The Left Behind Collection

by Tim LaHaye

“You understand the blade is protocol, don’t you, Commander Stefanich?”

  “Under normal circumstances, yes, sir.”

  “And the difference here was . . . ?”

  “She, ah, well, she began giving us false information.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, we never did get a straight answer on the location of the underground now. She was one of them caught in the raids of their original meeting places, so we know when she came back she had to know at least one of the new locations.”

  “Makes sense. Wouldn’t give it up, eh?”

  “No, sir. In fact, after the third wild-goose chase, that was when she was . . .”

  “Executed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How?”

  “Firing squad.”

  “It took a squad to shoot a teenage girl?”

  “Squad is a euphemism we use, sir.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Anyone past a certain level is authorized to attack enemy personnel with extreme prejudice.”

  “Shoot them dead?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And then whoever did it shares the credit with the rest of the team? The squad?”

  “Right.”

  “You shot her, didn’t you, Commander?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “Well, that showed remarkable, almost indescribable, fortitude there, Nelson.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I know you did it on behalf of and with the deep gratitude of the Global Community, starting right at the top.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “Don’t thank me, Commander Stefanich. The fact is that I wish I could personally reward you for that act—”

  “Merely doing my duty, sir—”

  “Pay you back, as it were, for that service to the cause.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to say. That would be just—”

  “All right, Nelly, time’s a wastin’ here. You inform the Greek philosophers and their lady friend that we’ll drop by to see ’em in a bit, hear?”

  “Will do. Uh, sir?”

  “I’m here,” Mac said.

  “We’re hoping you can help, of course, but you need to know we’re pretty happy with this operation.”

  “Oh, I can see how you would be.”

  “Well, I may have read something into it, but I got the impression from your aide that you might want to express some impatience with the crew because the prisoner has not yet been forthcoming. We’re planning to honor them for what they’ve accomplished.”

  “I hear you, Commander. I wouldn’t worry about that. I think it’s fair to say that we want to respond proactively to their actions as well.”

  “We’ll want to give thanks also, of course, for the miracle at Petra today,” Buck said. “That two experienced pilots could miss with such huge bombs at such close range, well, praise the Lord.”

  The others laughed. “Yes,” Albie said, “and for the fact that somehow all the people caught fire anyway, well, talk about amazing.”

  “But seriously,” Buck said, “God is acting in ways beyond description, and we never want to take for granted his power and sovereignty, his care for us, his protection of our loved ones.”

  And with that, several kneeling at the safe house began spontaneously to pray and praise the Lord. Enoch led in prayer for the safety of “our new friends, our brother and sisters Mac, Chloe, and Hannah, as they undertake a dangerous mission. Protect them, go before them, send angels to guard them, and may they bring our brother from California out safely so we can all thank him and rejoice with them.”

  Chloe was grateful when Mac turned in his seat and held out an open palm to her and to Hannah. They both grabbed hold, and he prayed. It wasn’t long, and it wasn’t eloquent. But it was Mac, and he sounded as if he knew who he was talking to. And that settled Chloe. A little. Temporarily.

  When Mac pulled to within what he said should be a half mile from their destination, Chloe was glad for the chance to get out of the vehicle. The ground was uneven but not bad, and she knew a short hike would be good for her nerves. They all turned off their cell phones and carried them in their left rear pockets. Tiny walkie-talkies were set to a unique frequency, set on Low, and carried in the right rear pockets.

  Chloe took the safety off the ancient Luger on her right hip, and Hannah unsnapped the leather strap over the grip of her Glock. The three of them strapped loaded Uzis on their right shoulders so they hung near their rib cages.

  Mac tossed Chloe the DEW from the trunk, and she angled it over her left shoulder. He handed Hannah a small, heavy canvas bag with extra clips for the Uzi and several rounds for the fifty-caliber rifle, which Mac wrestled vertical, the feet of the bipod pointing away from him. He supported the four-foot-long, thirty-five-pound weapon by cradling the butt in his right palm and wrapping his left hand around the stock.

  “Good thing I’m in reasonable shape for one of my vintage,” he said. “Pushin’ sixty, and I can still outrun either one of ya if the course is long enough.”

  “Not carrying that thing,” Hannah said, and Chloe noticed the quaver in her voice. It was comforting to know she was not the only one scared to death.

  “Don’t bet on it,” Mac said, deftly reaching up with his left foot and slamming the trunk. He held out his compass toward Hannah’s flashlight and started off. “Follow me, ladies.”

  Mac’s boots crunched a steady pace, and Chloe soon found herself perspiring and breathing heavily. But she felt good, and Hannah appeared able to keep up too. The work did not, however, take Chloe’s mind off the danger. The bluffs had worked well so far. Maybe too well. If this were going to be easy, they wouldn’t be so heavily armed.

  Chang tracked Ming to San Diego and noticed she would not be flying out of there until early evening, West Coast time. He called her cell phone.

  “Hello, Chang,” she said.

  “Where are you?”

  “Is this a test? Do you think I’m going to try to convince you I’m at the safe house in Chicago?”

  “You have to know I’ve talked to them.”

  “Of course. And I can tell from the benefits to my pilots that it didn’t take you long to track me.”

  “But where are you specifically, Ming, and what are you doing?”

  She sighed. “I am in a tiny charter terminal south of San Diego. My papers and my look are working perfectly. No one asks to see my mark because I am in uniform, and when the pilots see my believer’s mark, they become very protective.”

  “You don’t tell them who you are, do you?”

  “Yes, Chang. I am a fool. No! Of course not. Why burden them with something that could bring them trouble? They cannot be held responsible for what they do not know. This is the perfect cover. They are helping the Global Community by transporting an employee. They know secretly I’m a believer, but they don’t know I’m a woman, or former GC, or AWOL.”

  “Ming, you know Father and Mother are not at home.”

  “I assumed.”

  “Then how will you find them?”

  “I will ask around, in my official capacity. Maybe I will arrest them.”

  “You have not thought this through.”

  “I have, Chang. More than you know. They have to contact you somehow before I get there. You can tell them I am coming and we can set a meeting place.”

  “Why didn’t we try to arrange this before you left?”

  “Because you would have refused. You think you know so much. Well, you do. But you don’t know everything, or you would know that I cannot sit in a safe house while my parents flee for their lives. Do we know they are true believers, or have we just talked them out of taking the mark of loyalty? I must know. I must get them together with believers. I know I cannot save their lives or even my own. But I have to do something.”

  Chang was moved. So she had thought it through. Maybe not every detail. Maybe not strategy. But who could?

  “
You must let me know where you are as soon as you get there,” he said.

  “You love me, don’t you, Chang?”

  “Of course.”

  “We never tell each other. We never have.”

  “I know,” he said. “But we know we do.”

  “You cannot say it.”

  “Yes, I can,” he said, “but even thinking about it makes me emotional, and I must not allow that. Not right now.”

  “You, emotional? Impossible.”

  “Don’t say that, Ming. If you say that, you don’t know me.”

  “I’m sorry, Chang. I was teasing you.”

  “Well the truth is, sister, I do love you.” Chang immediately teared up, and he felt a lump in his throat. “I love you with all my heart, and I worry about you and pray for you.”

  “Thank you, Chang. Don’t now. It’s all right. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. And anyway, I know. I know, okay? I love you too and pray for you often. You do need to stay rational and practical, so don’t worry about me.”

  “How can I not?”

  “Because I go with God. He will protect me. And if he decides my time is up, it won’t be that long before I see you again anyway.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “Come, come, Chang. It’s all right. You know it’s true. There are no guarantees anymore, except we know where we are going. I will call you from China. I will be hoping for good news about Father and Mother.”

  After about ten minutes’ walking, Chloe moved aside and let Hannah fall in behind Mac. Hannah gave her a long look in the low light, as if to ask if she were all right. “It’s okay,” Chloe said. “I’ll be right behind you.” She’d had a little trouble staying with Mac, but she decided if she was behind Hannah she’d be more motivated. If Hannah could stay with Mac, she could too.

  And she was right. Chloe didn’t want to give either of them the idea she was petering out. In fact, she didn’t believe she was. They were on a gravel road now, and she had a rhythm going and her breathing was steady and deep. She was sweating through her clothes, but Mac and Hannah had to be doing the same.

  Finally Mac held up his right hand briefly before having to get it under the fifty-caliber again. He slowed and stopped, moving to the side of the road and turning to face the women. “Everybody okay?”

  They both nodded.

  “Anybody need a breather?”

  Though panting, both shook their heads.

  “Almost there,” he said, and they started uphill. Just over a rise Mac knelt and lay the fifty-caliber on the ground. He made a V with his fingers under his eyes, then pointed through a clearing to a small, wood shack. A faint light shone through the sliver between a shade and one window in the front. He took the directed energy weapon from Chloe and leaned it against a tree.

  Mac motioned that they should follow him around back. Chloe was surprised how wide he made the arc, staying in the shadows and somehow walking so quietly she could barely hear his boots on the soil. When her Uzi brushed the handle of the Luger, it made a muted scraping sound and she held her breath. Mac stopped and half turned. Chloe had to resist the urge to raise her hand in acknowledgment and apology. She set herself again, and they crept around the back, where trees blotted any light from the stars and the shack was totally dark.

  Mac squatted about forty feet behind the place. “I don’t like it,” he whispered. “Only one vehicle, and that looks like mine, so it’s likely the one Sebastian got from the GC pool at the airport. And does that place look like it’s got five people in it? I mean, I know they’re hiding out, but . . .”

  “You lost me already,” Hannah said between gulps of air. “I don’t see any vehicles.”

  Mac put a hand on her shoulder and turned her toward the side of the shack, where a small white car sat mostly hidden in underbrush. Hannah nodded. Chloe hadn’t seen it either. “Maybe your eyes aren’t adjusted to the light yet,” Mac said, as if he meant it. Chloe nearly laughed aloud. They had all been traipsing around in the dark.

  Mac slipped the Uzi off his shoulder and lay it on the ground. He pulled what looked like a utility tool from a vest pocket. “I know this is gonna sound like a cowboy movie,” he said, “but cover me.”

  Before Chloe could ask where he was going, he moved quickly to the car and went to work on the trunk lock. Every time he made a sound loud enough for the women to hear, he stopped dead and remained motionless a few seconds. Eventually came the thump of the lock giving way, and the trunk lid sprung free. Mac kept a hand atop it so it wouldn’t fly open.

  He snaked his other hand in as far as he could, then finally had to let the lid rise another half inch or so. That triggered the trunk light, so he lowered the lid again. He set the tool on the back bumper, reached in, and held the lid down with his left hand, feeling around inside with his right. Once he found what he was looking for he quickly pulled his hand out, grabbed the tool, reached back in, let the trunk up enough to give himself room to maneuver, and—as the light came on—ground the tool into the bulb, breaking it and dousing the light.

  Now he let the lid open all the way, silently, and felt around inside the trunk. From where she waited, it looked to Chloe as if the whole top half of his body was inside.

  Suddenly he stopped and backed out, quietly shutting the trunk and hurrying back. “Just as I thought,” he said. “Check it out.”

  “A twelve-gauge,” Hannah said. “Learned to use one when I was a kid.”

  “These GIs love their shotguns,” Mac said. “Leaves a DEW and a Fifty in the plane, brings his double-barrel on the job. And brilliant as this hostage team is supposed to be, they don’t even search his car.”

  “We going in?” Hannah said.

  “Yeah, but I still don’t like it. Half of ’em take off when they found out we were comin’, or what?”

  He clearly wasn’t expecting an answer. Mac handed the shotgun to Hannah. “Makes a lot of racket when you cock it, so do it when I whistle.”

  He picked up the Uzi, and they followed him back around to the front and the darkest area they could find, about twenty feet left of the door. Mac nodded to Hannah and whispered, “On three.” He counted with his fingers and whistled shrilly twice while Hannah expertly, and noisily, cocked the shotgun.

  From inside the shack came hurried movement, heavy steps, one louder than the other, like someone limping. The door squeaked open a couple of inches and someone whistled. Or tried to. It was mostly air. Then came the second try.

  “All right!” Mac shouted, so loud Chloe jumped. “You know who it is, so show yourself and let us in.”

  The door opened in and struck the man or his weapon as he tried to get out of the way. “Right this way,” he said with a heavy accent.

  Mac marched straight toward the door, and Chloe noticed he had a finger on the Uzi trigger. “Senior Commander Howie Johnson comin’ through with officers Irene and Jinnah. Stand aside, Peacekeeper.”

  The man, clearly favoring one leg, hopped back against the wall, warily eyeing them and nodding a greeting.

  “So which one are you?” Mac said. “Hercules? Constantinople? Who?”

  “Socrates, sir.”

  “Well, sure ya are. Awright, where is everybody, particularly my prisoner?”

  “Not here, sir.”

  Mac looked as if he were about to explode. He tilted his head back till his chin pointed at the ceiling. “Not here, sir,” he mimicked. He brought his eyes down to Socrates. “That’s all I git? Where are they?”

  “They told me to tell you to read the fine print.” That took a second to register with Chloe, and from Mac’s look, with him too.

  Mac dramatically moved past Socrates, flattening him against the wall again. He strode to the front door and kicked it shut so hard the window rattled and an echo came back from the trees. Mac turned on the man. “The fine print in what? You think I brought the Sebastian file with me into the woods?”

  “I am only telling you what they—”

 
“Why don’t you just tell me what the fine print says?”

  “They gave me this duty because I slow them down. I was attacked by the prisoner and he injured me with a kick to the—”

  “I asked you about the fine print, man! What’d I miss? What’s the message?”

  “That they have the right to move the prisoner at any time without informing the GC until—”

  “Where are they, Peacekeeper? Where did they go?”

  “They do not have to inform their superiors until they have reached their des—”

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “They thought they heard something long before it should have been you, so—”

  “You understand English, Socrates. I know you do. Do—you—know—where—they—are?”

  “I believe the reason they did not tell me was because—”

  “You want me to believe they left you here alone to greet me and didn’t tell you where they’d be?”

  “Because if I didn’t know, I could not tell the wrong person.”

  “I hope you’re lying.”

  “Sir?”

  “I hope you’re lying, because then you can change your mind about telling me before you die.”

  “Commander, I do not know!”

  “Officer Jinnah, show Socrates what a twelve-gauge does to the front door.”

  Chloe wondered if Mac was serious. Apparently Hannah did not. She lifted the shotgun toward the door with one hand, and as soon as the barrel was parallel to the floor, fired. It was as if a bomb had gone off. Chloe was deafened, but nothing was wrong with her eyes. A gaping hole appeared in the door, and the entire thing blew off its hinges and landed several feet from the shack.

  “The next one goes in your face, Socrates.”

  “But, sir!” he cried. “I—”

  “Then get on your squawk box and tell your people I want to know where my prisoner is, and I want to know now!”

  “But they—”

  “Kill him, Jinnah.”

  Hannah raised the shotgun as quickly and forthrightly as she had before, and Socrates immediately tumbled to the floor, tears streaming. “Wait! Wait!” He dug a walkie-talkie from his pocket, dropping his weapon in the process. “Socrates to Plato, come in, come in. Hello? Plato? I know you can hear me! Please! I need you!”