by Tim LaHaye
That was so amazing that Mac requested a private phone chat with Tsion, despite the time difference. He went through Leah, as did all communication now, and assured her that he would understand if Tsion didn’t have the time. But within a day, the two were on secure phones together.
“Captain McCullum, my friend, I am so grateful for all the inside information you have sent my way. It makes my work so much easier and gives me insights into the inner workings that I would never otherwise have. What can I do for you?”
“Well, sir, just a quick question, I hope. I know David has kept everybody up-to-date, through Leah, about the plot to rally the ten kings against Peter the Second. We know that not all the kings are even loyal to Carpathia, but every one of them is on board with this anti-Peter thing. Are they just blowing smoke with Fortunato, or am I naive to believe what sounds like true anger and agreement?”
“Excellent question, Captain, and the only reason I have not dealt with it on the Net is that I feel it might be too revealing and I would then be inserting myself into history in the making. That is a dangerous precedent, and we must guard against trying to help God, as it were, fulfill his promises. If he says it will happen, it will happen.
“But as for the ten kings and their willingness to conspire against Peter the Second: This is biblical. God is working out his eternal plan. Just as in the Old Testament he used pagan armies to punish his own people and today he uses demon hordes to get the attention of unbelievers, he is also using these kings. Revelation 17 says, ‘And the ten horns which you saw on the beast’ (these are the kings, Mac), ‘these will hate the harlot’ (that is the false religion, represented now by Peter the Second), ‘make her desolate and naked, eat her flesh and burn her with fire.’
“Now get this, Captain. The next verse answers your question. The reason they are agreeing on this when in truth they are all egomaniacs who agree on little—not even on Carpathia—is this. Listen as I read. ‘God has put it into their hearts to fulfill His purpose, to be of one mind, and to give their kingdom to the beast, until the words of God are fulfilled.’”
“Wow.”
“Isn’t that something? It is amazing to witness the fulfillment of prophecy.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You will find these kings of one mind, because God said so. And you know it will mean the demise of Peter, don’t you?”
“I figured that.”
“The question is how and where it will happen.”
“I have an idea,” Mac said.
“Really,” Tsion said.
Mac told him of the private conversation between Leon and the newest king, Kenyan Enoch Litwala. Fortunato had listened through Litwala’s list of suggestions and demands, taking notes, telling him what he thought he heard him saying, and so forth, then got to the Peter the Second issue:
“His Excellency has asked that I raise with you personally a most delicate situation. He most admires your wisdom and ability to size up circumstances, but this is a matter with which you may not be familiar. Are you aware of any, shall we say, hesitation on the part of the other regional potentates concerning the, ah, visibility of Peter the Second?”
Litwala had responded so quickly that Mac had sat up in the cockpit and pressed the earphone tighter. “I don’t know or care what my colleagues think,” Litwala said, “but I will speak my own heart. I despise the man. He is egotistical, legalistic, self-possessed. He has appropriated huge amounts of money for his Enigma Babylon that should have been used in my country for my people. I do not find him loyal to His Excellency the potentate, and—”
“Indeed?”
“As soon as he heard I was being considered for this post he came to see me, flew all the way here, I believe on this very plane. Was this not his before?”
“It was.”
“He tried to elicit my support for his playing a larger role in world governance, aside from religion. I said nothing. I believe he has too much influence now. Why would I want him to have more? I told him I would study his proposals and, should I be so honored as to be chosen for this position, I would consult more experienced regional potentates about their views. That seemed to please him. He tried to pry from me any negative thoughts I had about His Excellency, but I just listened. I did not challenge or counter him, but neither did I reveal precisely where I stood. That might prove valuable later.”
“It’s good, Potentate Litwala. He believes he has the support of the others and likely assumes you will fall in line. Do you agree he is potentially a danger to the harmony of Global Community leadership?”
“Not potentially. Presently.”
“What would you propose we do about it? That is His Excellency’s question of you.”
“He would not appreciate my deepest feelings.”
“You might be surprised.”
“If the potentate appreciates that I believe Peter needs to be eliminated, yes, that would surprise me.”
“By eliminated, you mean diplomatically removed from—”
“By eliminated, Supreme Commander, I mean eliminated.”
There was silence over the reverse intercom for a moment. Litwala spoke first. “My problem is that I trust few. After what I have endured with Rehoboth and others . . .”
“I’m telling you the other potentates are agreed on this,” Leon said.
“They would have him eliminated?”
“They would.”
Another pause. “But who would do it?”
“You need to talk with them about that.”
“There must be a way to ensure we’re in it together, without the possibility of betrayal. We must all be equally culpable.”
“Like all contributing to the remuneration for the—”
“No,” Litwala said. “We must all have equal responsibility and liability.”
After Litwala left the aircraft, Mac heard Fortunato on the phone with Carpathia. “Did you pick a winner with the new African potentate! . . . You did? . . . You’re not serious. . . . You are! . . . That is amazing. Have you ever done that to me? . . . Planted thoughts? . . . Tell me what he’ll suggest. . . . All ten of them? At the same time? So no one can point the finger at another. Brilliant.”
Mac called David. “Have you got a tap on Carpathia’s phone?”
“Always.”
“Check it. You remember the story Buck Williams tells about how Nicolae told people what they saw and what they would remember? I think Nicolae just revealed to Leon that he’s done something like that again.”
“They’re talking now?”
“Right now.”
“I’ll listen to ’em live, Mac. Safe trip.”
By the time David got patched in to Carpathia’s phone, Nicolae and Leon were finishing their conversation.
“I can be totally free of it that way,” Carpathia was saying. “No one willing to talk, no weapon, no body. Enough DNA in the ashes to identify the body if there is any question, but as Peter will never turn up again, I cannot imagine there being a doubt.”
“And who would corroborate the disease? Dare they involve yet another party?”
“Leon! Think! Od Gustav.”
“Ah, yes! Doctor Gustav. Who needs an outsider when one of the ten can sign the death certificate? Did I say you were brilliant, Excellency?”
“Probably, but even the confident man can take hearing that more than once.”
“Well, the ice idea. I mean, really. There’s no other word for that.”
“Thank you, Commander. Safe trip.”
David smirked at the repeat of how he had signed off with Mac. Two buddies saying good-bye. Dave and Mac; Nick and Lee. Both pairs playing games, outsmarting the competition. He sighed. The difference between the pairs of friends was only eternal.
David quickly moved from listening live to listening to the recording from the beginning, when Fortunato had said, “Did you pick a winner with the new African potentate!”
“How well I know,” Carpathia said. “I handpicked him the day
I first visited the U.N. I knew I would have to wait while we worked our way through either Ngumo or Rehoboth. I found him very suggestible.”
“You did?”
“From the beginning. I hypnotized him on the phone once. Told him he would be unswervingly loyal to me, that my enemies would be his enemies and my friends his friends.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Shall I prove it? He is willing to eliminate Peter, and he means eliminate.”
“You are!”
“But he wants them all in on it, all ten of them. How am I doing?”
“That is amazing. Have you ever done that to me?”
“Done what?”
“Planted thoughts?”
“I do not need to, Leon. You are my most trusted friend and adviser. With Enoch I have even verbally implanted a whole plan in his mind. He will think about it, and when he comes back, he will suggest what is already in his head.”
“Tell me what he’ll suggest,” Leon said.
“A meeting in Jerusalem the morning before the gala. He will invite Peter and tell him it is to discuss his succession to my role if a certain plan of theirs is carried out. It would be a meeting of just Peter and the potentates.”
“All ten of them?”
“Yes. And it will be at the fancy new Global Community Grand Hotel, where the ice sculptures have become so popular. For the meeting they will order the large sculpture of Peter himself, the one that depicts him as a mighty angel, life size, with the huge wings with pointed feathers. As the ten are admiring it, each will break off one of those thick feathers with the sharp ends, and as Peter is wondering what in the world it is all about, each will plunge his into him from different angles—neck, eye, temple, heart.”
“At the same time?” Leon said. “So no one can point the finger at another. Brilliant.”
“The weapons will melt, the body will be transported to a crematorium in a bag brought in Scandinavian Potentate Gustav’s briefcase. The body will be burned to avoid the spread of the deadly disease that causes one to bleed to death through his mucus membranes.”
“Which will explain any blood in the meeting room.”
“Exactly. I can be totally free of it that way. No one willing to talk, no weapon, no body. Enough DNA in the ashes . . .”
CHAPTER 20
Buck was getting the cold shoulder.
It had been a long time since he and Chloe had found themselves at loggerheads. “I know it’s only three and a half more years,” she said, “but do you think I want to raise this child alone?”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” he said, reaching for her. She turned away.
“You’re going,” she said. “It’s written all over you. I love Chaim, but it was unfair of him to ask.”
“If I don’t go, Tsion’s going to go, and we don’t want that.”
Chaim Rosenzweig had been invited to appear at the Global Gala as an honored guest of His Excellency the potentate. Chaim had Jacov communicate to the Tribulation Force by posting a cryptic message on Tsion’s Web site. Leah had found it, almost by accident.
“Is this anything?” she asked Rayford late one night when the two were working at their computers in the kitchen. “The initials aren’t a coincidence, are they?”
She turned her laptop so he could see. The message was one of thousands posted on the site, most encouraging Dr. Ben-Judah, some asking questions, some criticizing or threatening. Part of Leah’s job was to monitor those and see if any required personal responses. Most didn’t. This post stuck out due to its brevity and the unique initials. It read: “C (B) W call J re boss. Signed, H’s.”
“I don’t know who J is or what H’s means,” she said, “but how many people know they can reach Cameron (Buck) Williams at this site? Or am I reading into it?”
Rayford studied it and summoned Buck. The three huddled in front of Leah’s screen and stared. Buck suddenly stood. “Jacov,” he said. “Pretty crafty. He’s Hannelore’s husband, and he wants to talk about Chaim.”
Buck checked his watch and phoned. It was seven in the morning in Israel. Jacov was an early riser. “He’s been invited to the Gala,” Jacov said quickly. “None of us thinks he should go. He has not been well, staying up all hours. He looks terrible. Talk him out of it.”
Chaim didn’t sound well. He seemed to be trying to be his jovial self, but his thick Israeli accent sounded weary and sometimes slurred. “I will not be dissuaded, Cameron, but I have insisted that I be allowed to bring my valet and two guests. I was assured I could bring anyone I wanted. Stefan is petrified of Carpathia and insists he will quit my staff before he would attend. Jacov has agreed to serve as both driver and valet.”
“Dr. Rosenzweig, you don’t want to do this. You’ve read Tsion’s warnings, and—”
“Tsion’s warning is for what the Global Community calls the Judah-ites. I love Tsion and consider him one of my own, but I am not that kind of Judah-ite. I am going, but I want you and Tsion there with me.”
Buck rolled his eyes. “Forgive me, Doctor, but that is naive. We are both persona non grata with the GC, and we trust Carpathia’s security pledge as far as we can throw it.”
“They said I could bring any guests I wanted.”
“They didn’t know whom you had in mind.”
“Cameron, you and I have become close, have we not?”
“Of course.”
“More than just a journalist and a subject, am I right?”
“Certainly, but—”
“You are a cosmopolitan person. You should know that in my culture it is highly offensive to rebuff a formal invitation. I am formally inviting you and Tsion to attend the Gala with me, and I will take it as a personal insult if you do not.”
“Doctor, I have a family. Dr. Ben-Judah has millions who count on his—”
“You would both be with me! The Carpathia regime has committed some heinous acts, but to threaten the safety of someone as prominent as Tsion in the presence of a guest of honor . . .”
“I can tell you right now, sir, that Tsion will not be coming. I’m not even sure I will pass along the invitation. He would want to do what you ask because he loves you so, but it would be irresponsible of me to—”
“Do you not love me also, Cameron?”
“Yes, enough to tell you that this is—”
“I will withdraw my invitation of Tsion if I know you will be there.”
Buck hesitated. “I couldn’t come under my own name anyway. And though I look different enough to get through customs, I could never appear with you if you are close to GC brass. They would recognize me instantly.”
Chaim was silent for a moment. Then, “I am very sad that two of my dearest friends, friends who say they care deeply about me—”
“Sir, don’t. This is not becoming. You want me to come because you’ve made me feel guilty? Is that fair? Are you thinking of me and my wife and my child?”
Rosenzweig, totally out of character, ignored Buck’s mention of his family. “What would Tsion say if you told him I might be ready to become a Judah-ite?”
Buck sighed. “For one thing, he hates that term with a passion. You of all people should know Tsion well enough to know that this is not about him, not about his developing a following. And to dangle a decision about your eternal soul as a bargaining ch—”
“Cameron, have I ever asked for anything? For years I have considered you a young man whose admiration for me is unwarranted but cherished. I don’t believe I have ever taken advantage of that. Have I?”
“No, and that’s why this—”
“You are a journalist! How can you not want to be here for this?”
Buck had no answer. In truth he had wanted to attend since the moment he heard of the Gala. He could hardly believe Carpathia himself was hosting the event at which so much prophecy would culminate. But he had never seriously considered going. He had been encouraged by how easily he had traveled to and from Israel under an alias not long before. But
Chloe. Kenny. Tsion’s stance on any believer attending. Buck considered it out of the question.
Now Chaim had finally tapped into the core of Buck’s being. Pagan or believer, single or married, childless or a father, he had been a journalist for as long as he could remember. He had been curious as a child—nosy, his friends and family said—before he’d ever had a conduit through which he could publish his findings. His trademark was incisive eyewitness reporting, and he was never happier than when he was on a story, not hidden away in a safe house where all he could do was comment on previously published material.
His hesitation seemed to feed Rosenzweig, as if he knew Buck had taken the bait and now all the old man had to do was yank the line to set the hook.
“It’s not that I don’t want to be there,” Buck said weakly, hating the whine in his voice.
“Then you’ll come? That would mean so much to—”
“This is not a decision I can make independently,” Buck said, and he realized he had turned a corner. He had gone from a flat refusal to mulling a full-blown prospect that had to be decided.
“That is another distinction between our cultures,” Chaim said. “A Middle Eastern man is his own person, charting his own course, not answerable to—”
“I cannot be seen with you,” Buck said.
“Just knowing you are there will warm me, Cameron, and surely we will be able to interact privately at some point. I will withdraw my formal invitation to Tsion, and I will not procrastinate about our spiritual discussions any longer.”
“You don’t need to wait for me for that, Doctor. In fact, I would urge that before you even dream of attending the Gala you would—”
“I need to discuss these things in person, Cameron. You understand.”
Buck didn’t, but he feared if he spent any more time on the phone he would make more concessions. He was sure to incur the wrath of the rest of the Trib Force regardless, so Buck negotiated one condition.
“I must insist on one thing,” he said.
“Oh, Cameron, you’re not going to go back on your word now, are you?”
“I could not sanction your being there on the second day of the pageant.”