The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books

by Tim LaHaye

  “Lonely then, perhaps?”

  The man next to George, less fluent in English, said, “Do you know who is really Elbaz? Because we think we do.”

  “We do!” the girl said.

  George let the next curve throw him into the man, who pushed him back. “Sit up, you big stupid person!”

  CHAPTER 19

  Sound asleep over the Atlantic and never so happy to be heading home, Rayford at first thought the incoming call was a dream. Then he wished it were.

  The caller ID showed it originating in Colorado. Before Rayford could speak, a weird, nasal voice said, “I believe I followed your instructions on how to call you securely, but could you confirm that before I proceed?”

  Rayford sat straight up. “Stand by,” he said, believing he knew whom he was talking to. He checked the tiny LCD readout as David Hassid had instructed him. “You’re secure,” he said.

  “You’ve got trouble,” the voice said. “Do you have anybody inside at New Babylon to replace your guy that died?”

  Rayford hesitated.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Who?”

  “Ah, you may know me as Pinkerton Stephens. GC stationed in Colorado.”

  “I need to be dead sure, Mr. Stephens.”

  “Aka Steve Plank.”

  “A little more, please.”

  “Your grandson’s name is Kenny Bruce.”

  “How did you know our guy died?”

  “Everybody knows, man. Didn’t he go down with three others right in front of Carpathia?”

  “Not really, Steve.”

  “Not bad, Captain. But anyway, New Babylon thinks he’s dead, so he’s clearly not inside.”

  “We’re covered inside.”

  “Good. Then maybe you know this.”

  “What?”

  “About your trouble. Where are you?”

  Rayford told him.

  “And you have not been brought up to speed by the palace?”

  “I thought I had.”

  “You’ve been compromised.”

  “Me personally?” Rayford said.

  “Actually, no. Depending on what alias you’re using, I think you’re okay. But I just got a high-level, for-your-eyes-only briefing from Intelligence, and for the first time I thought I’d better take you up on your request to be informed.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The alias your friend, the one I met, is using has been exposed. I and S is speculating that Deputy Commander Marcus Elbaz is actually a former black marketer out of Al Basrah.”

  “How?”

  “This is mostly coming out of Greece, Rayford.”

  “Oh no. Tell me we weren’t wrong about the guy we sent in there.”

  “Sebastian? No, he’s solid. But they’ve got him.”

  “Oh no. Start from the top.”

  “First, you’ve got your Elbaz character flying your plane right now, right? And the craft is ostensibly a GC issue.”

  “Right.”

  “His name and that bird are on everybody’s screens, so don’t—”

  “Got it. Don’t land as GC or as Elbaz.”

  “You’re scheduled into Kankakee, right?”

  “You got it. What happened in Greece, Steve?”

  “Stay with me. First, I think I’ve found a way to get you close to where you want to go. Back to Chicago, correct?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Okay, listen up. I put in a request for cargo out of Maryland with a stop at the auxiliary field near where Midway used to be. That’s as close to Chicago as they’ll let anybody land, due to the radiation, you know.”

  “Right.”

  “You know as well as I do that you could put down at Midway.”

  “You think?”

  “Sure.”

  “We’re not going to draw any suspicion from heat-seeking stratospheric GC recon planes?”

  “Not if your guy keeps the phony radiation levels up to speed on the database.”

  “This is a pretty big jet.”

  “You’ve got reverse thrusters, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “It can be done. But listen, Ray, if your guy is still keeping track of Chicago and what the GC thinks about it, he’d better get in there and tinker.”

  “What’re you saying?”

  “I doubt anybody else has checked lately, but just to be sure I wasn’t leading you into a trap, I looked up that area, and something was giving off moving heat signals down there within the last several hours.”

  “We always tell him before we go out, walking, driving, or with the chopper. That way he can head off any readings we emit.”

  “Well, somebody’s on the move down there. Not much, but it’ll arouse suspicion like it did with me.”

  “So back to Greece, Steve. We know Buck’s Jack Jensen ID is history.”

  “That’s not the worst of it. He cut loose a couple of kids from a detention center and one of ’em—the girl, Stavros—got herself caught. You can’t blame her; she’s just a teenager, but apparently she cracked and gave up a lot. Story she told matched up with what they figure happened with the boy, who had used the name Paulo Ganter. ’Course Ganter was still in there, so they figured out by process of elimination who got sprung. Kid named Papadopoulos. His parents both refused to take the mark. GC in Greece plants a young woman with similar looks to this Stavros in the underground. She starts askin’ around about the boy, somebody gets ’em connected, and she tells him her story—which is just like his. Bada-bing, she had to be freed by the same guy, nobody checks her out, she stays away from people who would know she wasn’t who she claimed to be, and—”

  “—she walks our people into an ambush.”

  “Yeah, and it’s bad, Rayford.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “GC says the ruse went squirrelly at the end and their operatives wind up having to kill an old man named Kronos, a big fish—name of Miklos—and the boy.”

  Rayford sat in the screaming jet with the phone to his ear, head in his hand, eyes shut. “And Sebastian?”

  “Alive and well, but they’re confident they can get what they need from him to lead them to Ben-Judah. He’s former military, so he might be tougher than they think.”

  “Plus he doesn’t know that much.”

  “He was supposed to bring the kids to you, though, right? He’s got to know enough to hurt you.”

  “He does. Any idea about the disposition of the real Stavros?”

  “I think that goes without saying, now that they have a connection to you guys. She’s served her purpose.”

  “We don’t have to assume the worst.”

  “Oh, sure we do, Rayford. Of course we do. I always do.”

  Plank asked if Rayford had anybody on board whose face was not known to the GC. “Well, I’ve got three people aboard who are thought dead.”

  “Can any of ’em look like a Middle Easterner?”

  “One’s a Jordanian.”

  “Perfect. Does he have a turban?”

  Rayford leaned over and woke Abdullah. “Do you have a turban, or can you make yourself one?” Abdullah gave him a thumbs-up and went back to sleep. “That’s affirmative, Steve.”

  “Can you put him on the radio and pretend he’s your pilot?”

  “He flies.”

  “Perfect. Here’s his new name and a refueling docket number for Maryland. Your next stop after that should be Resurrection Field here, south of Colorado Springs. I won’t expect you.”

  “No, but you’ll log us in as if we made it.”

  “Of course.”

  “Words aren’t adequate, Steve. . . .”

  “Hey, one of these days I’m gonna need a place to hole up . . . if I survive that long.”

  With Buck, Hannah, Leah, and Mac also asleep, Rayford chose to tell only Albie what was going on. There would be plenty of time for Abdullah and Albie to switch seats. Rayford called Chang.

  Twelve hours later Chang sat
at his terminal in the office, grateful he’d been able to sleep after a flurry of emergency activity in the night. He wondered how David had managed this on his own and prayed that God would either deliver him or send someone to help him. Chang was unaware of any other believers in New Babylon, but still he held out hope. While he sat monitoring the overwhelming reports of death and ruin on the bloody high seas, he was recording the meeting of the ten regional potentates with Carpathia, Akbar, Fortunato, and Viv Ivins.

  The workday was interminable, but Chang walked a fine line. He had to appear above reproach while maintaining a typically irreverent attitude. David had warned him that if he appeared too good to be true, someone would assume he was. And new as he was in assisting the Tribulation Force, he feared he would be unable to keep pace emotionally. Losing David had rocked him. He couldn’t imagine how the others dealt with the loss of Miss Durham, then their main contact in Greece. Things were supposed to get worse and worse. Fear and loneliness didn’t begin to describe his feelings. He prayed that until he was rescued from this assignment, God would somehow allow him to stay rested, stay strong, and be able to carry on despite the danger and tragedy.

  In Petra Chaim felt as if he were already in heaven. How was it that God could make it so that a million believers could live together in harmony? Chaim reminded the people that Tsion Ben-Judah had promised to come and address them in person, and they lifted such a roar that he himself could barely wait for that day.

  “You know, do you not,” he said, unamplified yet miraculously able to be heard by all under his charge, “that the Word of God tells us we will live here unmolested, our clothes not wearing out, and we will be fed and quenched until the wrath of God against his enemies is complete. John the Revelator said he saw ‘something like a sea of glass mingled with fire, and those who have the victory over the beast, over his image and over his mark and over the number of his name, standing on the sea of glass, having harps of God.’ Beloved, those John would have seen in his revelation of heaven and who had victory over the beast are those who had been martyred by the beast. Death is considered victory because of the resurrection of the saints!

  “Sing with me the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb, saying: ‘Great and marvelous are your works, Lord God Almighty! Just and true are your ways, O King of the saints! Who shall not fear you, O Lord, and glorify your name? For you alone are holy. For all nations shall come and worship before you, for your judgments have been manifested.’

  “John said he heard the angel of the waters saying, ‘You are righteous, O Lord, the One who is and who was and who is to be, because you have judged these things.’

  “And what,” Chaim continued, “of our enemies who have shed the blood of saints and prophets? God has turned the oceans into blood, and one day soon he will turn the rivers and lakes to blood as well, giving them blood to drink. For it is their just due.

  “But what shall we his people eat and drink, here in this place of refuge? Some would look upon it and say it is desolate and barren. Yet God says that at twilight we shall eat meat, and in the morning we shall be filled with bread. In this way we shall know that he is the Lord our God.”

  That evening a great flock of quails invaded and a million saints enjoyed roasting them over open fires. In the morning, when the dew lifted, there on the rocky ground were small, round flakes as fine as frost. “We need not ask ourselves, as the children of Israel did, ‘What is it?’ ” Chaim said. “For we know God has provided it as bread. Take, eat, and see that it is filling and sweet, like wafers made with honey. As Moses said to them, ‘This is the bread the Lord has given you to eat.’

  “And what shall we drink? Again, God Almighty himself has provided.” Chaim raised both arms, and springs of fresh, cool water flowed from rocks in every quarter of Petra, enough for everyone.

  The refueling had gone without incident in Maryland, but Rayford wondered when their supply of impostors would run dry. A couple of hours later, Rayford took the controls for the landing at the tiny airstrip by Lake Michigan near what was left of downtown Chicago. His passengers were rested but stunned by the news related in his call from Steve Plank.

  The news had also proved devastating at the safe house. Chang reported from New Babylon that he had been able to cover in the computer for the motion and heat activity of Chloe’s movements that might otherwise have raised a red flag, and Tsion told Rayford by phone that Chloe was sick about having been responsible. “But she has exciting news,” Dr. Ben-Judah said. “She is insisting on being the one to pick you up. And yes, we have the young Mr. Wong covering for your landing and your transport here.”

  The landing was a test of Rayford’s skills, and as he touched down as close to the water as possible, he wondered if he would have been smart to let Mac handle it. But the thrust reversers and carbon brakes left him with room to spare, and he maneuvered the jet between two abandoned buildings, where it could be recognized from the stratosphere only from an angle available just a few seconds a day.

  The others allowed Buck out first to greet Chloe. She drove a Humvee from beneath the Strong Building and had brought Ming to hold Kenny. Rayford stretched and watched the reunion as the other five clambered out and unloaded luggage. Finally safe again in the building, introductions were made all around before they knelt and prayed and wept over lost and endangered loved ones. Rayford showed them the urn of Hattie’s ashes, and Hannah passed around David’s phone.

  “’Course we ain’t leavin’ this George guy by himself in Greece, right?”

  “Exactly, Zeke,” Mac said. “But we’ve got a lot of planning to do in a short time, and you’re gonna be as busy as any of us.”

  “I know some people I’ll bet would want to help,” Chloe said.

  Chang’s day had been filled with coworkers’ rumors and gossip. Two Indian stewards from Carpathia’s plane were to be put to death for leaking secrets to a mole in New Babylon. Everyone was under suspicion and tested. The general invitation for all employees to visit the spectacular new office of the supreme potentate had been suspended with his earlier-than-expected return from Israel. But those who saw it gushed about the ceiling that rose to the now transparent roof, so it was as if the office itself looked into heaven. It had been widened, the walls of adjoining offices and conference rooms demolished to make one gargantuan space in which the king of the world could relax or conduct business or hold meetings. Which he had done all day with the potentates of the ten world regions.

  Chang hurried to his apartment to hear the recording of that meeting, but first he checked copies of what the assembled computer whizzes had sent around the world from their secure system in Petra. What a thrill to see Chaim’s pronouncements and accounts of the miracles retold and broadcast to the globe. Reports had come back immediately of people on every continent printing these out or passing them on electronically. Secret house churches were encouraged, and many people were becoming new believers. People undecided and disillusioned with Carpathia sought out the believers, and international revival was happening right before Chang’s eyes.

  And it was none too soon, considering Carpathia’s high-level meeting. He had quickly quelled the cooing over his new digs and gotten down to business. “The world has changed, gentlemen,” he said, “as much in the last several days as in the last three and a half years. Please, no hands. I know all your problems and want to talk about mine today. Without some miraculous intervention, the oceanic catastrophe will not soon be remedied. We must be creative in our approaches to it. But have you noticed something, my friends? Is it as obvious to you as it is to me? We have the Jews to thank for our current predicament.

  “Yes, the Jews. Who have been among the last to embrace Carpathianism? The Jews. Who is their new Moses? A man who calls himself Micah but whom we believe to be none other than the Jew who vainly assassinated me, Dr. Chaim Rosenzweig.

  “Who are the Judah-ites? They claim to be Jesus-followers, but they follow Ben-Judah, a Jew.
Jesus himself was a Jew. They are fond of referring to me as Antichrist. Well, I will embrace Anti-Jew. And so will you. This is war, gentlemen, and I want it waged in all ten regions of the world.

  “For my part, we are planning to stagger and ultimately eradicate the so-called Jesus-believers who are nothing but Judah cultists. Tsion Ben-Judah himself, who claims a billion adherents, has publicly announced what will prove to be his fatal blunder. He has accepted an invitation from the brash Micah you-know-who—whom we have to thank for the plague of sores and the seas of blood—to personally speak at Petra to the million cowards who refused to express loyalty to me and yet ran like children when they had the chance.”

  “Excellency,” someone said, “could you not have stopped them before they reached Petra?”

  “Please do not interrupt! Of course we could have easily overrun them, but they have made it much easier and more economical for us. They are now all in one location, and as soon as Ben-Judah makes good on his promise, we will welcome him with a surprise. Or two. Or three. Security and Intelligence Director Suhail Akbar . . .”

  “Thank you, Your Worship,” Akbar said. “We are carefully monitoring the activities of the Judah-ites, and while we have not infiltrated the Jews at Petra, they have confined themselves to that area, saving us the work. We are prepared to rally two fighter-bombers when we know Ben-Judah is en route—we believe him to be only one or two hours from Petra anyway—and we should be able to drop one annihilation device from each craft directly onto Petra, literally within minutes of his arrival. We will follow with the launch of a missile that will ensure total destruction. That was scheduled to be launched from an oceangoing vessel but will now be launched from land.”

  Chang had to chuckle at the Intelligence area’s falling for the clock ruse from Tsion’s pirated TV appearance.

  Carpathia took over again. “The Judah-ites have proven to be such hero worshipers and so dependent on the daily Internet babblings of Ben-Judah that his death alone may mean the end of that nuisance. While we are aware of other pockets and strongholds of Judah-iteism, we do not believe any other leader has the charisma or leadership required to withstand our unlimited resources.