by Tim LaHaye
Rayford had no idea what to say. It didn’t take long to catch on.
Halliday continued, “You’ll fly on a straight line from Dallas to San Francisco, and my guess is you won’t see any devastation from the air, and you won’t be threatened from attack heading that way either. There might be militia people somewhere out west who would like to shoot rockets at Carpathia, but there are precious few people who know he’s heading that way. You’ll stop in San Francisco just long enough to get rid of this copilot and pick up your usual one.”
Buck touched Donny’s arm, as if rousing him from sleep. Donny looked at him blankly. “Mr. Williams, this has all been hard enough even with Pastor Bruce here. I don’t know what we’re going to do now.”
“Donny,” Buck said gravely, “you have an opportunity here to do something for God, and it’s the greatest memorial tribute you could ever give to Bruce Barnes.”
“Well then, sir, whatever it is, I want to do it.”
“First, Donny, let me assure you that money is no object.”
“I don’t want any profit off something that will help the church and God and Bruce’s memory.”
“Fine. Whatever profit you build in or don’t build in is up to you. I’m just telling you that I need five of the absolute best, top-of-the-line computers, as small and compact as they can be, but with as much power and memory and speed and communications abilities as you can wire into them.”
“You’re talking my language, Mr. Williams.”
“I hope so, Donny, because I want a computer with virtually no limitations. I want to be able to take it anywhere, keep it reasonably concealed, store everything I want on it, and most of all, be able to connect with anyone anywhere without the transmission being traced. Is that doable?”
“Well, sir, I can put together something for you like those computers that scientists use in the jungle or in the desert when there’s no place to plug in or hook up to.”
“Yeah,” Buck said. “Some of our reporters use those in remote areas. What do they have, built-in satellite dishes?”
“Believe it or not, it is something like that. And I can add another feature for you, too.”
“What’s that?”
“Videoconferencing.”
“I want all of it, Donny. And I want it fast. And I need you to keep this confidential.”
Buck had thought money would be no object, but this was one expense he could not lay off on Carpathia.
CHAPTER 3
“Call it a hunch, Rayford, but I put something in here just for you.”
Rayford and Earl were finished in the cockpit. He trusted Earl. He knew that if Earl thought he could fly this thing, then he could. He still was going to insist on his and his temporary first officer’s taking off, staging, and landing before he risked flying anyone else. It wouldn’t have bothered Rayford to crash and kill himself along with the Antichrist, but he didn’t want to be responsible for innocent lives, particularly that of his own wife.
“So, what did you do for me, Earl?”
“Just look at this,” Earl said. He pointed to the button that allowed the captain to speak to the passengers.
“Captain’s intercom,” Rayford said. “So what?”
“Reach under your seat with your left hand and run your fingers along the side edge of the bottom of your chair,” Earl said.
“I feel a button.”
“I’m going to step back into the cabin now,” Earl said. “You mash the normal intercom button and make an announcement. Wait for a count of three, and then push that button under your seat. Make sure your headphones are still on.”
Rayford waited until Halliday had left and latched the cockpit door. Rayford got on the intercom. “Hello, hello, hey Earl yada yada yada.” Rayford counted silently to himself, then pushed the button under his seat. He was amazed to hear through his earphones Earl Halliday speaking in just above a whisper. “Rayford, you can tell I’m speaking in lower than even conversational tones. If I did my job right, you can hear me plain as day from all over this plane. Every one of the speakers is also a transmitter and leads back to only your headphone jack. I wired it in such a way that it’s undetectable, and this plane has been gone over by Global Community’s best bug finders. If it’s ever detected, I’ll just tell them I thought that was what they wanted.”
Rayford came hustling out of the cockpit. “Earl, you’re a genius! I’m not sure what I’ll hear, but it has to be an advantage to know what’s going on out here.”
Buck was boxing up all the pages from Bruce’s printout when he heard the Range Rover in the parking lot. By the time Chloe reached the office, he had packaged pages and Bruce’s computer into one huge carton. As he lugged it out, he told Chloe, “Drop me off at the Chicago bureau office, and then you’d better check with The Drake and be sure our stuff is still there. We’ll want to keep that room until we find a place to live closer to here.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Chloe said. “Loretta is devastated. She’s going to need a lot of help here. What are we going to do about a funeral?”
“You’re going to have to help handle that, Chlo’. You’ll want to check with the coroner’s office, have the body delivered to a funeral home nearby here, and all that. With so many casualties, it’s going to be a mess, so they’ll probably be glad to know that at least one body has been claimed. We’re each going to need a vehicle. I have no idea where I’ll be expected to go. I can work out of the Chicago office in light of the fact that no one will be going to New York for a long time, but I can’t promise I’ll be around here all the time.”
“Loretta, bless her heart, thought of the same thing in spite of all she’s going through. She reminded me that there’s a fleet of extra cars among the congregation and has been ever since the Rapture. They lend these out for just such crises as this one.”
“Good,” Buck said. “Let’s get you fixed up with one of those. And remember, we’re going to need to get this material reproduced for members of the congregation.”
“You’re not going to have time to go through all that, are you, Buck?”
“No, but I’m confident that anything in here will be profitable for all.”
“Buck, wait a minute. There’s no way we can reproduce that until someone has read all of it. There’s got to be private, personal stuff in there. And you know there will be direct references to Carpathia and to the Tribulation Force. We can’t risk being exposed like that.”
Buck had an ego crisis. He loved this woman, but she was ten years his junior and he hated when it seemed as if she was telling him what to do, especially when she was right. As he lay the heavy box of pages and the computer in the back of the Range Rover, Chloe said, “Just entrust it to me, hon. I’ll spend every day between now and Sunday poring over it line by line. By then we’ll have something to share with the rest of New Hope, and we can even announce that we might have something in copied form for them within a week or so.”
“When you’re right, you’re right. But where will you do this?”
“Loretta has offered to let us stay with her. She’s got that big old house, you know.”
“That would be perfect, but I hate to impose.”
“Buck, we would hardly be imposing. She’ll hardly know we’re there. Anyway, I sense she’s so lonely and beside herself with grief that she really needs us.”
“You know it’s unlikely I’ll be there much,” Buck said.
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
They were in the Range Rover now. “Then what do you need me for?” Buck said.
“I keep you around because you’re cute.”
“But seriously, Chloe, I’ll never forgive myself if I’m in some other city or country and the war comes right here to Mt. Prospect.”
“You’ve forgotten the shelter under the church.”
“I haven’t forgotten it, Chloe. I’m just praying it’ll never come to that. Does anybody else know about that place except the
Tribulation Force?”
“No. Not even Loretta. It’s an awfully small place. If Daddy and Amanda and you and I had to stay there for any length of time, it wouldn’t be much fun.”
Half an hour later, Buck pulled into the Chicago area office of Global Community Weekly magazine. “I’m going to get us a couple of sat phones,” Chloe said. “I’ll call The Drake and then get down there and get our stuff. I’ll also talk with Loretta about a second vehicle.”
“Get five of those phones, Chloe, and don’t scrimp.”
“Five?” she said. “I don’t know if Loretta would even know how to use one.”
“I’m not thinking of Loretta. I just want to make sure we have a spare.”
The Condor 216 was outfitted even more lavishly than Global Community One had been, if that was possible. No detail had been missed, and the latest communications devices had been installed. Rayford had bidden farewell to Earl Halliday, urging Earl to let him know that his home was intact and his wife was safe, as soon as he knew. “You’re not going to like what’s happened to our airport,” Rayford had told him. “You won’t be landing at O’Hare.”
Rayford and his temporary copilot had irritated Carpathia by making a trial takeoff and fly-around before letting the others board the plane. Rayford was glad he had. While it was true that everything in the cockpit was identical to a 777, the bigger, heavier plane behaved more like a 747, and it took some getting used to. Now that the loaded and airborne Condor 216 was streaking toward San Francisco at thirty-three thousand feet and at more than seven hundred miles per hour, Rayford put the craft on autopilot and urged his first officer to stay alert.
“What are you going to be doing, sir?” the younger man asked.
“Just sitting here,” Rayford said. “Thinking. Reading.”
Rayford had cleared his flight path with an Oklahoma tower and now pushed the button to communicate with his passengers. “Potentate Carpathia and guests, this is Captain Steele. Our estimated time of arrival in San Francisco is 5:00 p.m., Pacific Standard Time. We expect clear skies and smooth flying.”
Rayford sat back and pulled his earphone band toward the back of his head, as if pulling the phones off. However, they were still close enough to his ears so that he could hear and his copilot, because his own earphones were on, could not. Rayford pulled from his flight bag a book and opened it, resting it on the controls before him. He would have to remember to turn a page occasionally. He would not really be reading. He would be listening. He slipped his left hand under the seat and quietly depressed the hidden button.
The first voice he heard, clear as if she were talking to him on the phone, was Amanda’s. “Yes, sir, I understand. You need not worry about me, no sir.”
Now Carpathia spoke: “I trust everyone got enough to eat in Dallas. We will have an entire flight crew joining us in San Francisco, and we will be well taken care of throughout our flight to Baghdad and then on to New Babylon.”
Another voice: “Baghdad?”
“Yes,” Carpathia said. “I have taken the liberty of flying into Baghdad the remaining three loyal ambassadors. Our enemies might have assumed we would fly them directly into New Babylon. We will pick them up and begin our meetings on the short hop from Baghdad to New Babylon.
“Mrs. Steele, if you would excuse us—”
“Certainly,” Amanda said.
“Gentlemen,” Carpathia spoke more quietly now, but still clearly enough that Rayford could understand every word. Someday he would have to thank Earl Halliday on behalf of the kingdom of Christ. Earl had no interest in serving God, at least not yet, but whatever motivated him to do Rayford a favor like that, it was certainly going to benefit the enemies of the Antichrist.
Carpathia was saying: “Mr. Fortunato remained in Dallas briefly to arrange my next radio broadcast from there. I will do it from here; however, it will be patched to Dallas and broadcast, again to throw off any enemies of the Global Community. I do need him in on our talks in the night, so we will wait on the ground in San Francisco until he is able to join us. As soon as we leave the ground out of San Francisco, we will trigger both L.A. and the Bay Area.”
“The Bay Area?” came a heavily accented voice.
“Yes, that is San Francisco and the Oakland area.”
“What do you mean by ‘trigger’?”
Carpathia’s tone became grave. “‘Trigger’ means just what it sounds like it means,” he said. “By the time we land in Baghdad, more than Washington, New York, and Chicago will have been decimated. Those are just three of the North American cities that will suffer the most. So far, only the airport and one suburb have suffered in Chicago. That will change within the hour. You already know about London. Do you gentlemen understand the significance of a one-hundred-megaton bomb?”
There was silence. Carpathia continued. “To put it in perspective, history books tell us that a twenty-megaton bomb carries more power than all those dropped in World War II, including the two that fell on Japan.”
“The United States of Great Britain had to be taught,” came the accented voice again.
“Indeed they did,” Carpathia said. “And in North America alone, Montreal, Toronto, Mexico City, Dallas, Washington, D.C., New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and Los Angeles will become object lessons to those who would oppose us.”
Rayford whipped off his earphones and unbuckled himself. He stepped through the cockpit door and made eye contact with Amanda. He motioned for her to come to him. Carpathia looked up and smiled. “Captain Steele,” he greeted him, “is everything well?”
“Our flight is uneventful, sir, if that’s what you’re asking. That’s the best kind of flight. I can’t say much for what’s happening on the ground, however.”
“True enough,” Carpathia said, suddenly sober. “I will soon address the global community with my condolences.”
Rayford pulled Amanda into the galley way. “Were Buck and Chloe going to stay at The Drake again tonight?”
“There wasn’t time to talk about it, Ray,” she said. “I can’t imagine what other choice they’d have. It sounds like they may never get back to New York.”
“I’m afraid Chicago is a certain someone’s next target,” Rayford said.
“Oh, I can’t imagine,” Amanda said.
“I have to warn them.”
“Do you want to risk a phone call that could be traced?” she asked.
“Saving their lives would be worth any risk.”
Amanda embraced him and went back to her seat.
Rayford used his own cell phone after making sure his first officer was otherwise engaged. No answer. Reaching The Drake Hotel in Chicago, Rayford asked for the Williamses. “We have three guests named Williams,” he was told. “None with the first name of Cameron or Buck or Chloe.”
Rayford racked his brain. “Uh, just put me through to Mr. Katz then,” he said.
“Herbert Katz?” the operator said.
“That’s the one.”
After a minute: “No answer, sir. Would you like to leave a message on their voice mail?”
“I would,” Rayford said, “but I would also like to be sure that the message light is lit and that they are flagged down for an urgent message should they visit the front desk.”
“We’ll certainly do that, sir. Thank you for calling The Drake.”
When the voice mail tone came on, Rayford spoke quickly. “Kids, you know who this is. Don’t take the time to do anything. Get as far away from downtown Chicago as you can. Please trust me on this.”
Buck had had innumerable run-ins with Verna Zee in the Chicago office. Once he felt she had overstepped her bounds and had moved too quickly into her former boss’s office after Lucinda Washington disappeared in the Rapture. Then, when Buck himself was demoted for ostensibly missing the most important assignment of his life, Verna did become Chicago bureau chief and lorded it over him. Now that he was the publisher, he had been tempted to fire her. But he had let her remain, provided she did
the job and kept her nose clean.
Even feisty Verna seemed shell-shocked when Buck swept into the office late that afternoon. As usual in times of international crisis, the staff was huddled around the TV. A couple of employees looked up when Buck came in. “What do you think of this, chief?” one said, and several others noticed him. Verna Zee made a beeline for Buck.
“You have several urgent messages,” she said. “Carpathia himself has been trying to reach you all day. There’s also an urgent message from a Rayford Steele.”
Now there was a choice for all time. Whom should Buck call? He could only guess what spin Carpathia wanted to put on World War III. He had no idea what Rayford might want. “Did Mr. Steele leave a number?”
“You’re returning his call first?”
“Excuse me?” he said. “I believe I asked you a question.”
“His message was simply that you should call your hotel room.”
“Call my hotel room?”
“I would have done it for you myself, boss, but I didn’t know where you were staying. Where are you staying?”
“None of your business, Verna.”
“Well, pardon me!” she said and marched away, which was Buck’s hope.
“I’ll be borrowing your office temporarily,” Buck called after her.
She stopped and spun around. “For how long?”
“For as long as I need it,” he said. She scowled.
Buck rushed in and shut the door. He dialed The Drake and asked for his own room. Hearing the fear in Rayford’s voice, not to mention the message itself, made the color drain from his face. Buck called information for the number of the Land Rover dealership in Arlington Heights. He asked for the sales manager and said it was an emergency.
Within a minute, the man was on the line. As soon as Buck identified himself, the man said, “Everything all right with the—”
“The car is fine, sir. But I need to reach my wife, and she’s driving it right now. I need the phone number on that built-in phone.”