The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books

by Tim LaHaye

  “His number?”

  Hattie showed Buck the business card Nicolae had handed her. It showed his title as president of the Republic of Romania, but his address was not Bucharest as one would expect. It was the Plaza Hotel, his suite number, phone number, and all. Buck was speechless. Carpathia had penciled in another phone number, not at the Plaza, but also in New York. Buck memorized it.

  “We can eat at the Pan-Con Club,” Hattie said. “I don’t really want to see this pilot at one, but I think I will, just to brag about meeting Nicolae.”

  “Oh, now it’s Nicolae, is it?” Buck managed, still shaken by Carpathia’s business card. “Trying to make someone jealous?”

  “Something like that,” she said.

  “Would you excuse me a second?” he said. “I need to make a call before we head back.”

  Hattie waited in the lobby while Buck ducked around the corner and dialed Carolyn Miller. She sounded horrible, as if she had been crying for hours and hadn’t slept, which was no doubt true.

  “Oh, Mr. Williams, I appreciate your calling.”

  “Of course, ma’am, and I am so sorry about your loss. I—”

  “You remember that we’ve met?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Miller. Refresh me.”

  “On the presidential yacht two summers ago.”

  “Certainly! Forgive me.”

  “I just didn’t want you to think we’d never met. Mr. Williams, my husband called me last night before heading for the ferry. He said he was tracking a big story at the Plaza and had run into you.”

  “True.”

  “He told me a crazy story about how you two had a wrestling match or something over an interview with this Romanian guy who spoke at—”

  “Also true. It wasn’t anything serious, ma’am. Just a disagreement. No hard feelings.”

  “That’s how I took it. But that was the last conversation I’ll ever have with him, and it’s driving me crazy. Do you know how cold it was last night?”

  “Nippy, as I recall,” Buck said, puzzled at her abrupt change of subject.

  “Cold, sir. Too cold to be standing outside on the ferry, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And even if he was, he’s a good swimmer. He was a champion in high school.”

  “All due respect, ma’am, but that had to be—what, thirty years ago?”

  “But he’s still a strong swimmer. Trust me. I know.”

  “What are you saying, Mrs. Miller?”

  “I don’t know!” she shouted, crying. “I just wondered if you could shed any light. I mean, he fell off the ferry and drowned? It doesn’t make any sense!”

  “It doesn’t to me either, ma’am, and I wish I could help. But I can’t.”

  “I know,” she said. “I was just hoping.”

  “Ma’am, is someone with you, watching out for you?”

  “Yes, I’m OK. I have family here.”

  “I’ll be thinking of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Buck could see Hattie in a reflection. She seemed patient enough. He called a friend at the telephone company. “Alex! Do me a favor. Can you still tell me who’s listed if I give you a number?”

  “Long as you don’t tell anybody I’m doin’ it.”

  “You know me, man.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Buck recited the number he had memorized from the card Carpathia had given Hattie. Alex was back to him in seconds, reading off the information as it scrolled onto his computer screen. “New York, U.N., administrative offices, secretary-general’s office, unlisted private line, bypasses switchboard, bypasses secretary. OK?”

  “OK, Alex. I owe you.”

  Buck was lost. He couldn’t make any of this compute. He jogged out to Hattie. “I’m gonna be another minute,” he said. “Do you mind?”

  “No. As long as we can get back by one. No telling how long that pilot will wait. He’s got his daughter with him.”

  Buck turned back to the phones, glad he had no interest in competing with Carpathia or this pilot for Hattie Durham’s affection. He called Steve. Marge answered and he was short with her. “Hey, it’s me. I need Plank right away.”

  “Well, have a nice day yourself,” she said and rang him through.

  “Steve,” he said quickly, “your boy just made his first mistake.”

  “What’re you talking about, Buck?”

  “Is your first job going to be announcing Carpathia as the new secretary-general?”

  Silence.

  “Steve? What’s next?”

  “You’re a good reporter, Buck. The best. How did this get out?”

  Buck told him about the business card.

  “Whew! That doesn’t sound like Nicolae. I can’t imagine it was an oversight. Must have been on purpose.”

  “Maybe he’s assuming this Durham woman is too ditzy to figure it out,” Buck said, “or that she wouldn’t show me. But how does he know she won’t call the number too soon and ask for him there?”

  “As long as she waits until tomorrow, Buck, he’ll be all right.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “You can’t use this, all right? Are we off the record?”

  “Steve! Who do you think you’re talking to? Are you working for Carpathia already? You’re still my boss. You don’t want me to run with something, you just tell me. Remember?”

  “Well, I’m telling you. The Kalahari Desert makes up much of Botswana where Secretary-General Ngumo is from. He returns there tomorrow a hero, having become the first leader to gain access to the Israeli fertilizer formula.”

  “And how did he do that?”

  “By his stellar diplomacy, of course.”

  “And he cannot be expected to handle the duties of both the U.N. and Botswana during this strategic moment in Botswana history, right, Steve?”

  “And why should he, when someone is so perfectly suited to step right in? We were there Monday, Buck. Who’s going to oppose this?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I think it’s brilliant.”

  “You’re going to be a perfect press secretary, Steve. And I’ve decided to accept your old job.”

  “Good for you! Now you’ll sit on this till tomorrow, you got it?”

  “Promise. But will you tell me one more thing?”

  “If I can, Buck.”

  “What did Eric Miller get too close to? What lead was he tracking?”

  Steve’s voice became hollow, his tone flat. “All I know about Eric Miller,” he said, “is that he got too close to the railing on the Staten Island Ferry.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Rayford watched Chloe as she wandered around the Pan-Con Club, then stared out the window. He felt like a wimp. For days he had told himself not to push, not to badger her. He knew her. She was like him. She would run the other way if he pushed too hard. She had even talked him into backing off of Hattie Durham, should Hattie show up.

  What was the matter with him? Nothing was as it was before or would ever be again. If Bruce Barnes was right, the disappearance of God’s people was only the beginning of the most cataclysmic period in the history of the world. And here I am, Rayford thought, worried about offending people. I’m liable to “not offend” my own daughter right into hell.

  Rayford also felt bad about his approach to Hattie. He had dealt with his own wrong in having pursued her, and he regretted having led her on. But he could no longer treat her with kid gloves, either. What scared him most was that it seemed, from what Bruce was teaching, that many people would be deceived during these days. Whoever came forward with proclamations of peace and unity had to be suspect. There would be no peace. There would be no unity. This was the beginning of the end, and all would be chaos from now on.

  The chaos would make peacemakers and smooth talkers only more attractive. And to people who didn’t want to admit that God had been behind the disappearances, any other explanation would salve their consciences. There was no more time for poli
te conversation, for gentle persuasion. Rayford had to direct people to the Bible, to the prophetic portions. He felt so limited in his understanding. He had always been an erudite reader, but this stuff from Revelation and Daniel and Ezekiel was new and strange to him. Frighteningly, it made sense. He had begun taking Irene’s Bible with him everywhere he went, reading it whenever possible. While the first officer read magazines during his downtime, Rayford would pull out the Bible.

  “What in the world?” he was asked more than once.

  Unashamed, he said he was finding answers and direction he had never seen before. But with his own daughter and his friend? He had been too polite.

  Rayford looked at his watch. Still a few minutes before one o’clock. He caught Chloe’s eye and signaled that he was going to make a phone call. He dialed Bruce Barnes and told him what he had been thinking.

  “You’re right, Rayford. I went through a few days of that, worried what people would think of me, not wanting to turn anybody off. It just doesn’t make sense anymore, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t. Bruce, I need support. I’m going to start becoming obnoxious, I’m afraid. If Chloe wants to laugh or run the other way, I’m going to force her to make a decision. She’ll have to know exactly what she’s doing. She’ll have to face what we’ve found in the Bible and deal with it. I mean, the two preachers in Israel alone are enough to give me the confidence that things are happening exactly the way the Bible said they would.”

  “Have you been watching this morning?”

  “From a distance here in the terminal. They keep rerunning the attack.”

  “Rayford, get to a TV right now.”

  “What?”

  “I’m hanging up, Ray. See what happened to the attackers and see if that doesn’t confirm everything we read about the two witnesses.”

  “Bruce—”

  “Go, Rayford. And start witnessing yourself, with total confidence.”

  Bruce hung up on him. Rayford knew him well enough, despite their brief relationship, to be more intrigued than offended. He hurried to a TV monitor where he was stunned to hear the report of the deaths of the attackers. He dug out Irene’s Bible and read the passage from Revelation Bruce had spoken from. The men in Jerusalem were the two witnesses, preaching Christ. They had been attacked, and they didn’t even have to respond. The attackers had fallen dead and no harm had been done to the witnesses.

  Now, on CNN, Rayford watched as crowds surged into the area in front of the Wailing Wall to listen to the witnesses. People knelt, weeping, some with their faces on the ground. These were people who had felt the preachers were desecrating the holy place. Now it appeared they were believing what the witnesses said. Or was it merely fear?

  Rayford knew better. He knew that the first of the 144,000 Jewish evangelists were being converted to Christ before his eyes. Without taking his gaze from the screen, he prayed silently, God, fill me with courage, with power, with whatever I need to be a witness. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to wait any longer. I don’t want to worry about offending. Give me a persuasiveness rooted in the truth of your Word. I know it is your Spirit that draws people, but use me. I want to reach Chloe. I want to reach Hattie. Please, Lord. Help me.

  Buck Williams felt naked without his equipment bag. He would feel ready to work only when he had his cell phone, his video recorder, and his new laptop. He asked the cabbie to stop by the Global Weekly office so he could pick up the bag. Hattie waited in the cab, but she told him she was not going to be happy if she missed her appointment. Buck stood by the window of the cab. “I’ll just be a minute,” he said. “I thought you weren’t sure whether you wanted to see this guy.”

  “Well, now I do, OK? Call it revenge or rubbing it in or whatever you want, but it’s not often you get to tell a captain you’ve met someone he hasn’t.”

  “You talking about Nicolae Carpathia or me?”

  “Very funny. Anyway, he has met you.”

  “This is the captain from that flight where you and I met?”

  “Yes—now hurry!”

  “I might want to meet him.”

  “Go!”

  Buck called Marge from the lobby. “Could you meet me at the elevator with my equipment bag? I’ve got a cab waiting here.”

  “I would,” she said, “but both Steve and the old man are asking for you.”

  What now? he wondered. Buck checked his watch, wishing the elevator was faster. Such was life in the skyscrapers.

  He grabbed his bag from Marge, breezed into Steve’s office, and said, “What’s up? I’m on the run.”

  “Boss wants to see us.”

  “What’s it about?” Buck said as they headed down the hall.

  “Eric Miller, I think. Maybe more. You know Bailey wasn’t thrilled at my short notice. He only agreed to it thinking that you’d jump at the promotion, because you know where everything is and what’s planned for the next couple of weeks.”

  In Bailey’s office the boss got right to the point. “I’m gonna ask you two some pointed questions, and I want some quick and straight answers. A whole bunch of stuff is coming down right now, and we’re gonna be on top of every bit of it. First off, Plank, rumors are flying that Mwangati Ngumo is calling a press conference for late this afternoon, and everybody thinks he’s stepping down as secretary-general.”

  “Really?” Plank said.

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” Bailey growled. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure what’s happening here. If he’s stepping down, your guy knows about it. You forget I was in charge of the African bureau when Botswana became an associate member of the European Common Market. Jonathan Stonagal had his fingers all over that, and everybody knows he’s one of this Carpathia guy’s angels. What’s the connection?”

  Buck saw Steve pale. Bailey knew more than either of them expected. For the first time in years, Steve sounded nervous, almost panicky. “I’ll tell you what I know,” he said, but Buck guessed there was more he didn’t say. “My first assignment tomorrow morning is to deny Carpathia’s interest in the job. He’s going to say he has too many revolutionary ideas and that he would insist on almost unanimous approval on the parts of the current members. They would have to agree to his ideas for reorganization, a change of emphasis, and a few other things.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m not at liberty to—”

  Bailey rose, his face red. “Let me tell you something, Plank. I like you. You’ve been a superstar for me. I sold you to the rest of the brass when nobody else recognized you had what it takes. You sold me on this punk here, and he’s made us all look good. But I paid you six figures long before you deserved it because I knew someday it would pay off. And it did. Now, I’m telling you that nothing you say here is gonna go past these walls, so I don’t want you holdin’ out on me.

  “You brats think that because I’m two or three years from the pasture, I don’t still have contacts, don’t have my ear to the ground. Well, let me tell you, my phone’s been ringing off the hook since you left here this morning, and I’ve got a gut feeling something big is coming down. Now what is it?”

  “Who’s been calling you, sir?” Plank said.

  “Well, first off, I get a call from a guy who knows the vice president of Romania. Word over there is the guy has been asked to be prepared to run the day-to-day stuff indefinitely. He’s not going to become the new president because they just got one, but that tells me Carpathia expects to be here a while.

  “Then, people I know in Africa tell me Ngumo has some inside track on the Israeli formula but that he’s quietly not happy about the deal requiring him to step down from the U.N. He’s going to do it, but there’s going to be trouble if everything doesn’t go as promised.

  “Then, of all things, I get a call from the publisher at Seaboard Monthly wanting to talk to me about how you, Cameron, and his guy that drowned last night were working the same angle on Carpathia, and whether I think you’re going to mysteriously ge
t dead, too. I told him that as far as I knew, you were working on a general cover story about the guy and that we were going to be positive. He said his guy had intended to take a slightly different approach—you know, zig when everybody else is zagging. Miller was doing a story on the meaning behind the disappearances, which I know you were planning for an issue or two from now. How that ties in with Carpathia, and why it might paint him in a dark light, I don’t know. Do you?”

  Buck shook his head. “I see them as two totally different pieces. I asked Carpathia what he made of what happened, and everybody has heard that answer. I didn’t know that’s what Miller was working on, and I sure wouldn’t have thought he would somehow link Carpathia with the disappearances.”

  Bailey sat back down. “To tell you the truth, when I first took the call from the guy at Seaboard, I thought he was calling for a reference on you, Cameron. I was thinking, if I lose both these turkeys the same week, I’m taking early retirement. Can we get that stuff out of the way, before I make Plank tell me what else he knows?”

  “What stuff?” Buck said.

  “You looking to leave?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You taking the promotion?”

  “I am.”

  “Good! Now, Steve. What else is Carpathia gonna push for before he accepts the U.N. job?” Plank hesitated and looked as if he were considering whether he should tell what he knew. “I’m telling you, you owe me,” Bailey said. “Now I don’t intend to use this. I just want to know. Cameron and I have to decide which story we’re going to push first. I want to get him onto the one that interests me most, the one about what was behind the disappearances. Sometimes I think we get too snooty as a newsmagazine and we forget that everyday people out there are scared to death, wanting to make some sense of all this. Now, Steve, you can trust me. I already told you I won’t tell anyone or compromise you. Just run it down for me. What does Carpathia want, and is he going to take this job?”

  Steve pursed his lips and began reluctantly. “He wants a new Security Council setup, which will include some of his own ideas for ambassadors.”

  “Like Todd-Cothran from England?” Buck said.