by Tim LaHaye
The old cargo warehouse had grown quiet. The birds up in the steel rafters must have either flown out of the place or for some reason grown silent. But something happened that caused Malatov to look up at the sound of the birds above him. In one large flock they fluttered out of their nests on the steel girders and began to soar out of the warehouse through the open cargo door.
Vlad Malatov stood motionless as he listened. Now there was a sound, like feet stepping on gravel—stepping carefully and quietly, but heading nevertheless in the direction of the large cargo door. Malatov clicked his knife closed and dropped it into the pocket of his fatigues. He snapped his rubber gloves off his hands and stuffed them into his other pocket as he began to sprint toward a square opening in the floor that had a bar mounted across it, with a chain that hung down to the basement level below. Fifty feet away from the bottom of the chain, there was a sewer pipe that led away from the building.
Twenty seconds later Pack McHenry stood in the open cargo door with his Beretta semiautomatic in his hand and pointing into the empty warehouse. Russian FSB agent Pavel Liztokoff was right behind him with a riot shotgun. But Malatov had disappeared.
Pack spotted Dr. Kasparovich strapped down on the table and raced over to his side. He put his finger to the doctor’s neck to see if he was still alive.
But Dr. Kasparovich blinked open his eyes, and even though the pallor of his skin was a ghostly white from the pain, his voice was clear. “Don’t waste your time. I’m still here. But please unstrap me. My back and my insides are killing me. I’m not as young as I used to be. And watch my fingers; they’re broken, I think.”
“Where else are you hurt?” Pack asked.
“I think both lungs are punctured. And my spleen too, maybe.”
“We’ve already called for a medical crew to follow us. They’ll be here any moment. Did he get your ICANN Internet card?” Pack asked.
“I am afraid yes,” Dr. Kasparovich replied. “And I ended up telling him how to use it.”
Pack shrugged. “At least you’re alive.”
“Thanks to you,” he said, grimacing and groaning as Pack and Pavel unstrapped the leather restraints. “I got your encrypted message. But not soon enough. He got to me at my office first.”
“Do you have any idea who the man was?” Pavel asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Kasparovich replied, gritting his teeth. “I only know of him . . . A new recruit at the operations division . . . Russian FSB . . . when I was about to leave . . . Name is . . . Vlad Malatov.”
Pack realized the doctor was slipping into unconsciousness and elevated his head slightly as he heard the sound of the EMT vehicle pulling up outside. “The medics are here, Doctor. Hold on.”
“Oh,” Kasparovich replied with a voice that was suddenly weaker. “I think . . . I . . . pass out . . .”
TWENTY-TWO
HONG KONG
Ethan didn’t expect a call so soon from Pack McHenry. But Pack was on the line less than twelve hours after the video conference call. At the time, Ethan was talking with Rivka and Zhang Lee in the living room of his big penthouse. When the call came, Zhang smiled and followed the established protocol and politely left the room.
“We’ve found Dr. Kasparovich,” Pack reported.
“Do you have him in a safe location?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Pack replied. “Vicky located his last known address, and with the help of my Russian FSB contact we traced him to the warehouse where he had been taken and worked over pretty bad. He’s being cared for in a Moscow hospital under a security detail,” Pack explained. “The bad news is that the guy torturing him obtained his ICANN key code card.”
“So is there a silver lining in any of this?”
“I think so. We have a fix on the identity of the guy who roughed up Kasparovich.”
After Ethan hung up with Pack, he immediately placed a call to a cell number in New Babylon, Iraq. Dr. Iban Adis, a scientist at the digital imagery laboratory of the Global Alliance, answered it on the second ring.
“Hello, Quiet Partner,” Ethan announced.
“I am surprised at your call,” Adis replied in a hushed voice.
“I know this isn’t our prearranged time. But something has come up,” Ethan said. “I need to know how things look from your end.”
“Not good,” Dr. Adis replied. “I think they are entering some kind of final stage in the plan.”
“Why do you think so?”
“They’re beginning the testing phase. Getting closer to human trials.”
Ethan needed the full picture. “What else can you tell me?”
“This much I know,” Dr. Adis answered. “First, the computing capacity of what we have here in Iraq at the headquarters is not sufficient to create the kind of massive digital net that the Global Alliance is trying to throw over the entire human race. They would need a much larger system. There are several possibilities for large-capacity computer systems they could access around the world, but I just don’t know which one they’ve chosen. The only person who would know would be our chief here in the digital imaging lab. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“What kind of computing power are you talking about?”
“Well, as an example, I think something around the range of five exabytes of information represents the sum total of all human information accumulated from the dawn of time until about twenty years ago. That was an estimate at the time from the head of Google. This system that our lab is working on now will have to handle about three thousand exabytes of information all at once. It will contain a veritable catalog of information on every living person on the planet and will be formatted in a way that could target and locate any one particular person at any one time at any place on the planet.”
Ethan sank back into the couch in the living room. Sitting next to him, Rivka was studying his sober expression. Ethan now contemplated the magnitude of what Alexander Colliquin must be planning. The whole thing seemed way too big for him. And, it seemed, probably unstoppable. After a moment of silence Ethan directed Dr. Adis, “Tell me more.”
“They are bringing in many, many cages. Taking them into the secured inner lab.”
“Animals?”
“Chimpanzees. A large number of them.”
“So,” Ethan said, “it’s true after all.”
“I am afraid so,” Dr. Adis said. His voice had a heaviness to it.
“How long will it take for them to finish the animal testing protocol?”
“They are working around the clock. This project is moving at light speed.”
“Months?” Ethan asked hopefully.
“I don’t think so,” Dr. Adis replied. “More like days, or weeks at the most. This is not like your FDA testing in America, where the goal is to minimize unreasonable risk to citizens. Here it is very different. There is no concern for human safety. The point is just the opposite—achieving human behavioral control, regardless of the risk.”
Ethan asked Dr. Adis to keep him posted. Then he ended by saying, “Please stay safe. You are in a very dangerous position where you are. We will be praying for you.”
“I will be fine,” Dr. Adis said at the other end.
“You are a courageous man. We appreciate your service to the cause of freedom, and for the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
“Without the strength I get from Jesus, my Savior,” Dr. Adis said, “all of this would be futile.”
After Ethan clicked off his cell, Rivka took his hand and squeezed it. “So, from the first call from Pack, it sounds like they got to the seventh man. And they now have his Internet card.”
Ethan nodded.
“And from your second call, I take it the Global Alliance is speeding up their project.”
“It’s behemoth, gigantic,” Ethan answered with a weariness to his voice. “I’d like to talk privately to Rabbi ZG soon.”
“Anything you can let me in on?”
“Yes. I would like to ask him something: I just wonder
whether the End Times situation we’re in is better left entirely to God’s control.”
“I didn’t think it was ever out of His control,” she said with a smile.
Ethan chuckled at that. It was one of the things he liked about Rivka. She always seemed to be able to shake him out of his uncertainty. “Yes,” he said. “Point well taken. But I’m talking about our role in this.”
“Oh, you mean like lowering Paul down the side of the wall in a basket when his enemies were after him—the incident at Damascus in the book of Acts. That kind of thing that we’re doing? But instead of one basket for one apostle, we are trying to launch an ark to rescue the entire Jesus Remnant from torture. Isn’t that what all of this is about?”
Ethan pondered this. “I get the feeling once in a while that Josh Jordan picked the wrong guy to lead all of this. Maybe God had other plans, someone else in mind.”
“I recall Moses had the same complaint,” she said slyly.
“I’m no Moses.”
“True. He had Aaron at his side.”
“Also true,” Ethan said. Then he smiled back. “On the other hand, I’ve got you. And I bet you’re a whole lot cuter than Aaron ever was—and a better kickboxer too!”
They both had a laugh. It felt good to loosen up. Finally Ethan said, “We have to find out how the Global Alliance is going to link this global communications system together. Dr. Adis says that the core computer system won’t be located in New Babylon. It’ll be somewhere else. We need to know exactly where. And the second order of business—we also need to get this meeting with Jo Li underway. Our Jesus Remnant is going to need a buying-and-selling system that is outside the control grid of Colliquin and his Alliance. And it has to be soon.”
SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA
The young Christian mother had her two sons ages four and six in tow with her that day. She stood in front of the small grocery store and looked in the window, calculating her chances. This little shop had been selected because she had heard it would still honor payments made with global CReDO currency accessed the old-fashioned way, from account cards, rather than demanding payment from a BIDTag laser imprint. This was crucial for her, because she had refused to be BIDTagged. It had seemed obvious to her and a few of her friends that the human skin imprints were a precursor to the biblical sign of the Antichrist prophesied in the book of Revelation. Some of her family thought she was crazy for refusing to get it and becoming a nontagger. But she was willing to endure the ridicule.
She entered and strolled through the shop with a plastic basket, picking up milk, breakfast cereal, bread, some lunch meat, and a few other necessities. It had become nearly impossible to survive financially ever since Australia had joined the Global Alliance and had begun to enforce the rule requiring payments and purchases to be made only through the BIDTag process. But she was hoping this store would be an island of refuge.
The mother brought her two children close to her as she laid the basket on the laser scan counter across from the smiling store clerk. The total lit up on a small digital screen.
“G’day,” the clerk said greeting her. “Hand, please.” He motioned to the BIDTag scanner that hung down over the counter like a curved flashlight. “You’ll need to put the back of your hand under there,” he added, pointing to the digital lens. “You’ve done this before, right?”
“To be honest,” she said flashing a smile, “I was hoping you’d let me pay with my CReDO card instead.”
The man shook his head no.
“Would you happen to be Rudy, the owner of this store?” she asked.
The man shook his head again. “Naw. Rudy’s gone. Someone bought him out.”
She looked at the small basket of groceries on the counter. Her six-year-old tugged on her shirttails. “Ma, are we going to get some food today?”
“Listen,” the clerk said as he looked her up and down, “give me a minute. I’ll check on something. Maybe I can help you out.” He disappeared into the back room.
For a moment she wondered whether she shouldn’t just leave the food on the counter and exit as quickly as she could. She waited for a few minutes, feeling increasingly uneasy.
The clerk popped his head around the corner. “It’ll just be a few more minutes. I’m trying to get authorization for the old CReDO payment. Hang on . . .” He disappeared again. Another few minutes passed. Just as she was about to turn and leave, the clerk strolled back in. “Okay. All done. Let me see your CReDO card.”
She handed it over. The clerk placed the card under the scanner and there was a little buzz. He looked at the screen on his register. “Hmmm. That’s a funny one. It should have worked.” He swept the card under the scanner again. It buzzed a second time. “Oh, I know what the problem is. Wow, I’m a regular codger now, aren’t I? Hang on . . .” And he ducked into the back room again.
The clerk still had her CReDO card. She was getting restless and decided that as soon as he came back, she would ask for her card, forget about the groceries, and promptly leave the shop with her sons.
After several minutes a ding sounded as the shop door opened. She thought it was some customers, but she didn’t want to look, so she kept staring ahead at the closed door where the clerk had just disappeared. The feet of the people behind her sounded heavy as they strode up to where she was standing. Her oldest son turned to look.
“Ma, it’s police,” the six-year-old said.
She wheeled around to see two Global Alliance policemen in light-blue caps standing just inches away. “Ma’am,” one of them said. “Have you been imprinted with a lawful BIDTag?”
After a moment’s hesitation she said, “I would like to speak to my lawyer, please.”
“If you need to,” the officer said. “But only after you’ve been arrested first, on suspicion of violating the international welfare law on personal identification.” He clamped a set of thick nylon handcuffs on her wrists while her boys looked on in silent alarm and then burst into tears.
The officer pointed to the cross around her neck. “Are you a member of a Jesus-affiliated group or organization?”
“I am, but so what—” she began to say.
The other officer grabbed her two boys as the children began calling for their mother.
“What are you doing?” she screamed.
“Your children will be placed in the custody of the child welfare center while your case is being heard,” they intoned as they began to lead them all away.
By then the shop clerk had returned to his place behind the counter. He called after the officers, “Hey, am I going to get my reward for turning in a Jesus nontagger?”
“We’ll be back to give you the digital code,” the officer said over his shoulder as he dragged the mother toward his squad car. “Then you can apply for your debit reward electronically.”
TWENTY-THREE
JERUSALEM, ISRAEL
Three Jewish priests—men who could trace their lineage all the way back to the Old Testament priest Zadok—crossed the Western Wall plaza. They strode toward the private entrance to the newly completed temple that loomed above them on the Mount where smoke spiraled up to the sky.
They were easy to spot, dressed in blue-and-white robes with long red sashes and their heads wrapped in white linen turbans. They were on their way to take their turn overseeing the animal sacrifices that had been reinstituted ever since Israel had been granted sole possession of the Temple Mount—part of the bargain struck between Israel’s prime minister Sol Bensky and Alexander Colliquin, who had negotiated it on behalf of the United Nations and its successor, the new Global Alliance. Since then, the temple had been carefully constructed in accordance with every detail the scholars and architects could find about the dimensions and layout of the last Herodian temple; they had scoured everything they could find in the Old Testament and in references contained in the Jewish writings—the Mishnah, Gemara, and Talmud.
On that day, the plaza below the great temple was busy. In the crowd there were a do
zen young men who had just finished two straight days of partying in the brothels and the New Amsterdam Marijuana Emporium located just outside the Dung Gate of the Old City area, in the shadow of the temple. The young men eyed the priests and then started taunting them. The biggest one among them shouted, “You guys are really bizarre. And what about animal rights, hey? Maybe we ought to cut you guys up instead of letting you kill goats and sheep. How about that? And maybe set you on fire, man. How’d you like that, huh? Light you up and see if we can get some smoke comin’ out of you. . .”
One of the priests, the older one, slowed down to respond, but his partners whispered to him to ignore the harassment. But the priest had to say something. “You young men should know better than to make fun of what the Lord calls holy.”
“Oh, so you’re holy, right?” another of the young men yelled out, and in an instant the group started striding toward the priests. Now they were within arm’s length. A crowd started to form, with others starting to jeer at the priests too.
The two younger priests tugged at the older man’s robe. “Come away. Come away and don’t speak to them.”
But the older priest would not be silenced and pointed his finger at the group of young men, nearly touching the nose of the biggest one. “Beware! Beware!” he cried out.
“Ooooh, we’re scared!” one of the young men shouted back at the older priest.
In the growing melee, no one seemed to notice the two bearded men about fifty yards away, dressed in camel-hair robes, one man short and scruffy and the other tall. They quietly observed the events unfolding on the plaza.
The older Jewish priest began to recite something, shouting it in a trembling voice:
Many nations will pass by this city; and they will say to one another, “Why has the LORD done thus to this great city?” Then they will answer, “Because they forsook the covenant of the LORD their God and bowed down to other gods and served them.”
