by Paul Lalonde
Parker was sitting behind a large desk with several pieces of specialized equipment on it including a small television/ VCR combination, three different tape recorders, a computer terminal, and several other electronic devices Bronson did not recognize. There was also a small stack of folders from the personnel office. Parker was reading Helen Hannah’s file as Bronson entered the room and looked up, scowling.
“Trouble in Paradise, Len?” Bronson asked facetiously. He had seen Len Parker’s type before, the type of man who gained his self-respect by attaching himself to a rising leader, his future, his self-esteem, all tied to the success or failure of that person. Such men could be ruthless, but Bronson found them to be pathetic cowards, grown-up versions of schoolyard bullies.
“Where’s Miss Hannah, Mr. Pearl?” Parker asked coldly.
“How should I know?” Bronson shot back.
Parker rose from his desk, his body tensed and his suit jacket pulled back to reveal a side arm. He moved to the door, closed it, and said angrily, “Cut the bull, Pearl. Where is she?”
“I told you, I don’t know,” said Bronson, just as firmly.
Parker returned to his desk and switched on a micro-cassette tape recorder. He pressed the play button, surprising Bronson with the sound of his own voice. “I’m not saying there’s nothing to it,” he was saying. “My father spent every day of his life believing it. It made him a happier man. Maybe it even made him a better man. But at the end of the day, he still ended up dead, just like all of us will.”
“His earthly body may have died, Bronson,” Helen was heard to say, “but his soul is still very much alive.”
“I wish I could believe that, Helen. Honest to God I do.”
Parker stopped the tape and stared at Bronson. The journalist had been in dangerous situations before and always understood the risks of what he was doing. But this time Bronson realized he was out of control. He was a surveillance target and even worse, Helen was involved.
“So just what do you believe, Mr. Pearl?” asked Parker.
“You’ve got the tape,” he snapped back. “For all I know you’ve got pictures too. You figure it out.”
“Haven’t made a decision about the Deceiver and the Messiah?” Parker probed.
“Look,” replied Bronson, “I walked out on the woman I love. If you have the tape, you know that. That should tell you what I believe.”
“Not good enough, Mr. Pearl. A lover’s quarrel is not a theological difference. We need to know that you support our Messiah.”
“I’m sure not here because I support you,” Bronson angrily replied.
Len Parker refused to rise to the bait. He knew Bronson was trying to change the subject, to avoid answering the critical question.
“Helen Hannah’s missing, Mr. Pearl,” he continued. Her car is parked near the apartment of Edna Williams, but she’s no longer there. We just hope she’s not going to do anything stupid.” He paused, looking grimly at Bronson, then added, “And put herself in danger.”
“By danger, I assume you mean from yourself, right?” said Bronson, his temper rising.
Parker shrugged. “It’s my job to protect the interests of the Messiah and the peace and unity he has brought to the world. Hatred is the enemy now. I’ll do whatever it takes to eliminate every source of resistance. Obviously, when someone as prominent as Miss Hannah is against us, she has to be stopped for her own good and that of society.”
“From what I’ve seen the hatred is coming from zealots like you,” Bronson shot back. “It’s the extremists who are defacing churches and attacking Christians. I’ve heard that term before, Parker. Sometimes they call it ethnic cleansing. Sometimes they call it reeducation. But murder is more to the point, isn’t it? You’re going to kill Helen and anyone who shares her beliefs, aren’t you?”
“Look, Mr. Pearl,” Parker replied calmly, “I’m not Ms.
Hannah’s enemy. I’m just trying to serve the Messiah and bring peace and unity to the world. Who could possibly have a problem with that?” “Said the spider to the fly . . . ,” mumbled Bronson, turning and leaving the office. For the first time he realized that Helen might have a point. But where was she? Where was Helen?
The agent was startled by the ringing telephone. The apartment was empty; the woman who had once lived there was among the vanished and the telephone seemed like a voice rising from the grave. Three rings. Four rings. “Peace in the name of the Lord,” said a voice on the answering machine. “This is Edna Williams. Please leave your name, telephone number, and a brief message. And rejoice in this day that the Lord has made.”
“Helen? Are you there? Please pick up the phone. You must be there, Helen? Helen?” The agent recognized the voice of Bronson Pearl. So it was true, he really didn’t know where she was.
It would be useful information for Commander Parker as he continued his search of the apartment.
Chapter 17
LEN PARKER SENSED that he had to move quickly. His faith in the Messiah was such that he could not imagine anyone not sharing his commitment, but unfortunately there were extremists loose and it was his job to take care of them, which was the reason he was talking with the newsroom director in the control booth. “I understand that you’re the guy who can help me,” he said. “I have a concern that someone might say something damaging on the air, something that might slow down the work we’re doing. I’m sure we all want to avoid such an eventuality.”
“I’m surprised you’re worried,” replied the director. “You’ve watched our feeds from around the world. Everyone is happy now. We have peace. Real peace. I don’t think any comment from a Hater is going to change that.”
“Probably not,” Parker agreed, “but with all the Messiah has done for us, I don’t want to risk causing him pain. Are we protected with our broadcasts?”
“A little,” the director explained, “though I think you’ll probably want to go to a twelve-second delay system rather than the five-second one we have now. That way you’ll have twelve seconds to review every transmission before it gets sent out. If anyone says something harmful, you simply preempt the transmission. We do it on live call-in shows all the time.”
Parker was pleased. “Good, set it up and make certain I can monitor it from my office, but don’t mention this to anyone. We don’t want them thinking we’re worried about the Haters.”
“Consider it done, Mr. Parker,” said the director.
That evening’s newscast was Bronson’s first since Helen’s disappearance, and he and the director agreed to go with the standard intro, “Across America and around the world, you’re watching WNN with Bronson Pearl and Helen Hannah.”
Bronson smiled into the camera. “Good evening. I’m Bronson Pearl. Helen Hannah is on special assignment. As the situation in Europe and the Middle East continues to improve, President Macalousso has been meeting with world leaders in Bonn, Germany, and an announcement is expected any time now. Of course, we’ll bring that to you live when it happens. Right now, with more on this situation in Bonn, is WNN German correspondent Samantha Metcalfe.”
The screen switched to a reporter standing in front of a government building. “It has now been confirmed that foreign ministers from the European Union, as well as leading religious dignitaries from around the world, have been meeting all night in this German government building,” she reported. “The attendees began arriving late last evening at the request of the man who is now familiar to the entire planet.”
The screen next showed earlier footage of a press conference being held by two men, an Islamic extremist, and a Jewish rabbi. The Islamic leader spoke first.
“We have all seen remarkable events occur over the past several days,” he said. “Clearly our entire world has undergone an extraordinary change. The planet being saved from almost certain destruction, and the Haters of peace and unity have been removed, but the most incredible sign has been the realization by the entire world that President Franco Macalousso is indeed the Messiah he
claims to be. He is walking among us, living as one of us, bringing us the fulfillment of prophecy.”
“More will be revealed within a few days,” the rabbi added. “For now, the first issue we had to resolve was how to recognize the true Messiah. He would bring peace. Did Jesus bring peace? No. Only the true Messiah did that.”
A quick cut back to the studio showed Bronson looking into the camera. “I have just received word that we’re ready to go live to the embassy in Bonn. Apparently an agreement has been reached. Samantha?”
“This is an exciting moment for the world, Bronson,” the reporter said. “You can see for yourself what just happened. A leader of the Arab world and a leader of Israel have just shook hands, indicating a final peace agreement has been reached. We have been told that there will be an address by President Macalousso in a few minutes.”
There was a hush among the gathered reporters as a spokesman stepped to the microphone and cleared his throat. “I am pleased to announce that the Messiah has achieved something today that no man has ever been able to do before. He has brokered a full and comprehensive Middle East peace agreement. This seven-year, far-reaching agreement goes well beyond a simple peace between Arabs and Jews. It involves all the major leaders of the world, establishing a newly agreed-upon constitution for Planet Earth.” Reporters began shouting as the spokesman held up his hands. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more at the moment. President Macalousso will be talking with you shortly, and at that time he will be able to answer your questions.”
In the studio, Bronson Pearl was startled by the suddenness of the breaking news. Normally when a major event took place, reporters were briefed in advance to prepare their commentary and analysis.
“You have heard the announcement,” Bronson told his audience, “a seven-year peace treaty in the Middle East brokered by President Macalousso. When we return, we’ll talk to our chief political correspondent in Washington to get his take on these startling events. We’ll also, of course, carry President Macalousso’s address live.”
Bronson smiled into the camera as he remembered what Helen had shown him about the seven-year treaty. Increasingly he thought she might be right, and while he still did not understand the miracles he had witnessed, he was beginning to believe that Franco Macalousso was not all he claimed to be.
Helen Hannah thought she was being cautious when she left her grandmother’s house. She did know that her actions were not going to be popular and, to stay inconspicuous, she would have to abandon her car. Since she made her decision to leave, the WNN markings on her car would become an easy way to spot her. Helen walked the first several blocks into Midtown. She had earlier watched the newscast Bronson was anchoring. Surely, she thought, he understood now. The announcement of a seven-year treaty had to shock him into reality. She missed him, wanted to see and talk to him and hold him, desperately needing him to understand the truth, to grasp what she had been saying. “God, please show me what to do,” she prayed. She made her way back to WNN, entering the parking garage where Bronson’s four-wheel-drive SUV was kept. They had long since traded keys to each other’s vehicles, and she opened his door and placed a large brown envelope on the passenger seat.
What she hadn’t realized was that a tracking sensor had activated a small alarm in Len Parker’s office when she entered Bronson’s car. He was certain she was one of the Haters, a follower of the Deceiver who could not be threatened, and would have to be eliminated. Ironically, Bronson Pearl had prepared the viewing audience for her death by telling them she was on special assignment. It would be easy to create a story where she became the news herself, her death declared a great tragedy at the height of a brilliant career.
Helen, relying on her professional instincts, realized she was being followed. Two figures were watching her down the city streets. Helen had spent enough time as a general-assignment reporter to understand the rhythm of the streets at all hours of the day and night and was familiar with the myriad alleys that honeycombed the metropolis.
She turned onto the first side street she approached and began running. Even as she heard a vehicle stop, its doors open, and the voices of her pursuers behind her, she flattened herself to the ground, covering her body with trash to blend in with her surroundings. In the dim light of a street lamp, she was perfectly camouflaged and, not hearing her chasers, she felt safe breaking cover. Slowly standing up she moved stealthily before a pair of hands grabbed her. Before she could cry out, her assailant pulled her arm backward, forcing her to the ground. Two more hands grabbed Helen’s free arm, bringing her other wrist back as she felt cold handcuffs being clamped on. “If you yell, we’ll Mace you,” one of her assailants warned. “You’re coming with us, and any further resistance is just going to get you hurt.”
Chapter 18
BRONSON PEARL WAS ANGRY AND CONFUSED. The more he thought about what he had seen and heard, the more puzzling it seemed.
First came the event that had to be the Rapture, at least as Helen explained it and as the Bible had confirmed. Too many good people had disappeared. Too many of those left behind contradicted Macalousso’s explanation of what had happened.
Then there was the incident with the missiles and the hostile armies, the advent of instant peace in the midst of what appeared to be total war. Surely this was the warrior king so many people believed would be the Messiah. Jesus was the Good Shepherd, killed for the sins of the world, yet the army of the Caesars continued conquering for many years after His death on the cross. Yet Macalousso would not speak the name of Jesus, and hadn’t the Bible discussed the power of that name over all the evil of the world?
But, thought Bronson angrily. I just can’t believe that the prophets of the Old Testament could see into the future.I can’t believe that whoever wrote the book of Revelation knew what our lives would be like today.
As he opened the car door, he noticed the envelope containing a Gideon Bible and a single cassette tape. He knew that Helen must have placed the envelope there, although there was no writing on the cassette and no label. Putting it in his player, he began listening as he drove.
An announcer’s voice began, “You’re listening to Point of View on the USA Radio Network.” This was followed by someone named Marlin Maddoux, whom Bronson had never heard of.
“Welcome to Point of View. I’m Marlin Maddoux. Today we’re talking about one of the questions that every Christian asks at one time or another. If God really exists, then why doesn’t He simply show Himself to the world? He’s God. He can do anything He wants. Right? Well, today we’re going to answer that very question by talking about one of the most important elements of the Christian experience, faith. Faith is what lets us know in our hearts that even long after our loved ones may have departed, their spirit still lives forever in the presence of the Lord. As the Bible says, ‘Absent from the body, present with the Lord.’”
Bronson, listening intently, touched the rewind button and replayed the words, “. . . long after our loved ones may have departed, their spirit still lives forever in the presence of the Lord.”
He slowed, turned his truck around on the dark road, and picked up speed rapidly. It was almost one in the morning before Bronson reached the cemetery. The big iron gates were locked, but he was able to slip through a break in the fence, taking a small penlight from his glove compartment to light the familiar grounds and finally stopping by a headstone that read: JAMES STEVEN PEARL 1929-1991. Below that was a Scripture reference, 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17. Dropping to one knee, he brushed some dirt from the stone, and sadly said, “Hi, Dad.”
Suddenly Bronson felt awkward. He needed to talk to his father about the Bible, about faith. As he sat staring at the grave barely illuminated by the quarter moon in the cloudy night, he murmured, “What was it, Dad? What made you decide with all your heart to believe? You never saw in your whole lifetime what I’ve seen in the past week. This Macalousso guy is . . . well, he’s the real thing, Dad. He must be. I saw him. I saw him do things
no one could possibly do. He’s done things not even Jesus could do. He’s brought peace to the whole world. Just about the whole world believes everything this guy says, and my mind tells me they’re right to do so. But in my heart . . .” He paused and swallowed hard.
“I don’t really believe, Dad. I don’t know if it’s the discernment you always talked about or if I’m just a cynic. All I know is that something’s holding me back. I can’t explain it, but it’s something that keeps tugging at me. Helen’s part of it. She’s convinced he’s evil. She calls him the Antichrist and keeps showing me books and tapes and Bible passages that support her position. And she may be right. But there’s something else. Something . . .” Tears began to stream down Bronson’s face. He realized that this was the first open, honest, heartfelt conversation he had ever held with his father. “Oh God, Dad! I wish you were here with me now. I know you’d know what to say. You always did. I just didn’t know how to listen.”
Bronson touched the tombstone, a cold slab of marble offering no comfort. Yet even as he touched the smooth material, the moonlight momentarily broke through the clouds, falling on the grave. JAMES STEVEN PEARL 1929-1991. 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17.
It was the Bible verse that caught Bronson’s attention. His father’s will requested the verse be part of the memorial, but he had long forgotten the particular words. Sensing it was suddenly vital to understand what his father was trying to tell, he hurriedly returned to his car and opened the Bible and read, “For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.”
Bronson sat for a moment, rereading the verse, thinking. Helen Hannah’s grandmother had been one of the rap-tured. Between her leaving and the material she left behind, Helen had all the proof she needed about God, Jesus, and Macalousso.
