by Tim LaHaye
Chang shook his head as they continued walking. “So she would be better off to pretend to be about to cave, to at least be considering giving them something, than to make plain from the beginning that she will not.”
“Have you met Mrs. Williams?”
“Of course not.”
“But you have dealt with her by phone and via the Internet enough to know—”
“Her personality. Yes. Not only will she not be betraying a thing, but she will also enjoy telling them so.”
“My fear,” Abdullah said, “is that this will shorten her potential benefit to the GC and thus shorten her life.”
“Surely the San Diego Trib Force is planning a raid.”
“I do not know. Knowing Cameron, it must be all he can do to keep from trying to blast in there on his own. George Sebastian will want to lead such an effort, and he’s the man for it, but this is not like surprising a band of amateurs in the woods, as they did in
Greece. You can imagine that the San Diego GC is alert to just such an effort.”
“You’re not telling me everything, are you, Mr. Smith?”
“I should save some for you to learn at the tech center, not that Naomi is eager to tell you either.”
Chang stopped again and put a hand on Abdullah’s shoulder.
“Forgive my familiarity, but there is no point in withholding information. Please, I must know. Don’t make me go in there unprepared.”
Abdullah appeared to study the ground. He stooped and
scooped a handful of manna but just held it. “The GCNN says Chloe gave up Albie and that he committed suicide rather than be taken in.”
“Come on, Mr. Smith. We know that’s not true. She would never—”
Abdullah took Chang’s elbow and urged him to keep moving.
“No one suspects Chloe of having anything to do with it, and anyone who knows Albie does not believe he killed himself.”
“Then what is the probl—?”
“There is evidence that Albie may be dead. He and Mr.
McCullum had grown close, as you know, and when word reached Mac, he tried several different ways to get in touch with Albie.”
“It could be coincidence. He may have been away from his phone. Maybe he—”
“He is never away from his phone. Mac has always been able to reach him.”
“But Mac and Captain Steele should be in San Diego by now.
Maybe the satellite phone acts up at that distance and—”
Now it was Abdullah’s turn to stop. “We are almost there.
Around the next bend, Drs. Ben-Judah and Rosenzweig await you.
Mr. Tiberias will make the introductions and attend to the meal.
Meals are short here because we eat only one food and enjoy springwater with it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith. I am going to go believing that Albie will still call back.”
“All right, if you insist on knowing. . . . Albie’s phone was answered, but not by Albie. As you may know, he was on a dangerous mission and may have erred terribly by going alone.
The man who answered the phone told Mac that if he wanted to see his friend one more time, he should watch the news. We have watched and recorded that newscast, Master Chang. Naomi will show it to you after breakfast. Now go.”
________
At 9 P.M. in San Diego, Chloe lay whimpering on the steel bed in her cell. With the setting of the sun the big room had faded to darkness, and now the only light came from the blaring TV. No one had visited her since the phony custodian had come back for what was left of his phone. She had heard her segment of the news a dozen more times—only because she had no choice—but she refused to watch again.
She didn’t care about the lies. No Judah-ites would believe any of that, and if they did, Buck could straighten them out in the next issue of The Truth. But Albie, poor precious Albie. She hoped and prayed that was a lie too, but how could they have so quickly concocted such a vivid image of a dead man who looked so much like him?
Chloe had not eaten since seven o’clock the night before. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins. She rocked, trying to ease the pain in her stomach. She tried to comfort herself by imagining the operation George and Buck and her father had to be planning that very minute.
Chloe tried to force from her mind thoughts of Kenny, because she so longed for him that her arms ached. Would she ever see him again? How would Buck answer their son’s questions about her?
Who would take care of Kenny when Buck was away?
She wondered if sleep would ease the hunger pangs and
whether it was possible to sleep. She had learned enough about such things from George to know that any attempt to free her would have to come when the GC least expected it, so it could be days, maybe longer. She had to learn to sleep. Somehow Chloe had to keep her sanity in spite of how she was treated.
Any vestige of prisoners’ rights had disappeared with the rise of Nicolae Carpathia. Here we are, a year to go to the end of history, and I could be shot in my cell for not bearing the mark.
Lonely, hungry, aching for her loved ones, grieving for Albie, Chloe closed her eyes in the darkness, covered her ears, and hummed to drown out the TV. That, she realized, was why she didn’t hear the night matron until she was standing at the cage.
Chloe flinched and sat up quickly, terrified of the stocky silhouette.
EIGHT
NAOMI’S FATHER greeted Chang the same way he had the night before, cheek to cheek, and while Chang bowed, he did not remove his cap in the light of day. “A word to the wise,” Elder Tiberias rumbled in his ear during their embrace, “just about any culture considers it impolite not to remove one’s hat in the presence of one’s elder.”
“Forgive me, sir,” Chang whispered, “but removing it would reveal a disgrace.”
Eleazar Tiberias shut his eyes and nodded knowingly, as if remembering that he had been told of Chang’s dual marks. “I understand.”
The older man reached for a basket filled with manna. “Dr.
Ben-Judah will be a few moments, but let me introduce you to Dr.
Rosenzweig. Come, come.”
Chang followed the big man into his quarters, where he was surprised to see the diminutive Chaim Rosenzweig, who looked more like Albert Einstein than the famous Micah who had stood up to the potentate. Rosenzweig had apparently been in Petra long enough for his hair to grow back, his pigmentation to return to normal, and to look like his old self.
Rosenzweig leaped to his feet, a bundle of energy for such an elderly man. “So you are Chang Wong, the genius mole!”
“Well, I—”
“Do not feign modesty, my young friend. God has used you.
Oh, he has used you so mightily! Ah, the rewards that await you in heaven.” He took Chang’s arm and pressed it against his own side.
“Come, let us wait outside for Dr. Ben-Judah. Eleazar, join us, please. Dr. Ben-Judah, as you know, is the leader here, though he
is my junior by many years. Oh yes, at least twenty years. He was a student of mine many, many years ago. It is true. Well, Mr.
Wong, welcome, welcome, welcome. It is unfortunate you join us on a day of sadness over the loss of one of our members and the capture of another, but we are happy that you are with us.”
From a distance, Chang saw the commotion as Dr. Ben-Judah approached. He was flanked by several of the other elders, and they were coming from the direction of the tech center.
Dr. Rosenzweig confided, “Those men will not be joining us, and they are not bodyguards per se. None are needed here, of course. But Dr. Ben-Judah is so popular and beloved, if he is not surrounded by the elders, he would never get anywhere. Everyone wants a moment of his time, but those moments add up. They just want to express their appreciation and their love, but he has so much to do and such a heavy schedule.”
“I’m honored that he would take a little time with me,” Chang said. “Like everyone else, I wa
nt a moment of his time.”
“Oh, trust me, young friend, I know him well, and he has been looking forward to this.”
The other elders peeled away as Dr. Ben-Judah arrived. “I am so sorry to have postponed and then to be late on top of that,” he said. “But it could not be helped. Well, someone introduce me to our newest resident.”
Eleazar Tiberias chuckled loudly as Dr. Rosenzweig said, “Oh, I believe you know who this is. Dr. Tsion Ben-Judah, may I present Chang Wong.”
Dr. Ben-Judah eschewed the customary Jewish greeting, first returning Chang’s bow, then stepping forward to embrace the boy tightly. “Sit, sit,” he said. “Sit right here between Dr. Rosenzweig and me. You know, years ago he was my prof—”
“I have told him all about it, Tsion,” Chaim said. “Let us pray and eat.”
Tsion leaned close and whispered, though loud enough for Chaim’s benefit too, “The elderly have no patience!”
Tsion held one of Chang’s hands and reached across him to take one of Chaim’s too. “Eleazar, join us and take a hand, please.”
As the four sat holding hands, Dr. Ben-Judah lifted his face and Chang bowed his head. “Great Father, creator, master, and friend,”
he began, “as we begin yet another day leading to the glorious appearing of our Lord and Savior, we bless your name. We thank you for our daily bread. And we are humbled as we think of where we were so few scant years ago. Mr. Tiberias, a businessman and devout man of religion. Dr. Rosenzweig, a statesman and scholar and agnostic. I, a student of the Bible but blind to the truth. And Mr. Wong, a brilliant young atheist. Who but a good God would give us all a second chance and redeem us by the blood of your precious Son? We praise you in his name.”
Tsion held out the basket of manna to Chang, who took a small handful. The older men all took goodly portions, and Tsion said,
“Allow me to show you how I eat my daily provision. I am grateful that mealtime does not consume the time it once did, though I confess there are days when I miss everything that used to go with it. Often my meals here last but five minutes.”
He allowed the manna to settle in his right palm, wrapped his fingers gently around it, and formed a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “Like peanuts, no?” he said, smiling, and tapped his thumb knuckle on his chin until the wafers popped into his mouth.
“A handful,” he said, chewing, “and I am nourished.”
Mr. Tiberias stood and gathered leftovers into the basket, then tossed them to the wind, where they scattered on the ground.
“Tell me, Dr. Ben-Judah,” Chang said, “is it true about Albie?”
“That he is dead? I am afraid so,” Tsion said. “Self-inflicted, no, none of us believes that.”
After a few moments, Chaim said, “Tsion, we really must be going.”
“Oh, sir,” Chang said, “I hesitate to ask because I have been told by everyone how busy you are and how everyone wants a bit of your time. . . .”
“Please, Chang. We feel so indebted to you. Ask anything of me, and if I can comply, I will.”
“I need just a moment alone, sir. No offense, Dr. Rosenzweig.”
“None taken. Mr. Tiberias and I will prepare for our meeting.”
Tsion took Chang behind an outcropping of rock. “What can I do for you?”
Chang took off his cap, exposing the 30 emblazoned on his forehead and the thin, pink line where the Global Community biochip had been inserted. He caught the pity in the older man’s eyes.
“I confess it is strange, Mr. Wong, to see that when I also see the mark of the believer on you.”
“I can’t stand to look in the mirror,” Chang said. “I don’t dare take off my hat here. Yes, it may have kept me alive and yes, I had access where no believer would have dreamed. But it mocks me, curses me. I hate it.”
“It was forced on you, son. It was not your choice or your fau—”
“I know all that, sir, but I want it gone. Is that possible?”
“I do not know.”
“Sir, I study your teachings every day. You say that with God all things are possible. Why would he not remove this now?”
“I do not know, Chang. I just do not want to promise that he will.”
“But what if I believe he will? And if you believe?”
“We can agree in faith on this, Chang, but as much as we believe and trust and study, no one can claim to know the mind of
God. If you want me to pray that God will remove it, I will. And I believe he can and will do what he chooses. But I want you to pledge that you will accept his decision either way.”
“Of course.”
“Do not say that glibly. I can see how much you want this, and if God does not grant it, I do not want to see your faith threatened.”
“I will be disappointed and I will wonder why, but I will accept it. Will you pray for me?”
Dr. Ben-Judah seemed to study Chang’s face. He pressed his lips together, then looked away. Finally, he said, “I will. Come, sit over here and wait. Much as you want to do this in private, I prefer having men of God agree together in prayer. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. I just hate to have them see me with this—”
“There is no getting around that. It may be part of the price.”
Chang nodded, and Tsion moved away to call for Eleazar and Chaim. They came, looking somberly at Chang, who sat on a rock and had begun to weep. Tsion briefed them and asked them to join him in the effort of prayer. The three approached, Ben-Judah in the middle, Tiberias on his left, and Rosenzweig on his right.
Tsion placed his left hand behind Chang’s head and the heel of his right hand on Chang’s forehead. The other two each took one of Chang’s hands and put their free hands on his shoulders. Chang shuddered at the gentle touch from these three men of God, and he felt loved by them and by God. His body stiffened and then relaxed.
“Creator God,” Tsion began, so softly Chang could barely hear him, “we acknowledge that you made this young man. You have known him and loved him since before the earth was formed. You, who are rich in mercy, loved us even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, that in the ages to come he might show the exceeding riches
of his grace in his kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace we have been saved through faith, and that not of ourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus. . . .
“Now, Chang Wong, knowing that you were not redeemed
with corruptible things like silver or gold but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot, believe in God. He raised Christ from the dead and gave him glory so that your faith and hope are in God. We now come together in faith, believing. We pray to the God for whom anything is possible, the God who spared us like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego of old from the fire of the enemy and made it so that we were people on whose bodies the fire had no power; the hair of our heads was not singed, nor were our garments affected, and the smell of fire was not on us.
“God, according to your will, we ask that you remove from this boy any sign of the evil one.”
Chang went limp and felt as if his limbs weighed a hundred pounds apiece. He perspired profusely from every pore and felt sweat run down his face and arms and torso. The men’s hands were wet, but they remained still, unmoving in the silence.
Just when Chang felt that if the men let go he would slide off the rock, Tsion said, “Thank you, gentlemen.”
They squeezed Chang’s hands and shoulders and stepped back.
Now he was supported only by Tsion, who still cupped the back of his head and had his right hand over Chang’s forehead. He pressed with that hand and let it slide around to the right so that now he had both hands behind Chang’s head.
Chang opened his eyes, blinking against the sun and studying the face of Dr. Ben-
Judah as Tsion studied his.
Tsion smiled. “Gentlemen,” he said, “what do you see?”
Tiberias leaned in from one side and Rosenzweig from the other.
“Praise God!” Chaim said.
Eleazar lifted his head and roared with laughter in his deep bass voice. “I see only the mark of the believer! I have a mirror in my house. Come, see for yourself!”
________
Rayford had never seen Mac so despondent. Or so resolute.
“If somebody’s killed that old boy, I’m gonna have to do something about it, Ray,” Mac said. “Find me something to do that puts me right in the middle of it, and I’m not kidding.”
“Albie and I go way back too,” Rayford said.
“I know you do. And I feel like I’ve known him forever.”
“What’s your gut tell you, Mac? This just part of the GC’s propaganda, or is he gone?”
Mac sighed. “Well, no way he killed himself, but I feel like they got him.”
Rayford used Mac’s phone to call Buck and tell him they would be putting down at about 10 P.M., San Diego time.
“Buck’s phone. Hey, Mac, this is George.”
“Well, this is Mac’s phone, but it’s Rayford. How’s it going there, George?”
“Like you’d imagine. Buck’s in pretty bad shape. It’s all we can do to keep him from heading to GC headquarters by himself.”
“Can you guys come get us at ten?”
“Ten? You made good time.”
“Not bad. Only stopped once, then detoured a bit to drown my phone. Make Buck come with you. Maybe we can all help keep him cool.”
“You make him come with me. He’s not listening to me, and he shouldn’t have to.”
“Is he there?”
“He’s down with Kenny. The little guy’s having trouble getting to sleep without his mom.”
“Well, tell Buck I said it’s a directive. The four of us need to talk as soon as we hit the ground. Can somebody watch Kenny?”
“Sure. For right now we’ve got more baby-sitting volunteers than we can use.”
