by David Archer
Nodding his head, Ken said, "Right, that's how the world will see him, at first. He'll be the one to bring peace to the Middle East, by creating a peace treaty with Israel that will seem to solve all the problems that have plagued the region all these years. The problem comes in when he decides that he's more than just a leader, and actually demands that people worship him as if he were God. That's when the ten kings, the ten nations that had been backing him until that point, will rebel against him. He will have established his headquarters in Jerusalem by that point, so in order to attack him, his enemies will invade Israel."
"And Israel is special to God, so He won't allow it to be destroyed, right?"
Ken nodded again. "Exactly," he said. "According to Bible prophecy, that will be one of the bloodiest battles ever fought on earth. The blood of the soldiers who die will run in streams, it says, as deep as a horse's bridle, but Israel will not be defeated."
Sam looked up at him. "And at this point, Christ returns to rule the earth?"
"Yep," Ken said. "That's how it works out. Now, I don't know if we're actually coming up to that point or not, but I do know that an awful lot of the things that have to happen to allow this to occur have happened. There are only a few things left, according to prophecy, that have not yet taken place. One of those, of course, is the rise of the Beast, the Antichrist himself. Our guy Chandler, who apparently follows a different view of how these prophecies all play out, is trying to maneuver himself into a position that will allow him to control that Beast when he appears. In biblical prophecy, this would seem to mean that Chandler is the person referred to as the false prophet. The false prophet, and I don't claim to understand how all this works, is the one who will be telling people what to do in the name of the Beast, wielding both political and religious power. It looks like Chandler wants that job."
"And in order to get it," Sam said, "he needs to bring on the one world government, the New World order or whatever it's called, so that he can figure out whose strings it is he's planning to pull. Right?"
"Bingo!" Ken said, pointing a finger at Sam. "But I don't think he's just waiting to find out who it is, I think he's trying to put someone in that position."
"Wouldn't that be going against the prophecies? Trying to overrule God?"
"Not necessarily," Ken said. "If Chandler is the false prophet, if he is the one who was destined by these prophecies to fulfill that position, then it's quite likely that he's doing exactly what God would want him to do. I mean, that would be his place in all of this. My position is simply that, if he's just a wannabe, as I think he is, then he needs to be stopped. Frankly, I've read these prophecies over and over, and there are still things that need to happen before we reach that time. In my opinion, Chandler is trying to bypass those things and make it happen sooner. If that's the case, then I don't think God will mind if we put a stop to Chandler's plans."
Sam leaned back against the wall. He was sitting on the bed in the motel room they had gotten the night before, in order to get some rest before they made it into DC. No matter how things went when they got there, they knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. Chandler wanted them dead, and there was very little doubt that he had a number of assassins out on the prowl, looking for them.
"Taking down a guy like Chandler isn't going to be easy," Sam said. "We're talking about an experienced CIA agent, and from what Harry says, he's a pretty dangerous man himself. Even without his goons, there's a good chance that he could spot us coming and take us out before we can get to him. Is that right?"
Ken smiled grimly. "He's a badass, all right. I doubt there are any official records of how many people he's killed, but I'd personally bet that it would go over a hundred. As for those whose deaths he has ordered, I'd probably put that number well over a thousand. In his position, Chandler can order the elimination of minor functionaries in just about any country that his desk oversees. Now, it's a common practice to cultivate those functionaries by letting them see how easy it is to have them killed. What you do is, you approach one of their assistants and ask him or her if they would like to have their boss's job. You may have to go through a few of them before you find the one who says yes, but then you simply eliminate the boss and everyone under the boss who is over the one you made the deal with. Now you've got someone in that position you, A, owes you a huge favor; B, knows you can have him or her killed as easily as you got rid of those above them; and C, is therefore not even inclined to risk pissing you off. Chandler probably has dozens, if not hundreds of those people in place in different countries, so it's highly likely that he can arrange just about anything he wants, and just about anywhere in the world."
Sam shook his head. "No man should have that much power," he said. "No wonder this guy has a God complex. He feels like he can do anything already, and get away with it."
"And the worst part of that? He's right," Ken said. "I would just about bet you that Harry is the first person Chandler's gone after who wasn't dead an hour later. This guy is accustomed to getting what he wants, and what he wants right now is all of us out of his hair. The sooner we can either expose him or kill him, the more likely it becomes that you and I will live to see another sunrise."
Sam sat forward, turned and put his feet on the floor. "Just because I'm the curious sort, what kind of odds would you give us as it stands right now?"
Ken shrugged. "Right now? Maybe one chance in thirty. As much as I hate to say it, it's not very likely that we're going to find anyone on Capitol Hill who doesn't owe him some pretty big favors. Now, what that means is that anyone we approach is probably going to be afraid to have anything to do with us. By that, I mean that they will be a lot more afraid of making Chandler mad at them than they would be of not doing the right thing by helping us expose him. Right and wrong are not the same concepts on Capitol Hill that they are in the rest of the world; while we might see getting rid of Chandler as the right thing to do and a good thing for our country, most of our senators and congressmen would see it as losing the guy who can fix any problem they run into. To them, that would be about as wrong as it could get. Politics needs people like Chandler, and politicians need him even more."
"So what you're telling me," Sam said, "is that if I go to my Congressman tomorrow and say that I've got evidence that Chandler is committing treason against our country, he's more likely to pick up the phone and tell Chandler I'm there than he is to help me put a stop to Chandler's plans. Is that how it works?"
"Yeah, that's pretty much it."
Sam put his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands. The thought crossed his mind that he had never been so angry and so scared at the same time. "Then we have to kill him." It wasn't a question; it was a statement.
Ken nodded again. "Yes. We have to kill him. I'm sorry, Sam, I know this isn't the world you're used to, but it's the one you blundered into. If I thought I could actually do this alone, I'd drop you off somewhere to hide out until it's over, but Chandler is probably the most dangerous target I've ever taken aim at. I need help, and I need backup. And, if the worst-case scenario happens and I end up dead, I need you to get to Chandler and finish the job."
Sam looked up at him. Only a couple of days ago, Ken Long was nothing but a man whose daughter wanted to talk to him, and so she hired Sam to find him. That's what private eyes do, so Sam took the job. Little did he know that he was buying himself a ticket into the Twilight Zone, where men tried to manipulate not only other men, but even the gods into doing their will. Now Sam, who considered himself to be only moderately religious, had been drawn into a plot that was straight out the book of Revelation in the Bible.
* * * * *
Grayson Chandler worked for the CIA, running the Senior Islamic Analysis Desk. What that meant was that he controlled a fairly large room where top analysts said and did nothing but go over intelligence regarding Islamic activities, and particularly those involved with terrorism and anti-Semitic or anti-Christian activities. It was his job to take the informati
on his underlings brought to him and decide what parts of it should be sent on to other agencies, or up to the President of the United States. His reports always got top priority, because if anyone was going to spot an impending terror attack, it was likely to be him or one of his people.
This position made it possible for him to gain lots of leverage in countries that were likely to be targets of Islamic terrorism, as well as countries where Islam, whether extreme or fundamental, was the prevalent religion. In the former, leaders courted his friendship in order to be warned of upcoming activities that could affect their nations; in the latter, they did so in order to be made aware of military or clandestine activities designed to limit or eliminate Islamic power. Either way, Chandler was the man that everybody wanted on their side.
This made him an extremely powerful man, but it wasn't enough for him. Like everyone who has tasted great power, he desired even more and planned all of his activities accordingly. In nearly forty years of service, the last thirty of which had been with the CIA, he had developed an incredible instinct for choosing future power players. It was said that if Chandler favored you, then you were destined for great things. The only question was what his favor was going to cost, because it always came with a price.
Somewhere in those years, Chandler had become aware of the Prophecies Desk, another section that was devoted to the study and analysis of religious prophecy. He had managed to get himself transferred into that section for a few years, back in the early nineties, and he used the time wisely. That section was run by an eight-man panel headed by Professor Isaac Lambert, one of the world's leading experts on the subject. He had spent many hours with Lambert, making certain that he understood all of the different viewpoints related to prophecy and how it affected the United States of America. This included Judaic, Islamic and Christian prophecies, as well as those from some even more obscure religions. Some of the most intriguing prophecies came from the ancient Babylonian and Mesopotamian religions, and those were the ones that Chandler found most interesting.
Of particular interest were some of the unusual prophecies relating to the Babylonian sun god, Shamash. While some Mesopotamian scholars considered him a minor deity, there were many experts in the field who believed that Shamash should be regarded as the supreme being. Because there were so many deep references that made such an implication, there were even those who believed that Shamash should be considered the foundation upon which the Hebrew God, Jehovah, was created.
By following their reasoning, as well as spending time studying with some of Shamash's followers, Chandler had come to the conclusion that Shamash was the Great God who would eventually rule the world. Because certain prophecies relating to him seemed to follow the general outline of the biblical prophecies — although with Shamash being placed as the power behind the one that Bible prophecy referred to as the Antichrist and an entirely different outcome that left that powerful figure in control of the civilized world — Chandler had decided that he had the opportunity to seize control and install himself high in the councils of Shamash.
Of course, he fully understood the way the rest of the world would see him, and he didn't care. What did it matter to him how he might be perceived by those whom he would one day rule? At this point, all he cared about was establishing his power. Yes, that meant following along with Christian prophecy to a point, but that was simply because the future, as he saw it, would progress along a similar path. The journey didn't concern him; all he cared about was the final destination, and that's where he intended to be victorious.
It was incredible, he thought, knowing the future and how it would turn out. It made him wonder just how stupid his enemies could become, to try to keep him from achieving that which had been predestined for thousands of years. Sometimes it actually made him laugh, and he understood completely what Shakespeare's Puck meant when he stated, "Lord, what fools these mortals be!"
* * * * *
"Okay, so we have to kill him, there's no way around it, right?" Sam asked. "You know, it's a little hard for me to get my mind wrapped around the idea that I'm on the way to commit a murder. I mean, I've always been the guy who tried to prevent such things, y'know? How am I supposed to justify to myself the idea that I have to go and take a man's life in order to do what's right? Can you explain that to me? Because I'm not having any luck trying to figure it out on my own!"
"Youngster, you just hit on the dilemma that faces every assassin on his first mission. No matter how much training he's had, no matter how many times it's been explained to him why he has to do the job he does, he still has to figure out how to justify it to himself. It's one of the most difficult things any man can do, and he has to do it on his own, no one can do it for him."
Sam looked at Ken, and shook his head. "You're not helping. I'm trying to cope with this, and you're not helping."
Ken shrugged, and chuckled at Sam. "What did I just tell you?" he asked. "This is not something anyone can do for you, or even help you to accomplish, you've got to figure it out on your own. The question is simple enough: Which is more important? This man's life or saving your country? Once you figure that out, you'll know the answer. Then you can decide where you stand on the question."
Sam started to answer, but that's when his phone rang, and he lifted it to see that it was Indie calling. He held up a finger to tell Ken to be quiet, then answered. "Well, hello, Gorgeous," he said.
"Hey, Baby," Indie said. "Just wondered how you're doing this morning, and thought I'd give you a call. I miss you, and Kenzie says to tell you she loves you."
"Babe, I miss you and Kenzie more than you can possibly imagine," Sam said. "The more I learn about this mess, the more I wish I'd never returned Joellyn's phone call. I mean, I just don't see me as the guy who's supposed to figure out how to stop the Antichrist, but somehow I got stuck with the job. Do me a favor and call Caleb and see if he has any advice on how to deal with the Antichrist and the false prophet."
Indie laughed, but there wasn't a lot of humor in it. "I'll call him if you want, but are you sure you want anybody to know what you're into right at the moment? From what you've said, this almost sounds like one of those things Harry refers to as so classified you have to be dead to read it."
"Yeah, good point," Sam said. "No sense getting Caleb involved in this insanity with me. So how's everything going there? You staying safe?"
"Ha! Harry added extra security, after he found out who you're dealing with. There's a small army camped outside the cabin right now. Mom and Grace are having fun, running outside and passing out coffee and cookies. I don't think either of them has ever had so much male attention, and they're just not sure how to handle it."
"Yeah, well, as long as those guys know not to mess with you, you're okay. If any of them starts flirting, just remind them that Harry owes me favors. That should be enough to scare them half to death, so they'll back off quick. And if that doesn't work, just sic Beauregard on them. Nobody can stand up to him."
"Sam," Indie said, "tell me you're going to come back to me. Tell me you're going to come back safe."
"Of course I am, Babe," Sam replied. "Nothing else Harry's thrown at me has been able to kill me, so I'm pretty sure this one won't do it, either. I'll be home, and tell Kenzie that I'll do my best not to get shot again. I know how she worries when I get shot."
"Well, gee, I wonder why that would worry her," Indie said. "I mean, it's not like I ever worry about things like that, now do I? No, not me, not ever!"
Sam smiled into the phone. "Baby," he said, "I promise you I'll be away, and home safe. One way or another, as soon as this is over, I'm coming home to you. All the Antichrists and terrorists in the world can't keep me away. I love you, Baby."
"I love you, too, Sam. You came along and turned my whole world upside down, and now I don't know how I could live without you. Don't you ever put me in that position, and I mean not ever! God knows, you've come close a couple of times already, and I'm not going to put up with it. You
can go save the world all you want to, but you have to come home safe to me when you're done. Got that?"
Sam grinned back the laughter, and it even infected Ken, who was sitting on the other bed. "I got it," Sam said, "don't worry, Baby. Listen, we're just about to get on the road. I'll give you a call later this afternoon, and let you know what's going on then. I love you, Babe."
"Okay. I love you, too. I'll talk to you then, Baby."
Sam cut off the call, and looked over at Ken. "I'm not sure what was so funny," he said, "because when that girl says she wants me home safe, she isn't kidding. Trust me on this, I know."
Ken nodded. "Then, you trust me on this. I can't make any promises, but I'm going to do my best to make sure you do get home safe to her. You're a very lucky man, Sam Prichard, to have someone who loves you that much. That's not a luxury I could ever afford, you know. I never got to know my own daughter, so I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you get back home to yours. Maybe that'll buy me a little bit of good karma, you think? God knows I could use it!" He got up off the bed, and picked up the small bag he had brought into the room with him. "You ready? We've still got about a hundred miles to go, but I think we should stretch that a bit, and take a longer way into the city. We know Chandler has people watching for us, and I'd just as soon not give them the chance to collect whatever bounty he's put on our heads. Like it or not, we have a mission, and an awful lot of the world is counting on us pulling it off. Not just our own country, but others as well; there's an awful lot riding on us stopping this egotistical maniac."
Sam picked up his own gear, and started toward the door. "It just seems to me that somebody like Harry should be able to pick up the phone, call the president and say, 'Excuse me, Mr. President, that there's a lunatic loose in the CIA who wants to bring on the battle of Armageddon. Could you slap him down for us?' That would solve the problem for us, wouldn't it?"