by Tim LaHaye
“As you wish, sir, but you know I would be more than happy—”
“I know.”
The door opened and shut, and it sounded as if Carpathia rose once more. Just loud enough for David to hear he said, “I too shiver at the thought of multiple images of me, you homely old wench. But you do know how to make a man feel worshiped.”
Now it sounded as if he was moving chairs into position. “Akbar, Fortunato, Hickman, Moon. No, Moon, Akbar, ah . . . must let Leon wonder about his proximity and access, keep him nimble. Hickman needs assurances. All right.”
Back to his intercom. “Are you still out there, Sandra?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Before you go, get Mr. McCullum on the phone for me, please.”
David froze, then chastised himself. He didn’t care that Nicolae communicated with Mac. If David couldn’t trust Mac, he couldn’t trust anyone.
“Captain McCullum,” Carpathia said a few minutes later. “How good to speak with you. You are aware, are you not, that 10 percent of all weapons of war were ceded to the Global Community when we were known as the United Nations? . . . The rest were destroyed, and I am satisfied that our monitoring has confirmed that this was largely carried out. If any munitions remain, they are few and are likely in the hands of factions so small as to pose little threat. My question to you is, do you know where we stockpiled the armaments we received? . . . You had nothing to do with that? . . . Well, yes, of course I know, Captain! The question is merely probative. You are former military, you are a pilot, and you get around. I want to know if the word has leaked out where we inventory our weapons. . . . Good. That is all, Captain.”
Clearly, Mac had told Nicolae he had no idea where the weapons were. As far as David knew, that was the truth. But what a massive operation that had to have been, and how was it pulled off without word getting out? And what might Carpathia be planning now?
“Gentlemen!” Carpathia said a few minutes later, welcoming the four visitors. “Please, come in.”
“Allow me to be the first to kneel before you,” Leon said, “and kiss your hands.”
“Thank you, Reverend, but you are hardly the first.”
“I meant at this meeting,” Fortunato whined.
“And he won’t be the last!” Hickman said, and David actually heard the smack of his lips.
“Thank you, Supreme Commander. Thank you. Chief Akbar? Thank you. Chief Moon? My thanks. Oh, Reverend, no, please. I would appreciate it if you would sit here.”
“Here?” Leon said, clearly surprised.
“A problem?”
“I will sit anywhere His Excellency wishes, of course. I would even stand, if you asked.”
“I’d kneel for the whole meeting,” Hickman said.
“Right here, my friend,” Carpathia said, devoting much time and energy to putting people where he wanted them.
“Sir?” Leon began when they were settled. “Have you been able to sleep, get some rest?”
“You are worried about me, Reverend?”
“Of course, Excellency.”
“Sleep is for mortals, my friend.”
“Well spoken, sir.”
“I’m sure mortal, boys, er, gents,” Hickman said. “Slept like a rock last night. Out of shape, I guess. Gotta do something about this gut.”
An awkward silence.
“May we begin?” Carpathia said. Hickman muttered an apology, but Nicolae was already addressing Intelligence Chief Akbar. “Suhail, I have become convinced that the location of our armaments remains confidential. Would you concur?”
“I would, sir, though I confess it baffles me.”
“Baffles is right!” Hickman said. “Seems to me we had hundreds of troops involved in this thing and—oh, my bad, I’m sorry. I’ll wait my turn.”
David could only imagine the look Carpathia must have given Hickman. He had to have known whom he was putting in such a lofty position. Having Hickman share space with Sandra and become primarily an errand boy with a big title proved Carpathia knew exactly what he was doing.
“Peacekeeping Forces prepared to go on the offensive, Chief Moon?”
“Yes, sir. Ready to deploy, anywhere and everywhere. We can crush any resistance.”
“An update, Reverend?”
“On loyalty mark, Jerusalem, religion?”
“Jerusalem, of course,” Carpathia said, dripping sarcasm.
Leon was clearly hurt. “On top of it all, Excellency,” he said. “Program is prepared, loyalists ready, should be a triumphal entry in every sense of the word.”
“Commander Hickman,” Carpathia said condescendingly, “you may put down your hand. You need not ask for the floor here.”
“I can just jump in then?”
“No, you cannot just jump in. You have each been invited here because I need updates from your areas.”
“Well, I’m ready. I have that. I—”
“And when I want your input, I shall call on you. Understood?”
“Yes, sir; sorry, sir.”
“No need to apologize.”
“Sorry.”
“Suhail or Walter, what kind of resistance may we expect in Jerusalem?”
There was a pause, during which, David assumed, the two were looking at each other to avoid interrupting.
“Come, come, gentlemen,” Carpathia said. “I have a planet to rule.” He chuckled as if joking, but it wasn’t funny to David.
Akbar began, slowly and articulately. David thought that in another setting, Suhail could have been an effective intelligence chief. “Frankly, Potentate, I do not believe the Judah-ites will show their faces. I am not discounting the effectiveness of their movement. Their numbers still seem large, but they are an underground cause, networked by computers. You will not likely see the mass public rally similar to the one at Kolleck Stadium when Tsion B—”
“I recall it well, Akbar. Tell me, is part of the reason they are not likely to make a fuss in Jerusalem because many of their ranks have been dissuaded by seeing a real resurrection—one that does not require blind faith?”
Silence, except for the clearing of a throat. David assumed it was Suhail’s.
“No?”
“Surprisingly not, sir. That would certainly have persuaded me of your deity, except that I was already convinced of it.”
“Me too!” Hickman said. “Sorry.”
“Of course,” Fortunato said, “I had personal experience that proved it. And now—well, it’s not my turn, is it?”
“The truth is, Excellency,” Akbar continued carefully, “our monitoring of the Judah-ite Web site reveals they are even more entrenched. They believe, ah, that your resurrection proves the opposite of what is so patently obvious to thinking people.”
David flinched when he heard a loud bang on the table, the rolling back of a chair, and a string of expletives from Carpathia. That was something new. The Nicolae of before always kept his composure.
“Forgive me, Holiness,” Akbar said. “You understand that I am merely reporting what my best analysts—”
“Yes, I know that!” Carpathia spat. “I just do not understand what it is going to take to prove to these people who is worthy of their devotion!” He swore again, and the others seemed to feel obligated to grumble loudly about the lunacy of the skeptics. “All right!” Carpathia said finally. “You think they will just snipe at us from the comfort of their hiding places.”
“Correct.”
“That is unfortunate. I was so hopeful of gloating in their faces. Any confirmation that they are harboring Rosenzweig?”
David held his breath through another pause.
“I admit we’re stumped,” Walter Moon said. “We traced a few leads from people who thought they saw him running, taking a taxi, that kind of a thing. We know for sure that stroke was phony.”
“You can say that again,” Nicolae said.
“Dang straight!” Hickman offered. “Sorry.”
“He deceived me,” Nicolae added. “I
have to give him that.”
“Um, sir,” Moon continued. “I, ah, am not second-guessing you, but . . .”
“Please, Walter.”
“Well, you did pardon your attacker, maybe before you knew who he was.”
Carpathia roared with laughter. “You do not think I knew who murdered me? I lift that limp arm of his to start the applause and a few seconds later I lurch away from the sound of a gun, he chops my feet from under me with that infernal chair, and the next thing I know I am in the lap of a madman. Well, I knew instantly what was happening, though I may never know why. But he was no frail old man. There was no stiff arm and no limp arm, no scrawny senior citizen. He rammed that blade into me, and I could hear him gutting my skull. The man was hard as a rock and strong.”
“Ought to put out a worldwide all points bulletin and use all our resources to bring him in,” Hickman said. “Got him on DVD! Show it to the world!”
“In due time,” Carpathia said, calmer now, and it sounded to David as if Nicolae had sat and joined them again. “I pardoned him, knowing that a world of loyal subjects would relish avenging me, should he ever show his face. Needless to say, we shall not prosecute a crime when that event occurs.”
“Needless to say,” Hickman parroted.
“And,” Carpathia said, “where are we with the accomplice?”
“The nut with the gun?” Moon said. “We don’t think he was Middle Eastern. Found his getup and the weapon. Matches the bullet. No prints. No leads. You’re convinced they were working together?”
Carpathia sounded flabbergasted. “Convinced? I am not the law-enforcement expert here, but the timing of those two attacks was just a little too coincidental, would you not agree?”
“I would,” Hickman said. “I worked that case and—”
“Proceed,” Nicolae said.
“I figure they were hedgin’ their bets. If one of ’em didn’t get ya, the other one would. Guy with the gun could have been a diversion, but he’s lucky he didn’t kill anybody.”
Akbar cleared his throat. “You’re aware there’s a connection between Ben-Judah and Rosenzweig?”
“Tell me,” Nicolae said.
“Ben-Judah was once a student of Rosenzweig’s.”
“You don’t say,” Nicolae said, and it was the first time David had heard him use a contraction. “Hmm. Find Ben-Judah, and you find Rosenzweig.”
“That’s what I was thinkin’,” Hickman said.
“I am ready for your report, James.”
“Me? Mine? You are? Oh, yes, sir. Um, everything’s on track. Injector thingies, beheaders, er, um, jes’ a minute. Viv, ah, Ms. Ivins gave me the correct terminology here, bear with me. Loyalty confirmation facilitators. Got those comin’ or goin’, depending. They’re on their way here and there and wherever we need ’em. Not all of ’em, certainly. Some are being made as we speak, but we’re on schedule. I found a nurse here that has experience shooting biochips into . . . into . . . well . . . dogs, I guess. But she’s going to help train. And I’ve got a lead on your pig.”
“My pig?”
“Oh! Not, I mean, if you don’t need a pig, they’ll just butcher it and use it here. But if you needed a pig, I’m pretty sure we’ve got a big one ordered.”
“What would I want a pig for, James?”
“It’s not that I heard . . . or knew . . . I mean . . . that you actually need a pig for anything, really. But if you ever did, just let me know, all right. You need one? For anything?”
“Who has been talking to you, Commander?”
“Um, what?”
“You heard me.”
“Talking to me?”
Carpathia was suddenly shouting, cursing again. “Mr. Hickman, what is said in these meetings in my private office is sacred. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I would never—”
“Sacred! The security of the Global Community depends on the confidentiality and trustworthiness of the communications in here. You have heard the old expression, ‘Loose lips sink ships’?”
“Yeah, I have. I know what you mean.”
“Someone told you there was a discussion in this room about my need for a pig.”
“Well, I’d rather not—”
“Oh, yes, you had rather, Mr. Hickman! Violating the sacred trust of the potentate of the Global Community is a capital offense, is it not, Mr. Moon?”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“So, James, the next thing out of your mouth had better be the guilty party, or you will pay the ultimate price for the transgression. I am waiting.”
David could hear Hickman whimpering.
“The name, Commander. If I hear that he is your friend or that you would rather not say or anything other than who he is, you are a dead man.”
Still Hickman struggled.
“You have ten seconds, sir.”
Hickman took a labored breath and coughed.
“And now five.”
“He’s—he’s—a—”
“Mr. Moon, are you prepared to take Mr. Hickman into custody for the purpose of exec—”
“Ramon Santiago!” Hickman blurted. “But I beg of you, sir, don’t—”
“Mr. Moon.”
“Please! No!”
David heard Moon on his cell phone. “Moon here. Listen, take Santiago into custody. . . . Right, the one from Peacekeeping . . . right now . . . yes. Till I get there.”
“You’ll let me handle it personally, Walter?”
“As you wish.”
“No! Please!”
“James, when it is announced tomorrow that a Peacekeeping deputy commander has been put to death, you at least will understand the gravity of the rules, won’t you?”
David heard assent through Hickman’s sobs. Apparently that wasn’t good enough for Carpathia.
“Won’t you, Supreme Commander?”
“Yes!”
“I thought so. And yes, I have need of a pig. A big, fat, juicy, huge-nostriled beast so overfed that it will be too lethargic to throw me, should I choose to ride it through the Via Dolorosa in the Holy City. Tell me, Hickman. Tell me about my pig.”
“I haven’t actually seen it yet,” Hickman said miserably, “but—”
“But you understand my order.”
“Yes.” His voice was shaky.
“Big, fat, and ugly?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t hear you, James. Stinky? May I have him smelly?”
“Yeah.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Yes!”
“Are you angry with me, my loyal servant?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, thank you for your honesty. Do you understand that I want an animal that could accommodate my fist in either nostril?”
David jumped at the knock on his door. Mac and Abdullah had arrived.
CHAPTER 15
Buck felt his age and was embarrassed to disembark in Kozani, Greece, with a severe case of jet lag that didn’t seem to bother the older Albie. And Albie, of course, had done all the flying.
“Use it to your advantage,” Albie said.
“How so?”
“It should make you cranky.”
“I’m pretty even.”
“Well, quit that. You’re just being polite. Your natural instinct, when you’d rather be in bed, is to be testy, short, irritable. Go with it. GC Peacekeepers are macho, in charge. They have an attitude.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Don’t ask—don’t apologize. You’re a busy man, on assignment, with things to do.”
“Got it.”
“Do you?”
“I think so.”
“That didn’t sound so macho.”
“I’ve got to be that way with you too?”
“At least practice, Buck. You Americans, I swear. I had to shame your father-in-law into being the leader he was born to be. You’re an international journalist and you can’t playact to get things done?”
“I
think I can.”
“Well, show me. How did you get the big stories, get access to the best interview subjects?”
“I used the power of my position.”
“Exactly.”
“But I was working for Global Weekly.”
“More than that. You were Buck Williams, the Buck Williams of Global Weekly. It may have been your talent and your writing that made you the Buck Williams, but once you were him, you walked with confidence, didn’t you?”
“I guess.”
“I guess,” Albie mocked. “Come on, Buck! You strutted!”
“You want me to strut?”
“I want you to get us a vehicle to drive to the detention center where Pastor Demeter and Mrs. Miklos and several others from their church are incarcerated.”
“But wouldn’t it be easier for you?”
“Why?”
“You’re the superior officer. You outrank everybody we’ll run into.”
“Then take advantage of that. I’ll be the one everybody sees but no one mentions. They will only salute. You speak with my authority. And you’re wearing that beautiful uniform, tailored at Chez Zeke.”
“I’ll try.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“I can do this.”
“You’re not giving me confidence.”
“Watch me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll be watching you get found out. Prove me wrong, Buck.”
“Outta my way, old man.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“You going to have them refuel us while we’re in Ptolemaïs?”
“No, Buck, you are.”
“C’mon. I don’t know all that plane stuff.”
“Just do it. From this point on, I am an angry, jet-lagged, ill-tempered deputy commander, and I don’t want to speak.”
“So it’s all on me?”
“Don’t ask me. I’m mute.”
“Are you serious?”
But Albie wouldn’t answer. The twinkle faded from his eyes and he set his jaw, scowling as they marched from the jet to the terminal, about twenty-five miles south of their destination. Buck accosted the first corporal he saw. “English?” he asked the young man.
“’Course. ’Sup?”
“I need you to hangar that aircraft and refuel it while my commanding officer and I are on assignment up the road.”