No, sir.”

  On the plane, Jae told Paul straight-out, “I do not believe this slaughter is going to take place. If it doesn’t, it will tell me a lot about your fellow believers and the effectiveness of their prayers. If it does, besides being the most shocked person in the world, I can’t promise how it will make me feel about God. I suppose I will have to believe He is real, but I would have a hard time understanding Him or liking Him much.”

  Paul worried about Jae, of course, and he couldn’t quit looking at his watch. Midnight in Bern would be 6 p.m. in Washington. With the time change they expected to touch down in D.C. midmorning. Stretched way past his level of endurance, Paul didn’t know what else to say or do. He let his head fall and he slept the entire flight, not rousing until touchdown.

  Jae was spent too, but she could not sleep. She wanted to find the verse that had been bugging her. She put the Hebrews disc back into the player and listened straight through until it jumped out at her:

  You see, it is impossible to please God without faith. Anyone who wants to come to him must believe that there is a God and that he rewards those who sincerely seek him.

  She prayed, I want to believe that there is a God, and I am sincerely looking for You.

  Jae’s mother picked them up at the airport. The kids were in school and, she said, already enjoying it and making friends. “Your father is at work, of course. But he can’t wait to see you both. Berlitz and Aryana are coming for dinner at six-thirty.”

  Jae felt as if she had come out of a haze of craziness into some semblance of sanity.

  When the kids got home from school that afternoon they attacked Paul and wrestled with him on the floor, tellin
g him about everything they had been doing, friends they had made, and their teachers.

  “Do we have to go back to Chicago now that you’re home?” Brie said.

  “I thought you wanted to,” he said.

  “We do, but not yet.”

  Ranold pulled in about five, hurrying into the house in his nicest suit but already pulling off the tie. He squeezed Jae’s shoulder and vigorously shook Paul’s hand. “I want to hear everything, son,” he said. “Everything. Let me get out of these clothes. Your mother tell you Berl and the new wife will be here for dinner?”

  Paul nodded as the kids screamed, “Yay!”

  Ranold bounded upstairs with more energy than Jae had noticed in ages, and he soon returned in a flannel shirt, wash pants, and white socks. “Pardon the informality,” he said, “but I didn’t need one more minute in that monkey suit. Paul, come on into the den and join me in a stiff one. You can debrief me and we can catch the news before the other kids get here.”

  “Just give me a soda, Ranold,” Paul said.

  “You sure? You deserve a belt, man.”

  “I got a little shut-eye on the plane, but alcohol would probably put me out for a week.”

  Ranold poured himself a hard drink and Paul a soft one, and they sat. “Tell me the story as if I know absolutely nothing,” the old man said.

  And so Paul did. He even added what he had told Dengler.

  Ranold finished his drink with a huge gulp, rose, and poured himself another. “You believe Magnor was not behind the manifesto?”

  “I’d stake my life on it.”

  “Well, so we’ve eliminated Magnor, and when the big threat fizzles, the resistance loses its steam.”

  “That would certainly be the case.”

  Ranold leaned over and clapped Paul on the knee. “And we have you to thank.”