Underground Zealot 01 - Soon

by JERRY JENKINS

  “Grace, your words were a tremendous inspiration,” Paul said. “I know you were nervous about helping us, so thank you.”

  “My commitment is real, but my courage is lukewarm,” she said.

  “When Lois told me what you wanted, it sounded much more dangerous than our Stone Canyon meetings. I still feel pretty new in the faith.”

  “I’m new myself,” Paul said. “I was blind—literally—and God restored my sight before I made the leap. Even then it took me a while.”

  “It helped that they—” she gestured toward her friends—“were willing to come. They tell me to keep praying.”

  After seeing the group off, Paul called Straight to fill him in. He applauded the plan and promised to marshal prayer troops. Then Paul called Tiny’s to tell them not to expect him for dinner. He heard music in the background—inevitably there’d be guests on a Friday night—and Ranold took command of the phone.

  “What were you thinking, transferring a criminal from a secure location to a dicey one?”

  “He was my prisoner, Ranold. I saw no reason to leave him in army custody. I’ll finish interrogating him in the morning.”

  “No, you won’t. He almost escaped.”

  Almost? “So, they caught him, is that what you’re telling me?”

  “That’s right, and they made him pay. Appropriately.”

  “They already beat him half to death, Dad. What more do you expect to get out of him? I’ll go talk to him.”

  “You don’t get it, do you, Paul? He’s not going to be there to talk to.

  Get yourself back here so I won’t have to suspect you of everything that gets in our way.”

  “Suspect me?”

  “I told you to check your ego at the door. Balaam was not happy that you took it upon yourself to move her prisoner. She saw it as a direct challenge to her authority. I explained you were a hothead, maybe feeling a little left out—”

  “Ranold, what did they do to the guy?”

  “Not torture, if that’s what you’re implying. We’re too busy to waste time sweating a leafleteer. That was your job. This afternoon we got a tip that the terrorists are planning something big. So we took the press opportunity your man offered, and that’s that.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I said leave it alone, Paul. The last thing you want is more trouble over this. Now are you heading back here?”

  Paul gritted his teeth.

  “You there, Paul?”

  “I’m losing you,” Paul said. And he disconnected.

  * * *

  Paul flipped on the radio and found an all-news station, but it was in the middle of a sports report. Finally came the news he dreaded.

  “Late this afternoon, a car believed to be carrying subversive Christian rebel leader Barton James pitched off a cliff on Peace Canyon Road and burst into flames. James had reportedly escaped incarceration at the downtown headquarters of the Sunterra NPO. He was being held on charges of drug and weapons possession and assault on army personnel.

  Authorities are trying to extinguish the fire on the cliff and have brought in dogs to recover the body. . . .”

  Peace Canyon Road. Paul had noticed it on the map when he was driving around to get oriented. There was nothing on those bluffs but dense foliage and coyotes and the few houses still standing after the earthquake. No reason for any official vehicle to choose that route.

  Though Paul could hardly imagine eating, he picked up a selection of fast-food staples for the group and headed back to deliver the news about Barton. Carl and Lois looked especially devastated, but everyone was shocked. “It may be utterly the worst time for this,” Paul said, “but maybe the best way to mourn Barton is to keep planning.”

  Paul told about his friend Straight spreading the word among underground believers all over the country. “Every believer will be focused on praying for you here. I’m new at this, and even though I believe God spoke to me, my faith will be tested. In spite of all God has miraculously done for me, sometimes I still doubt.”

  “That’s not uncommon,” Carl said. “Remember, Jesus said, ‘Anything is possible if a person believes.’ And a man asking His help said, ‘I do believe, but help me not to doubt!’”

  It seemed to Paul as he spoke that the grieving little band was growing emboldened. Eyes moist and shining, they were clearly ready to believe God would work—to count on Him to answer their prayers.

  “I had started working on something while Paul was gone,” Carl said,

  “and now I’m going to print it out. Then let’s polish this thing till it shines and thank God for all He’s about to do.”

  A clanging on the door upstairs made everyone jump. Carl pointed to a young woman. “Rhoda, please see who it is. And be careful.”

  The rest prayed, some on their knees, others stretched out on the floor.

  A minute later fast footsteps descended the stairs. “Excuse me,” Rhoda said, pale and trembling. “It’s—it’s Barton!”

  “What?”

  “Who?”

  “Let him in!”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s alive?”

  “I’m going up!”

  “Me too!”

  Half a dozen people rumbled up the stairs. They soon returned with a limping, disheveled, exhausted-looking Barton James. Duct tape stuck to his shirt and pants.

  “Is it really you?”

  “What happened?”

  Paul waited behind Carl for his turn to embrace Barton. “Did you really try to escape, or was that—”

  “That what they told you? We never even got downtown. We went the other direction, and I knew something was up.”

  “They said you went off a cliff in Peace Canyon.”

  “I did,” Barton said, collapsing onto a worn couch. “They unshackled me and put me in an old car. They wound tape around me like a mummy to hold me in the passenger seat, then put cans of gasoline on the floor in the back. They opened them and stopped them up with rags. The old car was all the way across the road from the guardrail. They revved up the motor and lit the rags just before they threw the car into gear. I was praying it wouldn’t hurt bad and that I would be in heaven before I burned too much.

  “The car hit the rail at top speed, but I hardly moved because I was taped so tight to the seat. Then the car was airborne, tumbling end over end, and I was choking with the smoke from the gas. When it hit the ground, someone popped my door open, ripped off the tape, and yanked me out. We rolled and rolled together and finally hid in the bushes as the car exploded and cartwheeled down into the canyon.

  “The guy told me the tape had saved me, but I would have roasted alive if he hadn’t pulled me out. I lay there half-conscious in the bushes for a while. He disappeared, but I had a good view of what was left of the car.

  It lay there burning, a deep orange with black smoke. I knew I had to get out of there before they came looking for my body.

  “I hiked back up to the main road and kept going till I reached the monorail. I didn’t dare let anyone see me, so I just followed the tracks as far as I could, then stayed in the shadows and took the back way when I got down here.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “A miracle.”

  “That had to be an angel.”

  Lois asked for attention and led the group in singing.

  Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love: The fellowship of kindred minds is like to that above.

  Carl led in a prayer of thanks. He told Barton, “We’ve been planning a counterattack.”

  “Tell me!”

  Carl summarized what Paul had outlined, and Barton painfully sat up and leaned forward. “Let’s do it,” he said. “Let’s trust God to work.”

  Carl handed him a copy of what he had written. “I was just about to read this.”

  Paul read Carl’s daring manifesto over Barton’s shoulder. It boldly stated that the Christian men and women of greater Los Angeles were praying that God
would dry up the water supply to the city to stop the brutal persecution of believers.

  We know that the fervent prayer of the righteous avails much, and if the killing of the innocents does not immediately cease, we’re trusting God to answer this prayer and send this judgment on our tormentors.

  If the army does not immediately withdraw and leave us to worship in peace, we believe this will come to pass. When it happens—and it will happen—you will know God has acted. To prevent it, we call on all affected citizens to rise up and force the powers that be to change their cruel and unjust laws against people of faith.

  We wish to live out our beliefs in public with respect and love to and from all. Here we stand.

  When the drought comes, remember that Jesus said, “If you are thirsty, come to Me! If you believe in Me, come and drink! For the Scriptures declare that rivers of living water will flow out from within.”

  “This is great,” Barton said. “I wouldn’t change a word. Get this onto the Internet to all the groups we know and urge them to pass it on to everyone they can. We’ll be laughed at and ridiculed, but God will act; then the laughing—and the killing—will stop.”

  He and a few others raced to the computers to start posting the manifesto. Paul was eager to get going, knowing that Ranold was probably waiting, annoyed. “They’ll be done, and we’ll all leave in a few minutes,”

  Carl said. “But we have a little something for you, friend. You’ve been risking your life for us, and we want you to have this token of our appreciation.”

  He presented Paul with a penny, which Paul folded tightly in his palm.

  He was unable to speak. Carl stepped to him and put a hand on his head.

  “Jude 1:24-25 says, ‘And now, all glory to God, who is able to keep you from stumbling, and who will bring you into His glorious presence innocent of sin and with great joy. All glory to Him, who alone is God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Yes, glory, majesty, power, and authority belong to Him, in the beginning, now, and forevermore.

  Amen.’”

  Paul mouthed a thank-you and ventured back out into the night.

  * * *

  He drove back toward Beverly Hills thanking God for sparing Barton.

  “And thank You too for giving me the idea of how You can show Yourself to the people of Sunterra. As I believe, with all my heart, You will.”

  Paul was within half a mile of the Allendo mansion when he heard a tone and answered.

  “Paul?” It was Jae, and she sounded different.

  “Yes! Hi!”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Paul. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “You did?”

  “And now I want to see you.”

  “I don’t know when I’ll be home, Jae,” Paul said, “but I hope you and the kids will be there.”

  “I want to see you tonight, Paul.”

  “Jae, I would love that. I’ve missed you. But I’m still in L.A. and I am working—”

  “I’m at LAX, Paul.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Come get me at Helios Air.”

  * * *

  Nearly an hour later Paul rushed from the car and into Jae’s arms, full of questions. She held him fiercely and kissed him deeply. “I don’t ever want to be apart from you again, Paul.”

  He put her bag in the car, and they pulled away from the airport. “I have so much to tell you,” she said.

  “I’m glad to see you, Jae. But what brings you here? And why now?”

  “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

  As Paul drove, Jae told him about the kids and described the fun they were having in Washington. “But they miss you, Paul. They keep asking when Daddy will come visit. I’ve told them that you had to work after being out sick for so long. They’re afraid you might get hurt again, and I promised you’d talk to them about it.”

  “I will.”

  What about my father’s letter? Did you take it? Paul strained to detect anything unusual in Jae’s tone. What is this visit about?

  Finally he pulled into the parking lot of a fancy restaurant a few miles from Allendo’s. He waved off the parking valet, then flashed his badge to rebuff the security guard who came to shoo them away. When they were alone, Paul turned to face Jae.

  She took both his hands in hers. “Paul, I am so sorry. I didn’t trust you. I was convinced you were cheating on me.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “I was tormented by that letter from Angela. I couldn’t believe it was innocent—not after the last time. The detectives never confirmed who you were seeing in Toledo, but you didn’t even offer an alibi—not that I would have believed it. Still, I didn’t really want to leave you. If I had, I would have filed for divorce, not just moved to D.C.”

  “That’s what I kept telling myself.”

  “I knew Angela Pass Barger had to be Andy Pass’s daughter.

  Remember how you refused to let me come with you to his funeral? That made me sure my suspicion was justified. I knew the NPO had taken pictures at the funeral, so I begged Daddy to get me one.”

  “And he did? That’s way out of line.”

  “I’m his daughter, Paul. It’s not like I asked him to track her down or intimidate her. When I saw how young and beautiful and vivacious she was, I thought our marriage was over. And then she was with you on TV

  after that Las Vegas bust.”

  “This is all circumstantial, Jae.”

  “Well, it made a good case. But still, I couldn’t let our marriage die.

  She mentioned the Library of Congress in her letter, so I tried calling her there. They said that she had quit a few months ago. So I flew to Las Vegas to find her and confront her.”

  Paul smacked himself in the head. “Oh, boy. Did you find her?”

  “No. I showed the picture around at the Babylon, where you made the arrest. One of the hostesses—or whatever they are—knew about her. Said she was doing some kind of social work with the prostitutes.”

  “That was some detective work, Jae.”

  “That’s when I put it all together.”

  “You did?”

  “I figured you’d met her at the funeral and realized she could be a great source. Even if she wasn’t a zealot herself, she might know her father’s associates. Then I remembered something in the letter, which I hadn’t paid much attention to, about handwriting samples or something.

  That helped clinch it for me—you were using her to get information. No wonder you wouldn’t tell me about her.”

  “A lot of what I do has to be secret. . . .”

  “Oh, Paul, I know. I guess jealousy got to be a reflex for me. So I decided that—whatever she was to you, even if you fell for her—I was going to fight to save our marriage. Ten years is a long time—too much to throw away. Do you love her?”

  Paul sighed. “I can’t deny I found her attractive. But I swear, Jae, I was never—not ever—involved with her.”

  “For the sake of the kids, can we put the past six months behind us?

  Can we try to make each other happy again?”

  “Jae, that would mean the world to me.”

  But Paul couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a little too tidy.

  35

  When Paul finally pulled up to the Allendo mansion, the man at the gate said, “General Decenti asked to be informed when you arrived. He would like a word.”

  “It’s three in the morning,” Paul said.

  “He said the hour was of no concern.”

  “Give us a few minutes,” Paul said, “and do me the favor of not informing him that my wife, his daughter, is with me. I want to surprise him.”

  “I’ll ask him to meet you in the parlor in ten minutes.”

  * * *

  Once inside, Jae said, “Paul, I’m so sorry for my part in all this. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “I was wrong too. I haven’t been a mode
l husband for years.”

  “I wasn’t a model wife, either. I was obsessed with your fidelity—or lack of it. And then when you were hurt, I felt you shut me out and I resented it. I didn’t take into account how devastating it must have been to be blind.”

  “All I could think of was my own misery, Jae. I didn’t consider the effect of my blindness or my anger on you and the kids. I want to be a better husband, a better father. There’s a huge change I want—need—to explain to you. But I’m not sure I can find the words right now with all that’s going on. It’s a battle zone here.”

  “As long as it’s not a change in your love for me, Paul, I can wait.”

  “Trust me, it’s a change that makes me value you more than ever. I promise you that.”

  * * *

  As Jae unpacked, Paul headed downstairs, wondering if he had a right to be happy, relieved, or suspicious. This had all happened so fast.

  He found Ranold in a burgundy smoking jacket, pajamas, and slippers.

  “Where in the world have you been?”

  “I was not under the impression that I reported to you.”

  “Maybe not, but you will answer to me. I myself was out this evening.

  I’m not too shockable, Paul, but tonight I got hit with a bombshell—a bombshell about you.”

  Paul’s blood slowed. His head buzzed. He felt his eyelids twitch—

  imperceptibly, he hoped—struggling to slam shut against Ranold’s stare .

  This is it.

  Paul forced himself to stay focused on his father-in-law. He willed his voice to stay even and strong. “About me?”

  “I met a woman named Grace Dean. Heard of her?”

  The cat-and-mouse game. Paul’s answer could mean life or death for her and for himself. He did not flinch or respond.

  “She’s a hydrologist for Los Angeles Water and Sewer. But you knew that, didn’t you, Paul?”

  He can’t wait to see if I’ll break down. “This is your story, not mine, Dad.”

  “This afternoon Grace was asked by an acquaintance she knew only as Lois to come and talk to her group, a terrorist zealot cell, about the layout of the L.A. water system. Grace was afraid, didn’t know what to think.