by Tim LaHaye
“Empty.”
“Other dwellings in the area?”
“Pretty much piles of rubble that have never been hauled away.”
“What hides you?”
“Besides that no one comes to that area except by mistake, there are mature trees and lots of open fields beyond our place.”
“And the usual route from the airstrip takes you into the area from what direction?”
“We use various routes to keep from attracting attention, almost always travel by night, but usually find ourselves coming in from the south.”
“Miss Leah,” Albie said, “if you find an inconspicuous place to stop, please do.” Away from paved roads already, Leah pulled into a shallow gully between two small groves of trees. “Thank you. Now, Captain Steele, your best guess of how the GC would approach the house, if they wanted to surprise.”
Rayford searched for a scrap of paper and drew an aerial view of the place. “They’d come through the trees at the north,” he said. “Buck, what do you think?”
Buck studied the schematic, then showed it to Chloe and Leah. They all nodded.
“All right, Leah,” Albie said. “Come in from the south as usual. As far away from the safe house as you can, drive without lights. Stop about half a kilometer away, ideally where you can see the safe house but someone there would not likely see you.”
“Half a kilometer?” Leah said.
“About three-tenths of a mile,” Chloe said. “There’s a little rise about that far away, isn’t there, Dad? Just past where we turn to head toward Des Plaines?”
“Yeah, and we notice it because the rest of the whole area is so flat.”
“Let’s get there quickly,” Albie said. “Lights off as soon as you’re confident.”
As Fortunato held forth, alternately bringing the masses to their feet and making them weep, David surreptitiously pulled his binoculars from a side pocket. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he trained the glasses on the great crowds seated just past the courtyard. He found the placard that read Sector 53 and carefully panned, looking for Annie. At first he didn’t see her but was then intrigued to see a pair of binoculars pointed his direction. Despite hands and glasses covering her face, he could tell it was Annie.
They stared at each other through the lenses, then tentatively waved with just their fingers. David, with his hand still on the binoculars, held up one finger, then four, then three. She mirrored the message, their code for the number of letters in each word: I love you.
“I shall have some closing remarks as well,” Leon said, winding down. “But I want to give your representatives from every global region the opportunity to express their thoughts before interment in the palace mausoleum. We’ve requested these be kept brief due to the weather, but we also want these potentates to speak from their hearts. First, from the United Russian States, Dr. Viktor . . .”
“Captain Steele,” Albie said, “call Tsion and tell him who I am so I may speak to him without his suspicion.”
Tsion answered on the first tone. “Tsion, it’s me. We’re within a half mile of you. Are you OK?”
“So far. Kenny is asleep. I’m packed and ready to go and feeling claustrophobic. I want out of this place.”
“Tsion, I’m giving the phone to my dear friend and new believer, Albie. You’ve heard me mention him before.”
“Yes! And he is one of us now?”
“Thanks to your teaching, which we can discuss later. He is using the name Marcus Elbaz and posing as a Global Community Peacekeeping deputy commander.”
Tsion sat on the steps in the darkness, phone to his ear, the two tied-together packed pillowcases at his feet. All he had to do was grab them in one hand and the baby in the other, and he could be up through the freezer and out the door in seconds. But for now, he had no transportation and no idea whether the GC was waiting to ambush him.
He had heard so much about Rayford’s black-market friend, he could hardly believe he was about to speak with him.
“Dr. Ben-Judah?”
“This is Tsion, yes. Albie?”
“Sir, I want to get right to business, but I must tell you, I owe you my soul.”
“Thank you, sir. It appears I may soon owe you my life.”
“Let’s hope so. Tell me, have you heard anyone, anything, that might tell you the GC are nearby?”
“To tell you the truth, I nearly phoned Rayford about half an hour ago. It may have been paranoia, but I heard vehicles.”
“Close?”
“Not very, but they were north of here. What frightened me was that they were intermittent.”
“Meaning?”
“Starting, stopping, moving. I didn’t know what to make of it.”
“You don’t usually hear any cars or trucks?”
“Right.”
“And you’ve heard nothing since about thirty minutes ago?”
“About that.”
“All right, listen carefully. Do you recognize the sound of the Land Rover? I mean, could you confidently distinguish it from, say, a GC Jeep?”
“I believe I could.”
“Would you hear it plainly if it came between the house and the garage?”
“Certainly.”
“And you can hear garage sounds? Doors opening and closing?”
“Yes, but these aren’t typical American garage doors. They are manual and they swing like barn doors.”
“All right. Thank you. If in the next fifteen minutes you hear what sounds like the Land Rover, it will be us. Any other noises or sounds, please let us know immediately.”
Each potentate was greeted by music from his region and wild demonstrations from his people. Some had their people largely together; others saw them spread throughout the crowd. Most of the speakers echoed the sentiments of the potentate of the United Russian States, who listed Carpathia among not only the greatest heads of state and military leaders the world had ever known, but also among the most revered religious leaders and even deities of various faiths and sects.
The Asian leader, the second potentate to speak, said, “I know I speak for every citizen of my great region when I say that my reverence for His Excellency, the supreme potentate, has only increased in his death. I worshiped his leadership, his vision, his policies. And now I worship the man himself. May his fame and legend and glory only grow, now that he is again in heaven from whence he came!”
The potentate of the United Indian States intoned that “while we once believed that a good man comes back at a higher level, and thus that a bright star like Nicolae Carpathia would be guaranteed the role of a Brahman, he himself taught us—with his brilliant vision for a one-world faith—that even such traditional religious views have lost their currency. Even those who have come to believe that when you are dead, you are dead, and there is nothing more, have to admit—and I say this directly to Nicolae Carpathia—you will live for as long as we live. For you will always be alive in our hearts and in our memories.”
Though the throng responded enthusiastically, David was intrigued that Fortunato seemed to feel the need to clarify, or at least modify, the effect of that speech. Before introducing the potentate from the United African States, Enoch Litwala, Fortunato took the floor briefly.
“Thank you for those sentiments, Potentate Kononowa. I appreciated the reference to the one-world church, which shall reappear here in New Babylon as an even better expression of a pure, united religion. Ironic, isn’t it, that of the two sects most resistant to the ideas of a unified faith, one saw our great leader fall in its own homeland, and the other was responsible for his assassination.
“I do not blame the Israelis, as they are a valued part of the United Carpathian States. They cannot be held responsible for the climate engendered by their stubborn Orthodox Jews, most of whom have resisted to this day the inclusive invitation of the one-world faith. And then the Judah-ites! Espousing such exclusivistic, close-minded doctrines as there being but a single path to God! Should we be surprised t
hat the very assassin of our beloved potentate is a leading member of that cult?”
With that pronouncement and the attendant applause, the great black statue to Leon’s left began to smoke profusely, the wisp of black vapor becoming billowing clouds. Leon seemed to take this in stride, quipping, “Even Nicolae the Great has to agree with that.
“But seriously, before our African potentate comes, let me reiterate. Any cult, sect, religion, or individual who professes a single avenue to God or heaven or bliss in the afterlife is the greatest danger to the global community. Such a view engenders divisiveness, hatred, bigotry, condescension, and pride. I say to you with the confidence of one who sat in the presence of greatness every day for the last several years, there are many ways to ensure eternal bliss, if anything is eternal. It is not by walling yourself and your comrades off in a corner claiming you have the inside track to God. It is by being a good and kind human being and helping others.
“Nicolae Carpathia would have been the last person in the world to espouse a one-way religion, and look how he is revered. We will worship him and his memory for as long as we are alive. And that, my friends, will keep him and his ideals alive.”
David wondered if the crowd would ever get as sick of itself as he was of the predictable clapping and cheering.
Enoch Litwala cast a pall on the proceedings when his inappropriately brief and lukewarm tribute fell flat. All he said was, “As potentate of the great United African States, it falls to me to express the sentiments of my people. Please accept our sincere condolences to the leadership of the Global Community and to those of you who loved the deceased. The United African States opposes violence and deplores this senseless act by a misguided individual, ignorantly believing what has been spoon-fed him and millions of others who refuse to think for themselves.”
With that, Litwala sat, catching even Leon off guard. Two other tributes were lukewarm, which David thought made it obvious who were the loyal and the disloyal among the potentates.
Albie leaned forward and whispered to Rayford, “Come with me. Leah, watch for my signal. If I wave, proceed slowly, lights off. If I call again, stand by for instructions, but be prepared to come fast, lights on, and be sure to stop short of Rayford and me.”
“I’m coming with you,” Chloe said. “Our baby is in there.”
“Just as well,” Albie said without hesitation. “Three is better anyway.”
They crept from the Rover toward the safe house. Rayford saw Chloe’s look in the low light, one of fierce determination that was more than just that of a protective mother. If they were going to engage the enemy, she plainly wanted in on it.
Rayford was aware of the cool air, the sound of his steps in the sparse underbrush, and his own breathing. He felt great melancholy about the safe house as they approached. It had become his base, his home, despite all the places he had been. It had housed his family, his friends, his mentor. And he knew if he had the opportunity to step inside it once again, it would likely be for the last time.
When the last potentate had spoken, the crowd grew restless. From all over the courtyard and beyond, people stood en masse, ready to once again begin the processional past the bier. But Fortunato was not finished.
“If you’ll bear with me a few more minutes,” he said, “I have additional remarks I believe you will find inspirational. It should be clear to even the most casual observer that this is more than a funeral for a great leader, that the man who lies before you transcends human existence. Yes, yes, you may applaud. Who could argue such sentiments? I am pleased to report that the image you see to my left, your right, though larger than life, is an exact replica of Nicolae Carpathia, worthy of your reverence, yea, worthy of your worship.
“Should you feel inclined to bow to the image after paying your respects, feel free. Bow, pray, sing, gesture—do whatever you wish to express your heart. And believe. Believe, people, that Nicolae Carpathia is indeed here in spirit and accepts your praise and worship. Many of you know that this so-called man, whom I know to be divine, personally raised me from the dead.
“And now, as your new leader in the absence of the one we all wish were still here, allow me to be forthright. I am no director, but let me ask the main television camera to move in on my face. Those close enough can look into my eyes. Those remote may look into my eyes on the screen.”
David knew what happened to people who allowed themselves to be caught in Fortunato’s gaze. He looked left, past the Wongs, who appeared enraptured, and reached to touch Chang and motion with his head to Ming. When they looked at him he shook his head imperceptibly and was grateful they both seemed to understand. They averted their gaze from Fortunato’s.
“Today,” Fortunato intoned, “I am instituting a new, improved global faith that shall have as its object of worship this image, which represents the very spirit of Nicolae Carpathia. Listen carefully, my people. When I said a moment ago that you may worship this image and Nicolae himself if you felt so inclined, I was merely being polite. Silence, please. With global citizenship comes responsibility, and that responsibility entails subordination to those in authority over you.”
There was such deathly silence that David doubted if anyone so much as moved.
“As your new ruler, it is only fair of me to tell you that there is no option as it pertains to worshiping the image and spirit of Nicolae Carpathia. He is not only part of our new religion, but he is also its centerpiece. Indeed, he has become and forever shall be our religion. Now, before you break your reverie and bow before the image, let me impress upon your mind the consequences of disobeying such an edict.”
Suddenly, from the statue itself—with its great expanses of black smoke now nearly blotting out the sun—came a thundering pronouncement: “I am the lord your god who sits high above the heavens!” People, including Guy Blod and his assistants, shrieked and fell prostrate, peeking at the image. “I am the god above all other gods. There is none like me. Worship or beware!”
Fortunato suddenly spoke softly, fatherly. “Fear not,” he said. “Lift your eyes to the heavens.” The massive dark clouds dissipated, and the image appeared serene once more. “Nicolae Carpathia loves you and has only your best in mind. Charged with the responsibility of ensuring compliance with the worship of your god, I have also been imbued with power. Please stand.”
The masses stood as one, appearing terrified, eyes glued to Leon or to his image on the screens. He gestured grandly behind him, past the glass coffin and the guards, past the ten potentates, three of whom glared stonily. “Let us assume that there may be those here who choose, for one reason or another, to refuse to worship Carpathia. Perhaps they are independent spirits. Perhaps they are rebellious Jews. Perhaps they are secret Judah-ites who still believe ‘their man’ is the only way to God. Regardless of their justification, they shall surely die.”
The crowd recoiled and many gasped.
“Marvel not that I say unto you that some shall surely die. If Carpathia is not god and I am not his chosen one, then I shall be proved wrong. If Carpathia is not the only way and the only life, then what I say is not the only truth and none should fear.
“It is also only fair that I offer proof of my role, in addition to what you have already seen and heard from Nicolae Carpathia’s own image. I call on the power of my most high god to prove that he rules from heaven by burning to death with his pure, extinguishing fire those who would oppose me, those who would deny his deity, those who would subvert and plot and scheme to take my rightful place as his spokesman!”
He paused dramatically. Then, “I pray he does this even as I speak!”
Leon turned to face the ten potentates and pointed at the three who opposed him. Great beams of fire burst from the cloudless skies and incinerated the three where they sat. The other seven leaped from their seats to avoid the heat and flames, and even the guards backpedaled.
The crowd shrieked and wailed, but no one moved. No one ran. Every soul seemed paralyzed with fear. And
the fire that left the three smoldering in tiny piles of ash disappeared as quickly as it had come.
Fortunato spoke again: “Faithful patriots of the Global Community from the three regions formerly led by men of lying tongues, take heart. Their replacements have already been selected in meetings I have enjoyed with the spirit of Nicolae Carpathia himself. The Global Community shall prevail. We shall reach our goal of utopian living, harmony, love, and tolerance—tolerance of all but those who refuse to worship the image of the man we esteem and glorify today!”
It was clear Fortunato expected applause, but the gathered were so stunned, so filled with terror that they merely stared. “You may express yourselves,” Leon said with a smile. Still no one moved. His eyes narrowed. “You may express your agreement,” he said, and tentative clapping began.
“You need not fear your lord god,” he said, as the applause continued. “What you have witnessed here shall never befall you if you love Nicolae with the love that brought you here to honor his memory. Now before the interment, once everyone has had a chance to pay last respects, I invite you to come and worship. Come and worship. Worship your god, your dead yet living king.”
Rayford followed Albie’s signal and fanned left while Chloe was sent right. The three, about thirty paces apart, advanced upon the safe house from two hundred yards away. They watched for signs of GC. Had they been there? Were they yet there? Were they coming?
Suddenly Albie dropped into the grass and signaled Rayford and Chloe to do the same. He had taken a call. Then he signaled them to join him.
“Tsion hears the engine noises again,” he whispered. “Coming from the north, only steady this time, as if advancing.” He spoke as he dialed Leah. “We’re going to beat them to the safe house on foot, so be ready to run, and if we encounter GC, stay a step or two behind me. Leah? Give us about ninety seconds, then come fast with lights on. Just be careful not to overtake us. When we stop, you stop as close to the garage as you can. Stay in the vehicle with the lights on and don’t worry if you see GC Jeeps coming the other way.”