Mark of Evil

by Tim LaHaye

  “Mr. President,” Tatter said, “I’m telling you everything I know. Except for two additional facts. First, Alexander Colliquin is putting huge resources toward some kind of technology development, the details of which are still a little uncertain. From what we can tell, it looks like a wireless communications conduit to reach the four corners of the planet and everything in between.”

  “And the other thing?”

  “He’s going to need a titanic amount of computer capacity to achieve that goal. Our IT experts have analyzed that and have identified only a few sites that could come anywhere near that computing power. Qatar Telecom in India. Some of the big networks in Frankfurt and Singapore. But there’s one that stands out among all the others.”

  “I’m waiting with bated breath.”

  “Our National Data Center in the Utah desert. Right here in the United States.”

  Hewbright was abrupt. “As long as I’m in the White House, they’ll never get access to that site.”

  “Which is exactly my point, Mr. President. You’ve survived the political assault in the Senate. But an even deadlier attack may be on the way.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  DIGITAL IMAGERY LABORATORY

  New Babylon, Iraq

  Dr. Iban Adis stood up slowly and glanced across the main hall, trying not to be obvious. All of the lab cubicles were filled, occupied by computer network engineers, digital imagery technologists, electronics physicists, and even neurophysiologists. He could see that at the far end the chief of the section was striding out of his office, and he was in a hurry. He stopped in his tracks and doubled back into his office for a few seconds and then reappeared, walking even faster, this time with a folder in his hand.

  Dr. Adis, as a senior researcher, was one of the few who had access to the chief’s schedule. He knew his boss was on his way to a meeting down on the first floor with an electronics vendor from Germany.

  But Dr. Adis’ staff position also gave him access of another kind. He could access the secondary computer in the chief’s office, which was situated on a separate desk in the corner, in order to sync data. At first he thought it was a little laughable that his computer had not been networked with instant sync ability, particularly because he was often tasked to coordinate data from very different parts of the project. But then he thought about it and realized the great opportunity to retrieve the computer data that Ethan March needed.

  Adis had only been a follower of Jesus for a little more than a year. But he was certain of two things: First, the minute he bowed before Jesus Christ and received Him into his heart by faith just as his precious wife, Farrah, had done a year before that, he realized his life would be in peril, just like Farrah and all of the other Jesus Remnant people. And second, he knew his employment as a senior researcher at the Global Alliance tech lab was no accident of chance. The reality of God’s sovereign control of human events excluded that option. From time to time, when his faith flagged and grew weak, he would secretly regret working at the lab. But then he would feel like a coward for having those thoughts. He knew he had to steel himself to the task that God had given to him. No, this was no coincidence. He was in this position, like a Caleb in foreign territory, to be a spy for the people of God.

  Adis slowly walked through the labyrinth of cubicles until he neared the chief’s office. From the other end of the hall it looked like the chief had left his office door unlocked. Now Adis could see that the door was ajar and the light was still on. He tried to look calm as he opened the door and stepped in. He knew there were video cameras in two corners of the office.

  The secondary computer was on and the screen was lit up. Dr. Adis sat down and took one quick side glance through the glass door. No one was outside. He scooted up close to the screen so he would block the cameras from viewing the data he was accessing. He put his finger to the authentication pad and then input his password. Then he gave his name out loud and the screen flashed Voice command authenticated.

  To sync data as part of his job he usually entered the site labeled Peering Coordination Data Portal. But that’s not what he wanted now. He was after something much more sensitive than that, but he would have to finagle a back-door entrée to get into the program he really wanted. He touched the icon Deep Properties. Then he configured a false code that suggested a problem with the data portal. The program asked if he wished another source for the same information.

  Adis glanced at the glass door and noticed that one of the neurophysiologists, with a thick file of charts under his arm, was chatting with a colleague. Adis froze in front of the computer screen. Finally the two men went on their way.

  He resumed, giving the audible commands, trying to locate the potential site for the lab’s global data core. “Locate all scenarios from all files for facilities with maximum exabyte capacity.” And another one. “Retrieve universal binary code mandate for all subjects.”

  He glanced over at the glass door again. The area was still clear. Two menus were on the screen. He gave the verbal order: “Search now.” Ten seconds elapsed, but the two searches were still pending. More waiting. Almost sixty seconds.

  “Hurry up,” he murmured to the screen in front of him. Then two reading panes lit up on the screen. He did some keyword scans. He knew what he was looking for, but he just couldn’t find it.

  Adis spoke the command for the entire directory. The list of potential digital computing sites under consideration by the Alliance began to cascade down the screen. Opposite each was a computer capacity rating estimate. He went to the biggest number and looked at the name and its location, and then typed it into the insta-memo function of his wrist Allfone.

  He closed out that reading pane and then went to the other, an absurdly long string of computer code. He moved his finger to read down the strings of code, then stopped and examined one string in particular. A very short two-digit number followed by a letter of the alphabet. He quickly tapped the three characters into his Allfone, followed by the words hexadecimal value. After that, he tapped the words Binary aka base 2, followed by ten binary characters.

  Lastly, he gave the remaining search term verbally, but tried not to say it too loud, so it was almost a whisper: “Abstract of neuron testing protocol for subject compliance.”

  The computer spoke back to him. “We are unable to process your audible command. Do you wish to disable audible command system and convert to manual commands?”

  Adis knew that would take too much time. He glanced at the time sequence on his Allfone. The chief had been gone fifteen minutes so he had to hurry. He spoke louder. “No.” Then he said the command again. Now the screen filled with data, even quicker than he expected. When he read it, he was stunned. In a voice full of astonishment and horror, he found himself muttering out loud to himself, “Sweet Savior, we are nearing the end . . . and how close Your coming must be.”

  The computer spoke back. “We are unable to process your audible command. Do you wish to disable audible command system and convert to manual commands?”

  “No, thank you,” he replied. Then he tapped the citation to a Bible verse into his Allfone, followed by the long binary code he had retrieved, and finally hit the encrypted function on his Allfone, directing it to his wife, and hit Send.

  There was sound by the door. Dr. Adis swung his chair around, but as he did he tried to poise his right hand over the Delete Search History button on the screen, hoping that his finger had found the right part of the screen, as he looked in the opposite direction to see who was at the door.

  It was the chief, with folder in hand. His face was cemented into a look of disdain as he studied Adis. “What are you doing?” he asked loudly.

  Adis, with his hand still on the screen, touched what he hoped was the right icon to delete any history of his last computer search. “Well, sir—”

  Before he could answer, the chief stepped up to him and shoved him aside, causing his chair to roll away. The chief glared at the screen, which Adis could still see fro
m his position. The history of his actual search had been deleted and the screen now read, Peering Coordination Data Portal. It was the usual kind of inquiry Adis was authorized to log into the computer. He exhaled quietly.

  “You should get permission from me first before you access the program,” the chief said.

  “I’m sorry,” Adis replied. “But I have accessed it many times without permission . . .”

  The chief roared back at him, “Because I was always in the room. That is implied permission. No more access when I am out of the office, is that understood?”

  Adis nodded. Then he asked nonchalantly, “How did your meeting go?”

  “A waste of precious time. The German rep was unprepared to explain his product details. After a while I sized him up. Undependable. So I cut him short and sent him on his way.”

  Dr. Adis rose to leave the office, but the chief was blocking the door, and as Adis approached he didn’t move out of the way. He kept talking, and as he did he gazed into Adis’ face as if he was searching for something, some clue of vulnerability. “You know, I’m a good judge of character. Most scientists lack interpersonal skills. They cannot see deeply into a person. On the other hand, I can.” He continued to stare into Adis’ face. “The slightest flaw. The hidden secrets. I find them out.” A flicker of a smile broke over the chief’s face. “But of course, I can also detect the positive things in my staff too.”

  Adis grinned. “Well then, I hope that bodes well for me in my next salary review.”

  The chief dropped his smile, and Adis scurried past him and exited the office on the way back to his cubicle.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  WHITE HORSE, YUKON TERRITORY

  John Galligher happened to be gazing out at the street through the big picture window of the hotel when he noticed the white police vehicle with the RCMP—Royal Canadian Mounted Police—insignia on the door as it pulled up to the curb. There were two officers in white-shirted patrol outfits sitting in the front seat. The officer behind the wheel said something to his partner and then stepped out of the vehicle, snatched his black patrol cap off the dash and donned it, straightened his black bulletproof vest, and, with his hand resting on his sidearm, turned to survey the front of the hotel.

  Galligher quickly strode over to the registration desk where Bobby Robert was leaning over a book and whispered, “We’ve got company. Get Chiro down here immediately and tell him to lock up the cyber stuff.”

  Bobby Robert tapped a quick text into his Allfone for Chiro and hit Send.

  When Galligher wheeled around, the Mountie had entered the lobby and was checking out the place.

  “Good day to you,” the officer said with a booming voice. “I’m Captain Morganthau. I’d like to talk to the person in charge, aye?”

  “He’s on his way,” Galligher said and strolled up to the officer. He extended his hand to shake. “I’m John Galligher.” The Canadian cop just looked at his outreached hand and didn’t reciprocate. So Galligher responded with an attempt at lightening the mood. “Yeah, I remember that trick. The old invisible handshake. That’s a good one.”

  Bobby Robert was silently shaking his head.

  “I need to speak to the person in charge,” the officer announced. “Immediately.” This time he sounded a little perturbed.

  A voice floated down to the lobby. “I’m right here.” Chiro was making his way down the spiral staircase.

  The officer pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and glanced down at it. “We’ve received a request for investigation from the Global Alliance. Need to check this place out.”

  “That’s okay. Very much okay,” Chiro said with a tremor in his voice.

  Galligher could see that the little computer genius was nervous so he made another stab at jocularity. As he spoke, he motioned over to Bobby Robert with his long, braided hair and then over to his Japanese computer genius friend and then pointed to himself. “So, Officer, did you ever hear the joke about the Indian, the guy from Tokyo, and the Irishman who couldn’t lose weight?”

  The officer stared at Galligher. At first he said nothing. But after a moment, a smile appeared in the corner of his mouth. “I’ve heard about the Odd Couple. You know, that old movie. So what does that make you guys—the Strange Trio?”

  John Galligher exploded with a belly laugh. But Chiro and Bobby Robert were still staring like a pair of deer in headlights.

  “Hokay,” the officer added, “I’d better check this place out. Need to see one of the rooms.”

  “Which one?” Chiro shot out with a distressed look.

  The officer strolled up closer to Chiro. He flashed a relaxed look. “You pick.”

  Galligher interceded. “Just follow me,” he said and grabbed a key off the board next to Bobby Robert. The officer followed him up to the second floor, where he unlocked one of the bedrooms that actually had the look of a place where someone could sleep there for the night.

  The officer looked around and nodded to Galligher, who locked the door behind them. They made their way back down the staircase to the lobby, where the officer strolled over to a cabinet that hadn’t been dusted. “Looks like you need maid service here,” he said as he put his finger down on the top of the cabinet and swiped a swirl in the dust.

  As the officer slowly stepped toward the front door, he added something else. “These Global Alliance people are pretty insistent. I don’t know how long they’re gonna be satisfied with my report. They may end up making a visit here themselves. And if that happens, it won’t be the friendly kind, you know what I mean, aye?”

  He glanced at each of them, then threw a half wave and disappeared through the front door.

  “What was that about?” Chiro asked.

  Bobby Robert was shaking his head. “This is not looking good.”

  But Galligher stepped over to the top of the dusty cabinet. After he studied what was in the dust, he smiled. “On the other hand,” he said, “we may have more friends than you think.”

  He tapped the top of the cabinet where the Mountie had drawn in the dust with his index finger. Clearly outlined was an ichthus, the Christian symbol of the fish.

  KNESSET BUILDING

  Jerusalem, Israel

  Jimmy Louder and Micah, Rabbi ZG’s right-hand man, sat across the desk from Joel Harmon. The member of the Knesset appeared relaxed in his spartan-looking office in the MK chambers building of the legislative complex. Harmon, an ex-fighter pilot who at thirty-nine still had a boyish look about him, seemed cordial, casual, and understanding. They had talked at first about their common connection—Joshua Jordan—and the bond of friendship that had developed between them when Joshua was living in exile in Israel.

  But then matters shifted to the subject of the mistreatment of Christians by Alliance forces in Jerusalem and the incident that had just occurred in the shadow of the Temple Mount.

  Harmon seemed to be in the clutches of a tough political dilemma. “With the death of a number of Global Alliance troops on the plaza,” he said, “this has now escalated to a level that is politically unmanageable.”

  “And the Jesus Remnant people are being blamed for that?” Jimmy asked.

  “Of course!” Harmon shot back. “The Alliance is saying that those so-called Two Witnesses used some kind of stealth weapon. And they’re part of your group, aren’t they? Preaching the same message? Babylon is calling this an act of war. And considering the fact that Jerusalem is under the international control of the Global Alliance as part of the rotten treaty struck between our PM, Sol Bensky, and Alexander Colliquin, they may actually have a point. Tragically, I’ll admit.”

  “What happens,” Micah asked, “when the Lord God sends you two messengers, like the two angels sent to Abraham who were on their way to Sodom and Gomorrah? Their message was pure truth, yet their mission was also a very stern one—and even a scary one. When that happens, Mr. Harmon, isn’t it time to choose? Do we stand with the Lord, or against Him?”

  Harmon countered, “Mic
ah, first, you’re assuming that God has sent these two men. And I’m just Joel, thanks,” and there was a flicker of a smile.

  “I was there when it happened,” Micah said with passion in his throat. “I saw it all. It was fire, falling from the sky. The right arm of God.”

  Jimmy leaned forward and added something. “Joel, you and I are both pilots. We’ve both flown combat sorties using the world’s most advanced weaponry. We know something about warfare. I’ve talked to people who were there that day. Witnesses say this was no military weapon. It was a supernatural event, pure and simple. And that leaves only one conclusion.”

  It was clear to Jimmy that Harmon was trying to be objective, to sort the problem out from a technical standpoint, conducting an event analysis, looking for the technology to explain it—typical aviator approach. He could see it in Harmon’s face. But there was always that point, just as there had been in Jimmy’s own life, when the laws of physics and science had to open up to something else—the metaphysics of God. When that happened, there was always that profound and awesome choice to be made.

  Micah seemed to notice something too. “Joel, you and I are both Jews. The only difference is that I’ve already met the Messiah. He was here in this city two thousand years ago, but He’s coming back. This incident at the plaza was an attack by over two hundred soldiers firing on two unarmed men. By any sane person’s definition, the Global Alliance was the one committing a war crime.” He paused and added another thought. “I know you are an observant son of Israel. I know you’ve read the Scriptures. These Two Witnesses . . . Joel, go back to the book of Malachi and read about one of those two men for yourself. And then ask yourself this: Are we rushing headlong toward that great and dreadful day?”

  Harmon had a startled look, like a boy who had just realized he’d forgotten his homework assignment. Just as quickly, that look vanished from his face.