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by Robert L. Wise

  Adah pulled the wig over her head, and Matt slipped on a T-shirt like those worn by most of the kids. Black pull-on boots purchased in Rhinelander fit the hip image. He quickly split his hair down the middle and combed it back on one side like all the young boys did. With his hair dyed black and a stubbly beard, he no longer looked like the regular Matthew Peck.

  After ten minutes of working in front of mirrors, Matt and Adah emerged looking like a pair of rockers. Getting out of the car, they looked at each other in disdain.

  “Pretty weird, huh?” Matt said.

  “No worse than me.” Adah took a deep breath. “Have you considered they could have set a trap for your family, and are ready to arrest us as we walk into that jail?”

  “It’s possible. Wouldn’t take much to grab us. That jail is a massive holding tank.”

  Adah nodded. “Makes me shiver.”

  “Put these dark glasses on.” Matt handed her sunglasses. “I’ve got a pair for me.” He took her arm. “Just walk slow and casual.”

  “I’ll try.” Adah started walking with a swing. She bowed her head, but kept her eyes open. “Please, please, help us, Lord.”

  Easing along at a nonchalant pace, Matt walked up the steps and through a door marked “Visitors.” Holding Adah’s hand, they ambled down a long corridor toward a metal detector. After ten feet, the hallway felt like a chute that would eventually dump visitors into a pit waiting at the other end. Obviously, once they started down the path, there was no way out. The green light on the detector clicked “on,” and a voice echoed from somewhere: “Put purses and shoes on the conveyer belt. Go on through.”

  Matt sauntered through with Adah following behind him. No bells went off.

  “Leave your purse and personal belongings out there for the check,” the heavyset police inspector instructed. “Who’d you want to see?” He got up out of a metal chair and picked up a clipboard filled with lists. “Give me the deadbeat’s name,” he said with supreme indifference and disinterest.

  “Mary Peck,” Matt said with no show of emotion. “She’s no crook.”

  The cop jerked slightly and looked at him more closely. “How’d you know her?”

  “I’m one of her old buddies,” Matt said. “We’re longtime friends.”

  The policeman studied his face for a moment. “Hmm,” he mumbled. “She’s an unusual person,” he said suspiciously.

  Matt shrugged. “Ain’t we all!”

  Quickly flipping through his list again, the cop checked Mary Peck’s name twice. “Okay. The sheet says she can have visitors. Put your shoes on and go up to the fifth floor. Unit six.”

  “Sure, man,” Matt said with disinterest. “Thanks.” He grabbed his boots and slipped them on.

  “Take the elevator straight ahead of you.” The officer studied him intently.

  “Come on.” Matt beckoned for Adah to follow him. “We’re going up.” He forced himself to keep his slow ambling pace toward the elevator.

  “Hey!” the cop yelled. “Stop!”

  Matt froze. He was already on the other side of the metal detector, and they couldn’t run even if they wanted to. Matt turned around slowly, dreading the worst.

  “The woman left her purse.” The policeman held out Adah’s small handbag. “I imagine she wants it.”

  “Thanks, man.” Matt walked back and took the purse. “Appreciate it.”

  The policeman kept glowering at them, but the elevator door opened and closed. Matt and Adah started up to the fifth floor.

  CHAPTER 46

  THE ELEVATOR DOOR opened on the fifth floor. A sign with the words “Unit Six” pointed to the left, indicating the visitation area. Matt and Adah started down the hall.

  “I guess the police inspector called the guards in the detention area and told them we were coming,” Matthew said. “Remember, you sit down first. Break the ice with Mary before we allow her to know who I am. We’ve got to make sure she’s not going to scream and alert them to us. I’ll keep my back to the window.”

  “Okay,” Adah said. “I will.”

  “And quietly. If possible, we don’t want anyone to notice your accent.”

  Matt opened a heavy metal door, and they walked into a room with dirty, smeared walls. Fortunately, no one else was sitting in front of any of the three thick glass windows and visitation cubicles. On the other side of the glass, he could see a narrow shelf and a simple straight-backed chair. Matt turned and faced the entry door to make sure no one slipped in behind them.

  After ten minutes, Matt and Adah heard a door open and knew someone was entering on the back side of the glass divide. A policeman came in leading a girl in handcuffs and wearing a bright orange jumpsuit. Mary looked bent, frightened, and like she might have been treated badly by the authorities. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

  Adah adjusted her sunglasses and studied Mary’s shuffling steps across the room. She had radically changed from a rebellious teenager to a broken child.

  “Sit down!” the cop demanded, and Mary Peck slipped silently into the chair. “You got fifteen minutes, and that’s it!” He walked away and disappeared through the far door.

  Mary Peck slowly looked up with red eyes ringed by dark circles. Her dark hair hung over her eyes in uncombed strands that looked dirty and matted. “Do—do I know you?”

  “Not well,” the Jewish woman answered, “but you’ve met me before.”

  Mary frowned. “Forgive me, but your face doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Are you okay?” Adah pushed on.

  “That accent!” Mary leaned forward and blinked several times. “I know that accent!”

  “You okay?” Adah repeated.

  Mary’s hand came up to her mouth. “Are you . . . that Jewish woman . . . Adah Honi?”

  Adah took off her glasses. “I’ve changed my appearance,” she said. “We must come here disguised.”

  “We?” Mary looked over Adah’s shoulder for the first time. “Who’s we?” Excitement filled her voice.

  Matt turned around slowly and took off his sunglasses. “Remember me?”

  Mary’s mouth dropped. She stared in shock and then suddenly broke into tears. “Matthew! Oh, God help us! It’s you! Matt! I wouldn’t have recognized you.” Mary sobbed. “God bless you for coming.”

  Matt quickly got as close to the glass screen as he could. “Mary, we came to get you out. Do you want our help?”

  “Want it?” Mary sobbed. “Oh, Matt! I’ve been such a pigheaded fool. I can’t believe you’ve put yourself at such a huge risk to see me. How can I ever thank you!”

  “Tell us what happened,” Matt pushed.

  “Oh, I got my head all twisted on backward.” Mary kept crying as she talked. “I wanted to get away, so I caught a ride with a truck driver and rode all the way to Arlington Heights. I called a friend and she took me to the house. That’s where I got caught.”

  “A truck driver?” Matt shook his head. “We never guessed it.”

  “Listen!” Mary put her hand up to the glass. “I want Mom and Dad to know I didn’t talk voluntarily. They drugged me, and I’m still not sure what I told the police.”

  “It’s all right, Mary,” Adah said. “Your folks are fine, and they pray for you every day. They sent us.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Mary shook her head. “After all the trouble I’ve caused everybody. I know I’ve been very hard to live with. I’m so sorry.”

  “We’re here to get you out of this place,” Matt repeated.

  “You can’t,” Mary wailed. “They watch me like a hawk. Cameras are concealed everywhere. The only time I’m alone is in this visitation booth. I’ve had a few friends visit, but then the police scared their parents and they won’t come back.” She shook her head in lament. “I’m so lonely in this torture chamber.”

  “You don’t see anyone else?” Adah asked.

  “Well, actually there’s another person in the cell next to me that knew our family. Her name is Nancy Marks.”

/>   “Nancy Marks!” Matt nearly shouted. “Do you know what her husband, Bill Marks, did?”

  Mary shook her head. “No. What?”

  Matt rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “She’s important. Try to get better acquainted with her, but don’t tell her about our coming to see you.”

  “Okay,” Mary said.

  “We understand the emptiness in here,” Matt said. “We’re going to do our best to get you out.”

  “No! No!” Mary wailed. “I made my big mistake by not listening to Adah, and everything you tried to tell me. Now I have to pay the price for being a fool.” She rubbed her brow. “Bridges’ men rubbed my forehead with a cotton swab. They’ve marked me with the sign of the beast.”

  “Oh!” Matt exclaimed.

  “This isn’t good,” Adah whispered.

  “Listen, Mary.” Matt put his mouth as close to the microphone as he could and spoke softly. “We are living through a terrible time. The tension is out of sight, and all we can do is try our best even when it’s hard. You simply made a mistake.”

  Mary wiped her eyes. “I listened to the wrong people. Sitting in this dirty, empty jail, I realized that the only people who weren’t struggling with confusion were Adah and my family. That’s when I began to understand. It’s taken a while, but I’ve finally seen the light.”

  “The light? What do you mean?” Adah asked.

  “The reason my family knew where they were going was because everyone but me believed in Jesus Christ and read the Bible,” Mary said. “My mistake was I didn’t know how important it is to have your priorities right.” She bowed her head and then looked up, a fresh resoluteness in her eyes. “I’m through listening to my friends, and I’m not confused anymore about what counts.” Mary smiled. “I’ve given my life to Jesus Christ.”

  CHAPTER 47

  THE HELICOPTER carrying Hassan Jawhar Rashid circled the cement pad behind St. Peter’s Basilica on Vatican Hill and slowly settled to the ground. A cluster of dignitaries, waiting for the prime minister of Turkey and now international leader to arrive, waved and saluted as the craft came down. Dr. Creighton Lewis, the bishop of The Restored Church, stood next to the intelligence chief and still mayor of Chicago, Frank Bridges, and his assistant Al Meachem.

  “Do you know what is really happening today?” Lewis shouted to Bridges above the roar of the helicopter’s motor.

  “Supposed to be an important public statement,” Frank Bridges said. “Nothing more’s been released, but we erected a glass shield in front of the speaker’s stand for protection. It’s virtually impossible to see the deflector.”

  Creighton Lewis nodded. “You never know, but when Hassan Rashid calls, everyone pays attention.”

  The helicopter’s engines shut down. Hassan Jawhar Rashid hustled off the vehicle and walked through the line of officials, greeting each person as if they were Rahsid’s most intimate friend.

  “Creighton—” Rashid exclaimed. “I understand The Restored Church is making tremendous progress these days.”

  “Thank you, sir. Since you made it possible for us to obtain these ancient facilities that once belonged to the Vatican, we have gained new heights of international respect.”

  “Good! Good!” Rashid turned to Bridges. “Frank, you’re always looking well. I trust life in Chicago is under control.”

  “Indeed!” Bridges shook his hand firmly. “We have the podium prepared as you directed.”

  Rashid smiled broadly. “I think you’ll like my speech today.”

  “I always do.”

  Rashid turned away, and the group quickly followed him through the garden area then hurried toward the front of St. Peter’s where a platform had been erected. The enormous crowd milling around in front of the podium broke into raucous cheers when the entourage appeared.

  “You’ve really produced a multitude,” Frank Bridges told Creighton Lewis.

  A slight grin crossed the bishop’s face. “We have our methods.”

  “Wasn’t easy to find that many people,” Bridges quipped.

  Creighton sobered. “Times are hard,” he said quietly. “People are bewildered, confused. No, it wasn’t easy.”

  Rashid immediately launched into his speech, predicting that The Restored Church would bring hope and renewed vitality to a broken world. Heaping praise on the church’s new role in society, Rashid proclaimed they would be part of restoring global peace.

  The crowd roared back their applause, and television cameras swept across the mob, recording an affirmation of everything Rashid said.

  “Our plans for a Middle Eastern peace settlement are moving on schedule,” Rashid continued. “I am hopeful I will be able to return to Jerusalem in the immediate future and pave the way for a permanent settlement of all Arab and Jewish differences. I will be coming as the prince of peace.”

  Once again the crowd applauded wildly. The roar echoed across the massive square.

  “Today I am relinquishing my role as the prime minister of Turkey as my global responsibilities are increasing,” Hassan Rashid continued. “I will be uniting the armies of Europe and the Middle East into the most powerful allegiance the world has ever known. As soon as this process is complete, I will become the supreme commander of the global army.”

  People looked shocked and surprised. Silence settled over the crowd. Even Creighton Lewis’s rabble weren’t sure of the meaning of what they were hearing. Frank Bridges sensed uncertainty as the announcement caught him off guard as well.

  “In the future, I will be known simply as Chief.” Rashid paused, then a frown crawled across his face.

  “The crowd isn’t excited by what they are hearing,” Creighton Lewis whispered in Bridges’ ear. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I sense serious unrest.”

  Bridges said nothing but gritted his teeth. He didn’t like the sudden change in the mood of the assembly.

  “In the future, you will salute me as your chief,” Rashid continued, “and, in turn, I will protect you from all the negative forces permeating the world today.” He raised his hand forcefully. “Along with the leadership of The Restored Church, we will immediately—”

  A brigade of men rushed out from the front of the crowd and dropped to their knees. Leveling rifles and MP5 machine guns at Rashid and the dignitaries, they started firing.

  Bridges instantly pressed the button on an alert device in his pocket. Sirens blasted, but nothing could stop the burst of bullets. Rashid’s soldiers, placed in reserve for such an event, ran out from behind the speaker’s platform and started returning gunfire. The crowd screamed and dispersed, stumbling in every direction.

  “Get down!” Bridges screamed at the dignitaries around him. “Hit the floor!”

  One of the attackers leaped up and hurled a grenade at the mayor’s side of the platform. Instantly, Bridges dived behind the bleachers. The ground shook and chairs shattered in every direction. Holding his ears, Bridges rolled up in a ball next to a piece of twisted metal torn from the stands.

  Gunfire continued for several more seconds then abruptly stopped. Bridges could hear Rashid’s men yelling and running away from the platform area. Apparently they had won the battle. He slowly peered over the shattered bleachers.

  Everywhere Frank Bridges looked, people were lying on the ground. Dignitaries had been hit and many were dead. Creighton Lewis lay sprawled over a pile of chairs, but he was still breathing. Bridges leaped over the wreckage and ran to find Rashid.

  The protective glass plate had been shattered in a hundred places by bullets and metal fragments, but there was no sign of Rashid. For the first time, Frank felt pain, and he realized that his pants were torn. His leg was bleeding, but he didn’t stop looking. Bridges saw a figure crouching inside the broad podium. Hassan Rashid slowly crawled out from inside the steel-encased wooden stand.

  “You’re all right?” Bridges blurted out.

  Rashid dusted off his silk suit and glared over the bodies lying everywhere. “Of course!” His eyes fla
shed with anger and fury. “They can’t kill me.”

  “We had security!” Bridges tried to reassure Rashid. “Our men were everywhere. I don’t know where these terrorists came from!”

  Rashid ran his hand over his hair and suddenly the look of intense hostility turned into a smile. “Don’t worry, Frank.” He patted Bridges on the arm. “We will find these people and kill every last one of them.”

  CHAPTER 48

  THE DEADLY ASSAULT in front of St. Peter’s gripped people’s imaginations so fiercely that Hassan Rashid’s message was swept into the backwaters of worldwide attention. The impact of declaring that nations recognize him as “Chief” shrank against the story of death and reactionary resistance to his authority that had instantly spread around the world. The assassination attempt only added to the confusion in the streets.

  Initial television reports speculated that the attackers had come from the Ukraine. When Rashid put together his initial allegiance in Europe, the Ukraine had been passed over because he suspected the country lacked the military resources to make a significant difference. With time, Ukrainian anger turned into deep resentment and hostility.

  Because Creighton Lewis had been injured, some questioned the role of The Restored Church, but the church’s membership reacted with vehement anger. In many small American towns, vigilante groups attacked anyone suspected of what they considered questionable relationships or possible allegiance to any fringe group not considered completely loyal to Rashid’s regime. The volcano in Montana had created fear, but the reaction of The Restored Church brought panic. Adah and Matt realized that in addition to the electronic surveillance, they also had an army of spies walking the streets looking for people like them. They had to pay even closer attention to avoid detection.

  Adah and Matt talked over breakfast in a small café in a Chicago suburb at the corner of Cicero and Ninety-fifth Street. “What do you think about the attack on Rasshid that happened overnight?” Adah said. “How does it look this morning to you?”

  Matt sipped his coffee and thought out loud. “Of course, I was astounded to hear what happened in Europe, but I kept thinking about Nancy Marks being imprisoned at such close proximity to Mary. She adds a completely new dimension to the situation.”