by Tim LaHaye
Ethan sat in his bedroom in the villa of Nick Akonos, still holed up in Crete, avoiding the Global Alliance forces and the dragnet they had laid for him in Athens. During his stay with Nick he had been expecting a call confirming a meeting with Jo Li in Hong Kong.
While he waited for his next move, he’d made good use of the time, teaching the hundreds of new Jesus followers who regularly made their way to Nick’s elegant estate. They were hungry for information about Christ and the Bible. But they also pleaded for insight about the prophetic significance of the alarming events that swirled around them: the collapse of whole nations and their economies and the meteoric rise of this strange, tyrannical new world order—the Global Alliance. Against the backdrop of those dizzying events, Ethan repeatedly conducted two-hour teaching sessions from the Bible, trying to answer their questions, though he never felt adequate for the task.
Nick was a kind, generous man, a self-made multimillionaire in the travel business who had proven to be a friend in need to the Remnant, and especially to Ethan. But despite Nick’s hospitality and the satisfaction Ethan felt in encouraging the ever-growing flock of Jesus followers, he still felt the crushing pressures bearing down on him, making him feel as if he were trapped in a metal compactor. He remembered the days when his mentor Josh would withhold clandestine information from him until the very last moment. He’d resented being shut out, until he eventually learned that Josh did it for Ethan’s own safety.
Now that shoe was on his foot. He didn’t want any of these eager Christians to be privy to information that could get them arrested or tortured, or worse. Ethan had heard the stories about the Global Alliance moving Remnant members into “Jesus Ghettos.” Then they started disappearing. A few showed up dead.
But one of Ethan’s pressure points, the meeting with Jo Li, was settled. Earlier that day he had received a call from a Hong Kong contact for the underground entrepreneur, giving Ethan an address and the name of Jo Li’s Hong Kong representative. Ethan’s small suitcase on the bed was already packed. He traveled light. Soon he hoped to have a way for millions of Jesus Remnant folks to buy necessities and provide for their families.
But then, there was Ethan’s second pressure point. The bigger mission. And the most dangerous one of all.
As Ethan studied Josh’s face on his video recorder, he could see that Josh had recorded it in his apartment in Tel Aviv. On the screen, Josh was smiling and seemed relaxed, even though the subject matter he was discussing was beyond intense, beyond anything Ethan could have imagined back then. Ethan moved his index finger over the Forward prompt on the screen, and Josh’s face came to life as he spoke.
Ethan, now that I’m up here after the Rapture and you’re still down there, and the beginning of the end has started, you need to remember the endgame of the evil one: he wants every human soul under his control. The Bible gives us a glimpse of that and how he is going to do it. First, unification of all government, all religion, and all of the world’s economies. We’ve gone over that. You’ll remember when I was still down there with you, I was beginning to see this with the worldwide currency, the CReDO, followed by the mass BIDTagging of citizens in every nation, supposedly for security purposes.
But you have to be prepared for what comes next—the cruelest tactic of all. The truly demonic one.
Remember what Revelation 13:14–15 says about the first part of that ploy. There will be a communications marvel of unparalleled proportions. Those who “dwell on the earth”—the inhabitants of the entire planet earth—will be ordered to “make an image to the beast.” So just think about your ancient history for a minute.
Joshua stopped and wrinkled his brow a bit. “Ancient history—yeah, never your favorite subject, was it, Ethan?”
Ethan guffawed. True enough. He practically had an allergic reaction to it.
“But by now, I’m hoping that you’ve followed my advice on reading Josephus, the famous Jewish historian. And a few of the Roman commentators. And more important, the writing of the early church fathers.”
Ethan waved a finger at the screen, forgetting for a moment that this wasn’t a live Allfone video call with his friend. “Hey, Josh, you’d be proud of me. In the last two-plus years after you and your family and all of the other believers in Christ got raptured, I’ve actually dug into all of those books—”
But Ethan was jarred back into reality when Josh cut in and kept rolling on the video. “Remember? In ancient times, physical idols were constructed by pagans who believed the idols were invested with the divine powers of the gods. The Greeks had their statues.”
“Acts chapter 17,” Ethan spoke out loud to the empty bedroom, thinking back to his meeting up at Mars Hill in Athens when he’d recounted the New Testament story to Gikas about Paul and the Greek philosophers.
But again, on the video screen Josh was plowing ahead.
I don’t think that prophetic verse in Revelation is talking about people making idols out of wood or stone. That’s a first-century kind of idolatry. I think it’s referring to the kind of advanced technology that would have been unthinkable before the second half of the twentieth century, and only feasible in the twenty-first. Look, Ethan, my expertise and my training at MIT and the DOD was in lasers and aeronautics, not virtual imagery. But my prayer is that God will bring some brilliant people to you who can help you stay ahead of the curve on this and slow it down. Even though you can’t stop it, maybe there’s some chance to use it to your own advantage. To get the truth out to mankind. The evil one intends it for evil, but God can use it for good.
“Already on it,” Ethan said quietly to the screen. He gave a smiling nod to his friend’s face. But Josh’s eyes now began to narrow as he explained what to expect.
“But there’s also that other prophetic part in verse fifteen: ‘And it was given to him to give breath to the image of the beast, so that the image of the beast would even speak.’ ”
“Right,” Ethan said, nodding to the screen, his voice rising. “What’s your take on that?”
“So a second beast, the false prophet, is somehow involved in the casting of the image of the first beast—the Antichrist—around the world. A global system of visual communication, instantaneously, to every sector of the planet.”
“I’m tracking you, Josh. And I have an idea on how they are going to do it.”
“But, Ethan, don’t forget this: the worldwide visual communication of the image, that’s only half of the story. Then comes the real nightmare for the human race. We see it in the rest of that Scripture verse. Something hideous and unimaginable . . .”
A polite knock on the closed bedroom door. Ethan straightened in his chair. He pressed his thumbprint to the upper quadrant of the screen and Josh’s face disappeared; the video machine went dark. “Come in.”
Nick Akonos opened the arched wooden door and stood in the doorway. He glanced over at the suitcase on the bed. “Leaving? So soon?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know when—” He quickly smiled and corrected himself. “I mean, if you’ll be coming back?”
Ethan shook his head. “I can’t predict.”
“Unlike the prophets,” Nick added with a chuckle.
“Right,” Ethan replied. He smiled. Nick had been a great host. His time on Crete had been a welcome retreat.
But in the back of his mind he still heard the voice of his mentor, Joshua Jordan . . . and thought of the terrors that were yet to come.
FOURTEEN
LEIDEN, THE NETHERLANDS
Pack McHenry had traveled across the globe to the Dutch city of Leiden in a mad rush to connect with Professor Fin Luxendorf, the sixth holder of the secret Internet code card issued by ICANN. Pack needed to get Luxendorf on board before he turned up missing or dead like five of the other computer experts who also held parts of the doomsday key code.
Luxendorf wasn’t in his office at Leiden University, so Pack left his name and cell number with the secretary. Later that day Pack received a c
allback. It was the professor.
Pack was in no mood for subtlety. “You don’t know me, but I know who you are. I am a former United States government agent, and I think your life is in danger. It has to do with your sensitive position with ICANN.”
Luxendorf fell into a good thirty seconds of silence. The only thing audible on the other end was his breathing. Finally he spoke. “You mentioned something about my ‘sensitive position’?”
“I did,” Pack replied.
Luxendorf made a noise, like he was trying to clear his throat. “Can you give me specifics?”
“I am talking,” Pack said, “about your little club.”
There was a nervous titter at the other end. “Oh, you mean my Internet poker club with a few of my ICANN associates.”
“No. Not that,” Pack responded. “I’m talking about your membership in the elite Club of Seven.”
For a second or two Pack thought the line had gone dead, because the breathing at the other end seemed to have stopped.
Finally Luxendorf began to probe. “Are you with the Dutch police?”
“No.”
“Who are you?”
“I can’t elaborate. But I can tell you that you have something in your possession that certain people want to get their hands on very badly. They are willing to take drastic measures to obtain it.”
Pack was convinced that Fin Luxendorf knew exactly what he meant. The law professor became agitated. “Whoever you are, this is bordering on harassment, which is illegal here in the Netherlands.”
Pack was unperturbed. “The law will be of little use to you, Dr. Luxendorf,” he replied calmly.
“I’m calling the Dutch authorities.”
“I already did,” Pack shot back.
“Give me a name.”
“I can give you the names of the investigating detective with the Dutch police, and his commanding officer as well. But that won’t do you any good.”
“And exactly why is that?”
“Because I contacted them two days ago when I arrived here in the Netherlands. Yesterday they informed me that they could do nothing. They only offered to turn the whole affair over to the Internet Security Agency of the Global Alliance. If they do, I can guarantee what will happen.”
“And that is what?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
Pack could tell Luxendorf was mulling it over on the other end. Finally the professor said, “Give me your Allfone number. Let me consider this. I’ll call you back.”
“Not to rush you, but you’d better make it quick. We’d like to keep you alive.”
U.S. CAPITOL BUILDING
Washington, D.C.
In the Capitol Building caucus room a small tangle of senators huddled together, arguing in senatorial style—stopping just short of outright anger, yet standing toe-to-toe and raising the ante with political threats uttered clearly in “outside voices.” It was the preeminent issue of the day: what to do about the stonewalling posture of President Hewbright. He had consistently refused to acknowledge or implement the Senate’s ratification of the Global Alliance Treaty. The reason for the adoption of the treaty in the first place was clear to everyone: a white-knuckled fear of economic collapse if the U.S. failed to join the new world government. As taxes in the United States skyrocketed from a last-ditch attempt to pay for the increased number of nationalized programs, every business in America—from the small mom-and-pop ones to the huge multinational companies—kept cutting back, creating staggering unemployment rates that now held at twenty-six percent.
This, coupled with the loss of America’s international credit standing, fueled the fear that the United States could no longer hold its head up in the world. America was bankrupt, and in quiet voices around Washington the policy wonks predicted a total collapse into chaos—and not just the kind of riots that had already broken out in Chicago, Detroit, Los Angeles, Dallas, and Philadelphia, but something much worse. Violent revolution and overthrow, if not from within, then surely with the prodding of enemies from without.
The majority leader in the Senate, Senator Atchison, had a personal dislike for President Hewbright anyway, but now he was furious at Hewbright’s opposition to the treaty. Of course the majority leader knew the new Global Alliance was filled with forces that hated America—but he’d always been a firm believer in keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. That’s what he kept telling himself and his colleagues, at least, even though he treated Hewbright as the real enemy and the Global Alliance as the true friend.
Now that President Hewbright had recently given his public defense to the American people for his refusal to allow the U.S. to join the Global Alliance despite the Senate vote to the contrary, it was Showdown at the OK Corral, Washington style.
Majority Leader Atchison was waving his finger in the air as he addressed his small group of fellow senators. “The survival of our nation depends on what we do here. If we do not take this step against Hewbright, we will go down in American history as the most despised of all traitors and cowards.”
“And some of my constituents would say,” another senator intoned with a troubled look, “that this treaty will itself cause the end of American history.”
“Then why did you bother voting for it?” the majority leader blustered.
“You know exactly why: the pressure brought to bear on every one of us. And I come from a battleground state, come next election.”
A junior senator jumped in. “It has to start with the House. That’s what the Constitution requires.”
Another senator quickly countered in a sardonic tone, “Constitution? Now help me out here—which document is that?”
A few of them couldn’t help chuckling nervously. But it died quickly as the stone-cold realization settled over them that they could be sounding the death knell of constitutional rule.
Atchison raised both hands as he tried to close the discussion. “True. It has to start with the House of Representatives. Impeachment of a president always starts there, but it doesn’t end there. It ends right here, with his trial in the Senate. So we need both chambers racked and stacked and in a straight line on this. Which is why we need to hear the latest dispatch from the special envoy of the Global Alliance. Otherwise known as the Senate’s number one unregistered lobbyist.”
“Speak of the devil,” one of them whispered and motioned to the other end of the crowded room where a smiling, straight-backed, middle-aged Jessica Tulrude stood confidently shaking hands with several senators.
More chuckling from within the group.
“I think our petition is about to be answered,” Majority Leader Atchison announced with a smile. “And by a former president of the United States, no less.”
Tulrude was shaking hands with a senate staffer, but her eyes simultaneously wandered over the room until she spotted her target. In an instant she was striding right over to the majority leader. She gave him a crushing handshake and excused herself from the rest of the huddle as she whisked him over to a quiet corner.
“Breaking news,” she said. “I’ve just finished a meeting with the Speaker of the House. I think we’ve finally got sufficient votes in the House of Representatives to file articles of impeachment against Hewbright.”
“So it’s game on,” Senator Atchison replied.
There was a smug look of certainty on Tulrude’s face. “Gird your loins. This is going to be a kicking and screaming bout. Extreme cagematch fighting. No Queensberry rules.”
“Jessica, I didn’t know you were such a fight fan,” the senator said with a laugh.
“Politics . . . extreme fighting . . . ,” she said with a chuckle. “They’re both blood sports, aren’t they?”
The majority leader eyed her closely now, knowing the rules of quid pro quo. “And if impeachment is achieved in the House, then in return I suppose you still are looking for—”
“Full Senate support,” she cut in, “for me to be appointed as the permanent world regent over
Global Alliance Region One—the U.S.A., Canada, and Mexico. The other two nations are already favorably inclined to appoint me. I just need the home team here in the U.S. Senate to back me as well.”
“You know how this works,” the senator said. “No one’s squeaky clean. Not really. It’s just a matter of deciding whether the dirt is manageable.”
Tulrude was nodding. She tried to muster a smile.
“Now, there is,” the senator said with a tone of reflection, “still that matter of a dead president. And all those rumors about your complicity as vice president spread over AmeriNews. Whispers about your personal physician overdosing President Corland during treatment for his medical condition. Mind you, I don’t believe a word of it, Jessica.”
Tulrude flamed into a controlled burn. “Of course not. Come on. He didn’t die until months later. In a nursing home. His blackouts had been getting worse. Let’s get real.”
“And then,” the senator added, “there’s the apparent suicide of your physician, which conveniently stopped any further criminal investigation dead in its tracks. By that I mean convenient for you, of course. That’s what some people are saying.”
Jessica Tulrude’s reputation for controlling her fury was being tested. There was a little twitch to her mouth, and the skin over her face tightened. “Those rumors about my personal doctor when I was vice president are old, tired news. I can’t control the naysayers. What’s important is that AmeriNews is an ulcer on the skin of the American media. I think it’s high time to cut them out like a wart. As a news service it’s been on life support ever since the disappearance of all of the right-wing Jesus freaks, including the crazy Jordan family that used to run it. AmeriNews is simply a dangerous influence. A journalistic atrocity. The American people desire better.”
