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by Robert L. Wise

  “How?”

  “Because her husband tried to kill the Antichrist, Nancy becomes a much more important person. We must think about getting her out, too.”

  Adah looked out the window. “I don’t know, Matt. Events everywhere are headed on a worldwide collision course. Some people have made politics into their religion.” She shrugged. “Maybe Nancy Marks is to us more of an obstacle. The newspapers didn’t push the story this morning, but Rashid is hell-bent on forcing Israel to sign an agreement. That’s simply another big piece of the prophecy puzzle in place.”

  “If Nancy Marks were in your shoes, would you want her help in trying to get out of jail?”

  “Of course!”

  “Does that answer your question?”

  Adah’s sly grin communicated her thoughts. “I think you are playing Christian on me now. Yes, of course, I would help. My question is answered.”

  “What I’m most worried about is the fact that Mary’s forehead has been marked with the sign. We’ve got to get around that problem.”

  “Matt!” Adah grabbed his hand. “There are people across the street looking into this window!”

  Trying not to react, Matt looked out the corner of his eye. “Looks like ordinary citizens.”

  “No. Watch them. One of them has a cell phone and is making a call right now. They are watching us through the window.”

  Matt peered straight out the window. “Adah, why would they be watching us?”

  “I don’t know, but it scares me.”

  Matt thought for a moment. “Look at your shoes.” He brought his foot up over his knees and glanced at the sole. “Nothing here.” He glanced at the other foot.

  “Oh no!” Adah pulled off her sandal. “Look.” She pointed to a small brown dot attached to the heel of her shoe.

  “The jailer must have tagged you at the Cook County Jail.” Matt glanced out the window again. “I’m sure they figured out by now that we don’t have security markings on our foreheads, and that’s what tipped them off. They’ve probably been watching us since early this morning.”

  “What’ll I do?” Adah’s eyes widened.

  Matt pulled a pocketknife from his pocket and carefully scratched off the dot. He took a napkin and wiped the blade, leaving the marking on the napkin.

  “Did you get it all?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll find out soon enough.” He nodded toward the restroom. “Go back there and then duck out the back door. I’ll try the front door and see if I can shake them. We need to give each other at least thirty minutes to see if this ploy has worked. State Street cuts through this section of town at an angle. Meet me on the corner of State and Eighty-seventh in around thirty minutes.”

  “What if this isn’t the only tag they put on us?”

  Matt could see Adah looked more than concerned, but he had to be honest. “Then they may well catch us when we show up on Eighty-seventh.”

  Adah swallowed hard. “God help us.” She slid out and walked quickly down the hall.

  CHAPTER 49

  MATT RUSHED OUT the front door of the restaurant and ran east on Ninety-fifth Street. At the street corner, he glanced over his shoulder and saw a man and a woman still following him. Without waiting for the light to change, he dashed across the street. The couple broke into a trot.

  They’re too obvious, Matt thought as he ran. Trained police wouldn’t stay out in the open. They have to be vigilantes, Restored Church members, plain old citizens. I’ve got a real chance to lose them!

  A narrow space between two apartment buildings opened in front of him, and he darted between the buildings. Matt came to the alley, and he ran even harder. When he reached the end of the next block, he stopped and peered over the top of a large trash bin. He could see the man and woman standing in the alley a couple of blocks back. They kept walking around and looking behind barrels. Turning in the opposite direction from him, they continued searching at the opposite end of the alley.

  “Wh-e-e!” Matt wiped his forehead and had just started south when a police cruiser turned the street corner ahead of him. He froze but realized he mustn’t look suspicious and started walking again. The car didn’t slow down when it passed him. He kept moving.

  In ten minutes he reached the corner of State and Eighty-seventh Street. Adah wasn’t in sight! Fighting panic, Matt started slowly walking east on Eighty- seventh. At the end of the block, he turned around and came back.

  “They caught her!” he mumbled under his breath. “Must have!” Matt tightened his fists in desperation.

  “P-s-s-t!” a voice whispered from behind him.

  Matt whirled around and saw a small form standing behind a telephone booth. “Adah!” he gasped.

  “Quick,” the Jewish woman said. “Over here.”

  Hurrying to the back of the obscure battered booth, Matt hugged his friend fiercely. “For a minute I thought they’d grabbed you.”

  “No,” Adah said. “They didn’t even realize I went out the back kitchen door. No one followed me.”

  “Praise God!” Matt hugged her again. “At least we’re next to a phone booth. I think we should check in with my parents. Let’s call the house in Wisconsin.”

  “Sure.” Adah pushed the phone booth door open for him.

  Matt dialed the number, and his father answered the phone.

  “We didn’t call you earlier,” Matt explained, “because I wanted to make sure no one had zeroed in on us and might trace the call. I’m certain that we’re okay.”

  “Good, son. What did you find out?”

  Matt quickly detailed the experience at the jail. “And we found Nancy Marks,” he concluded. “She’s in a cell close to Mary.”

  “That’s a surprise,” Graham said. “Be careful. I’m sure both Mary and Nancy are prime candidates for close surveilance.” Graham thought a moment. “On the other hand, the police may not associate Nancy as having any relationship with us, since Mary is so much younger and only my daughter. I always maintained a distance from Bill Marks.”

  “Interesting thought,” Matt said. “We’re staying with the original plan you worked out for me before we left. We’ll see if we can work Nancy in.”

  “Good.”

  “There is one problem. Mary’s forehead has been marked with the nanorobots. She’s no longer free of the curse.”

  “Oh,” Graham groaned. “We will have to think carefully about that . . . because it is a problem.”

  “What do you think, Dad?”

  “I simply don’t know. Let me think about it overnight. Son, never in your life has it been so important to be extremely careful. Bridges never was a fool, and now he’s increased his capabilities with everything from electronic surveillance to an army of civilian spies. You’re in an extremely dangerous place. Pay attention to everything!”

  CHAPTER 50

  HASSAN JAWHAR RASHID had stewed day and night since the attack at St. Peter’s. He had anticipated some opposition, but nothing of these proportions. Seldom caught off guard, the suddenness and scope of the attack profoundly angered him. Bill Marks’ attempted assassination at the United Nations Building proved to be the first clue that security issues were far more serious than he had suspected, but the audacity and ferocity of the second assassination attempt in Rome had astounded him. Fortunately, he had made security arrangements broad enough to protect himself, but others whose advice he valued had been killed. Sitting in his spacious and luxurious offices in New York City, one conclusion was clear. Rashid was determined to stop these capricious assaults. He needed to find a new and more powerful means to control the masses.

  When Peck’s face abruptly floated through his mind, it bothered Hassan. Somewhat to his surprise, he still worried about what had become of Graham Peck. Rashid thought Bridges should have captured the man long before now. Locking up Peck’s daughter was a step in the right direction, but only a very small step. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but this man remained a threat in Rashid’s
thinking, and he was determined to wipe Peck out. Sooner or later, they’d catch and kill this irritant.

  The large ornate clock on the wall struck the hour. It was time for the next important meeting to begin. Abu Shad should have everything in place, and the delegates would be present by now. Hassan reached up and felt his brow. While a touch of makeup here and there concealed the scar adequately, he could feel the effects of the gunshot wound. His cheek remained shrunken and distorted his face. He hated the mutilation. A sobering reminder, indeed! Nothing of such magnitude must ever again escape his personal attention.

  Pushing back from the mammoth mahogany desk and adjusting the collar on his Nehru jacket, Rashid walked resolutely toward the conference room down the hall. Assistants immediately opened the tall doors as he approached.

  In addition to ten generals from across Europe and Frank Bridges, Dr. Creighton Lewis sat at the table with his arm in a sling. Five key administrators from his international oil consortium had been stationed at the far end of the table. Everyone stood when Rashid walked in.

  “Thank you, gentlemen.” Rashid motioned for them to be seated. “Our meeting today is of primary importance. Since the unfortunate incident in Rome, it has become clear that we must stop these arbitrary attacks, which serve only to deter us from our resolute course.” He pointed to Frank Bridges. “What have the most recent intelligence efforts revealed?”

  Bridges pulled a file out of his briefcase. “We scoured all possible details obtained from the bodies of the assailants, and made a thorough investigation of each attacker’s personal history. To our surprise we found that they were from France, Germany, Poland, the Netherlands, and even a few from Turkey. They were not from countries outside your alliances.”

  Rashid stiffened but said nothing.

  “We were concerned by their Western European orientation,” Bridges continued. “Apparently tensions created by economics, confusion, weather disasters, and political unrest have proved more significant than we would have concluded.”

  Hassan Rashid nodded. “People have to eat to live. Economic problems twist their minds. We can expect the recent shortages to have created problems. Am I wrong?”

  All heads around the table nodded agreement.

  “As you know, Dr. Creighton Lewis is bishop of The Restored Church,” Rashid continued. “How do you access the outreach and growth of your religious movement? Please be perfectly candid.”

  Lewis squirmed nervously in his chair. “We have picked up many people who once had relationships of some variety with Christian churches. In addition, our members have reacted in the ways we desired and have searched out many subversives, particularly in the United States.” He paused and took a deep breath. “However, we have also been surprised by the recent negative reactions of citizens in many countries. A sense of confusion appears to be turning into hostility toward the establishment.” He coughed. “Al-sayyid Rashid, you are becoming the establishment.”

  Rashid nodded. “I am aware that prominence can create misunderstanding. No surprise there. Globalism is already recognized as a powerful political force across the world. What we must do is reduce individualism and help dissidents become a part of the common cause. They need to be caught up in the vision and dreams of the larger national body. Their personal fears must be sublimated by a new allegiance to the collective good of all the people. They should recognize The Restored Church as their hope, their salvation.” He smiled. “Nothing is more powerful than religious motivation.”

  Creighton Lewis raised his hand. “I would add another thought to the concept you are developing. Not intending to be technical or theological, I must point out what the meaning of the word ‘god’ actually is. Anything that gives our lives meaning and ultimate direction is our god, whether it be business, politics, or money. We give our ultimate allegiance to whatever is truly our god.” He pointed at Rashid. “While we recognize and support your leadership in the church, Al-sayyid Rashid, I believe we must make the ideas you stand for more final, more enduring, more conclusive.”

  Rashid blinked several times. Lewis’s line of thought caught him off guard and wasn’t what he expected. “I’m not sure I am following you.”

  “If you become ultimate to these people,” Lewis said. “You actually become their god. Whether they use the word or not, you will be their divinity.”

  “Extremely interesting,” Rashid said slowly as the idea grabbed his imagination. “Very good. I want you to work on this approach, Creighton. Yes, I want you to refine what you suggested. Perhaps this concept is exactly what we need right now. How can I be made into their god!”

  CHAPTER 51

  WITH A RESOLUTE but dramatic flourish, Hassan Jawhar Rashid walked from the conference room. The generals and petroleum executives immediately broke into a discussion of how to proceed with the chief’s directives. Bishop Creighton Lewis turned to Frank Bridges and smiled.

  “I think he liked my suggestions about upping the ante on how people see his status,” he joked. “Everybody wants to be god.”

  Bridges nodded. “Good idea, Bishop. I sensed our chief was a bit edgy today.”

  Lewis nodded. “Yeah, I noticed he seemed slightly more nervous than usual.” Creighton leaned back in his chair. “We’re both on the top level of how this operation is playing out. We can be candid. What’s your evaluation on how matters are unfolding in America?”

  Frank Bridges pursed his lips and studied Lewis for a moment. The bishop had always been a straightforward and candid type of man. While exercising caution, Frank sensed he could be fairly honest with Lewis. “I think the status of the president of the United States has been minimized by such recent events as the volcano eruption in Montana,” Bridges began. “Citizens aren’t sure if anyone’s actually running the ship. That particular problem is good for the chief’s interest.”

  “I sense the same thing. We’re finding our church members to be increasingly uneasy about the capacity of the president to actually keep the country on course. As a matter of fact, that’s part of what’s creating this new dangerous political polarity.”

  “Ever hear of groups of six people dying at one time?” Bridges asked.

  The bishop frowned and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Sounds rather gruesome.”

  “Hmm. Interesting. Seems to be happening around Chicago. Well, we both have to be concerned with stopping the radicals from recruiting people who could turn into enemy troops. Your boys have done quite a job hitting the troublemakers across America.”

  “Which reminds me,” Lewis said. “We haven’t even picked up a hint of a lead on this Graham Peck guy you’re looking for. Of course, Chicago is a big city.”

  “We’re still looking for him,” Bridges said. “If your people get a drop on him, kill the man on the spot. That little action would make Rashid very, very happy.”

  Creighton Lewis jerked and blinked a couple of times. “I see,” he said, all levity disappearing from his voice. “Well, got to run.” He stood and hurried out the door. “Stay in touch,” he said over his shoulder.

  Frank Bridges watched the bishop walk away, realizing the man lacked any sort of killer instinct. He was bright, but no more than a functionary, a paper shuffler. And what Bridges needed was a plain and simple killer. He and his people had to keep looking for Graham Peck themselves.

  CHAPTER 52

  VOLCANIC ASH, small pumice bombs, and pyroclastic fragments floated through the air even though the Montana volcano eruption had subsided. The moon stayed behind the thick clouds of dust, turning the evening pitch-black. By midnight, it was virtually impossible to see anything more than a couple of feet ahead. The eerie cast of the sky kept people indoors, but it provided the ideal setting for sneaking through the night unobserved.

  Parking their car five miles away, Matt and Adah walked cautiously down the avenues toward the Peck home in Arlington Heights. Streetlights provided an obscure glow, which made the boulevards appear more like fog-covered old al
leys in London. Wearing totally black clothing, Matt and Adah faded into the dismal night scene.

  Matt maintained a fast clip down familiar streets. Adah said nothing but kept up with his pace. Two blocks from the Pecks’ former residence, he stopped.

  “From here on we must assume they’ve got cameras or police stationed close by,” Matt said. “We can’t possibly spot the electronic surveillance, so we’ll have to trust the dark night to shield us.”

  Adah momentarily closed her eyes and prayed. “Lord, please protect us.” She abruptly smiled. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “I’m not,” Matt said. “We’re going to have to carefully cut through backyards. I did such rooting around when I was a child, but nobody would have shot me then. Today, they’d fire first and ask questions later.”

  “I understand.”

  “All right. Stay close to me, and keep low and out of sight.” Matt pointed to the fashionable and expensive homes in front of them. “We can’t say a word. If we get caught here, it’s all over not only for us, but Mary as well.”

  “I will be careful,” Adah said.

  “Let’s go.”

  Without anything more being said, Matt bent low and slipped into the bushes leading into the next backyard. Carefully moving in and out of the shrubs, he worked his way into the grassy area behind the house. Matt climbed the fence at the side of the house, Adah staying right behind him. Once on the other side, they worked their way carefully through the next yard.

  “There’s no fence here,” Matt whispered. “We can walk faster.”

  Suddenly a light came on in a kitchen. Matt grabbed Adah’s arm, nearly sending her sprawling in the grass. He could feel his heart beating faster and feared they had been spotted.

  For a moment nothing happened, then a man walked into the kitchen wearing only an undershirt and boxer shorts. He opened the refrigerator and took out a quart of milk. After slowly pouring himself a glass, he drank it and put the milk back in the refrigerator. The light went off, and he disappeared.