by Tim LaHaye
“You mean if it’s my guy or theirs? I guess I would permit firing.”
“You know, Captain, the enemy will most certainly suffer losses. The way the verses read, many will perish in the calamities God puts in their paths.”
“I prefer leaving that work to him.”
David checked for a response from Hannah, and seeing none, keyed in a connect to Chang, who had the bugged Phoenix 216 on-line for the Trib Force.
The first voice was Walter Moon’s. “I should be in bed, Excellency. I hate to complain, but I might have wished this meeting had been held at the Knesset. The incessant moving about—”
“Oh, stop your blubbering, Walter. I am not discounting your discomfort, but you make it sound as if you are at death’s door.”
“It feels like we are, Lordship,” Leon said. “I am not one to—”
“Of course you are! Now I laid down the law to this Micah character and got him to guarantee a lifting of this disease by nine tonight or there would be consequences.”
“You did? Well, how—”
“He had better tread lightly with me.”
“But I thought—”
“That is your problem, gentlemen. Sometimes you must act viscerally and do what needs to be done. Is everyone here?”
“Many are being pulled from sickbeds,” Walter said. “Which is where—”
“You should be, yes, I know. Here are Viv and Suhail. Let me know when we are all here.”
“How long will it take to recover, once the affliction has been lifted?” Viv asked.
“I do not know,” Carpathia said. “But even if there is residual fatigue or pain, you must all fight through it and encourage your people to do the same.”
“Mr. Hut completes the contingent, Potentate.”
“You look terrible, son,” Nicolae said.
“I feel worse,” Hut said.
“I cannot imagine. So how is my inaccurate-shooting friend?”
“Very funny.”
“Excuse me,” Nicolae said, “but was that two times consecutively you addressed me without title?”
“Well, pardon me, your highness.”
David heard movement and assumed Carpathia had stood. “You would employ sarcasm with me?”
“I shot that man eight times at point-blank range, worshipfulness! The heckler I killed from two feet away. You couldn’t have killed Micah yourself.”
“Mr. Akbar, your side arm, please.”
“Oh, Excellency, is this nec—”
“Is everyone planning to disrespect me? I have death pills enough for the lot of you, and I deliver them through the barrel of this gun.”
“If you could have killed Mr. Micah,” Hut said, “why didn’t you?”
“Oh, you honor him with a title, but not me—no, not your risen lord.”
“You are nothing to me, Carpathia.”
“On your feet, boy.”
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”
BOOM!
Cries and gasps followed the sound of the body’s tumbling. “Walter, have the stewards get him out of here. Now who is next?”
Silence.
“Is there then someone here who would care to fire upon me?”
“No!”
“No, Excellency!”
“Please, Potentate!”
“No!”
“Is there another among you who retains some notion that this is not serious business? I remind you that I was dead three days and raised myself! I have demanded your freedom from these sores, and though we cannot be certain until the time comes, I believe you will enjoy immediate healing. Regardless, you and yours will be ambulatory and able enough again to carry out my battle plan.”
“Wouldn’t an attack bring back the plague, Excellency?” Moon asked.
“Viv, do you see what I have to work with here? Mr. Moon is my supreme commander, my executive vice president, if you will, yet he wants to know if—” and here he mimicked Moon with a ridiculous plaintive whine—“an attack wouldn’t bring back the plague! Honestly, Walter, do you think I am new to the negotiating game?”
“No, sir, I—”
“Spare me! The curse will be lifted at 2100 hours, and the hundreds of thousands of cowards will be in one of four places. Anyone? Come on! Someone?”
Suhail Akbar said, “The Mount of Olives, en route to Mizpe Ramon, Masada, or Petra.”
“Excellent! Someone is thinking! And what is unique about so many people in so few places? Suhail?”
“They are together, and they are vulnerable.”
“Precisely. I want the whole of Israel declared a no-fly zone for all but Global Community aircraft at 2115 hours.”
David heard Suhail calling his people.
“And while you are at it, Director,” Carpathia said, “establish a curfew at the same time in all of the United Carpathian States for civilian vehicular traffic. Prepare a retaliatory strike for the damage we suffered at Petra earlier today, assuming until further knowledge that that wanton ambush was initiated by the Judah-ites.”
“Where will we attack, Potentate?” Akbar said.
“Masada at 2130 hours. Did you not predict attendance of more than one hundred thousand?”
“But those are not Judah-ites, Excellency.”
“They are potential converts, man! And this Micah himself will address them! He will surely have followers with him, but he has unwittingly put them all in one box for us and tied a ribbon around it. What would it take to ensure annihilation?”
“We have the firepower, sir.”
“No arrests on the road. No warnings in the air. Illegal vehicles will be destroyed on sight and invading planes shot from the sky. This Mizpe Ramon site was camouflaged to somehow make it appear a GC operation. Let us make use of it then. And if anyone remains on the Mount of Olives after 2100, they are fair game.”
“Sir?” Moon said. “What if Mr. Micah does call down the plague of sores again?”
“He will know the consequences if we act with dispatch.”
“But what if he follows through on his threat to turn the water—”
“The what-ifs will do you in one day, Walter. You serve the ruler of the universe, and we shall prevail. I have tricked this wizard into breaking his spell, and before he realizes his mistake, we will have regained the advantage. We can virtually eliminate the Jerusalem Orthodox Jewish population and cripple the Judah-ites to the point of extinction. Ideally, we will flush out Ben-Judah himself, and this time he will not find me so hospitable.”
“What about those who reach Petra?”
Carpathia laughed. “Petra as a place of refuge is ludicrous! It is as defenseless as Masada. They will be on foot, stuffed into a bowl of rock. An air attack should be over in minutes, but for that we shall wait until the last of them are there.”
“The Judah-ites did display heavy firepower today,” Akbar said.
“That merely justifies whatever level of retribution we deem appropriate. Any casualties?”
“No reports of anyone actually hit. Two unaccounted for.”
“Missing in action?”
“If you wish.”
A long pause. Then Carpathia: “Two MIAs.”
Buck and Chaim sat under an ancient tree on the Mount of Olives and watched thousands find their way in. Within an hour the Operation Eagle choppers began floating into position, Rayford himself among the first. The birds were loaded to capacity but were in no way keeping up with the growing crowd.
Buck had relayed the Carpathia meeting word for word to Chaim as he listened by phone, but Dr. Rosenzweig had remained expressionless. In the end he said, “I am not surprised. I will pray that God will lift the plague of boils completely and restore everyone to full strength. I want them overconfident, full of themselves when they try to take vengeance. And when the second plague rains down, I pray it will carry God’s full potency.”
“Doctor, do we risk catastrophe at Masada?”
The old man shook his
head. “I do not know, but I do not feel we should back down. We will finish before nine o’clock and warn the Jews of Carpathia’s plan. They may leave or stay and fight, but I hope they will feel even more urgency to make their decisions for Christ too. As people are sealed by God, we will rush them to Petra.”
Rayford felt alone in the packed chopper. Listening in on the Carpathia meeting had confirmed his worst fears. The only location he was confident of was Petra, and even there, he had to wonder if it was the place or the people who would be protected. He used his secure radio to reroute all air traffic directly to Petra. “No stops, repeat, no stops at Mizpe Ramon. Ground vehicles will deliver their charges to the foot passage into Petra. Those who can walk in, will. Those who cannot—or when the passageway is too crowded, those who are left exposed—will need to be air-hopped inside. Continue the routes to and from the Mount of Olives. And ignore an expected air curfew. Take evasive and defensive action as necessary, but do not fail these people.”
Rayford conference-called Albie, Mac, and Abdullah. “Wish we could get our heads together,” he said. But each was either flying a load to Petra or returning to pick up another.
“Rethinkin’ your no-shootin’ policy there, Chief?” Mac said.
“I hope so,” Albie said.
Rayford let out a heavy sigh. “I just don’t want to lead anyone to slaughter.”
“Arm us, Ray,” Albie said. “George has enough weapons for—”
“Tell me George was not privy to the Phoenix patch-in,” Rayford said. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the man, but keeping need-to-know circles close was important and had been made clear.
Silence.
“Tell me, Albie!”
“Ray, you know me better than that. You said nobody but Trib Force, and that’s the way we played it.”
“How many of our pilots would know how to handle a fifty-caliber?”
“None of ’em, Ray,” Mac said. “You issue those to drivers. Too erratic and dangerous from the air. Give us the DEWs. Somebody stops us on the ground, we heat ’em up.”
“They’re planning to shoot us out of the air, gentlemen!”
“Only way to prevent that with the fifties is to shoot first,” Mac said. “It means a change of policy. Is that where you’re goin’, Ray?”
Rayford stalled. “Haven’t heard from you, Abdullah. You there?”
“Here, boss.”
“Well?”
“Not bad, thank you, sir.”
“I mean, well, what do you think?”
“About what?”
“Smitty! Come on! I need some counsel here.”
“We cannot shoot the big guns and fly too, Captain. That would take two pilots to a chopper. And out of what hole do we shoot such a weapon?”
“He’s right,” Mac said. “As usual.”
“I am willing to trust God with my life,” Abdullah said. “And if he would allow me, I would happily use a DEW to make toast of the enemy.”
Rayford peeked over his shoulder at the believers huddled behind him, fear and hope etched on their faces. They could not hear him over the noise of the engine and the whirring blades.
“All right, gentlemen,” he hollered into the phone, “after you unload your passengers, swing by Mizpe Ramon and pick up a third of the DEWs each and distribute them to your respective squadrons. Albie, get George involved too. And the first one there, get Ms. Rose and Ms. Palemoon evacuated if they’re ready. You’ll need room for all their supplies too.”
“You think the GC is going to waste the landing strip and our quarters?” Albie said.
“Likely.”
“Where are we EVACing these women?”
“Masada for now.”
“You gonna distribute fifties to ground drivers, Chief?”
“Still noodling that one, Mac,” Rayford said.
David guessed it would be two hours from Chaim’s speech at the Temple Mount until he saw his first arrivals. He called Rayford. “What gives with our nurses? Hannah owes me an e-mail response. They okay?”
“No reason to believe otherwise. Did you try calling them?”
“No response.”
“I’ll check in on them.” He told David what was happening with the weapons and the med center.
“Need my help on that?” David said.
“You’ve got to hang in there and coordinate until Chaim arrives, and that could be a couple of days.”
“I could appoint one of the first to get here. There’s no science to this. How are you going to handle those big guns by yourself?”
“I’ll get Leah and Hannah to help.”
“They done tearing down and packing up?”
“Should be.”
“You regret having the airstrip built and then having to abandon it?”
“Sure, but we needed it on the front end anyway. Where else were all our birds going to land?”
“Got any prospects on board?”
“For your job? I don’t know, David. Why don’t you stay put?”
“If they speak Hebrew and can elicit trust, that’ll free me up to hop back to the strip with you and load the guns.”
“I’m not even sure I’ll issue the fifties,” Rayford said.
“Well, I’m willing if you need me.”
Late in the afternoon David climbed to the high place and scanned the horizon. Nothing yet, but he heard movement in the rocks below. No way anyone on foot could have arrived before the choppers. He knelt and crept to the edge, holding his breath to listen. His heart banged against his ribs. He guessed two sets of footsteps, slowly moving.
David pulled out the only weapon he could think of, his phone, and readied himself to speed-dial Rayford. He rose to where he could peer over the side. Resolutely and gingerly picking their way through loose rock not fifty feet below him were two sickly, stumbling GC Peacekeepers, uniforms drenched in sweat. Each carried a high-powered rifle. David punched the speed-dial button for Rayford, and the Peacekeepers both looked directly up at him at the same time. Before he could get the phone to his ear, they dropped to their knees and angled their weapons at him.
David dropped the phone and dove for cover, sharp rocks digging deep into his knees and hands. The soldiers, obviously left for dead by their compatriots, must have felt a surge of adrenaline. They couldn’t have expected to find anyone here after surviving the fifty-caliber assault from the other direction, but now they advanced with vigor.
David scrambled to his feet, only to discover something seriously wrong with his ankle. He tried hopping toward a cave, but unarmed he would be easy prey there. He heard his pursuers separate just below the ridge, the sounds of their boots in the rocks coming from about twenty feet apart. If they rushed him, David had nowhere to go.
He was no match for them, but retreat wasn’t an option. He hopped toward the edge, bent to scoop a handful of jagged rocks, and reared back to fire at the first head that popped up.
Rayford glanced at his ringing phone and saw who was calling. Again. So soon. David had never proven to be a pest. “Steele here,” he said.
All he heard were sounds of boots on rocks.
“David? You there?”
From a distance, “God, help me!”
“David?”
A desperate cry, a shout in Hebrew, burps of gunfire from at least two weapons, a fall, a grunt. David’s hoarse whisper, “God, please!” Liquid splashing.
David lay on his back, his body numb, no pain even in his ankle. The cloudless blue sky filled his entire field of vision. His heart galloped and his panicked lungs made his chest rise and fall in waves. Though he could feel nothing, he heard blood gushing from his head.
The soldiers leaned over him, but he could not move his eyes to focus on either of them. If only he could appear already dead . . . but he couldn’t stop his heaving chest. David could pray only silently now. He pleaded with God to let him neither hear nor feel the kill shots as the two pointed their muzzles at his heart and pulled the trigger
s.
Rayford’s phone was still open, but all he heard after more deafening rifle shots were expressions of effort and what he could only imagine was the lifting of a body and the flinging of it over the side of a mountain. Then footsteps away from the phone, until they faded out of range.
Besides dreading what he would find at Petra, Rayford couldn’t deliver a chopper full of believers to a spot that could be teeming with the enemy lying in wait. Hating himself for already thinking past what sounded for all the world like David Hassid’s death, Rayford knew he had to keep that phone from falling into the wrong hands.
CHAPTER 11
Leah didn’t understand Hannah, but that was okay. She didn’t always understand herself either. They had secured the last of the medical supplies into hard-sided boxes that would fit into a cargo hold and were now monitoring Hannah’s computer.
“You know for sure it was Hassid who called?”
Hannah nodded.
“And you want to talk to him, so why didn’t you—”
“I’m not sure I want to talk to him until I know how he’s going to respond to my e-mail. He should have written me back. Then I’d know and I could take his call. Maybe.”
Leah shook her head. “Even if we didn’t have only three and a half years, I’d tell you life’s too short and you ought to call him. He’s a busy guy. When would he have had time to write you back?”
“I found time to write.”
“Hannah! We’re not building a computer system here that has to serve a million people.”
Hannah was staring at the screen. The news was nothing but Carpathia propaganda, pundits trying to spin his temple folly into something that made sense. Leah leaned in to look at the scroll across the bottom of the screen. “His Excellency the potentate guarantees healing from the affliction of sores by 2100 hours Carpathian Time.”
“I’m stupid,” Hannah said.
“I know.”
“Stop it! We hardly know each other.”
“Sorry. Why are you stupid?”
Hannah pointed to the computer’s status bar below the scrolling message. It showed she had mail. “Bet that’s from David,” she said.