by Tim LaHaye
Chang thought Figueroa’s assignee—a cocky, condescending Scandinavian named Lars—would have at least knocked. But at a few minutes after eight, as Chang watched coverage of Carpathia and his senior cabinet being enthusiastically welcomed back to New Babylon, he heard a key in his door. It was just as well. He quickly turned up the TV and pretended he didn’t hear a thing until they burst in. This was the best cover. He was relaxing, watching TV, reading, not even thinking about his worthless laptop.
The door swung open and two uniformed Peacekeepers marched in. “Mr. Chang Wong?” one said.
“That’s me,” he said, rising. “Did I forget to lock my door?”
“Turn off the television, please, sir, and join us over here, if you would.”
“What if I wouldn’t?”
“Now, sir.”
“Thanks for making me feel welcome in my own place.”
“This is not your place, Mr. Wong. This is the property of His Excellency, the potentate, and you serve here at his behest.”
Chang made a show of turning off the TV and dropping his book onto a chair. As he approached, the Peacekeepers moved aside and one of them announced, “This, sir, is Mr. L—”
“Lars!” Chang said, smiling, though he had barely done anything more than greet the guy. “How are you, man? I know him! We’re in the same department.”
“We need your cooperation and silence, Mr. Wong,” the Peacekeeper said.
“Ooh, okay! What’s up?”
CHAPTER 17
The peacekeepers asked if they could search Chang’s apartment. “For what?” he said.
“Routine,” they told him.
“You won’t find any routine here. I am studying English words new to me and my current favorite is serendipity. That’s what you’ll find here, the opposite of routine.”
“Funny. We don’t need your permission. We were just being polite.”
“Of course. My clue was your use of a master key to get me to answer the door.”
While they searched the apartment, Lars set up a high-powered laptop on Chang’s small kitchen table. “I’ll be asking a few questions,” he said.
“No, you won’t.”
“Stop being a smart aleck,” Lars said. “This is my assignment.”
“Do the questions relate to finding a leak from the palace to the suspected mole?”
Lars turned ashen. “You’ve already been interrogated?”
“No, but I have my reservation in with another interlocutor—another new word. You like?”
“Computer!” the other Peacekeeper called out. “Looks like his personal laptop.”
“If you had told me what you were looking for, I could have directed you to it.”
“This your only one?”
Chang was tempted to pretend there was another, but the fun of watching them try to locate it wouldn’t be worth their leaving the place in more of a shambles. He nodded.
“Over here with that,” Lars said.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Lars,” Chang said. “I had everything on that hard drive, and I mean everything. Maybe you won’t feel so bad about losing the interviewing assignment to our boss if you have this project to work on.”
“Project?”
“I crashed the hard drive, and I’ve tried everything.”
“Everything you know.”
“That’s right! That’s why I’m so glad you’re here. I must be missing something, and even if it’s something complex, I know you can solve it.”
“You bet your life I can.”
Chang, of course, was betting his life Lars couldn’t. “I don’t want to be up late, Lars.”
“Oh, this shouldn’t take long.”
“I’m just saying maybe you want to call Mr. Figueroa so he can do whatever he has to do with me while you’re retrieving my information.”
“What’re you, serious?”
“He promised.”
“Why?”
“You’ll have to ask him that.”
“He’ll ask you the same questions I would, and you’ll answer into the same mike.”
“Only with him, I’ll answer. With you I won’t.”
“Then you’ll be suspected as the leak, and you don’t want that, guilty or not. You hear what happened to the stewards today?”
Chang didn’t like it when he was asked a question to which he didn’t know the answer. “Shock me.”
“Sentenced to death.”
That did shock Chang. “For what?”
“Subversion. Treason. They flunked the lie detector test. They were feeding information to a mole here. Conversations between the potentate and his people were acted upon before they were through talking.” Lars handed him a lapel microphone. “Put this on.”
“Not for you,” Chang said.
“For Figueroa then.”
Chang applied it to his shirt, praying silently. The key, he knew, was how the questions were worded. In his mind, a mole was an animal; he was a human being. If the questions were too specific and unequivocal, he’d be in trouble. “Start with my computer, will you? I’d really love to see all that stuff I had stored.”
“You don’t back up your stuff?”
Chang shook his head. “Nah. Do you?”
“Not as much as I should, but you gotta know you’re going to fry something—hard drive, motherboard, whatever—every few years.”
“Guess I’ve been lucky.”
Lars dialed, tucked his phone between his cheek and neck, and started pecking furiously at Chang’s laptop. “Yes, Mr. Figueroa, sir. I’m at Chang Wong’s apartment and he says—oh, you did. Well, yes, right now. I’m helping him with a computer problem, so we’ll be here. Thank you, sir.”
Slapping his phone shut, eyes still on Chang’s computer, Lars mumbled, “On his way. My, you have fried this thing.”
“Really, Lars? You can tell already? Wow.”
“Yeah, it won’t let me in at all. Let me try this.” He appeared to try everything. “Nothing. Believe me, Wong, if anything was here, I could get it for you.”
“No doubt.”
“But this acts like it’s been exposed to some super electromagnet.”
“Haven’t heard that term in a while.”
“You know the drive is all about electricity and that a magnet can wreak serious havoc.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, it’s quite simple.”
“For a brain like yours, maybe,” Chang said. “I just know what buttons to push.”
“Well, there’s a lot more to it than that.”
“I suppose. It’s Greek to me.”
“Thought you were supposed to be some kind of a genius,” Lars said.
“Live and learn. Look what I did to my own laptop. A hundred gigs somewhere in the ether.”
“Should have called me at the first sign of trouble. There had to be warnings.”
“Yeah, I saw a lot of strange stuff, but you know, laptops are temperamental.”
“Not if they’re treated right. Did you defrag and all that?”
“Not often.”
“Obviously not. I don’t think there’s anything here.”
“You can’t help me?”
“If anyone could, I could. But there’s either something on the drive or there isn’t, and in this case, there clearly isn’t.”
“What if it was on a different drive, named something else?”
“You couldn’t do that by accident,” Lars said. “I could do it, but you have to know what you’re doing.”
“Which I don’t.”
“Obviously. Here’s what I can do for you. While you’re being interviewed, I can format your whole drive for you so you can start rebuilding.”
“That’s got to be hard. Complicated.”
“Nah. Won’t take much.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“What are friends for?”
Chloe had sneaked two of her new friends into the Strong Building in the w
ee hours of the morning. Only Zeke was stirring, and he blanched at the new faces. Chloe introduced the young man and woman with such enthusiasm that she knew he’d understand they were okay, without wondering if she was covering and he should go find a weapon.
Once he heard the story, Zeke offered to help them transfer a serious amount of foodstuffs to their place. Chloe wrote every detail she could remember and e-mailed it to the rest of the Trib Force before collapsing just before dawn and sleeping till almost noon. She assumed she would be scolded for taking such a risk, but she was so excited she was amazed she was able to sleep at all.
No surprise to Chang, Figueroa arrived looking all business and gave him a stare that communicated he should avoid any familiarity in front of Lars.
“Ignore me,” Lars said, taking Chang’s laptop to a couch and settling in with it. “Just making sure this is ready for a whole new protocol.” Chang wondered if Lars could affect his encoded drive with his clumsy efforts.
Figueroa pointed to a chair and sat across from Chang. He dismissed the other Peacekeeper, then whispered, “I didn’t think you were going to hold me to this.”
“I could have let it slide,” Chang said. “Proved you were completely untrustworthy. Mind if I take a peek at that software?”
Looking bored, Figueroa pivoted the machine to face Chang. He sighed. “Newfangled stuff. Supposed to be better than the bulky old hardware.”
Chang knew it wasn’t all that new. He had seen it in China and even played with it. He made a show of tilting the screen so the light was just right. “Interesting,” he said, and as Figueroa leaned closer, Chang added, “Sequoia, ah, I mean, Aurelio.”
Figueroa sat back, obviously peeved. “I’d appreciate your addressing me by my last name.”
“Excuse me, of course,” Chang said.
Figueroa grabbed the laptop and pulled a small notebook from his pocket. “State your name,” he began, then walked Chang through a series of banal, obvious questions. “Is today Sunday?”
“No.”
“Is the sky blue?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a male?”
“Yes.”
“Do you work for the Global Community?”
“I am employed by them, yes.”
Figueroa looked up at Chang. “That’s the answer you want to give?”
“Yes.”
“Are you loyal to the supreme potentate?”
Chang closed his eyes and reminded himself that Jesus Christ was the only person who fit that definition. “Yes,” he said.
“Have you ever done anything that would be considered disloyal to the supreme potentate?”
“Not intentionally, no.”
“Stick to yes or no answers.”
“No.”
“Do you get confidential information from someone who leaks it to you from the inner circle around the supreme potentate?”
“No.”
“Is the supreme potentate risen from the dead and the living lord?”
“Yes.”
“Can His Excellency Nicolae Carpathia personally count on your continuing loyalty for as long as you serve as an employee of the Global Community?”
Chang hesitated, making Figueroa look up again. “Understand the question?”
“Of course.”
“Then your answer is yes?”
“No.”
“Don’t start playing games now, Chang, or we’ll have to do this all over again.”
“Well, Mr. Figueroa, I can certainly say in all sincerity that I will continue to show the same level of loyalty to the Global Community leader that I have shown him since the beginning.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“It merely is what it is.”
“What would he think of this?”
“Probably that you’re wasting your time, and mine.”
“You don’t want to just say yes and be done with it?”
“That’s the last question?”
“Yes.”
“How’m I doing so far?”
“It looks fine,” Figueroa said.
“Then let it ride.”
“That last answer could look evasive.”
“To whom?”
“To anybody who’s got a question.”
“Do you have a question, Mr. Fig—”
“Man, do you ever just give a straight answer?”
“Should I?”
“Agh!” Figueroa swept up the equipment. “Let’s go, Lars.”
“Yes, sir. Laptop’s ready to go, Chang.”
“Find any of my stuff on it?”
“No, but you can rebuild from here with a clean slate.”
“You have no idea how I feel about what you’ve done for me here, Lars.”
“Well, you’re welcome.”
It was time for the Trib Force assignees to Operation Eagle to head for Mizpe Ramon and the flight home. The overflow crowd of Israelis was bivouacking outside Petra, and Chaim was about to be airlifted to a spot where all could see and hear him, from both inside and outside. Rayford, Buck, Mac, Leah, Hannah, and Albie stood in a circle with Chaim, holding hands. Big George from San Diego sat in an idling chopper fifty yards away, waiting to lift Chaim into Petra, then transport the Trib Force to Mizpe Ramon, from where he would also fly his own plane to Greece, then to Chicago, then to San Diego. “Let’s get George in on this,” Rayford said, beckoning him with a wave. “I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing more of him.”
George jumped out and jogged over. “Micah ready?” he said.
“In a minute, George,” Rayford said. “Get in here with us.” As they bowed their heads, Rayford told everyone of George’s assignment in Greece later that night.
“Wish I could go too,” Buck said. “But I’m too hot right now. You’ll love those kids, George.”
“We should pray,” Rayford said.
“One moment, please,” Chaim said, letting go of Rayford’s hand on one side and Hannah’s on the other. He pulled from his robe the miniature urn containing Hattie’s ashes. “We do not worship the remains of those who go to God before us, and my wish is to one day toss what is left of these to the winds from a high place of worship to the one true God here at Petra. I believe that is what our impetuous but sincere young sister would have wanted. But first I want to entrust these to you, Captain Steele, to take back to her new brothers and sisters in the safe house, back to some who knew her and loved her even long before she gave herself to the Christ. Then bring them back with Tsion Ben-Judah, and we will remember her one last time before he addresses the remnant of Israel. And as we think of David Hassid, we wish only that we also had a token by which to remember our courageous brother, who knew so few of us personally but who contributed so much to the cause.”
“I have a token,” Leah said, producing David’s phone.
“Would you take that, too, to our comrades in Chicago for a moment of remembrance, looking forward to the day when we shall see this dear one again?” Chaim said.
Leah handed it to Hannah. “I would like his friend to take it,” she said. Hannah thanked her with a hug.
“And now,” Chaim said as they joined hands again, “to those who are called, sanctified by God the Father, and preserved in Jesus Christ: mercy, peace, and love be multiplied to you, beloved, building yourselves up on your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life.
“Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, to God our Savior, who alone is wise, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and forever. Amen.”
Finally alone again, Chang waited a few minutes, then moved a chair to his door, stood on it, and secured a latch he had built in along the top that would keep out even those with a master key. He dropped into his chair with his laptop and typed in “Christ alone.” That brought up a screen with a gr
id of two hundred dots square. He counted in eighteen rows from the bottom and thirty-seven from the right and clicked on it. A fifteen-digit counter appeared, the numbers ascending at a rate of several hundred a second. Chang keyed in a multiplier, factored in the current date and time, and sent the product hurtling toward a synchronous number ninety seconds away. Four more minutes and three complex, moving targets later, Chang was back in business. He was connected to every Tribulation Force computer, including those at Petra, and anything he wanted at the palace and on the Phoenix 216.
Chang transmitted hundreds of pages of instructions encoded for the Petra machines, checked the locations of reporting gadgets from phones to computers to handhelds, and let everyone know he was up and running. Then he checked Rayford’s specifications for the man he called Big George and planted GC credentials in the main palace database. They had decided to use his real name in case his prints or other details were cross-checked. George Sebastian of San Diego, California, in the United North American States, would be transporting a teen male prisoner and a teen female prisoner from Greece to the States. He would fly a high-speed, transatlantic, four-seat Rooster Tail and would be traveling WOP—without papers—due to a recent undercover mission, but for identification purposes he was six feet four and weighed two hundred forty pounds, dark complexion, blue eyes, and blond hair. He had level–A-minus clearance and reported directly to Deputy Commander Marcus Elbaz. Chang entered a six-digit code that George was to memorize and recite if asked.
Chang understood that Rayford had planned all this with Lukas Miklos, who would inform Mr. Papadopoulos, who would inform Georgiana Stavros. Lukas was to use his own contacts and resources and be responsible for making sure that the two young people rendezvoused with George.
Chang then located the newest Phoenix 216 recording since last he had listened in. He put on his headset.
The bug first picked up Akbar. “I assume you are pleased with the new pilot, Excellency.”
“All I care about is getting out of this godforsaken country, Suhail. Can he accomplish that?”
“Oh, Supreme Potentate,” Fortunato sang out, “Israel is no longer godforsaken. It is now truly the Holy Land, because you have been installed as the true and—”