Ranold was convinced someone was on to him and following him. His eyes darted from the windshield to the rearview mirror, and every chance he got, he drove erratically, getting off the main road and onto side streets. He couldn’t tell if anyone followed or stayed with him or was really behind him or not. All he knew was that he was already running late. He checked the nine millimeter on his hip, ground his teeth, and pounded the steering wheel.
His phone rang. “Please hold for Governor Haywood Hale.”
When the governor came on, he shouted, “Decenti?”
“I’m here,” Ranold said. “You still in Bern?”
“Oh yeah, and we’re making headway.”
“On what?”
“The world should know within an hour or two.”
“Know what?”
“Exciting news, General. We still on for Monday morning?”
“Unless you plan to fire me. You can do that right now, over the phone.”
“No need for that, Ranold.”
Ranold decided Hale might not think that if he accomplished his mission with Paul Stepola.
45
ROSCOE WIPERS thrust a hand in Paul’s face. “Shake.”
Paul shook his hand. “What’s that about?”
“I was planning on just walking away when you let me,” Roscoe said. “I’m going to have to answer for not trying to bring you in, but you don’t have to worry about me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a free man. I owe you. Even if I am sitting here unarmed in the cold with no coat.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll drop you somewhere warm.”
“You would.”
“Yes, I would. And in the meantime, while I’m doing my thing, you can wait here with the heater running.”
* * *
Now Jae was sure she heard something. And not just anything. The voices of children. They couldn’t have been three feet away. Angela must have had them trying to dig through from the other side. Jae signaled the front-end loader to shut down and called out, “Kids! Can you hear us?”
A chorus of yeses came back, and the sound of excavating increased from both sides. Finally, pinholes of light, then tiny tunnels, and finally a hole big enough for a child to climb through.
“Wait!” Jae called. “Angela, line them up and let us make the way bigger!”
Jae was the first through the opening, and she stumbled and fell at the feet of the squealing kids. When she was upright again she could tell by the looks on their faces that she must have been a sight. Brie and Connor jumped on her.
“Everybody ready? We’re going to be walking a long way in the dark, but we’re going to get out of here.” Thank You, God.
* * *
When the three-hundred-foot-tall and five-hundred-foot-long limestone edifice came into view, Paul, as usual, had to stare. “A hundred and forty years old,” he said. “Took more than eighty years to build.”
“What’re you,” Roscoe said, “a tour guide?”
Paul shook his head. “Religion major. Wait here.”
Paul dialed Straight as he jogged through thick underbrush toward the south entrance. “Our boy Davis in place?”
“Yeah, but no sign of your father-in-law.”
“Believe me, he’ll be here. Where are you?”
“I’ll be around. I’ve got your back.”
“You armed, Straight?”
A chuckle. “You wouldn’t want that. I’d shoot my remaining foot. I assume you are.”
“Yeah, but I’m trying to talk myself out of putting two between Ranold’s eyes.”
Inside the dark, airy cathedral, Paul found it hard to move without his shoes echoing throughout the cavernous place. He stopped every few feet to listen. Footsteps? His own, still echoing? No, someone was here.
Paul entered the massive nave and peered at the round, colorful stained-glass window at the west entrance. Streetlights and snow caused it to glow and shimmer. He moved to the arches at one side, moving in and out of the shadows. Finally he stopped and waited.
Heavy, slow footsteps.
He imagined Ranold, could almost see him. Was it possible the man had come alone? Unlikely.
The footsteps stopped.
“You alone, Dad?” Paul called out.
“Of course,” came the reply. “And unarmed. You?”
“Better not count on it.” For the first time he saw Decenti on the opposite side, moving from behind one pillar to behind another. “How would you feel, Dad, if you knew more of your family was dead because of what you did tonight?”
“Tonight? What did I do tonight? And quit calling me Dad! You’re not my son. I didn’t choose you.”
“That’s more important than whether your daughter or grandbabies are dead or alive?”
Did Ranold hesitate? Paul couldn’t imagine actually getting to him. Paul moved past two arches toward the main altar.
“Where’re we going, Paul?”
“Just staying out of your line of fire, Dad.”
“You don’t trust me.”
Paul snorted. “You must be a trained observer.”
“Don’t mock.”
Paul strode quickly to the last arch before the altar and knelt behind the pillar.
Ranold seemed content to stay where he was, about twenty-five feet from the front on the opposite side of the sanctuary. Because of the acoustics, the men didn’t have to even raise their voices.
“I know why you killed Commander Balaam, Dad.”
Silence. Then, “I killed her? I did no such thing.”
“Had her killed then. She was the one who could connect you with the murder of the chancellor.”
Another pause. “Murder is such a civilian term, Paul. Assassination has a better ring to it, don’t you think? We are at war. Something had to be done. Just like now. I’m in the same room with a traitor, and I’m on duty. I aim to take him in.”
“You finished trying to wipe out the underground, Dad?”
Ranold hissed as if the moniker pierced him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“C’mon! I thought you’d be proud of yourself.”
“I am proud of myself. At least I’m not a turncoat. My career speaks for itself. And if I am the only stalwart left, so be it. We can do without the Denglers and the Hales and the Tamikas.”
“The populace seems to be standing against you now, Dad. Deal with it.”
That did it. That seemed to push Ranold. He moved up a couple of pillars, and Paul thought he heard another set of footsteps, maybe two sets.
Ranold must have thought so too. He stopped short and dropped to one knee. “I told you men to wait outside!” Ranold said.
The footsteps retreated, but not far.
“Backup, eh, Dad? You’re that scared of me?”
Paul heard an explosion, and a blast to his shoulder threw him back against the wall. He dropped, unable to move.
Ranold swore at him from across the way. The pair of footsteps came running again. “I’m all right!” Ranold said. “I said to wait outside! I got him!”
But it sounded to Paul as if Ranold hit the ground.
“Who are you?” Ranold demanded as his weapon clattered away. “Wipers? Get off me or I’ll have you—and who are you?”
“Call me Straight.” Then he called out, “You all right, Paul?”
“’Fraid not.”
Straight ran to him and helped Paul onto his back. “Hold on, brother,” he said.
“Not feeling so good,” Paul said.
“Not looking so good either, pal. Stay with me.”
Paul thought it strange that Straight talked that way. Surely the wound was not life threatening. It had not been that close to the heart, had it? His pulse was fast and ragged, but that was to be expected.
Straight was on the phone, calling for an ambulance.
And Paul lost consciousness.
Epilogue
PAUL AWOKE—he didn’t know how long later—in a room at Bethesda Naval Hospital, sur
rounded by Straight, Jack, Greenie, Jae, Brie, and Connor. He had never been so relieved to see anyone in his life. He tried to sit up and reach for the kids, but Jae assured him there would be plenty of time for that.
“You’ve got a lot of damage in there, Paul,” she said. “But you’ll be all right. Oh, there it is! Let’s watch!”
They pulled the curtain back so Paul could see the TV. Scooter Davis’s grainy, dark footage rolled with the echoing sound as Ranold appeared on national television. The big man awkwardly knelt in the old cathedral, aiming his weapon and firing.
“Now listen to what preceded this attack,” the anchorwoman said. “Recently exposed NPO double agent Dr. Paul Stepola—ironically Ranold B. Decenti’s own son-in-law—is the first to speak. He’s referring to one of Director Decenti’s own top operatives, Commander Bia Balaam, who was found ritualistically murdered in her car at the NPO garage earlier.”
“I know why you killed Commander Balaam, Dad.”
“I killed her? I did no such thing.”
“Had her killed then. She was the one who could connect you with the murder of the chancellor.”
“Murder is such a civilian term, Paul. Assassination has a better ring to it, don’t you think? We are at war. Something had to be done. Just like now. I’m in the same room with a traitor, and I’m on duty. I aim to take him in.”
“You finished trying to wipe out the underground, Dad?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“C’mon! I thought you’d be proud of yourself.”
“I am proud of myself. At least I’m not a turncoat. My career speaks for itself. And if I am the only stalwart left, so be it. We can do without the Denglers and the Hales and the Tamikas.”
“The populace seems to be standing against you now, Dad. Deal with it.”
The anchorwoman returned. “After the shooting, Decenti was subdued by two unidentified men, then taken into custody by his own backup squadron. Here now is footage of Director Decenti being taken from the cathedral.”
A SWAT team member was interviewed by the press as the phalanx edged toward their vehicles with Decenti in tow. “We all heard him. He as much as admitted he assassinated the chancellor and launched those missiles on the underground.”
“I did nothing of the sort!” Ranold raged, his face red, spittle flying. “I said what I had to say to take down a fugitive! I—” His own men shoved him into a Hummer.
“And now,” the anchorwoman said, “this from Bern, Switzerland, where interim international chancellor Hoshi Tamika is prepared to address the world. She has been in meetings since early this morning with heads of state from all over the globe.”
Paul squinted at the screen. What could it mean?
The interim chancellor took her time arranging her notes while microphones were noisily adjusted to a smattering of applause. Then the soft but anything-but-timid voice of the chancellor:
“Ladies and gentlemen of the world community. This is a historic day. I stand before you with heads of state or their designates from all over the globe. They stand with me here in solidarity and unanimity, having spent the last several hours in spirited debate and discussion.
“Our goal? A midcourse adjustment on an international scale so that all men and women might continue to live in peace. As you know and many of you remember, the world embarked on a bold new initiative thirty-eight years ago in the wake of a devastating war that nearly destroyed us all. As the result of a holy war, we almost lost our planet.
“The criminalizing of religious activity was believed the only recourse in an attempt to ensure that nothing like that would ever again occur. And for most of the time since, we have lived in relative peace. Most of us have.
“We are here today to acknowledge that this has not been true of all our citizens. Peace-loving people of faith have been forced underground and treated like second-class citizens. They have not enjoyed the privileges and rights of the free in this world.
“Ironically, this has resulted in yet another holy war, this time necessitated by oppressed, disenfranchised, devout people who share our commitment to peace. It has become foolhardy to suggest that a Supreme Being does not exist since The Incident, when as many firstborn males died as we had casualties from World War III. I myself lost a loved one, as did countless of you.
“The pendulum has by no means swung all the way back, despite today’s vote and the edict I am about to announce. People of this earth remain free to be atheists. I confess I am one no longer. No one will be forced to acknowledge any form of spirituality. However, the following was voted into international law just moments ago:
“‘No citizen of the world community shall be penalized or otherwise discriminated against due to his or her practice of the religion of their choice. The recommitment to the loyalty oath is hereby rescinded. Further, all citizens incarcerated, indicted, suspected, or forced to live underground due to violating the same, are hereby now and henceforth exonerated and awarded full amnesty.’
“That ends the document. Be assured, there are technicalities and conditions relating to this edict, some yet to be worked out. These apply to those who broke other laws in the course of practicing their religion. But the above-stated edict becomes operative immediately and shall be disseminated as widely and quickly as possible by the news media. Thank you and good day.”
The small cadre surrounding Paul’s bed high-fived and hugged each other. “There is a God!” Jae said.
Paul shook his head. It was hard to comprehend.
“Guess I don’t have to pray down the flood of justice,” Jack Pass said.
“Thank God for that,” Paul said. He opened a hand to Brie and Connor, and they shyly approached.
“Aren’t we the bad guys anymore, Dad?” Connor said.
“Nope,” Paul said. “Not anymore.” He had to smile at Connor’s frown. He’d have made a good little outlaw.
Paul knew he would still face charges for what he had done in violation of his oath of office at the NPO. And something told him the new ruling, glorious as it was, would hardly be the end of the story.
Less than half an hour later, because of the gleeful jabbering of those at his bedside, he could no longer hear the television, but over Jae’s shoulder Paul saw footage of demonstrations already breaking out around the world.
Some showed underground believers pouring into the streets, singing, dancing, and raising their hands toward heaven. But others showed angry people of all walks of life, rioting, snarling, and shaking their fists at the sky. He could only imagine the threats and epithets directed at the newly freed people of faith.
Paul shook hands with and gingerly embraced the friends and family celebrating around his bed, careful not to aggravate his wound. He could hardly fathom the difference the news would make in all their lives, including those of believers around the world, and especially his own.
He found himself suddenly overcome with emotion, but despite tears of joy, Paul had to wonder how long the reprieve would last. How long before the world once again fell under the shadow of persecution?
THE END
Tyndale House Novels by Jerry Jenkins
The Left Behind Series (with Tim LaHaye)
Left Behind
Tribulation Force
Nicolae
Soul Harvest
Apollyon
Assassins
The Indwelling
The Mark
Desecration
The Remnant
Armageddon
Glorious Appearing
The Rising
The Regime
The Rapture
Other Novels by Jerry Jenkins
The Last Operative
Rookie (The Youngest Hero)
Though None Go with Me
’Twas the Night Before
Hometown Legend
Soon
Silenced
Shadowed
For the latest information on Left Behind p
roducts, visit. www.leftbehind.com
For the latest information on Tyndale House fiction, visit www.tyndalefiction.com
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