The Indwelling

by Tim LaHaye

  “I don’t think they’re around either. There was lots of talk at Buffer today about what happened to Dr. Rosenzweig’s house and his people. They don’t know where he is, but they’re making it look like everybody died in the fire.”

  “Yes?”

  “They’re saying the same thing will happen to Cameron Williams’s people if they don’t give him up.”

  “His relatives don’t know where he is!” Leah said. “He’s smarter than to give them that kind of information.”

  “Leah, they may already be dead. This was supposed to happen right away.”

  “What was?”

  “Torture. Dismemberment. They tell or they are killed. Then comes the fire to cover it up.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Just have your friend check on them. Maybe he can warn them in time.”

  “I will, Ming. How are you doing? Ready to come see us? Whoops! Hang on.” Leah slid down in the seat as two uniformed GC officers strolled by. They stopped right next to the Rover, chatting and smoking. “Ming,” Leah whispered, “can you still hear me?”

  “Barely. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve got company. If I don’t say anything, you’ll know why.”

  “If you need to hang up—”

  “I’d rather stay on with you. Let me give you Rayford Steele’s number in case I get caught. He’ll answer to Marvin Berry.”

  “Got it.”

  Leah felt the vehicle rock. “They’re leaning against the car,” she said. “Luckily all the windows are tinted except the windshield.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Illinois.”

  “I mean in the car.”

  “Floor of the front seat. Wish I were daintier. The gearshift is killing me.”

  “They don’t see you?”

  “Don’t think so. I can hear them plain as day.”

  “What?”

  Leah didn’t want to speak louder. The Peacekeepers were trading wild party stories. She wanted to say, “Yeah, and I’m the Easter bunny,” but she lay still.

  “This hunk of junk looks like it’s been through a war,” one said.

  “It has, stupid. It’s old enough to have been through the war and the earthquake.”

  “Tough make.”

  “Not as tough as the Land Cruiser.”

  “No? Same company?”

  “Toyota.”

  “Really?”

  “Expensive.”

  “More than this?”

  “Quite a bit more.”

  “No kiddin’? This thing’s loaded. I think it’s got a GPS.”

  “This rig? Nah.”

  “Betcha.”

  “How much?”

  “Ten-spot.”

  “You’re on.”

  “Oh, no,” Leah whispered, “they’re coming to the front.”

  “You need me to call Rayford?”

  But Leah didn’t answer. She tucked the phone between the seats and pretended to sleep.

  “See, isn’t that the positioning system right there. Hey! She all right?”

  “Who? Oh, man! Door’s unlocked. Ask her.”

  A rap on the window. “Hey, lady!”

  Leah ignored it, but moved slightly so they wouldn’t think she was dead. When one opened the passenger door, she sat up, trying to look groggy. “Hey, what’s the deal?” she said. “You want me to call a Peacekeeper?”

  “We are Peacekeepers, ma’am.”

  “There a law against a girl getting some shut-eye?”

  “No, but what’re you doin’ on the floor? Backseat’s wide open.”

  “Trying to stay out of the sun.”

  She sat up in the seat, desperate to remember her new address and hometown. Zeke Jr. had reminded her more than once to memorize it as soon as possible. She hated being so new at this part of the game.

  “This your vehicle?”

  “Borrowing it.”

  “From?”

  “Guy named Russell.”

  “That a first or last name?”

  “Russell Staub.”

  “He know you’re borrowing it?”

  “’Course! What’re you driving at?”

  “Run a check on it,” one told the other, who immediately got on his phone. “Where’s he from, ma’am?”

  “Mount Prospect.”

  “What’re you doing all the way down here?”

  She shrugged. “S’posed to meet some friends.”

  “We’re gonna find this Rover registered to a Staub in Mount Prospect, right?”

  She nodded. “I don’t do his paperwork for him, but that’s whose it is and that’s where it’s from.”

  “You got any ID, ma’am?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  “You’ve come a long way from wondering if I was all right to accusing me of stealing a car.”

  “I didn’t accuse you of anything, lady. You feeling guilty about something?”

  “Should I be?”

  “Let me see your ID.”

  Leah made a show of digging through her purse even after she had located the new documents so she could take a last peek at the new information.

  “This your current address, Miss, ah, Seaver?”

  “If it says Park Ridge, it is.”

  “You’re a long way from home too.”

  “Only because there are hardly any roads anymore.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  “Staub, Mount Prospect,” the other officer said. “No outstandings and no reports.”

  Leah raised her eyebrows, her pulse racing. “Satisfied?”

  He handed back her ID. “Don’t be out and about without something to do, ma’am. Why don’t you get this vehicle back to the owner and get on home.”

  “Can’t I get a drink first, in case my friends show up?”

  “Don’t be long.”

  “Thank you.” She pushed open the car door and saw Rayford and Chloe on their way out, concern on their faces. “Oh, there they are now! Thanks again, officers!”

  Annie had hurried to David’s office. They pretended it was a normal superior/subordinate meeting, and he quickly told her what he had heard.

  She paled. “That sounds like what Buck Williams went through with Carpathia at the UN.”

  “But who knew Fortunato could do that?”

  “Is he the Antichrist?” Annie said.

  David shook his head. “I still think it’s Carpathia.”

  “But he’s really dead, David. I mean really. How long was he in that bag and in that box? I thought he was supposed to come back to life right away.”

  “Dr. Ben-Judah thought so too,” he said. “What do we know? If we had this stuff figured out, we probably would have figured out the rest and wouldn’t have been left behind.”

  David’s secretary buzzed him. “The Supreme Commander would like to see you.”

  Annie grabbed his hands. “God,” she whispered, “protect him on every side.”

  “Amen,” David said.

  Buck and Chaim sat shivering in a ditch at the far north end of a deserted and blocked-off road. Only a small stretch remained smooth, and Buck began to wonder whether it was long enough for the Super J. The jet might be able to land and take off without attracting attention, but if T had to circle or take more than one shot at it, who knew?

  Worse, the stretch was unlit. T would use his landing lights only as much as he had to, counting on Buck to guide him in by phone. That meant Buck would have to stand at one end of the makeshift runway or the other. He opted for the front end so he could talk T through coming straight over his head, then he could spin and try to keep him straight until he landed. Buck would transmit the GPS coordinates listed in his phone to T’s phone. The only danger was T’s coming in too low too quickly. Buck would have to leap out of the way. Still, that seemed easier than trying to elude a plane careening toward him at the other end.

  “This is a lot of trouble f
or someone who doesn’t want to leave,” Chaim said.

  “Well, I want to leave even if you don’t.”

  Buck’s phone rang, and he assumed it was T, though he had not heard the plane yet. It was Rayford.

  “We have a situation here,” Rayford said, quickly bringing him up to date on Chloe. “The question is whether now is the time to talk.”

  “It’s not,” Buck said. “But in a nutshell, what’s up?”

  “Wouldn’t do that to you, Buck. Call us when you’re in the air or in Greece. And greet the brothers for us.”

  “Will do,” Buck said, puzzled at Rayford’s new tone. It was as if he were talking to his old father-in-law.

  “Chloe sends her love and wants to talk with you when you have time.”

  “Thanks. Me too.”

  “I love you, Buck.”

  “Thanks, Ray. I love you too.”

  David realized how petrified he was when he nearly blundered by heading straight toward the conference room upon reaching the eighteenth floor. “He in there?” he said, trying to mask his anxiety.

  “No,” Margaret said, clearly puzzled. “He’s with Messrs. Hickman and Moon in his office. They’re expecting you.”

  I will not kneel, David vowed. I will not worship or kiss his hand. Lord, protect me.

  Leon and the other two directors huddled around a TV monitor. Leon still appeared grief stricken. “Once we get His Excellency into the tomb,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “the world can begin approaching some closure. Prosecuting his murderer can only aid in achieving that. Watch this with us, David. Tell me if you see what we see.”

  David approached the monitor, certain Fortunato could hear his heartbeat and see the flush of his face. He nearly missed the chair, then settled in awkwardly.

  Shot from above, the recording was crystal clear. At the sound of the gunshot from Carpathia’s left, he had turned and run into the wheelchair as Chaim rolled toward him. Chaim grabbed at the metal back support over his left shoulder and quickly produced what appeared to be a two-foot sword. As Nicolae tumbled atop him, Chaim whipped the weapon in front of him, holding it with both hands, point up, sharp edge facing away from the potentate.

  Chaim lifted his forearms as Carpathia’s body met the blade, and the sword slipped into his neck and straight through the top of his head as easily as a bayonet would slice a watermelon. Carpathia’s hands shot to his chin, but David kept his eyes on Chaim, who violently twisted the handle at the base of Nicolae’s neck. He let go as Carpathia dropped, then quickly steered stage left and sat with his back to the dying man.

  “Well?” Leon said, peering at him. “Is there any doubt?”

  David stalled, but all that served was to make the other two glance at him.

  “Cameras don’t lie,” Leon said. “We have our assassin, don’t we?”

  Much as he wanted to argue, to come up with some other way to interpret what was clear, David would jeopardize his position if he proved illogical. He nodded. “We sure do.”

  Leon approached him, and David froze. The supreme commander took David’s face in his fleshy hands and looked deep into his eyes. David fought the urge to look away, praying all the while that he would do the right thing and hoping that Annie was continuing to pray too. Like Nicolae, here was a man with clear mind control over unbelievers. He felt his pulse in his ears and wondered if Leon could detect his panic through his fingers.

  “Director Hassid,” Leon said, eyes boring into his. “Rayford Steele shot dead our beloved potentate.”

  Rayford? Hadn’t they watched the same recording?

  Leon would be suspicious if David agreed too quickly.

  “No,” David said, “the recording was clear. Dr. Ro—”

  “A stroke victim and a great loyal statesman would be incapable of such an act, would he not?”

  “But—”

  Fortunato’s sweaty palms still cupped his cheeks. “The only killing weapon was the Saber in the hands of Rayford Steele, who shall have to pay for his crime.”

  “Rayford Steele?” David said, his voice cracking like a junior high schooler.

  “The assassin.”

  “The assassin?”

  “Look again, David, and tell me what you see.”

  David was terrified. He had not noticed anyone switching chips, yet this version indeed showed Rayford firing at the stage. David wondered if he was weaker than Buck had been three and a half years before. Was it possible that Leon could make him see something that wasn’t there? He stared, unblinking. Time seemed to stand still.

  Someone had to have changed the chip while he was distracted in Leon’s hands. This was no concoction, no mind game. For while this showed the gunshot, it also showed Nicolae falling into Chaim’s lap.

  “Slow it down,” David said, trying to mimic the flat voices he had heard earlier. He believed his ruse was failing miserably, but he had no choice but to play it out.

  “Yes, Walter,” Leon said. “Show the fatal shot again and slow it down.”

  David fought for control, determined to watch the lectern, the curtain, the kings. As soon as the flash of fire and the puff of smoke appeared at the end of the Saber, the lectern split, and the pieces hurtled toward the ten kings. The curtain seemed to twist on itself from the middle and shoot into the distance. Chaim appeared to come from behind the falling potentate and steer toward the center of the stage. The angle was wrong for seeing what he had actually done.

  To his disgust, David had to submit a second time to Leon’s hands on his face. “Well?” Leon said, peering at him. “Is there any doubt?”

  This time David could not stall. He was suddenly aware of Leon’s overbearing cologne. How had he missed that before?

  “Cameras don’t lie,” Leon said. “We have our assassin, don’t we?”

  David nodded, forcing Leon to loosen his grip. “We sure do,” he managed. “Steele must pay.”

  “I hate this,” Leah said as the three sat inside again. “It’s nerve-racking. We shouldn’t be out during the day. Too many things can go wrong.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone to the car,” Chloe said.

  Leah cocked her head and gave Chloe a stare. “I shouldn’t have gone to the car? I’m not the reason we’re here, dear.”

  “I didn’t ask you to come,” Chloe said.

  “Stop,” Rayford said. “This gets us nowhere. Now, Chloe, I’m sorry, but this was a monumentally stupid thing to do.”

  “Dad! We need to get to the new place.”

  “And we have to check it out, but we’re way past where we can get away with being out one second more than necessary, except at night.”

  “All right! OK! I’m sorry!”

  Leah reached for her hand. “Me too,” she said, but Chloe pulled away.

  “C’mon, don’t do that,” Leah said. “I shouldn’t have said that, and I’m sorry. We have to be able to work together.”

  “We need to get out of here,” Rayford said. “Those guys think we’re just friends in here for a drink. We can’t stay till dark.”

  “We should get closer to Chicago,” Chloe said.

  “That’ll look more suspicious,” Rayford said, “unless we can find a place where we could leave the cars out of sight and still be able to walk into the city.”

  “Where the L tracks end now?” Chloe suggested.

  “They end everywhere,” Leah said. “Totally shut down, right?”

  “Well,” Chloe said, “the tracks are torn up heading in from the south, and then they’re OK in the city, but they’re closed.”

  Rayford looked to the ceiling. “So how about we find a place to hide the cars down that way, coming in from separate directions, then follow the tracks into the city.”

  Leah nodded. “Good idea.”

  Chloe said, “That’s what I thought.”

  “If you’re where I think you are,” T said, “it looks impossible.”

  “You can see the road?” Buck said. “Why can’t I h
ear you?”

  “Wind, maybe, but you’ll hear me soon. I’m already lower than I want to be, but I sure hope I’m looking at the wrong road.”

  “There’s only one possibility in this area,” Buck said. “If you see any stretch of open road, you’re looking at us.”

  “Buck, do you have any idea how long it takes for one of these to stop? An aircraft carrier would be easier.”

  “Any options?”

  “Yeah! I land at Jerusalem Airport or better yet, Tel Aviv, and we hope for the best.”

  “It would be more efficient for Chaim to commit suicide right here than to risk that, T. They’re looking for him.”

  “I’m willing to try this, Buck, but it sure seems an uninspired way to become a martyr.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean I literally hear you. Flash your landing lights. . . . I see you! You’re way to my right!”

  “Adjusting.”

  “More. More! More! There! No, a little left now! Hold.”

  “I see nothing!”

  “Use your lights when you need to. That’ll help me too.”

  “I don’t like what I’m not seeing.” The landing lights came on and stayed on this time. “Now I don’t like what I am seeing.”

  “You seem high. I thought you were too low.”

  “I was lower than I wanted to be with all those emergency lights off to the left down there. Let’s hope they’re too busy to look up.”

  “You still seem high.”

  “I am. But I still don’t see you either.”

  “If you stay up there, I’m safe. You gonna go ’round again?”

  “Negative. I have one shot and I’m going to make it work.”

  “You’d better start dropping.”

  “Here I come.”

  Buck put his phone down and waved, though he couldn’t imagine T seeing him from that angle. The plane drifted right, and Buck tried to signal T back to center. With his lights still on, T should have been able to see that for himself.

  As the Super J screamed past him, Buck grabbed his phone and shouted, “You straight?”

  “Straight as I can get! No way this works! Too steep! Too fast!”

  “Abort?”

  “Too late!”

  Buck shut his eyes as the plane dropped and the hot exhaust swept past him. He covered his ears, knowing that would never block the sound of the impact. But what he heard wasn’t a plane crash. He thought he detected the screech of tires over the din of the jets, but that may have been wishful thinking. He peeked through the dust and exhaust to see the plane bounce a couple of feet, the red exhaust flame pouring out the sides as the plane used reverse thrust in a desperate attempt to slow down.