by Tim LaHaye
“What’s holding him back?”
“His admiration and love for Carpathia.”
Buck grunted. “Then let’s tell him what Rayford heard on the Condor 216.”
“About me, you mean?”
“And about him.”
“Will he believe it?”
“That’s up to him, Tsion. It will go against everything he believes and feels about Carpathia.”
“So be it.”
It was pushing midnight when Rayford entered Israeli airspace, on schedule. He checked in with the Ben Gurion tower in Tel Aviv, then was cleared for landing at Jerusalem Airport for refueling. “It’s been a while since I’ve been this scared,” he said.
“Really?” Ken said. “This kind of terror is becoming a weekly occurrence for me.”
Rosenzweig rejoined Buck and Tsion with Chloe in tow. She was in her pajamas and robe, drawing a confused stare from Buck. “Dr. Rosenzweig is insisting I get my rest for the baby’s sake,” she said. “Can’t argue with that. I just came to say good-night.”
Buck knew she would race back to change, but he said, “Stay with us a minute, hon. We need to tell Chaim something, and you may need to corroborate it with what you have heard from your dad.”
CHAPTER 12
“Jerusalem tower, this is Gulfstream Alpha Tango, over.”
“Tower, go ahead, Alpha Tango. Initiate landing sequence.”
Rayford plugged in the coordinates and put down in the busier-than-usual airstrip. To appear as casual as possible, he asked about it. The tower informed him that the wealthier commuters from the big meeting at Kollek Stadium were flying small craft to Tel Aviv for their international flights home.
“Any delay on a refuel?”
“Negative, Alpha. You’re clear.”
“See the choppers?” Ray said as he lined up his approach.
“I see one,” Ken said. “White with black block letters on the side.”
“Don’t kid me.”
“I’m not. It’s GC all right, but there’s only one.”
“I don’t like it, Ken.”
“Why hasn’t Mac called if there’s a glitch?”
Rayford shook his head. “I don’t want to call him. He may not be where he can talk.”
“But he might not know one of his birds is gone. Ever think of that?”
Rayford punched in Mac’s number. “McCullum.”
“Mac! It’s me. What’s going on?”
“Yes, hello, Sergeant Fitzgerald. Of course you may proceed.”
“We’re good to go?”
“No need to wait, Sergeant. That’s affirmative.”
“All my eggs are in your basket, Mac.”
“You’re welcome, Sergeant. Good-bye.”
“Take your phone, Ken!” Rayford shouted over the scream of the engines as Ritz opened the door.
Ken smacked himself in the head and grabbed the phone out of his bag. “Another mature moment,” he said. “Don’t leave me out there hitchhikin’ now.”
“Don’t worry.” Rayford wished he had rearview mirrors on the side of the plane so he would know when Ken got to the chopper.
Chaim Rosenzweig had never looked older to Buck. He was tired, of course. It was late. But his wispy white hair, independent of control, haloed a grayish, drawn face. Buck, Tsion, and Chloe had quickly revealed to him conversations Rayford had overheard on the Condor. Chaim appeared unable to speak after hearing that his requests for Tsion’s safety following his first TV broadcast had been laughed at.
“You realize,” Chloe said, “that you are the first outside person who knows about the bugging device on that plane. We’re putting lives in your—”
Rosenzweig waved her off sadly. “To think that Nicolae himself would say one thing and do another, looking me in the eyes, he did, and lying. He could have prevented the slaughter of your family, Tsion. Oh God, oh God, oh God! How could I have been so blind? I know you tried to tell me.”
“Doctor,” Tsion said quickly, “you and I will continue our discussion by phone or e-mail or in person, God willing, but we must leave now. Our sources tell us that the GC is planning a terrorist attack at the Temple Mount tomorrow, and we want to be long gone by then.”
“Of course,” Chaim said. “I understand. I will have you driven to—”
“It’s all arranged,” Buck said. “We need to be on the roof in ten minutes.”
“Of course, go. I will cover for you. Don’t worry about me.”
Chloe went to change, and Buck told Chaim the disposition of the key. “Break it down,” he said wearily. “Tools are in the utility room.”
“Buck!” Chloe cried as she moved toward the door. “You’re on TV! Turn it up!”
“. . . Community forces believe videotape reveals this man as the likely killer of a GC guard earlier this evening at the Meeting of the Witnesses at Kollek Stadium. He has been identified as an American, Cameron Williams, a former employee of the GC publishing division. Williams is reportedly staying with Rabbi Tsion Ben-Judah at the home of Israeli Nobel Prize–winner Dr. Chaim Rosenzweig. Supreme Commander Leon Fortunato went on to say . . .”
Tsion and Buck followed Rosenzweig toward the utility room. As soon as Buck saw where they were headed, he brushed past the old man, flipped on the light, and grabbed a hammer, a shovel, and a concrete block. “Do you have a sledgehammer?”
“If you don’t see it, I don’t have it,” Chaim said. “We need to hurry.” The phone rang. “That will be the GC,” he said. Jonas the gateman spoke over the intercom in Hebrew, but Buck understood “Rosenzweig” and “Fortunato.”
“Have someone bring me the phone,” Rosenzweig said. “I’m in the back hallway.” He turned to Buck and Tsion and gestured that they should lead the way to the access door. When he got the cordless phone, he dismissed the valet and talked as he followed Buck.
“Of course he’s here, Leon,” he said. “And sound asleep. Don’t even think of invading my household in the middle of the night. You have my word he will be here in the morning. You can question him then. I will even be happy to bring him to you. . . . Oh, Leon, that is patent nonsense, and you know it. He is no more a murder suspect than I am. Your man was shot by one of your own. . . . Have you found a murder weapon? Fingerprints? Check the bullets, and they will trace to your weapons. I have known Mr. Williams for years and have never seen him with a weapon. I’m warning you, Leon. These are my guests, and I will not wake them! . . . Yes, I warned you! You are not my supreme commander. . . . Now you are threatening me? You know my standing in this country and, may I say, with Nicolae! If I tell people you used gestapo tactics in the middle of the night. . . . Crime? You would charge me with a crime for speaking disrespectfully to you? You call me at midnight, after midnight, and tell me to hold my guest as a murder suspect, and you expect me to respect you? I’ll tell you what, Leon, you come personally at a reasonable hour, and I will make my guest available to you. . . . Well, I promise you, Leon, you send anyone tonight, and I will not answer the door.”
Buck waved furiously at Chaim to move away so the sound of the banging wouldn’t be heard over the phone. Chaim nodded and hurried away, and Buck drove the claw of the hammer behind the top hinge of the heavy door. Chloe showed up with two bags and left to get Tsion’s.
Tsion drove the shovel in and around the doorknob, but neither man was getting far. “Step back a second, Tsion,” Buck said, and he hefted the concrete block above his head. The weight almost carried him over backward. He slammed it against the upper half of the door and heard a resounding crack. A couple more shots, he believed, and he’d break through the wood.
Rayford was refueling when the call came from Ken. “I’m away,” he said.
“Godspeed.”
He kept an eye on his watch, tempted to call Chloe and keep her on the phone until they were aboard the chopper. But he didn’t want to be a distraction. The missing helicopter already had him puzzled, but if that wasn’t a clear go message from Mac, he didn�
��t know what was. He couldn’t wait to hear what that was all about.
“Get all the lights off!” Buck hollered, as he finally smashed through the thick wood. He heard Chaim hurry around flipping switches.
Over the intercom Chaim urgently told his gateman something in Hebrew. “What’d he say?” Chloe said, joining Buck and Tsion at the broken doorjamb in the dark. Each had a heavy bag.
“He told him no one gets in. Everyone’s asleep. That won’t keep them out long.”
“Let’s go,” Buck said. “I hear a chopper.”
“It’s your imagination,” Chloe said. “I think it’s GC in the driveway.”
“You’re both paranoid,” Tsion said, climbing through the broken door.
“I’ve got your bag, hon,” Buck said.
“Buck! Don’t baby me.”
“It’s the baby I’m thinking of. Now go.”
“We never said good-bye to Chaim!”
“He’ll understand. Go. Go.”
As she stepped through the door, Chaim returned. “I’m waiting for word from the gate,” he whispered. “A GC vehicle just pulled up.”
Buck reached for him in the darkness and embraced him fiercely. “On behalf of all of us—”
“I know,” Chaim said. “I’m so sorry about all this. Let me know when you are safe.”
A nervous tingle swept over Rayford’s body. After fueling and paying with Ken Ritz’s international debit card, Rayford deliberately taxied the Gulfstream away from ground traffic about two hundred yards from where Ken would land the chopper. From where he sat he would be able to see the helicopter and get next to it as it landed.
His phone chirped. “Rayford, it’s Mac. I’m finally alone. Listen and don’t say anything. Leon took it on himself to get my chopper guy out of Haifa and put him in the air. They had some kind of incident near the stadium and didn’t want to risk using me because of tomorrow’s flight back on the Condor. I thought they’d have it back in time, and when they didn’t and you called, I gave you the go-ahead to use Chopper One. Yes, that means your guy is in Carpathia’s ride, but no one’s the wiser if he gets it back quick. I was in a car with Leon, and that’s why I sounded so strange.
“Here’s the problem. Leon’s got a couple of cars on their way to Rosenzweig’s with a trumped-up charge against Buck. I heard ’em say a video proves it’s bogus, but truth never stopped ’em before. Apparently the old man is not going to let them in, and they’re afraid your people are on the run. Leon’s asking for the chopper to light up the neighborhood. If he sees your guy, he’s gonna think it’s me until he asks and finds out it’s not.
“I’m going to do what I can to misdirect, Ray, short of giving myself away. Just wanted you to know what you’re dealing with. I’ve got another few seconds here if you’ve got any questions.”
“Thanks, Mac. Bet you’re glad this isn’t a wrong number. Has this guy got weapons?”
“Two armed guys are with him, yes.”
“What’s Ken supposed to do if he encounters him?”
“Play cool like he’s supposed to be there, but evade as soon as possible. That kid knows I’m not in the air.”
“I’d better get off in case Ken’s trying to reach me.”
“We were both right,” Chloe whispered as they stepped out into the cool night air. Two GC vehicles were being stalled outside the gate, and a chopper illuminated the ground with a huge light. “Doesn’t Ken know where we are?”
“I can’t imagine,” Buck said. “But we can’t flag him down without giving ourselves away to those guys. C’mon, Ken! Right here, man!”
Suddenly, from right above them, GC Chopper One descended, whipping their hair and clothes. Ken opened the door and shouted, “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Buck threw their bags in and helped Chloe climb aboard. He didn’t dare peek down to see what kind of attention they were drawing from the guards on the ground.
Tsion and Buck leaped aboard. Ken was on the phone. “We’re not alone, Ray! Two on the ground, one in the air! . . . All right, I’m going!” Ken swept up and away, heading north.
Tsion, Buck, and Chloe huddled together, holding hands and praying. Buck wondered how long it would be before the ground troops alerted the other helicopter. Three minutes later, with Ken speeding toward Jerusalem Airport, he found out. From over the radio came an urgent call. “GC Chopper One, this is Chopper Two, over.”
Ken hollered into the phone, “Don’t worry, Ray, I won’t answer it. Anyway, I thought we were Chopper Two. . . . Tell me later. I’m on my way. . . . Mac’s voice? How can I do that? I only talked to him on the phone once! . . . All right, I’ll try! I’m comin’ fast, so be ready!”
“Chopper Two to Chopper One, do you copy?”
“Go ahead, Two,” Ken said, lowering his voice and effecting a Southern accent.
“I didn’t know you were airborne, Cap.”
“Roger, Two.” Ken clicked the microphone as he spoke. “I . . . bad . . . connection . . . you . . . over?”
“Repeat, Cap?”
A frantic voice broke in. “McCullum is not in the air, Chopper Two! He’s with us! Find out who that is!”
“Chopper Two to Chopper One, identify yourself, over.”
Ken hesitated.
“Identify, Chopper One, or risk a charge of air piracy.”
“This is Chopper One, go ahead.”
“Identify yourself, pilot.”
“Bad connection, come back.”
The Chopper Two pilot swore. “Demand immediate descent and surrender, One.”
“En route to Tel Aviv, Two. See you there.”
“Negative! Put down at Jerusalem Airport and stay aboard!”
“Negative yourself, Two. See you at Ben Gurion.”
Chopper Two put out a call for assistance to all aircraft in that sector.
“Now what?” Buck said.
“Lights off and stay low,” Ken said.
“Not too low.”
“High enough to clear power lines,” Ken said. “Low enough to stay under radar.”
“We gonna be all right?”
“Depends on where he was when he first called. If he was still in Chaim’s neighborhood, we’ve got a pretty good lead on him. I doubt he’ll stay this low or go this fast. No way he’s dumb enough to believe we’re going to Ben Gurion. Somebody’s bound to spot us, and then he’ll chase us to the airstrip. No time for restroom stops or seat changes at the airport, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Rayford sat near the runway listening to the radio traffic and resisting the urge to coach Ken. If he didn’t know enough to stay low and push the chopper’s limits, nothing Rayford could say would help.
The radio came to life again with a report from a small, fixed-wing plane that had sighted the low-flying GC chopper with its lights off.
“Chopper Two is in pursuit. Chopper One, you are breaking international aviation law by running without lights, high speeds at low altitude, and hijacking of government aircraft. Proceed directly to Jerusalem Airport and remain on board or suffer the consequences.”
Airport personnel swept into action, emergency vehicles cruising the runways. “Attention please. Jerusalem Airport is temporarily closed due to an emergency. Be advised, all landing sequences and takeoffs are suspended until further notice. Cessna X-ray Bravo, you copy?”
“Roger.”
“Piper Two-Niner Charley Alpha?”
“Roger.”
“Gulfstream Alpha Tango?”
“Roger,” Rayford said, but he did not shut down. He hoped Ken would understand why he was waiting at the wrong end of the runway. This would be a takeoff without clearance and in the wrong direction.
And here came the chopper. Ken wouldn’t have time to talk on the phone, and the radio was not an option. Rayford checked his gauges. He was ready.
Ken started to put down at the original spot.
“Gulfstream’s up there!” Buck shouted. “And you’ve got security coming on the gro
und!”
Ken hopped the craft back up and set down near Rayford. The door of the Gulfstream hung open. Buck, Chloe, and Tsion set themselves to jump out of the chopper. “Hold tight a second,” Ken shouted. “They see us board the Gulf now, they can block him easy! I’m going to have to play cat and mouse with ’em, make ’em think Ray’s not involved!”
As security vehicles approached, Ken leapfrogged them, hovering just above where he had first set down, two hundred yards from the Gulfstream. “Put down right there, Chopper One!” came the voice from Chopper Two on the radio. “And do not disembark. Repeat, do not disembark.”
Ken put down but kept the blades whirring as the ground vehicles headed his way. “Shut it down, One!” the radio blared. Buck and the others saw Chopper Two descending from Rayford’s end of the field, right toward them.
“Stay out of sight, and forget your bags, people,” Ken said. “If I get you close, you’re going to make a run for the Gulf.”
“We’re still going to try to do this?” Chloe said. “It’s hopeless!”
“It’s never hopeless as long as I’m breathin’,” Ken said.
Rayford stared out the cockpit windshield of the Gulfstream, imagining that any second Ken and all that was left of his own family would be surrounded by armed GC guards. They would never expose him, but dare he just sit and wait to leave when the airport reopened? His body boiled with frustration, wanting to do something, anything.
Ken was a creative, resourceful, smart guy. And it did appear he still had those blades spinning. What was he going to do? Let Chopper Two chase him some more? There was no hope in that.
“Shut it down, One!” the command came again. “You are surrounded with no possible escape!”
Chopper Two was within thirty feet of Ken, also on the ground now with blades engaged. Rayford watched, amazed, as Ken went straight up about a hundred feet, then pointed the nose of the chopper at the Gulfstream and seemed to fall right in front of it. It hit the tarmac at such an angle that it slid fifty feet and spun to a stop next to the open door.