by Tim LaHaye
Once Rayford had Mac take over while he found an excuse to wander into the cabin. Leon was arranging the mahogany table where he and Pontifex Maximus Peter Mathews and the ten kings would meet prior to seeing Carpathia.
Leon looked excited enough to burst. “You will remain in the cockpit as soon as our guests join us, will you not?”
“Sure,” Rayford said. It was clear Leon needed no company.
Rayford didn’t expect any secrets listening in on Leon and Mathews, but he loved the entertainment possibilities. Fortunato was such a Carpathia groupie and Mathews so condescending and independent that the two were like oil and water. Mathews was used to being treated like royalty. Fortunato treated Carpathia like the king of the world that he was but was slow to serve anyone else and often curt with those who served him.
When Mathews boarded in Rome he immediately treated Fortunato as one of his valets. And he already had two. A young man and woman carried his things aboard and stood chatting with him. As Rayford listened in, he was exposed again to Mathews’s gall. Every time Fortunato suggested it was time to get under way, Mathews interrupted.
“Could I get a cold drink, Leon?” Mathews said.
There was a long pause. “Certainly,” Fortunato said flatly. Then, with sarcasm, “And your staff?”
“Yes, something for them as well.”
“Fine, Pontiff Mathews. And then I think we should really be—”
“And something to munch. Thank you, Leon.”
After two such encounters, Fortunato’s silence was deafening. Finally Leon said, “Pontiff Mathews, I really think it’s time—”
“How long are we going to sit here, Leon? What do you say we get this show on the road?”
“We cannot move with unauthorized personnel on the plane.”
“Who’s not authorized?”
“Your people.”
“I introduced you, Leon. These are my personal assistants.”
“You were under the impression they were invited?”
“I go nowhere without them.”
“I’m going to have to check with His Excellency.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ll have to check with Nicolae Carpathia.”
“You said ‘His Excellency.’”
“I planned to talk that over with you en route.”
“Talk to me now, Leon.”
“Pontiff, I would appreciate your addressing me by my title. Is that too much to ask?”
“Titles are what we’re talking about. Where does Carpathia get off using Excellency?”
“It was not his choice. I—”
“Yes, and I suppose Potentate wasn’t his choice either. Secretary-general just never did it for him, did it?”
“As I said, I want to discuss the new title with you during the trip.”
“Then let’s get going!”
“I’m not authorized to transport uninvited guests.”
“Mr. Fortunato, these are invited guests. I invited them.”
“My title is not mister.”
“Oh, so the Potentate is now His Excellency and you’re what, Potentate? No, let me guess. You’re Supreme Something-or-Other. Am I right?”
“I need to check this with His Excellency.”
“Well, hurry. And tell ‘His Excellency’ that Pontifex Maximus thinks it’s nervy to switch from a royal title—already an overstatement—to a sacred one.”
Rayford heard only Fortunato’s end of the conversation with Nicolae, of course, but Leon had to eat crow.
“Pontiff,” he said finally, “His Excellency has asked me to express his welcome and his assurance that anyone you feel necessary to make your flight comfortable is an honor for him to have on board.”
“Really?” Mathews said. “Then I insist on a cabin crew.” Fortunato laughed. “I’m serious, Leon—or, I mean, what is your title, man?”
“I serve at the rank of Commander.”
“Commander? Tell the truth now, Commander, is it actually Supreme Commander?” Fortunato did not respond, but Mathews must have detected something in his face. “It is, isn’t it? Well, even if it isn’t, I insist. If I am to call you Commander, it shall be Supreme Commander. Is that acceptable?”
Fortunato sighed loudly. “The actual title is Supreme Commander, yes. You may call me either.”
“Oh, no I may not. Supreme Commander it is. Now, Supreme Commander Fortunato, I am deadly serious about cabin service on a long flight like this, and I’m shocked at your lack of foresight in not providing it.”
“We have all the amenities, Pontiff. We felt it more necessary to have a full complement of service personnel when the regional ambassadors begin to join us.”
“You were wrong. I wish not to leave the ground until this plane is properly staffed. If you have to check that with His Excellency, feel free.”
There was a long silence, and Rayford assumed the two were staring each other down. “You’re serious about this?” Fortunato said.
“Serious as an earthquake.”
The call button sounded in the cockpit. “Flight deck,” Mac said. “Go ahead.”
“Gentlemen, I have decided to employ a cabin crew between here and Dallas. I shall be contracting with one of the airlines here. Please communicate with the tower that we could be delayed for as long as two or three hours. Thank you.”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Mac said, “but our delay here has already cost us four places in line for takeoff. They’re being flexible because of who we are, but—”
“Did you misunderstand something?” Leon said.
“Not at all, sir. Roger that delay.”
Hattie’s e-mail message read:
Dear CW, I didn’t know who else to turn to. Well, actually I did. But I got no response from AS at the private number she gave me. She said she carries her phone all the time, so I’m worried what happened to her.
I need your help. I lied to my former boss and told him my people were from Denver. When I changed my flight from Boston to go west instead of east, I was hoping he would think I was going to see my family. Actually, they live in Santa Monica. I’m in Denver for a whole other reason.
I’m at a reproductive clinic here. Now, don’t overreact. Yes, they do abortions, and they’re pushing me that direction. In fact, that’s mostly what they do. But they do also ask every mother if she’s considered her options, and every once in a while a baby is carried to term. Some are put up for adoption; some are raised by the mother. Others are raised by the clinic.
This place also serves as a safe house, and I am here anonymously. I cut my hair short and dyed it black, and I wear colored contact lenses. I’m sure no one recognizes me.
They give us access to these computers a few hours every week. At other times we write things and draw pictures and exercise. They also encourage us to write to friends and loved ones and make amends. Sometimes they urge us to write to the fathers of our children.
I couldn’t do that. But I do need to talk to you. I have a private satellite phone. Do you have a number like AS does? I’m scared. I’m confused. Some days abortion seems the easiest solution. But I’m already growing attached to this child. I might be able to give it up, but I don’t think I could end its life. I told a counselor I felt guilty about becoming pregnant when I wasn’t married. She had never heard anything like that in her life. She said I ought to stop obsessing about right and wrong and start thinking about what was best for me.
I feel more guilty about considering abortion than I do about what you would call immorality. I don’t want to make a mistake. And I don’t want to keep living like this. I envy you and your close friends. I sure hope you all survived the earthquake. I suppose your dad and your husband believe it was the wrath of the Lamb. Maybe it was. I wouldn’t be surprised.
If I don’t hear from you, I’m going to assume the worst, so please get back to me if you can. Say hi to everybody. My love to L. Love, H.
“Now, Buck,” Chloe said, “I don�
�t mind if you help me. Just reply as fast as you can that I was hurt and away from my e-mail, that I’m going to be fine, and here’s my phone number. OK?”
Buck was already typing.
Rayford slipped his laptop out of his flight bag and left the plane. On the way he passed the two bored young people, a red-faced and sweating Leon on the phone, and Mathews. The Supreme Pontiff of Enigma Babylon glanced at Rayford and looked away. So much for pastoral interest, Rayford thought. Pilots were just props on this guy’s stage.
Rayford sat near a window in the terminal. With his amazing computer, powered by the sun, he could communicate from anywhere. He checked the bulletin board where Tsion kept in touch with his growing church. In just a few days, hundreds of thousands of people had responded to his messages. Open messages to Nicolae Carpathia pleaded for amnesty for Tsion Ben-Judah. One poignantly summarized the consensus: “Surely a lover of peace like yourself, Potentate Carpathia, who aided in Rabbi Ben-Judah’s escape from orthodox zealots in his homeland, has the power to return him safely to Israel, where he can communicate with so many of us who love him. We’re counting on you.”
Rayford smiled. Many were so new in the faith that they did not know Carpathia’s true identity. When, he wondered, might Tsion himself have to blatantly expose Carpathia?
When he checked his mail, Rayford was dumbfounded to learn of the contact from Hattie. He had strangely mixed emotions. He was glad she and her baby were safe, but he so badly wanted a message from Amanda that he found himself jealous. He resented that Chloe had heard from Hattie before he heard from Amanda. “God, forgive me,” he prayed silently.
Several hours later, the Condor 216 finally took off from Rome with a full cabin crew, compliments of Alitalia Airlines.
When Rayford wasn’t planning the Tigris River dive, he eavesdropped on the cabin.
“Now this is more like it, Supreme Commander Fortunato,” Mathews was saying. “Isn’t this better than the buffet line you had planned? Admit it.”
“Everyone appreciates being served,” Fortunato allowed. “Now there are some issues His Excellency has asked me to brief you on.”
“Quit calling him that! It drives me nuts. I was going to save this news, but I might as well tell you now. Response to my leadership has been so overwhelming that my staff has planned a weeklong festival next month to celebrate my installation. Though I no longer serve the Catholic church, which has been blended into our much bigger faith, it seemed appropriate to some that my title change as well. I believe it will have more immediate impact and be more easily understood by the masses if I simply go by Peter the Second.”
“That sounds like a pope’s title,” Fortunato said.
“Of course it is. Though some would call my position a papacy, I frankly see it as much larger.”
“You prefer Peter the Second over Supreme Pontiff or even Pontifex Maximus?”
“Less is more. It has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“We’ll have to see how His—ah, Potentate Carpathia feels about it.”
“What does the Global Community potentate have to do with the One World Faith?”
“Oh, he feels responsible for the idea and for your elevation to this post.”
“He needs to remember that democracy wasn’t all bad. At least they had separation between church and state.”
“Pontiff, you asked what His Excellency has to do with you. I must ask, where would Enigma Babylon be without financing from the Global Community?”
“I could ask the reverse. People need something to believe in. They need faith. They need tolerance. We need to stand together and rid the world of the hatemongers. The vanishings took care of narrow-minded fundamentalists and intolerant zealots. Have you seen what’s happening on the Internet? That rabbi who blasphemed his own religion in his own country is now developing a huge following. It falls to me to compete with that. I have a request here—” Rayford heard rustling papers—“for increased financial support from the Global Community.”
“His Excellency was afraid of that.”
“Bull! I’ve never known Carpathia to be afraid of anything. He knows we have tremendous expenses. We are living up to our name. We’re a one-world faith. We influence every continent for peace and unity and tolerance. Every ambassador ought to be mandated to increase his share of contributions to Enigma Babylon.”
“Pontiff, no one has ever faced the fiscal problems His Excellency faces now. The balance of power has shifted to the Middle East. New Babylon is the capital of the world. Everything will be centralized. The rebuilding of that city alone has caused the potentate to propose significant tax increases across the board. But he’s also rebuilding the whole world. Global Community forces are at work on every continent, reestablishing communications and transportation and engaging in cleanup, rescue, relief, sanitation, you name it. Every region leader will be asked to call his subjects to sacrifice.”
“And you get that dirty work, don’t you, Supreme Commander?”
“I do not consider it dirty work, Pontiff. It is my honor to facilitate His Excellency’s vision.”
“There you go again with that excellency business.”
“Allow me to tell you a personal story I will share with each ambassador during this trip. Indulge me, and you’ll see that the potentate is a deeply spiritual man with a spark of the divine.”
“This I have to hear,” Mathews said, chuckling. “Carpathia as clergy. Now there’s a picture.”
“I pledge that every word is true. It will change forever the way you see our potentate.”
Rayford turned off the surveillance switch. “Leon’s telling Mathews his Lazarus story,” he muttered.
“Oh boy,” Mac said.
The Condor was over the Atlantic in the middle of the night, and Rayford was dozing. The intercom roused him. “When convenient, Captain Steele,” Fortunato said, “I would appreciate a moment.”
“I hate to cater,” Rayford told Mac. “But I’d just as soon get it out of the way.” He depressed the button. “Is now OK?”
Fortunato met him midplane and beckoned him to the rear, far from where Mathews and his two young charges were sleeping. “His Excellency has asked me to approach you on a delicate matter. It is becoming increasingly embarrassing to not be able to produce Rabbi Tsion Ben-Judah of Israel for his followers.”
“Oh?”
“His Excellency knows you to be a man of your word. When you tell us you do not know where Ben-Judah is, we take this at face value. The question then becomes, do you have access to someone who does know where he is?”
“Why?”
“His Excellency is prepared to personally ensure the rabbi’s safety. He will make any threat to the safety of Ben-Judah simply not worth the consequences.”
“So why not put that word out, and see if Ben-Judah comes to you?”
“Too risky. You may think you know how His Excellency views you. However, as the one who knows him best, I know he trusts you. He admires your integrity.”
“And he’s convinced I have access to Ben-Judah.”
“Let’s not play games, Captain Steele. The Global Community is far-reaching now. We know from more sources than just the talkative Dr. Rosenzweig that your son-in-law helped the rabbi escape.”
“Rosenzweig is one of Carpathia’s greatest admirers, more loyal than Nicolae deserves. Didn’t Chaim seek Carpathia’s help in the Ben-Judah matter back when Nicolae first became prominent?”
“We did all we could—”
“That is not true. If you expect me to be a man of my word, don’t insult my intelligence. If my own son-in-law aided in Ben-Judah’s flight from Israel, wouldn’t I have an idea whether he had assistance from the Global Community?”
Fortunato did not respond.
Rayford was careful not to reveal anything he had heard solely through the bugging device. He would never forget when Fortunato had passed on Rosenzweig’s plea for help for his beleaguered friend. Ben-Judah’s family had be
en massacred and he was in hiding, yet Carpathia had laughed it off and said in so many words that he might turn Ben-Judah over to the zealots.
“Those close to the situation know the truth, Leon. Carpathia’s claim to credit for the well-being of Tsion Ben-Judah is bogus. I have no doubt he could protect the rabbi, and he would have been able to then, but he did not.”
“You may be right, Captain Steele. I do not have personal knowledge of that situation.”
“Leon, you know every detail of everything that goes on.”
It appeared Leon enjoyed hearing that. He didn’t argue it. “Regardless, it would be counterproductive from a public relations standpoint for us to adjust our position now. We are believed to have helped him escape, and we would lose credibility to admit we had nothing to do with that.”
“But since I know,” Rayford said, “am I not allowed some skepticism?”
Leon sat back and steepled his fingers. He exhaled. “All right,” he said. “His Excellency has authorized me to ask what you require in order to grant him this favor.”
“And the favor is?”
“The delivery of Tsion Ben-Judah.”
“To?”
“Israel.”
What Rayford wanted was his wife’s name cleared, but he could not betray Mac’s confidence. “So I’m asked my price now, rather than being required to trade my own daughter?”
It didn’t seem to surprise Fortunato that Rayford had heard about the fiasco in Minneapolis. “That was a mistake in communications,” he said. “You have His Excellency’s personal word that he intended that the wife of one of his employees be reunited with her husband and given the best care.”
Rayford wanted to laugh aloud or spit in Fortunato’s face; he couldn’t decide which. “Let me think about it,” he said.
“How long do you need? There is pressure on His Excellency to do something about Ben-Judah. We will be in the States tomorrow. Can we not make some arrangement?”
“You want me to ferry him back on the Condor with all the ambassadors?”
“Of course not. But as long as we are going to be in that region, it only makes sense that we take care of it now.”