Left Behind

by Tim LaHaye

  “To tell you the truth,” he said, “I’m going to insist on a meeting with Hattie, and I want you there.”

  “For her protection or yours?”

  “Not funny. I’ve left her a message insisting that she see me in the Pan-Con Club at JFK at one in the afternoon. Whether she will or not, I don’t know. Either way, you and I will get some time together.”

  “Daddy, time together is all we’ve had. I’d think you’d be tired of me by now.”

  “That’ll never happen, Chloe.”

  Early Wednesday morning Buck was summoned to the office of Stanton Bailey, publisher of Global Weekly. In all his years of award-winning work, he had been in there only twice, once to celebrate his Hemingway war correspondence award and once on a Christmas tour of what the employees enviously called Mahogany Row.

  Buck ducked in to see Steve first, only to be told by Marge that he was in with the publisher already. Her eyes were red and puffy. “What’s happening?” he said.

  “You know I can’t say anything,” she said. “Just get in there.”

  Buck’s imagination ran wild as he entered the suite of offices inhabited by the brass. He hadn’t known Plank had been summoned, too. What could it mean? Were they in trouble for the shenanigans they had pulled Monday night? Had Mr. Bailey somehow found out the details of the London business and how Buck had escaped? And he certainly hoped this meeting would be over in time for his appointment with Hattie Durham.

  Bailey’s receptionist pointed him to the publisher’s outer office, where his secretary raised one brow and waved him in. “You’re not going to announce me?” he joked. She smirked and returned to her work.

  Buck knocked quietly and carefully pushed open the door. Plank sat with his back to Buck and didn’t turn. Bailey didn’t rise but beckoned him in. “Sit right there next to your boss,” Bailey said, which Buck thought an interesting choice of words. Of course, it was true, but that was not how Steve was usually addressed.

  Buck sat and said, “Steve.”

  Steve nodded but kept looking at Bailey.

  “Couple of things, Williams,” Bailey began, “before I get down to business. You’re cleared of everything overseas, right?”

  Buck nodded. “Yes, sir. There should never have been any doubt.”

  “Well, ’course there shouldn’t, but you were lucky. I guess it was smart to make it look like whoever was after you got you, but you made us think that for a while too, you know.”

  “Sorry. I’m afraid that was unavoidable.”

  “And you wound up giving them ammunition to use against you if they wanted to bust you for some reason.”

  “I know. That surprised me.”

  “But you got it taken care of.”

  “Right.”

  “How?”

  “Sir?”

  “What part of ‘how’ don’t you understand? How did you extricate yourself? We got word there were witnesses who say you did it.”

  “There must have been enough others who knew the truth. Tompkins was a friend of mine. I had no reason to kill him, and I sure didn’t have the means. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to make a bomb or transport it or detonate it.”

  “You could have paid to have it done.”

  “But I didn’t. I don’t run in those circles, and if I did, I wouldn’t have had Alan killed.”

  “Well, the news coverage is all vague enough that none of us look bad. Just looks like a misunderstanding.”

  “Which it was.”

  “Of course it was. Cameron, I asked to see you this morning because I have just accepted one of the least welcome resignations I have ever received.”

  Buck sat silent, his head spinning.

  “Steve here tells me this will be news to you, so let me just drop it on you. He is resigning immediately to accept the position of international press secretary to Nicolae Carpathia. He’s received an offer we can’t come close to, and while I don’t think it’s wise or a good fit, he does, and it’s his life. What do you think about that?”

  Buck couldn’t contain himself. “I think it stinks. Steve, what are you thinking of? You’re going to move to Romania?”

  “I’ll be headquartered here, Buck. At the Plaza.”

  “Nice.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Steve, this isn’t you. You’re not a PR guy.”

  “Carpathia is no ordinary political leader. Tell me you weren’t on your feet cheering Monday.”

  “I was, but—”

  “But nothing. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Nothing else would have lured me from this job.”

  Buck shook his head. “I can’t believe it. I knew Carpathia was looking for somebody, but—”

  Steve laughed. “Tell the truth, Buck. He offered it to you first, didn’t he?”

  “No.”

  “He as much as told me he did.”

  “Well, he didn’t. Matter of fact, I recommended Miller from Seaboard.”

  Plank recoiled and shot a glance at Bailey. “Really?”

  “Yeah, why not? He’s more the type.”

  “Buck,” Steve said, “Eric Miller’s body washed up on Staten Island last night. He fell off the ferry and drowned.”

  “Well,” Bailey said summarily, “enough of that ugly business. Steve has recommended you to replace him.”

  Buck was still reeling from the news about Miller, but he heard the offer. “Oh, please,” he said, “you’re not serious.”

  “You wouldn’t want the job?” Bailey asked. “Shape the magazine, determine the coverage, still write the top stories yourself? Sure you would. By policy it would almost double your salary, and if that’s what it took to get you to agree, I’d guarantee it.”

  “That’s not it,” Buck said. “I’m too young for the job I’ve got now.”

  “You don’t believe that or you wouldn’t be as good at it as you are.”

  “Yeah, but that’s the sentiment of the staff.”

  “What else is new?” Bailey roared. “They think I’m too old. They thought Steve was too laid-back. Others thought he was too pushy. They’d complain if we brought in the pope himself.”

  “I thought he was missing.”

  “You know what I mean. Now how about it?”

  “I could never replace Steve, sir. I’m sorry. People may have complained, but they knew he was fair and in their corner.”

  “And so would you be.”

  “But they’d never give me the benefit of the doubt. They’d be in here undermining me and complaining from day one.”

  “I wouldn’t allow it. Now, Buck, this offer isn’t going to sit on the table indefinitely. I want you to take it, and I want to be able to announce it immediately.”

  Buck shrugged and looked at the floor. “Can I have a day to think about it?”

  “Twenty-four hours. Meantime, don’t say a word to anybody. Plank, anybody else know about you?”

  “Only Marge.”

  “We can trust her. She’ll never tell a soul. I had a three-year affair with her and never worried about anybody finding out.”

  Steve and Buck flinched.

  “Well,” Bailey said, “you never knew, did you?”

  “No,” they said in unison.

  “See how tight-lipped she is?” He waited a beat. “I’m kidding, boys. I’m kidding!”

  He was still laughing as they left the office.

  CHAPTER 18

  Buck followed Steve to his office. “Did you hear about those kooks at the Wailing Wall?” Steve said.

  “Like I’m interested in that right now,” Buck said. “Yeah, I saw them, and no, I don’t want to cover that story. Now what is this?”

  “This will be your office, Buck. Marge will be your secretary.”

  “You can’t possibly think I would want your job. First off, we can’t afford to lose you. You’re the only sane person here.”

  “Including you?”

  “Especially including me. You must have really run i
nterference for me with Bailey if he thinks I would be anything but a powder keg in your job.”

  “Your job.”

  “You think I should take it.”

  “You bet I do. I suggested no one else and Bailey had no other candidates.”

  “He’d have all the candidates he wanted if he just announced the opening. Who wouldn’t want this job, besides me?”

  “If it’s such a plum, why don’t you want it?”

  “I’d feel as if I were sitting in your chair.”

  “So order your own chair.”

  “You know what I mean, Steve. It won’t be the same without you. This job isn’t me.”

  “Look at it this way, Buck. If you don’t take it, you have no say in who becomes your new boss. Anybody on this staff you want to work for?”

  “Yeah, you.”

  “Too late. I’m gone tomorrow. Now seriously, you want to work for Juan?”

  “You wouldn’t recommend him.”

  “I’m not going to recommend anybody but you. You don’t take it, you’re on your own. You take your chances you’ll wind up working for a colleague who already resents you. How many hot assignments you think you’ll get then?”

  “If I got dumped on, I’d threaten to go to Time or somewhere. Bailey wouldn’t let that happen.”

  “You turn down a promotion, he might make it happen. Rejecting advancement is not a good career move.”

  “I just want to write.”

  “Tell me you haven’t thought you could run this editorial department better than I do at times.”

  “A lot of times.”

  “Here’s your chance.”

  “Bailey would never stand for my assigning myself all the best stuff.”

  “Make that a condition of your acceptance. If he doesn’t like it, it’s his decision, not yours.”

  For the first time, Buck allowed a sliver of light to enter his head about the possibility of taking the executive editor job. “I still can’t believe you’d leave to become a press secretary, Steve. Even for Nicolae Carpathia.”

  “Do you know what’s in store for him, Buck?”

  “A little.”

  “There’s a sea of power and influence and money behind him that will propel him to world prominence so quick it’ll make everyone’s head spin.”

  “Listen to yourself. You’re supposed to be a journalist.”

  “I hear myself, Buck. I wouldn’t feel this way about anybody else. No U.S. president could turn my head like this, no U.N. secretary-general.”

  “You think he’ll be bigger than that.”

  “The world is ready for Carpathia, Buck. You were there Monday. You saw it. You heard it. Have you ever met anyone like him?”

  “No.”

  “You never will again, either. If you ask me, Romania is too small for him. Europe is too small for him. The U.N. is too small for him.”

  “What’s he gonna be, Steve, king of the world?”

  Steve laughed. “That won’t be the title, but don’t put it past him. The best part is, he’s not even aware of his own presence. He doesn’t seek these roles. They are thrust upon him because of his intellect, his power, his passion.”

  “You know, of course, that Stonagal is behind him.”

  “Of course. But he’ll soon supersede Stonagal in influence because of his charisma. Stonagal can’t be too visible, and so he will never have the masses behind him. When Nicolae comes to power, he’ll in essence have jurisdiction over Stonagal.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something?”

  “I say it’ll happen sooner than any of us can imagine, Buck.”

  “Except you, of course.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel. You know I’ve always had good instincts. I’m sure I’m sitting on one of the greatest rises to power of anyone in history. Maybe the greatest. And I’ll be right there helping it happen.”

  “What do you think of my instincts, Steve?”

  Steve pressed his lips together. “Other than your writing and reporting, your instincts are the things I most envy.”

  “Then rest easy. My gut feeling is the same as yours. And except that I could never be anybody’s press secretary, I almost envy you. You are uniquely positioned to enjoy the ride of your life.”

  Steve smiled. “We’ll keep in touch. You’ll always have access, to me and to Nicolae.”

  “I can’t ask for more than that.”

  Marge interrupted on the intercom without signaling first. “Hit your TV, Steve, or whoever’s TV it is now.”

  Steve smiled at Buck and switched it on. CNN was broadcasting live from Jerusalem, where two men had tried to attack the preachers at the Wailing Wall. Dan Bennett was on the scene for CNN.

  “It was an ugly and dangerous confrontation for what many here are calling the two heretical prophets, known only as Moishe and Eli,” Bennett said. “We know these names only because they have referred to each other thus, but we have been unable to locate anyone who knows any more about them. We know of no last names, no cities of origin, no families or friends. They have been taking turns speaking—preaching, if you will—for hours and continuing to claim that Jesus Christ is the Messiah. They have proclaimed over and over that the great worldwide disappearances last week, including many here in Israel, evidenced Christ’s rapture of his church.

  “A heckler asked why they had not disappeared, if they knew so much. The one called Moishe answered, and I quote, ‘Where we come from and where we go, you cannot know.’ His companion, Eli, was quoted, ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions,’ apparently a New Testament quotation attributed to Christ.”

  Steve and Buck exchanged glances.

  “Surrounded by zealots most of the day, the preachers were finally attacked just moments ago by two men in their midtwenties. Watch the footage as our cameras caught the action. You can see the two at the back of the crowd, working their way to the front. Both are wearing long, hooded robes and are bearded. You can see that they produce weapons as they emerge from the crowd.

  “One has an Uzi automatic weapon and the other a bayonet-type knife that appears to have come from an Israeli-issue military rifle. The one wielding the knife surges forward first, displaying his weapon to Moishe, who had been speaking. Eli, behind him, immediately falls to his knees, his face toward the sky. Moishe stops speaking and merely looks at the man, who appears to trip. He sprawls while the man with the Uzi points the weapon at the preachers and appears to pull the trigger.

  “There is no sound of gunfire as the Uzi apparently jams, and the attacker seems to trip over his partner and both wind up on the ground. The group of onlookers has backed away and run for cover, but watch again closely as we rerun this. The one with the gun seems to fall of his own accord.

  “As we speak, both attackers lie at the feet of the preachers, who continue to preach. Angry onlookers demand help for the attackers, and Moishe is speaking in Hebrew. Let’s listen and we’ll translate as we go.

  “He’s saying, ‘Men of Zion, pick up your dead! Remove from before us these jackals who have no power over us!’

  “A few from the crowd approach tentatively while Israeli soldiers gather at the entrance to the Wall. The zealots are waving them off. Eli is speaking.

  “‘You who aid the fallen are not in danger unless you come against the anointed ones of the Most High,’ apparently referring to himself and his partner. The fallen attackers are being rolled onto their backs, and those attending them are weeping and shouting and backing away. ‘Dead! Both dead!’ they are saying, and now the crowd seems to want the soldiers to enter. They are clearing the way. The soldiers are, of course, heavily armed. Whether they will try to arrest the strangers, we don’t know, but from what we saw, the two preachers neither attacked nor defended themselves against the men now on the ground.

  “Moishe is speaking again: ‘Carry off your dead, but do not come nigh to us, says the Lord God of Hosts!’ This he has said with such volume and authority that the soldiers qui
ckly have checked pulses and carried off the men. We will report any word we receive on the two who attempted to attack the preachers here at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. At this moment, the preachers have continued their shouting, proclaiming, ‘Jesus of Nazareth, born in Bethlehem, King of the Jews, the chosen one, ruler of all nations.’

  “In Israel, Dan Bennett for CNN.”

  Marge and a few others on the staff had drifted into Steve’s office during the telecast. “If that doesn’t beat all,” one said. “What a couple of kooks.”

  “Which two?” Buck said. “You can’t say the preachers, whoever they are, didn’t warn ’em.”

  “What’s going on over there?” someone else asked.

  “All I know,” Buck said, “is that things happen there that no one can explain.”

  Steve raised his eyebrows. “If you believe in the Virgin Birth, that’s been true for centuries.”

  Buck rose. “I’ve got to get to JFK,” he said.

  “What are you gonna do about the job?”

  “I’ve got twenty-four hours, remember?”

  “Don’t use them all. Answer too quick, you look eager; too slow, you look indecisive.”

  Buck knew Steve was right. He was going to have to accept the promotion just to protect himself from other pretenders. He didn’t want to be obsessed with it all day. Buck was glad for the diversion of seeing Hattie Durham. His only question now was whether he would recognize her. They had met under most traumatic circumstances.

  Rayford and Chloe arrived in New York just after noon on Wednesday and went directly to the Pan-Con Club to wait for Hattie Durham. “I’m guessing she won’t show,” Chloe said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I wouldn’t if I were her.”

  “You’re not her, thank God.”

  “Oh, don’t put her down, Dad. What makes you any better?”

  Rayford felt awful. Chloe was right. Why should he think less of Hattie just because she seemed dim at times? That hadn’t bothered him when he had seen her only as a physical diversion. And now, just because she had been nasty with him on the phone and never acknowledged his last invitation to meet today, he had categorized her as less desirable or less deserving.