by Tim LaHaye
“So while you say you’re grieving over the deaths of your friends, in reality you’re glad they’re both dead.”
Carpathia sat back, looking impressed. “Precisely. Glad for your sake. I grieve their loss. They were old friends and once trusted advisers, even mentors. But when they went bad, I was going to have to do something about it. And make no mistake, I would have. But Jonathan did it for me.”
“Imagine that,” Buck said. Carpathia’s eyes bored into him as he seemed to examine Buck’s mind.
“I never cease to be amazed,” Nicolae continued, “at how quickly things change.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Not a month ago I served in the Romanian senate. The next minute I was president of the country, and an hour later I became secretary-general of the United Nations.”
Buck smiled at Carpathia’s attempt at hyperbole, and yet his ascent to power had seemed almost that fast. Buck’s smile faded when Carpathia added, “It is almost enough to make an atheist believe in God.”
“But you ascribe it to good karma,” Buck said.
“Frankly,” Carpathia said, “it merely humbles me. In many ways it does seem this has been my destiny, but I never would have dreamed it or imagined it, let alone planned it. I have sought no office since I ran for the Romanian senate, and yet this has been thrust upon me. I can do nothing less than give it my all and hope I act in a manner worthy of the trust that has been placed in me.”
A month earlier, Buck would have cursed the man to his face. He wondered if his sentiment showed. Apparently it did not.
“Buck,” Carpathia continued, “I need you. And this time I am not going to take no for an answer.”
Rayford clicked off his cell phone after talking with Bruce Barnes. Rayford had asked if he could come a few minutes early that night to show Bruce something, but he did not tell him what it was. He pulled the note from Hattie from his breast pocket and spread it across the steering wheel. What in the world did it mean, and how did she, or obviously her boss, know where to find him?
His cell phone chirped. He pushed a button and spoke into the speaker embedded in the visor in front of him. “Ray Steele,” he said.
“Daddy, have you been on the phone?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Earl’s been trying to reach you.”
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know. Sounds serious though. I told him you were on the way home and he was surprised. He said something about nobody ever keeping him informed about anything. He thought you were coming back from Dallas later and—”
“So did I.”
“Anyway, he had been hoping to catch you at O’Hare before you left.”
“I’ll call him. See you tonight. I’m going to go a little early to talk with Bruce. You can come with me and wait in the outer office, or we can take two cars.”
“Yeah, right, Dad. I’m so sure I’ll wait in the outer office and have to face Buck alone. I don’t think so. You go ahead. I’ll be a few minutes late.”
“Oh, Chloe.”
“Don’t start, Dad.”
Buck felt bold. Curious, but bold. Certainly he wanted to hear what Carpathia had in mind, but it seemed the man was most impressed when Buck spoke his mind. Buck wasn’t ready to tell him all that he knew and what he really thought, and he probably never would, but he felt he owed it to himself to speak up now.
“I probably shouldn’t have come without knowing what you wanted,” Buck said. “I almost didn’t. I took my time getting back to Steve.”
“Oh, let us be frank and serious,” Carpathia said. “I am a diplomat, and I am sincere. You must know me well enough by now to know that.” He paused as if waiting for Buck to assure him it was true. Buck did not even nod. “But, come, come. You do not apologize or explain why you ignored my last invitation, and yet I hold no grudge. You could not have afforded to snub me again.”
“I couldn’t? What would have happened to me?”
“Perhaps it would have gotten back to Stanton Bailey again, and you would have been demoted even further. Or fired. Disgraced either way. I am not naive, Buck. I know the origin of your nickname, and it is part of what I admire so much about you. But you cannot keep bucking me. It is not that I consider myself anything special, but the world and the news media do. People ignore me at their peril.”
“So I should be afraid of you, and that’s why I should look favorably on whatever role you’re about to offer me?”
“Oh, no! Afraid of ignoring me, yes, but only for the obvious, practical reasons I just outlined. But that fear should motivate you only to come when I ask and provide your way. It should never be the basis on which you decide to work with me. It will not take fear to persuade you on that score.” Buck wanted to ask what it would take, but it was clear that was what Nicolae wanted him to ask, so he again said nothing.
“What is that old phrase from the movies you Americans are so fond of? ‘An offer you cannot refuse’? That is what I have for you.”
“Rayford, I hate to do this to you, but we’ve got to talk face-to-face, and this afternoon.”
“Earl, I’m almost home.”
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important.”
“What’s up?”
“If I could tell you over the phone, I wouldn’t be apologizing about insisting on the face-to-face, would I?”
“You want me to head back there right now?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry.”
“There are laws and there are rules,” Carpathia was saying. “Laws I obey. Rules I do not mind ignoring if I can justify it. For instance, in your country you are not allowed to bring your own food into a sporting arena. Something about wanting to keep all the concession money for management. Fine. I can see why they would have such a rule, and if I were the owner, I would probably try to enforce the same. But I would not consider it a criminal act to smuggle in my own snack. You follow me?”
“I guess.”
“There is a rule that pertains to heads of state and official bodies, like the United Nations. It is understood that only in a repressive dictatorship would the ruler have any ownership or financial interest in a major news media outlet.”
“Absolutely.”
“But is it a law?”
“In the United States it is.”
“But internationally?”
“Not uniformly.”
“There you go.”
Carpathia clearly wanted Buck to ask where he was going, but Buck would not. “You are fond of the term bottom line,” Nicolae said. “I have heard you use it. I know what it means. The bottom line here is that I am going to purchase major media, and I want you to be part of it.”
“Part of what?”
“Part of the management team. I will become sole owner of the great newspapers of the world, the television networks, the wire services. You may run for me any one of those you wish.”
“The secretary-general of the U.N. owning major media? How could you ever possibly justify that?”
“If laws need to be changed, they will change. If ever the time was right to have a positive influence on the media, Buck, it is now. Do you not agree?”
“I do not.”
“Millions have vanished. People are scared. They are tired of war, tired of bloodshed, tired of chaos. They need to know that peace is within our grasp. The response to my plan to disarm the world has been met with almost unanimous favor.”
“Not by the American militia movement.”
“Bless them,” Carpathia said, smiling. “If we accomplish what I have proposed, do you really think a bunch of zealots running around in the woods wearing fatigues and shooting off popguns will be a threat to the global community? Buck, I am merely responding to the heartfelt wishes of the decent citizens of the world. Of course there will still be bad apples, and I would never forbid the news media to give them fair coverage, but I do this with the purest of motives. I do not need money. I have a sea o
f money.”
“The U.N. is that flush?”
“Buck, let me tell you something that few others know, and because I trust you, I know you will keep my confidence. Jonathan Stonagal named me the sole beneficiary of his estate.”
Buck could not hide his surprise. That Carpathia might be named in the multibillionaire’s will would have shocked no one, but sole beneficiary? That meant Carpathia now owned the major banks and financial institutions in the world.
“But, but, his family . . . ,” Buck managed.
“I have already settled out of court with them. They pledge to keep silence and never again contest the will, and they get 100 million dollars each.”
“That would silence me,” Buck said. “But how much did they sacrifice by not getting their fair share?”
Carpathia smiled. “And you wonder why I admire you? You know that Jonathan was the wealthiest man in history. To him money was simply a commodity. He did not even carry a wallet. In his own charming way, he was frugal. He would let a lesser man pick up a dinner check, and in the next breath buy a company for hundreds of millions. It was just numbers to him.”
“And what will it be for you?”
“Buck, I say this from the bottom of my heart. What this tremendous resource gives me is the opportunity to achieve my lifelong dream. I want peace. I want global disarmament. I want the peoples of the world to live as one. The world should have seen itself as one village as soon as air travel and satellite communications brought us all together decades ago. But it took the vanishings—which may have been the best thing that ever happened to this planet—to finally bring us together. When I speak, I am heard and seen nearly all over the world.
“I am not interested in personal wealth,” Nicolae continued. “My history proves that. I know the value of money. I do not mind using it as a form of persuasion, if it is what motivates a person. But all I care about is mankind.” Buck was sick to his stomach, and his mind was flooded with images. Carpathia staged Stonagal’s “suicide” and manufactured more witnesses than any court would ever need. Now was the man trying to impress him with his altruism, his largesse?
Buck’s mind flew to Chicago, and he suddenly missed Chloe. What was this? Something in him longed to simply talk with her. Of all the times for it to become crystal clear that he did not want to be “just friends,” this was the worst. Was it merely Carpathia’s shocking admission that made him long for something or someone comfortable and safe? There was a purity, a freshness about Chloe. How had he mistaken his feelings for her as mere fascination with a younger woman?
Carpathia stared at him. “Buck, you will never tell a living soul what I have told you today. No one must ever know. You will work for me, and you will enjoy privileges and opportunities beyond your imagination. You will think about it, but you will say yes in the end.”
Buck fought to keep his mind on Chloe. He admired her father, and he was developing a deep bond with Bruce Barnes, a person with whom he would never have had anything in common before becoming a follower of Christ. But Chloe was the object of his attention, and he realized that God had planted these thoughts to help him resist the hypnotic, persuasive power of Nicolae Carpathia.
Did he love Chloe Steele? He couldn’t say. He hardly knew her. Was he attracted to her? Of course. Did he want to date her, to begin a relationship with her? Absolutely.
“Buck, if you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
Buck heard the question and stalled, pursing his lips to appear to be thinking about it. All he could think of was Chloe. What would she think if she knew this? Here he sat as the most-talked-about man in the world offered him a blank check, and all he could think about was a twenty-year-old college dropout from Chicago.
“Where, Buck?”
“I’m living there now,” Buck said.
“Chicago?”
“Chicago.”
In truth, he suddenly couldn’t imagine living apart from Chloe. Her body language and responses the last couple of days told him he had alienated her somehow, but he had to believe it was not too late to turn that around. When he showed interest, she had too. When he gave an unclear signal, so did she. He would clarify his interest and hope for the best. There were still serious questions to consider, but for now all he knew was that he missed her terribly.
“Why would anyone want to live in Chicago?” Carpathia asked. “I know the airport is central, but what else does it offer? I am asking you to expand your horizons, Buck. Think Washington, London, Paris, Rome, New Babylon. You have lived here for years, and you know it is the capital of the world—at least until we relocate our headquarters.”
“You asked me where I would like to live if I could live anywhere,” Buck said. “Frankly, I could live anywhere. With wireless Internet, I can file a story from the North Pole. I did not choose Chicago, but now I would not want to leave there.”
“What if I offered you millions to relocate?”
Buck shrugged and chuckled. “You have a corner on the wealth of the world, and you say you are not motivated by money. Well, I have very little, and I am truly not motivated by it.”
“What motivates you?”
Buck prayed quickly and silently. God, Christ, salvation, the Tribulation, love, friends, lost souls, the Bible, learning, preparing for the Glorious Appearing, New Hope Village Church, Chloe. Those were the things that motivated him, but could he say that? Should he? God, give me the words!
“I am motivated by truth and justice,” Buck said flatly.
“Ah, and the American way!” Carpathia said. “Just like Superman!”
“More like Clark Kent,” Buck said. “I’m just a reporter for a great metropolitan weekly.”
“All right, you want to live in Chicago. What would you like to do, if you could do anything you wanted?”
Suddenly Buck snapped back to reality. He wished he could retreat to his private thoughts of Chloe, but he felt the pressure of the clock. This trip, strange as it had been, had been worth the grief just for that morsel about Carpathia’s inheritance from Stonagal. He didn’t like sparring with Nicolae, and he worried about the minefield represented by this latest question.
“Anything I wanted? I suppose I used to see myself one day in a publisher’s role, you know, when I’m a little long in the tooth to be running all over the world chasing down stories. It would have been fun to have a great team of talented people and assign them, coach them, and put together a publication that showcased their abilities. I’d miss the legwork though, the research, the interviewing, and the writing.”
“What if you could do both? Have the authority and the staff and the publication, and also give yourself some of the best assignments?”
“I suppose that would have been the ultimate.”
“Buck, before I tell you how I can make that happen, tell me why you talk about your dreams in the past tense, as if you no longer have them.”
Buck had not been careful. When he had relied on God for an answer, he had been given one. When he ventured out on his own, he had slipped. He knew the world had only seven more years, once the treaty was signed between Carpathia and Israel.
“I guess I just wonder how long this old world has,” Buck said. “We’re still digging out from the devastation of the disappearances, and—”
“Buck! You insult me! We are closer to world peace now than we have been in a hundred years! My humble proposals have found such receptive ears that I believe we are about to usher in an almost utopian global society! Trust me! Stay with me! Join me! You can fulfill all your dreams! You are not motivated by money? Good! Neither am I. Let me offer you resources that will allow you to never think or worry about money again.
“I can offer you a position, a publication, a staff, a headquarters, and even a retreat, that will allow you to do all you have ever wanted to do and even live in Chicago.”
Carpathia paused, as he always did, waiting for Buck to bite. And Buck bit.
“This I
’ve got to hear,” he said.
“Excuse me one moment, Buck,” Carpathia said, and he buzzed Hattie. Apparently he signaled her in a different way than usual, because rather than answering on the intercom, she appeared at the door behind Buck. He turned to acknowledge her, and she winked at him.
“Ms. Durham,” Carpathia said, “would you inform Dr. Rosenzweig, Mr. Plank, and President Fitzhugh that I am running a bit behind schedule. I am estimating ten more minutes here, another ten with Chaim and Steve, and then we will be in Washington by five.”
“Very good, sir.”
Rayford parked at O’Hare and hurried through the terminal to the underground control center and Earl Halliday’s office. Earl had been his chief pilot for years, and Rayford had grown from being one of his best young pilots to one of his veteran stars. Rayford felt fortunate to be at a place now where he and Earl could speak in shorthand, cutting through the bureaucratic red tape and getting to the heart of matters.
Earl was waiting outside his office door and looking at his watch when Rayford approached. “Good,” Earl said. “C’mon in.”
“Nice to see you, too,” Rayford said, tucking his cap under his arm as he sat.
Earl sat in the only other chair in his cluttered office, the one behind his desk. “We’ve got a problem,” he began.
“Thanks for easing into it,” Rayford said. “Did Edwards write me up for, what did you call it, proselytizing?”
“That’s only one part of the problem. If it wasn’t for that, I’d be sitting here giving you some incredible news.”
“Such as?”
“First tell me if I misunderstood you. When I first came down on you about talking about God on the job, you said you had to think about it. I said if you’d just assure me you’d back off, I’d make the write-up by Edwards go away. Right?”
“Right.”
