Daniel was jogging down the stairs as Lauren came through the foyer. He took the tray from her and gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Is my mother driving you crazy?”
“Not at all.” A thoughtful smile curved Lauren’s mouth. “I think she’s quite charming.”
Mrs. Prentice had already arranged the glasses on a coffee table when Daniel and Lauren arrived in the library. For herself, Mrs. Prentice chose the velvet wing chair, leaving Daniel and Lauren to sit together on the couch. Lauren smiled at the tidy arrangement but said nothing as she sat down and pulled a diet soda from the tray. As she popped the top and poured soda into her glass, she glanced around. This was her favorite room thus far. The decorator had included fewer expensive objets d’art in this room, and Daniel had apparently added a few personal items—a framed photo of his mother on an end table, a crudely painted picture of a log cabin on the wall, a collection of computer books scattered around a rocking chair. The room even smelled of Daniel—a masculine scent of leather and a trace of his cologne.
“You’re probably wondering why I called this meeting,” Daniel joked, clapping his hands together as he sat down.
Neither woman laughed, and a slight blush warmed Daniel’s cheekbones as he lowered his gaze. “Seriously, ladies, I have something important to discuss, and I knew I could trust you two. It’s about Adrian Romulus . . . and the Bible’s prophecy about the coming Antichrist who will rule the world.”
Lauren had stiffened at Romulus’s name, and she noticed a similar reaction from Mrs. Prentice at the word Antichrist.
“What has started you thinking about the Antichrist?” His mother’s voice cracked, then one brow lifted. “Your father’s books—did you finally read them?”
Daniel nodded, then his gaze shifted to Lauren. “I don’t know how much you know about biblical prophecy—”
“I don’t know anything about it.” Lauren shifted uneasily, feeling very much out of her depth. “I only became a Christian in February, and it took me nearly three months to find a church where they actually talk about Jesus and read from the Bible on Sunday mornings. I’m still learning.”
“That’s okay.” Daniel reached out and patted her hand. “But you know about Adrian Romulus, and you’ve been suspicious of him from the beginning.”
“Well—yes,” Lauren admitted. “A gut feeling. Mrs. Stedman didn’t trust him, either.”
“I’m glad you told me that.” Daniel turned to his mother. “Mom, you may not know anything about Adrian Romulus—”
“Adrian who?”
“—but you know about the Antichrist. So I want to tell you both what I think—what I suspect—and I want you to tell me if I’m going crazy or if there’s something there.”
Lauren could see no gleam of amusement in Daniel’s black-lashed eyes. This was no joke.
“I thought you admired Romulus,” she said, watching his eyes. “At one point, I thought you were ready to move to Europe and accept a place in his organization.”
A deep flush washed up Daniel’s throat and into his face, as sudden as a brush fire. “I’ve had second thoughts,” he said, lowering his gaze to the coffee table. “After the explosion—well, let’s just say that Romulus seemed less than sincerely sympathetic. And Brad once asked me if Romulus had designs on ruling the world. At the time, I laughed and told Brad that Romulus didn’t care about anything outside Europe, but now I see that I was wrong. Adrian did try, once, to tempt me with the idea of influencing what he called a worldwide community, but I didn’t recognize the depth of his ambition because I was blinded by my own.”
“All right,” Lauren whispered after a long moment. “Let’s discuss him.”
Daniel tossed her a quick smile, then turned to his mother. “Tell me, Mom, everything you know about the Antichrist. Lauren and I will compare notes to see if we think Adrian Romulus fits the description.”
“Son, you don’t have to put yourself through this.” Mrs. Prentice’s hands twisted in her lap. “The Scriptures tell us that the Antichrist will seize power on the world stage after Christ takes the believers to heaven.” A note of pleading filled her voice. “If you would only accept Christ, Daniel, this would be a moot point. You wouldn’t be here to worry about the coming Antichrist and his evil rule.”
“Mom—” a shadow of annoyance crossed Daniel’s face—“just bear with me, okay? I’m not like you; I can’t just accept something by blind faith. I have to be convinced by facts.”
Lauren drew back at the vehemence in his words. Obviously, they’d had this conversation before, and it was a sore spot for both Daniel and his mother.
“Okay.” Mrs. Prentice blinked and tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth only wobbled precariously. “The Antichrist will rise to worldwide power right after the Rapture, when the Christians are taken to be with the Lord. He will lead a ten-nation confederacy in the territory of the ancient Roman Empire and will make a seven-year peace treaty with Israel.”
A tinge of sadness marked her eyes as she continued. “There will come a time of trouble unlike anything the world has ever known. Plagues, pestilence, death, and destruction. If God did not have mercy and put an end to the struggle after seven years, everyone on earth would perish.”
“I need to know about the man.” A thread of impatience lined Daniel’s voice. “Not what will happen, but facts about the Antichrist himself. Who is he? What is he like?”
Mrs. Prentice ran her fingertips along the soft white curls at her temple. “He will initially be known as a man of peace,” she whispered, her eyes drifting out into the empty expanse of the room. “But at his core is pure wickedness. According to the prophet Daniel, he will be a stern-faced man, a master of satanic intrigue, and very powerful. He will destroy the mighty men and the holy people—the Jews. He will cause deceit to prosper, and he will consider himself superior to all others.”
“That could describe many different men,” Lauren said. “Perhaps we are not meant to know who he is.”
“What else, Mom?”
Mrs. Prentice pressed her fingertips together, then stared at the floor. “The prophet Daniel said he would not desire women.” She looked up at Lauren. “Whether that means he is homosexual or simply uninterested, I don’t know.”
“Romulus is not married.” Daniel prodded Lauren with his elbow. “And in all the times I’ve been with him, I’ve never seen him look at a woman—you know, in that way.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Daniel, perhaps the man simply has self-control.”
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know, Lauren. We were together in some pretty wild places in Brussels, and saw some sights that would have turned a normal man’s knees to mush. But Romulus seemed strangely unaffected.”
“It doesn’t fit.” Lauren shook her head. “His dossier contains surveillance photos of him out with one of the female councilors.” She narrowed her eyes at Daniel. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, so I’ll withhold the name of the councilor.”
“They could have been having a simple dinner.”
“The way she was dressed, I’d say she thought it was a date.”
“This man you’re discussing—” Mrs. Prentice slowly eased into the conversation—“he’s the head of the European Council? Is it ten nations?”
“Not at the moment,” Daniel answered. “There are fifteen nations at present, but there is an inner circle of eleven that have pledged to form one economic union with shared defense, foreign police, and one common currency.” His gaze met Lauren’s. “And I’ve heard inside information that leads me to think that Adrian Romulus may be toying with the governments of at least three of those countries. So who can say how the mix will change over the next few months?”
Mrs. Prentice lifted her hand. “It certainly will change. And you can be sure that by the time the Antichrist—whoever he is—takes the world stage, that confederacy will consist of ten nations, three of which will have been violently subdued by this false peacemaker.”
Daniel twisted and stretched his arm over the back of the couch. “So you’re saying, Mother, that Adrian Romulus might very well be the Antichrist.”
“I’m not saying that at all.” She tipped her head back and looked at him. “I’m saying that he could be. It’s dangerous to predict the future; God forbids fortune-telling. But we have the prophetic signs, and we certainly need to be alert to them.”
“But what are the odds?” Despite Lauren’s reluctance to believe that a man she knew personally could actually be the evil dictator predicted in Scripture, a cold knot had formed in her stomach as Mrs. Prentice described the false Christ to come. “What are the odds, Daniel, that one man could fulfill all those prophecies at this point in time?”
Daniel looked away, his jaw tightening. “I could ask the computer to calculate it.”
Mrs. Prentice shifted in her chair and crossed her legs. “Please be careful, Daniel. Sometimes things aren’t what they seem. What is to prevent us from taking those same prophecies and making them fit someone else? A stern-faced man—that could be virtually anyone. A man of peace—again, that could apply to anyone from Henry Kissinger to the pope. A man who has no desire for women—the pope again, or even you, Daniel, since you’re not married.”
“That’s not me.” Daniel growled the words, and Lauren looked away lest he see her smile.
“So many of this Antichrist’s qualities are internal and hidden,” Lauren added. “He is deceitful, but so is every politician I know. No diplomat dares reveal what he’s truly thinking. Diplomacy is nothing but deceit elevated to an art form.”
“Now that I think about it,” Mrs. Prentice said, her forehead creasing in concern, “I’m surprised that your name hasn’t been bandied about as a likely candidate to be the Antichrist, Daniel. You aren’t married, you have a military background, and you have connections in high and powerful places. But most important, you have been instrumental in developing this awful device—”
“The Millennium Chip?” Daniel’s eyes widened in surprise. “How does that make me a candidate?”
Mrs. Prentice reached into her pocket and pulled out a small Testament, then confidently flipped to a page at the back of the book. “Listen,” she said, straightening in her chair as if she’d been called upon to read in school. “’He also forced everyone, small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on his right hand or on his forehead, so that no one could buy or sell unless he had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of his name.’” Her brows flickered as she looked at her son. “You designed a chip for the new millennium, Daniel. And without it no one can buy or sell.”
Lauren saw a change come over Daniel’s features, a sick shock of realization. “Mrs. Stedman quoted that verse to me once,” he said, turning to Lauren. “You were there—at lunch, when we were discussing the Millennium Project. She was afraid.”
“Not afraid, Daniel.” Eagerness and tenderness mingled on Mrs. Prentice’s face. “No Christian fears the Antichrist, for he cannot hurt us. If we worry at all, it is for those who will be left behind.”
Silence loomed between them like a heavy mist. Lauren lowered her eyes, unable to look at Mrs. Prentice, whose love and concern for her son marked every line of her face, or Daniel, whose jaw was set in determined resistance.
He would never be won, Lauren knew, by emotion or pleading. He lived and breathed in a world of facts and proofs and solid concepts. It would take more than a mother’s plea to bring him to the place of surrender.
“Even if Romulus is the coming Antichrist,” Lauren finally dared to speak up, “what can we do about it? If a prophecy is recorded in Scripture, it will happen regardless of anything we might do. And if the Christians will be taken to heaven before he is revealed, those who know the truth will no longer be on the earth to sound the warning. So what’s the sense in debating the issue?”
Daniel looked at her, his eyes dark with unspoken thoughts. He had not settled the issue in his mind, but Lauren could tell that he had wearied of his mother’s concern for his soul.
She dropped her lashes to hide her own hurt. He had not yet shut her out, but he might if she pushed too hard or too quickly.
“Lauren’s right, of course,” he said, looking at his mother with reproach in his eyes. “What’s the point? Now, ladies—” he stretched and made a poor effort of pretending to yawn—“I thank you for your insights, but I’m exhausted. The apartment is yours, of course, but I’m going upstairs.”
His expression softened, and he sighed softly before giving Lauren and his mother a smile. “Sorry—I’m afraid I’m a little out of my element with all this biblical talk. I’m used to solvable equations, workable problems.”
His mother opened her mouth as if she would say something else, then apparently thought the better of it and snapped her mouth shut.
“You go on up,” Lauren said, smiling as he stood and squeezed her shoulder. “And since you’re deserting us before midnight, I’m going to let your mother tell me every embarrassing story of your childhood.”
He shook his head and walked away, mumbling something about women. Lauren watched him go, then looked at his mother and smiled.
“He’s a good man,” Mrs. Prentice said, her bright eyes trained on Lauren.
“I know.”
Alone in his room, Daniel clasped his head in his hands and tried to summon sleep. Though his mind was thick with fatigue and clouded with memories, sleep danced just beyond the edge of his consciousness.
What was wrong with him? He usually fell asleep within ten minutes of stretching out, his brain as efficient at shutting down as it was at processing new information. Tonight, though, his thoughts seemed energized beyond his power to control them.
Was it Lauren? He had to admit that the thought of her resting just down the hall was not exactly sleep-inducing. She had looked so lovely and natural sitting in his library, a part of him wanted to wrap his arms around her and propose that she stay there forever. He had never really felt comfortable in any of these rooms but the library, and Lauren’s presence had made it almost cozy, relaxing. Daniel had found himself wishing that he could come home to her every night.
Daniel rolled onto his side and pounded his pillow. He was not an adolescent boy prone to fantasies about beautiful women. He was a man, quite adept at controlling his thoughts, his body, and his brain.
So why couldn’t he sleep?
The answer, he realized as he looked out into the darkness, had nothing to do with Lauren. Tonight, for the first time, he had encountered a realm he could not understand. The laws of science were absolute; the laws of mathematics were immutable. Two plus two always made four; the second law of thermodynamics mandated that energy would always dissipate and disintegrate. Those concepts were inherent in the fabric of the universe, its undeniable warp and woof and weave.
But tonight, as his mother had recited Scriptures from memory, Daniel had brushed up against a law he could neither accept nor understand—the law of the supernatural. His mother said that the horrible predictions about the Antichrist were not possibilities, but prophecies, as sure as if they had already happened. In the timeless, eternal mind of the Almighty, they already had.
A cold shiver spread over him as he remembered watching the old black-and-white version of A Christmas Carol on television. Ebenezer Scrooge, hunched and horrified in the dark cemetery, had peered at his own tombstone and asked the hooded figure of Christmas Yet to Come, “Are these the shadows of the things that will be, or are they shadows of the things that may be only?” The ghastly figure did not answer, but Scrooge woke up clinging to his bedpost, convinced that if he changed, the world would change, too.
Scrooge saw a vision of the future and used it to better himself and save Tiny Tim. But Dickens’s story was fiction, and if Mother was to be believed, Scripture was ultimate truth. So why would God give the world a picture of years to come unless people could change things and save themselves?
&nb
sp; Daniel turned onto his back and kicked the thin sheet away. Without being told, he knew what his mother’s answer would be. She would say that for years people had been offered an opportunity to rescue their futures by changing themselves; all they had to do was accept Christ and they’d be removed from the earth before all these terrible things began to happen. Because as soon as his people were removed, God was going to send the world on an inescapable and horrendous seven-year tour of hell on earth.
His answer came, not as a dazzling burst of mental insight, but like a tiny pinhole of light. Slowly it widened, connecting with a crack of revelation there, a fissure of knowledge here. Then Daniel knew what he had to do.
He couldn’t stop the Antichrist, whoever he might be, but if Adrian Romulus continued to fit the pattern of prophecy, Daniel could warn the world.
Girding himself with resolve, Daniel crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. The relentless tides of change had already begun to erode the past and push the world into the future. The Millennium Project was being implemented; tens of millions of Millennium Chips had already been distributed in the United States and Europe. On January 1, 2000, the European Community and the United States would move their Millennium Networks online, and the new cashless programs would begin. As long as President Stedman held to his position, those two networks would continue to be separate and distinct from each other. But what if Stedman lost the election of November 2000? January 2001 would then see the inauguration of another American president, most likely someone who held views completely contrary to Stedman’s. American politics had an unsettling way of swinging from one extreme to the other.
“If Stedman loses and his successor links us to the European Union,” Daniel whispered to the darkness, “Adrian Romulus will control more than half the world’s economy and 75 percent of its military power. And if what Brad told me in Europe is true—if Romulus is also courting the nations of the Pacific Rim and the Arab powers of the Middle East—he may soon control the world.”
Flee The Darkness Page 30