“Yes, sir.”
Standing, William added, “And for now, at least, let’s keep a very tight lid on this. The last thing we need is a panic, when we’re not sure where, when, or even if this will really happen. I pray it won’t.”
The others rose as well. Vince Harley took back the two pages William offered him. “Of course. And, you’re right, until we know more, there’s little reason to scare anyone needlessly.”
The four of them looked at one another. William spoke for all of them when he said, “General, you’d better plan for the worst. Better yet, find out who’s behind this, so we can try to stop them. If we have to face them in an American city, it won’t be easy, and I’ll really need your help.”
“Yes, sir,” the general said as they walked to the door. Ten minutes later William heard the rotors on the helicopter turning as he sat alone in his chair, trying to imagine what he would do if the threat was actually real.
PARIS, FRANCE—While the Harrison extended family slept that night, it was already Sunday morning in Paris where Sadim had just arrived on one of his rare trips away from the Bright Star. He had taken a circuitous and tiring route through Malta and Athens, using tickets bought from different agencies several days apart, and using different names and passports for each leg of the journey. He had taken a room in a small hotel near Montemarte using yet another name and paid for three nights in advance.
At two on Sunday morning, dressed as a waiter from the ground floor restaurant which had just closed, he left through the rear door of the hotel with his belongings in a shopping bag and headed for the Northern Train Station. There he picked up an expensive suitcase that had been left for him at the baggage storage area, changed clothes again, and arrived at the elegant Hotel Louis XIV satisfied that he had not been followed.
Sadim allowed himself the minor luxury of sleeping until eight that morning, when he rose and, after prayers, made one call from a pay phone located near the hotel. At eleven he was sharing a booth in the restaurant of a third hotel with his main contact.
“Thank you for arranging the bag at the train station,” he said to his breakfast companion. “Everything went well.”
“My pleasure,” replied Wafik Ahmady, his fellow countryman. “It is always an honor to have you here. How goes our work?”
“Very well, my friend,” Sadim said with a slight smile. “The Council’s plan, of which you were of course a part, has worked very well, and we are actually ahead of schedule on the modifications. The first message went out by fax Saturday evening. I wish I could have been in Washington to see his face! We have more messages and ‘leaks’ planned that will lead them on blind chases all over the world and away from us. Let them feel what it’s like to worry about your very existence with every breath! How about your work?”
“Fine, as you will see.”
“When is our first meeting?” Sadim asked.
“Here, in ninety minutes. I’ve arranged for you to have that booth across the room, and you’ll hear our conversation with this earpiece.” Wafik slid the small device across the table. “The microphone is this button on my shirt.”
“Do any of these men know the others are here?”
“Anything is possible, but that is highly unlikely. Each believes he and his contact are the only ones we have met with. Given the large sums of money involved, that should be believable.”
Sadim felt quite comfortable with Wafik’s ability to perform this part of their plan very well on his own. But as the leader, Sadim also knew it was important for him to be present at key times and to ask questions.
Wafik had turned a scholarship at Georgetown University and strong family connections in Lebanon into an international consulting firm with deep ties to the powerful elite in Washington. He had carefully watched, and participated over the years, as politicians traded favors with each other on pet projects, both foreign and domestic. He had acted as a key go-between on many occasions when a trade treaty or foreign aid package could have beneficial side effects for a particular group, either in the U.S. or overseas. And always he had noted carefully who listened to whom, because he knew that someday he would need to use those channels himself. For, despite his almost invisible work at the highest levels of international commerce and politics, Wafik never forgot the roots he shared with Sadim and with so many others.
An hour later Sadim moved to the booth nearby where he could observe each person meeting with Wafik and hear their conversation. Right on time at twelve-thirty the first man arrived and sat with Wafik.
“Francis. So glad to see you,” Wafik said, as he extended his hand to the tall American in the conservative blue business suit with a red handkerchief in his lapel pocket.
“April in Paris. How could I refuse your invitation?” Francis Palmer replied as he slid into the booth across from his host.
“Would you like a coffee or a glass of wine?” Wafik asked as the waiter approached. “I regret that I cannot have lunch with you, but my time is very short.”
“I understand. Yes, I’ll have a glass of red wine.”
Wafik ordered wine for his guest and espresso for himself. The two men continued their casual conversation until their beverages were served and the waiter retired.
“So, Francis, have you had a chance to consider the proposition we discussed last month in Washington?” Wafik asked.
“Yes, and if I understand it correctly, and if you’ll sweeten the pot a little, I think we can do business.”
“Tell me what you understand.” Wafik took a sip of his espresso.
“That along with my official duties as a registered lobbyist for the cable television industry I am to approach my good friend Congressman Trent Patterson and make him an offer it will be hard for him to refuse.”
“And the offer we discussed?”
“I am to offer him three-quarters of a million dollars in cash, deposited secretly into a foreign bank account of his choice, in return for his leadership and support to make our country’s approach in the Middle East more balanced. Specifically to use his influence to pass a congressional resolution endorsing the United Nations resolutions requiring Israel to give back the land it has taken since 1967. And to pass appropriations bills that cut back our aid to Israel if they don’t. He will receive a special notice of when he is to move for adoption of these measures, which will happen sometime within the next two years.”
“You have understood my request and my offer precisely,” Wafik confirmed. “Do you think he will agree?”
“For $750,000? With his campaign debt and a wife who’s suing him for divorce? A secret $750,000 that no one will know about? He might say no, but I think it’s very unlikely.”
“And what do you think needs to be ‘sweetened,’ as you say?”
Francis Palmer took a sip of wine before replying. “I think he needs an incentive—it’s the American way. I propose he gets another $250,000 if he gets the measures passed.”
“Is that the total of what you want?”
“Almost. Most importantly, I think my good services, if he says yes, are worth half a million to you, not a quarter million.”
Wafik paused. There was an almost invisible nod from the single man occupying the booth across the aisle.
“Agreed, but in your case, half now and half when the resolution passes.”
“Four hundred when he signs on. One hundred on passage.”
Wafik paused again. “Done. When will you meet with him?”
“As soon as I get back. Late this week, or early the next.”
“Excellent. And on top of everything else, he’ll be doing the right thing for America and finally supporting policies that the rest of the world ratified many years ago.”
“Whatever. I hope it’s right, obviously. But there’s certainly nothing wrong with one million dollars in cold cash!”
“Call the number I gave you in Washington when you have something to report, and we’ll set up a meeting.”
“He pro
bably won’t want to meet, at least not in the U.S. We may have to come back to Paris or some place similar.”
“That will be a pleasure.” Wafik smiled. “Just do your job well, and we’ll meet wherever you like.”
CAMP DAVID—Michael and Elizabeth Tate arrived from Baltimore in time for breakfast with the president, first lady, and the Prescotts. The conversation never touched on politics or religion, other than when William Harrison asked Michael about his work in foreign countries. The president was impressed with the minister’s grasp of geo-politics in the Middle East and in Eastern Europe.
After breakfast the superintendent showed Michael to the wooden and stone chapel, where he met briefly with young Robert Harrison and Sarah Prescott, who had volunteered to read the lessons from the Bible.
By ten o’clock the rustic chapel was filled with the weekend guests plus many young men and women from the marines and navy who were stationed at Camp David. By the time Michael Tate entered the sanctuary from the side door, all of the president’s family were present, including his parents. Only Rebecca’s daughter, Courtney, and Bruce were absent.
After the opening hymn of “Jesus Christ Is Risen Today” there were prayers and Scripture readings from Isaiah 53, giving the promise and purpose of Christ from seven hundred years before his birth; and from Luke 24, giving the report of his resurrection from those who were eyewitnesses. After another hymn and several prayers, Michael rose to begin his sermon.
“It goes without saying that we are here today in a political environment, but I’m not going to talk at all about politics.” Thank goodness! William thought. “But I do feel led this glorious Easter morning to talk about what politicians must deal with every day: choices.
“There are quite a few children here this morning, and one can look upon the parenting experience as preparing our children to make the best possible choices in their lives as they naturally grow in their responsibilities. We can teach them and tell them what we believe is right; ultimately, however, our children will be on their own, and the choices they make will be theirs.
“There is almost nothing sadder than the parent whose heart is broken by the choice of a grown child to take drugs, to commit adultery, or to fail to raise their own children properly. But these are the choices that our children must make. We pray they will follow the paths we have set for them and that they will remember the foundation of spiritual truths we have taught them. But ultimately and finally, the choices are theirs alone. And the consequences for those choices are theirs alone, too.
“This Easter I want to look at several choices that come to us from the Scripture, to see how others handled them and what their consequences were. We’ll go through these quickly, and I’ll give you the references for your own study, because my emphasis here will be on the choices we make.”
He then described Jesus’ choice to submit to his Father’s will on Good Friday and Peter’s choice to deny that he ever knew Jesus.
“In the months and years that followed that lowest of low points in Peter’s life, he went on, once he had been filled with the eternal power of the Holy Spirit forty days later, to become one of the greatest speakers, writers, and leaders of all time. This uneducated fisherman led a movement that, without newspapers, television, or books, literally turned the known world upside down. And I believe his later willingness to submit his own will to that of the Lord, to let the Lord lead him, began early that awful morning of denial when his own power failed him miserably, and he knew it. He made a choice that morning relying on his own human resources, and he realized the consequences from then on of limiting himself in that way.
“The third and fourth choices were made by the two thieves who were crucified on each side of Jesus, as described in Luke 23. Please read it yourselves. Essentially one ridiculed Jesus. The other believed in him. Which one are you? Jesus told the one who asked him for salvation that they would be together in heaven that day. Not a hundred years later. Not at the millennium. But immediately. The implication is clear that the other thief would be somewhere else.
“There are two conclusions from this encounter. First, that what we do decides where we will spend eternity. One thief ridiculed. The other believed. The believer was promised heaven by the Son of God himself. The second implication is that we are spiritual beings. We will exist throughout all eternity, somewhere. We don’t have a third choice of just passing away and opting out. Like the two thieves, we will go somewhere, and where we spend our own eternity depends on the choices we make as individuals.”
Tate then described how he had made the choice in his own life to follow God’s will. And he described the difficult choice his wife, Elizabeth, had made, coming from a family that had ignored the spiritual aspect of life. Finally he recounted three moving instances of individuals whose lives had been completely changed by the choices they had made to follow the Lord: a seventeen-year-old girl dying from leukemia who went on to change hundreds of her schoolmates; a business leader workaholic who redeemed a college age son from drugs; and a couple with three small children who had saved their marriage when it had been on the brink of dissolving. Each story illustrated how the Lord breathed new spiritual life into a situation that from a human perspective had seemed hopeless.
“There is one choice that we all must face, individually. Imagine that Jesus has come here himself this Easter. He has not only announced the way to eternal life, but he has himself provided the way to salvation through his divinity and his obedience. Imagine that he is here, now. He has reported to you through his written Word the consequences, good and bad, of your choice. He is standing at the door of your heart and knocking. But only you can open that door. Only you can submit to his will in your life. Or you can reject him and the consequences he clearly describes. It is up to you. It is so simple. Yet so powerful. You must choose.”
Oh no, he’s not going to ask people to stand up or walk forward, is he? William thought, already embarrassed.
“If you elect to choose God today please pray with me. And then if you want to talk about your choice after the service, Elizabeth and I will be staying through lunch and will be delighted to meet with you and to share God’s love with you. Let’s now bow our heads in prayer.
“If you truly want to lead a new life and be part of God’s kingdom forever, please pray along silently with me.”
William politely bowed his head, but he was astonished to hear Carrie whispering Michael’s words next to him.
Michael continued to offer a prayer of personal repentance that William could tell at least some of those in the chapel were repeating quietly.
As Michael finished his prayer, William clearly heard the sound of weeping behind him, though he could not tell if it was from one of his family members or the staff. Then Carrie, sitting next to him, turned toward him, and he saw tears running down her cheeks. She asked quietly for his handkerchief, as Mary had done thirty-five years earlier.
He felt transported back to that morning when Mary had been changed. The message was the same today, but if anything, more powerful. Or at least described in a way to which he could actually relate. But again he had not prayed. In fact, he was embarrassed that Michael had been so explicit, and he was relieved that there had not been an altar call. This is such a personal thing! he thought. I’m not going to change my life based on something I hear from someone I’ve only known for three hours!
Yet here was Carrie, his wife, crying as she sat next to him. Has she, like Mary all those years ago, made that choice this morning? He had been moved, fair enough. It all sounded so sensible. Yes, he believed there probably was a God. But not one you had to personally submit to. And certainly not like this, in front of so many people. But has Carrie made that choice?
They stood to sing another hymn, “Amazing Grace,” and William glanced back to see both Hugh and Jennifer smiling at him. They, too, seemed filled with peace. He could see it! What exactly had happened this Easter morning?
Communion follo
wed, and when the service was over, Michael walked to the back of the church to greet the congregation as they filed out. William shook his hand and told him how much he had enjoyed the sermon. As he started to walk away, Carrie said, “William, I want to stay and talk to Michael and Elizabeth before lunch. I’ll join you at the lodge in a few minutes.”
“Sure, Carrie. I’ll see you there,” the president responded. He moved over to walk back with his parents.
“Where did Mary find him?” his mother asked. “I was expecting him to tell us about the devil next. How embarrassing to ask people to pray to be born again, as if some cheap chant like that would guarantee you a place in heaven! God doesn’t want prayers and chants; he wants actions and deeds. What a waste of a beautiful morning.”
As they were about to round a curve in the path, William looked back at the chapel, where Carrie, Hugh, Jennifer, all four Prescotts, plus Robert, Sasha, and six or seven of the marine guards were clustered around Michael, deep in discussion. “Mom, you may be right,” William heard himself saying, “but something happened in that chapel this morning. Even I felt it.”
PARIS—It was already late afternoon in Paris. After yet another American rose and departed from another restaurant meeting, Sadim left his nearby seat and joined Wafik in his booth.
“I have seen enough, my friend,” Sadim said. “You are right, it does go well.”
“But that is only six men. We have twelve more to meet over the next two days,” Wafik protested.
“You will meet them, but there is no reason for me to stay. You are doing fine. American Congressmen and Senators must need money more than even we imagined. So far we are actually below budget.”
“Remember, these are only the go-betweens, not the politicians themselves. We could still have a significant drop off from our original hopes.”
The President Page 13