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by Robert L. Wise

  Gillette nodded his head.

  “I want to put this idea into gear immediately.” Bridges started pacing back and forth again. “I realize you have some adjustments to make, but I intend this operation to be running in at the most ten days.”

  “Ten days!” Gillette’s mouth dropped.

  “Am I clear?”

  Once again Gillette nodded.

  “If you have any questions or problems, contact Mr. Meachem.” Bridges pointed to his adviser. “He will talk with me.”

  “I—I can’t promise you they’ll be ready in ten days,” Dr. Gillette babbled. “Dr. Newton’s assistants cannot work as fast as h—he did.”

  Bridges ignored his excuse. “I will expect you to be expeditious.” He suddenly extended his hand again. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Doctor. Mr. Meachem will take you back to Urbana.” He smiled and patted the scientist on the shoulder. “Have a nice trip.”

  Meachem, Gillette, and Marks left, with the scientist walking between Bridges’ two assistants. Bridges stood immobile, watching them depart. A few moments later the sound of the back door closing sounded down the hall.

  Connie Reeves walked in. “What do you think, Frankie?” the secretary said.

  “I think between Meachem’s strong-arm tactics and my threatening to yank his funds, we definitely got that little man’s attention.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “YES?” the woman in the blue dress asked Graham Peck. “Can I help you?”

  “Uh . . . I’m sorry to bother you.” Graham said. The woman looked gentle and kind with no hint of animosity lurking in her eyes. “And please forgive me if I seem audacious, but my family noticed you at the restaurant.” He pointed over his shoulder toward Jackie and the children. “I wondered if you would mind if I asked you a question.”

  The woman smiled. “No. Of course not.”

  “When your food was served, we noticed you bowed your head, and I assumed that maybe . . . you prayed?”

  “Yes.” The woman’s face became much more serious. “I always thank God before I eat a meal.”

  “I don’t know what the proper word to use is because so much has changed, but are you . . . a . . . Christian?”

  The woman’s smile broadened. “Yes, I am a believer in Jesus Christ.”

  Graham heaved a sigh of relief. “Praise God! You are!” He turned around and waved for the family to join him. “Yes!” he shouted. “She’s a believer!”

  “You must be more cautious,” the woman said. “Many people in this town would not be pleased to hear what you just said.” She pointed toward the front room. “Bring your family in quickly.”

  Jackie, Adah, and the children hurried up the steps and into the woman’s house. They quickly learned her name was Alice Masterson and she had lived in Rhinelander for about five years, but her parents had lived there for decades. The Peck family and Adah introduced themselves, explaining they shared her newfound faith. Mary Peck hung back and didn’t say anything.

  “What an amazing consequence,” Alice said. “God used my morning breakfast as an opportunity for me to witness in a way I would never have expected.”

  “How did you come to your new faith?” Graham asked. “During the last few months?”

  “Actually, my parents were faithful believers and attended a church here in town,” Alice explained. “Unfortunately, I didn’t go to church and left the Christian faith to them. I was a highly indifferent young woman. Then one morning I went to their house, and discovered they had disappeared. It took me several weeks to realize what had happened. Then, I got serious about what I had ignored.”

  “Amazing,” Jackie said. “Our story is different.”

  “Ah . . . we’ll tell you all about it another day,” Graham broke in. “Right now we wonder if their are any other Christians in this town?”

  “Only a small group exists,” Alice said. “After my parents vanished, I went back to studying the Bible and realized that I had missed the most important truths and insights in the world. I started memorizing the Scripture and began sharing with my friends in the neighborhood. Many of them didn’t want to hear from me, but a few responded. In several months a circle of new believers evolved.”

  “Wonderful!” Jackie said. “What a great story.”

  “We’ve been meeting in the basement of the old church my parents once attended. It’s boarded up, so we don’t worry about intrusions that could happen otherwise.”

  “I understand,” Graham said slowly. “From what we observed in the restaurant, people seem distant around here.”

  Alice nodded her head. “A long time ago this community was settled by German people migrating from the old country. Later Norwegians and Swedes moved in. They tended to keep to themselves, but with time the barriers came down and people mixed more freely.” Alice shrugged. “Of course, recent events in the world canceled all that progress. Today, people have crawled back into those ancient shelters to protect themselves.”

  “This may seem like a strange question,” Graham said. “But what are they most afraid of?”

  Alice thought for a moment. “All those people disappearing freaked everyone out. Crime is so rampant that nobody trusts anything. I wouldn’t walk these streets at night—someone might stick a shotgun out the window and shoot me. The gap between the rich and the poor has sent looters on a rampage.”

  “So, crime is the big problem?” Adah asked.

  “Rhinelanders aren’t used to war either,” Alice added. “The world seems to be filled with nothing but endless strife. The people who don’t have God in their lives are terrified. No one trusts the politicians. Most people quit watching television because the news frightened them.”

  Graham shot a glance at Jackie but said nothing.

  “Shouldn’t that make them open to learning about what you’ve found in the Bible?” Matthew asked.

  “You’d think so!” Alice said. “But it hasn’t! To the contrary, they feel people who pray in public and believe in God are nuts. I prayed in the restaurant because the Bible says I should, but I’ve always worried about doing that.” She beamed. “Until today!”

  “Alice,” Jackie asked conscientiously, “do you think the people in your group that meets at the church would allow us to attend?”

  Alice clapped. “They’d be thrilled!”

  CHAPTER 16

  STANDING ON THE VERANDA of his palatial home in Istanbul overlooking the Black Sea, Hassan Jawhar Rashid watched the seagulls flying over the water. Amassing great wealth in a short time had given him opportunities that most people could never have in six lifetimes. His unique approach of acquiring oil properties in Kuwait and then expanding his company into Iraq had netted billions of dollars before anyone realized the Royal Arab Petroleum Company was moving to take over petroleum assets in other countries. In those early days, he used the name Borden Camber Carson and kept his identity concealed. Even then he sensed a unique destiny that required caution, prudence, and the ability to work in a deceptive manner.

  Hassan leaned over the granite rail that ran around the enormous deck of his massive home, which resembled a Byzantine castle more than a contemporary dwelling. The placid surface of the Black Sea lapped gently against the dock where he kept his yacht. Since casting anonymity aside, Rashid’s bid for political power had accelerated even faster than goals he set for the petroleum industry. An unseen hand seemed to guide everything he did.

  Along the way there had been a few women, but the affairs were casual and meaningless. Any relationships of significant depth would have been a deterrent to his purposes and couldn’t be allowed. Rashid’s dreams were hidden behind a mental shield and never exposed to anyone.

  Turkey’s Justice and Development Party, which had acquired power way back in 2002, dramatically promoted Rashid up the ladder. Old Tayyip Erdogan and his followers pushed him while the center-left Republican Party as well supported Rashid. The vast majority of the members in the 555-seat legislature enthusiasti
cally endorsed Rashid’s grab for control, and suddenly he was not only the prime minister of Turkey, his influence covered the entire region. The wars he initiated and won assured him of extraordinary power. Unknown to anyone but the immediate participants, Rashid was employing terrorists to attack Israel as a way of pressuring their cabinet to accept his proposed treaty.

  During the early years when Rashid worked in the distant deserts, each night he studied, even by candlelight if necessary, reading the political ideals and philosophies of the great rulers of history. Even though he was amassing a financial and political empire, his eyes were on even higher goals. Rashid knew he had a rendezvous with destiny and suspected the rewards could be enormous. No head of state through the centuries had affected his thinking more than the political vision of Adolf Hitler.

  Hitler had foreseen that any significant ruler of Germany must begin as a man of the people, a commoner, not an aristocrat. Such a ruler must seem to be an ordinary citizen. On the other hand, he actually had nothing to do with the masses. His own visions would lead him on a level far above the dreams of the people. Such a ruler would have nothing to do with the commoners. His public image and private performance would, by necessity, be two entirely different matters. In order to achieve personal goals, a powerful head of state must be ready to trample even his closest friends to death at a moment’s notice. He must have a ruthless, hard heart, and Hitler certainly did. Rashid would do him one better.

  Hassan had not seen any of these designs as evil, only necessities in his drive to the top. Actually, Rashid considered his goals to be good, solid achievements to bring renewed hope and purpose to the world, resulting in new solidarity for the world’s people. This “good” was so significant that no one could be allowed to stand in its way. Should a deterrent appear, that individual would have to be eliminated immediately.

  Rashid taught himself to master his emotions, allowing himself on occasion to weep like a child, while at a moment’s notice he could switch directions and release his vilest feelings, lashing out like a whip. On some days he needed to appear tender; other times he must frighten people into obedience.

  A crude side had always lurked in the recesses of Hassan Jawhar Rashid’s mind, and he worked to keep the dark shadow under control. Not just profanity, but crude expletives could erupt unless he paid absolute attention to controling himself. In order to curb emotional explosions, Hassan’s goal was to appear as a genteel, common man of exceptional ability. The objective required him to maintain the appearance of a man of refinement and dignity.

  Behind the scenes of these decisions, his unusual religious experiences were kept hidden. He never spoke of the strange encounters that had awakened in him the compulsion to dominate the world. He settled for describing himself in terms of Friedrich Nietzsche’s “superman,” a genius above the law, a self-made god. Never mind that Nietzsche’s dream existed for Germans or that the philosopher was insane the last eleven years of his life. Rashid would be one of the “lords of the earth” this Aryan thinker saw rising above the state and would not be bound by the morals of ordinary citizens. He would set his own directions and make up a peculiar set of ethics as was needed. Hassan Jawhar Rashid remained convinced he breathed a rarefied atmosphere reserved for only the mightiest, the most intelligent, the elite.

  “Sorry to bother you, sire.” Abu Shud appeared out of nowhere. “The secretary of state from the United States has arrived.”

  “Don’t intrude!” Rashid barked. He didn’t like to be interrupted when reflecting. “I will be there shortly. Have the fool wait in the lobby.”

  CHAPTER 17

  THE EARLY JUNE SUN beamed across the forest, covering the mid-afternoon summer scene with exquisite splendor. The Pecks and Adah Honi had been in Rhinelander for a number of hours, but Eldad Rafaeli had not moved from the secluded position he’d discovered on the side of the hill rising sharply above the Pecks’ summer home. Hiding behind an outcropping of rocks, he could look down on the house and see anyone coming or going. He would immediately catch someone observing the property.

  The years of struggle the Rafaeli family experienced while living in Russia had made him naturally suspicious. The town of Cherdyn, lying in the shadow of the Ural Mountains, had been the scene of many pogroms against the Jews. Ugly attacks and personal assaults had taught him never to close his eyes to the unexpected. After two decades of communist assaults, Eldad was the only member of his family left alive. When the opportunity came, he immediately immigrated to Israel.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Eldad suddenly saw two men creeping through the trees. He hunkered down and watched between the space of two rocks. The men seemed to be circling behind the house and were not far below him.

  Roughly dressed, they looked more like woodsmen. Their blue jeans were worn and dirty. Each man had on an old flannel shirt over a T-shirt. Hardly appearing to be any of the mayor of Chicago’s crew, the two invaders looked more like deer hunters or fishermen.

  Eldad had not anticipated anyone would come so close to his high perch, and he was forced to lie flat on the ground. Although the family had gone into town, he had not brought a weapon with him up the hill. The best he could do was watch the two men carefully creeping toward him. After several minutes, they stopped at the base of the rocks beneath him. He listened carefully.

  “Yeah, sure that woman’s in there?” the smaller of the two men said. “Could be somebody else hangin’ around.”

  “Nah,” the second man said. “From up here you can see how empty the house looks.”

  “That gal sure scared you off,” the smaller man joked.

  “She came runnin’ out shootin’ that gun! If I hadn’t been on the other side of the house, she’d a had me!”

  The two men leaned back against the rocks directly below Eldad and studied the house. For several moments they sat in complete quiet and said nothing.

  “I tell ya, I don’t see no one!” the smaller man grumbled.

  “Yeah, but that’s the way it was when I first spotted the house. I think the woman’s livin’ out here for some reason by herself.” He nudged his friend. “Good lookin’ babe, too.”

  “What you got in mind?” the smaller man asked with a scornful twist to his words.

  “I’m hungry! Ain’t had nothin’ to eat in a while. I’d suspect we’d grab some food, then look for any money.”

  “And the woman?”

  The man grinned. “We’ll save her for last.”

  Eldad gritted his teeth. He’d seen men like these scummy characters in Russia. Ignorant fools, they had the capacity to kill and had to be stopped at once. He couldn’t chance letting them get away. Glancing around the back of the rocks, he looked for a log, a rock, anything.

  “I’d guess we’d best sneak up alongside the back of the house.” The smaller man pointed straight ahead. “Then each of us can take a door. If we go crashin’ in before she’s had a chance to grab that gun, we’d be best off.”

  Inches below Eldad’s foot a large rock lay on the ground. It was the only thing he could see. The limbs around him were either too large or small. He pulled up the rock and leaned over the edge of the boulder. With one swift thrust, he sent the rock down on top of the largest man’s head. The dull thud echoed through the trees, sending the man crashing into a heap.

  “What the—” The smaller man jumped to his feet and looked up.

  Eldad leaped over the top of the rocks and landed on the man, knocking him back to the ground. With a wild fury, he swung and hit the bum in the side of the face. The thug groaned and rolled sideways, but Eldad stayed on him, pelting the man’s back and stomach with hard blows.

  “A-a-h!” the assailant screamed and rolled over. Blood was running out of his nose. “Stop it! I quit.”

  “Stop?” Eldad stood up. “You move and I’ll smash your head.”

  “Okay!” The man rolled over on his knees. “Okay. You win.”

  “Win!” Eldad shrugged. “Humph! I’ll teach yo
u to sneak up on somebody else’s cabin.”

  “Really?” The punk suddenly sat up and pulled a gun out of his coat. “Let’s see who teaches who somethin’.”

  Before Eldad could move, the attacker stuck the gun straight out and fired three times. Each shot hit Eldad in the chest, knocking him backward to the ground.

  “Got to get out of here!” The assailant ran back through the trees the way he had come.

  Eldad lay on the ground, barely able to move. He could hear the man tearing through the forest, the sound of steps and breaking branches getting farther and farther away. He glanced out the side of his eye and saw the other figure lying several feet away, blood streaming down the side of his head.

  Eldad’s vision blurred, and he felt an overwhelming sense of light-headedness. Everything was turning white. He tried to catch his breath, but the pain was intense.

  “Baruch atta Adoni,” he groaned. “Adoni . . . atta . . . e-echod . . .”

  Nothing more would come from his mouth. With his eyes staring wide open, Eldad Rafaeli left this world.

  CHAPTER 18

  NIGHT HAD NEARLY FALLEN by the time Matthew Peck found Eldad’s body, along with the body of the assailant, at the bottom of the rock pile up the hill from the house. The children cried, and Mary completely lost her composure and panicked. No one had anticipated that such a terrible thing could happen. Months of relative quietness had lulled the entire family into believing they were beyond real danger.

  Graham, Jackie, and Adah debated what to do next. If they contacted the police, their cover would be blown, which meant instant vulnerability. They had to weigh their options. Virtually no one in the United States knew Eldad, and the other man appeared to be little more than a bum cruising through the woods. His pockets were empty, and he carried no identification except a driver’s license from Michigan. He was a long way from Saginaw and obviously up to nothing positive. The disappearance of both men would seem to draw little attention.