by Tim LaHaye
On Helen Cavenaugh’s other side was a thin young man who appeared in his early twenties. His eyes darted and he ran his hands through his hair. “I need a smoke,” he said. “You got any cigarettes?”
Buck shook his head. The man rolled onto his side, pulled his knees up to his chest, and lay rocking. Buck would not have been surprised to find the man’s thumb in his mouth.
Time was of the essence, but who knew what trauma Mrs. Cavenaugh was sleeping off? She had very nearly been killed, and she had no doubt seen the remains of her house when she was carted away. Buck grabbed a plastic chair and sat at the foot of her cot. He wouldn’t wake her, but he would talk to her at the first sign of consciousness.
Rayford wondered when he had become such a pessimist. And why hadn’t it affected his bedrock belief that his wife was still alive? He didn’t believe Carpathia’s implication that she had been working for the Global Community. Or was that, too, just a story from Mac?
Since he had become a believer, Rayford had begun to look on the brighter side, in spite of the chaos. But now, a deep, dark sense of foreboding came over him as Mac landed, still silent. They secured the helicopter and completed postflight procedures. Before they passed security to enter the shelter, Mac said, “This is all complicated too, Captain, because you are my boss.”
That had not seemed to affect anything else that day. They had flown more as buddies than as boss and subordinate. Rayford would have no trouble maintaining decorum, but it sounded as if Mac might.
Rayford wanted to leave their conversation concrete, but he didn’t want to give Mac an ultimatum or tell him to report back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
Mac nodded, but as they headed for their own quarters, a uniformed orderly approached. “Captain Steele and Officer McCullum? You are requested in the central command area.” He handed each a card.
Rayford read silently, “My office, ASAP. Leonardo Fortunato.” Since when had Leon begun using his entire first name?
“Wonder what Leon wants at this time of the night?”
Mac peeked at Rayford’s card. “Leon? I’ve got a meeting with Carpathia.” He showed Rayford his card.
Was that really a surprise to Mac, or was this all one big setup? He and Mac had not gotten into why Rayford and the rest of the Tribulation Force believed Carpathia fit the bill of the Antichrist. Still, Mac had enough information on Rayford to bury him. And, apparently, he had the right audience.
Buck was fidgety. Mrs. Cavenaugh looked healthy, but she lay so still he was hardly able to detect the rise and fall of her chest. He was tempted to cross his legs and kick her cot in the process, but who knew how an old woman would respond to that? It might push her over the edge. Antsy, Buck dialed Tsion. He finally got through, and Buck gushed that he had reason to believe Chloe was alive.
“Wonderful, Cameron! I am doing well here, too. I have been able to get on the Net, and I have more reason than ever to get back to Israel.”
“We’ll have to talk about that,” Buck said. “I still think it’s too dangerous, and I don’t know how we would get you there.”
“Cameron, there is news all over the Internet that one of Carpathia’s top priorities is rebuilding transportation networks.”
Buck spoke louder than he needed to, hoping to rouse Mrs. Cavenaugh. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, and I plan to have Chloe with me.”
“I will pray,” Tsion said.
Buck hit the speed dial for Rayford’s phone.
Rayford was amazed that Leon’s office was only slightly smaller and every bit as exquisitely appointed as Nicolae’s. Everything in the shelter was state-of-the-art, but the opulence began and ended in those two offices.
Fortunato had a glow. He shook Rayford’s hand, bowed at the waist, motioned to a chair, then sat behind his desk. Rayford had always found him curious, a dark, swarthy man, short and stocky with black hair and dark eyes. He didn’t unbutton his suit jacket when he sat, so it bowed comically at the chest, spoiling whatever formality he was trying to engender.
“Captain Steele,” Fortunato began, but before he could say anything, Rayford’s phone chirped. Fortunato raised a hand and let it fall, as if he couldn’t believe Rayford would take a call at a time like this.
“Excuse me, Leon, but this could be family.”
“You can’t take calls in here,” Leon said.
“Well, I’m going to,” Rayford said. “I have no information about my daughter and son-in-law.”
“I mean you’re technically not able to receive phone calls in here,” Leon said. All Rayford heard was static. “We’re way underground and surrounded by concrete. Think, man.”
Rayford knew the trunk lines from the center led to solar panels and satellite dishes on the surface. Of course his cell phone would not work here. Still, he was hopeful. Few people knew his number, and the ones who did he cared about most in the world.
“You have my full attention, Leon.”
“Not willingly, I surmise.” Rayford shrugged. “I have more than one reason for asking to see you,” Leon said. Rayford wondered when these people slept. “We have information on your family, at least part of it.”
“You do?” Rayford said, leaning forward. “What? Who? My daughter?”
“No, I’m sorry. Your daughter is unaccounted for. However, your son-in-law has been spotted in a Chicago suburb.”
“Unharmed?”
“To the best of our knowledge.”
“And what is the state of communications between here and there?”
Fortunato smiled condescendingly. “I believe those lines are open,” he said, “but of course not from down here, unless you use our equipment.”
Chalk one up for Fortunato, Rayford thought. “I’d like to call him as soon as possible to check on my daughter.”
“Of course. Just a few more items. Salvage teams are working around the clock in the compound where you lived. In the unlikely event they are able to find anything of value, you should submit a detailed inventory. Anything of value not preidentified will be confiscated.”
“That makes no sense,” Rayford said.
“Nevertheless . . . ,” Fortunato said dismissively.
“Anything else?” Rayford said, as if he wanted to leave.
“Yes,” Fortunato said slowly. Rayford had the idea Fortunato was stalling to make him squirm before calling Buck. “One of His Excellency’s most trusted international advisers has arrived from Israel. I’m sure you know of Dr. Chaim Rosenzweig.”
“Of course,” Rayford said. “But His Excellency? At first I thought you were referring to Mathews.”
“Captain Steele, I have been meaning to talk to you about protocol. You inappropriately refer to me by my first name. Sometimes you even refer to the potentate by his first name. We are aware that you do not sympathize with the beliefs of Pontifex Maximus Peter; however, it is most disrespectful for you to refer to him by only his last name.”
“And yet you are using a title that has for generations been limited to religious leaders and royalty for Carpath—uh, Nicolae Carpath—, Potentate Carpathia.”
“Yes, and I believe the time has come to refer to him in that manner. The potentate has contributed more to world unity than anyone who ever lived. He is beloved by citizens of every kingdom. And now that he has demonstrated supernatural power, Excellency is hardly too lofty a title.”
“Demonstrated these powers to whom?”
“He has asked me to share with you my own story.”
“I have heard the story.”
“From me?”
“From others.”
“Then I won’t bore you with the details, Captain Steele. Let me just say that regardless of the differences you and I have had, because of my experience I am eager to reconcile. When a man is literally brought back from death, his perspectives change. You will feel a new sense of respect from me, whether you deserve it or not. And it will be genuine.”
“I can’t wait. Now what was it
about Rosen—?”
“Now, Captain Steele! That was sarcastic, and I was being sincere. And there you go again. It’s Dr. Rosenzweig to you. The man is one of the leading botanists in history.”
“OK, fine, Leon. I mean, Dr. Fortunato—”
“I am not a doctor! You should refer to me as Commander Fortunato.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to do that,” Rayford said with a sigh. “When did you get that title?”
“Truth be known, my title has recently changed to Supreme Commander. It was bestowed upon me by His Excellency.”
“This is all getting a little crazy,” Rayford said. “Wasn’t it more fun when you and I were just Rayford and Leon?”
Fortunato grimaced. “Apparently you are unable to take anything seriously.”
“Well, I’m serious about whatever it is you have to tell me about Rosenzweig. Um, Dr. Rosenzweig.”
CHAPTER 8
While he waited for Mrs. Cavenaugh, Buck thought about heading to the Range Rover so he could look up Ken Ritz’s number on his computer. If Ken could get him and Tsion to Israel, he was taking Chloe. He never wanted her out of his sight again.
He was about to step out when Mrs. Cavenaugh finally stirred. He didn’t want to startle her. He just watched her. When her eyes opened, he smiled. She looked puzzled, then sat up and pointed at him.
“You were gone, young man. Weren’t you?”
“Gone?”
“You and your wife. You lived with Loretta, didn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But you weren’t there yesterday morning.”
“No.”
“And your wife. I saw her! Is she all right?”
“That’s what I want to talk about, Mrs. Cavenaugh. Are you up to it?”
“Oh, I’m all right! I just have nowhere to stay. I got the dickens scared out of me, and I don’t care to see the remains of my house, but I’m all right.”
“Want to take a walk?”
“There’s nothing I’d like more, but I’m not going anywhere with a man unless I know his name.”
Buck apologized and introduced himself.
“I knew that,” she said. “I never met you, but I saw you around and Loretta told me about you. I met your wife. Corky?”
“Chloe.”
“Of course! I should remember because I liked that name so much. Well, come on, help me up.”
Thumbsucker hadn’t budged except to keep rocking. Homeless looked wary and held his bag tighter. Buck considered yanking one of their cots so he could get in and help Mrs. Cavenaugh off of hers. But he didn’t want a scene. He just stood at the end of her cot and reached for her. As she stepped off the end of the flimsy thing, the other end went straight up. Buck saw it coming at him over her head. He blocked it with his hand and it slammed back down with such a thunderous resound that Homeless cried out and Thumbsucker jumped two feet. He split the canvas cot when he came back down. It slowly separated, and he dropped out of sight. Homeless lowered his face into his sack, and Buck couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying. Thumbsucker reappeared looking as if he thought Buck might have done that on purpose. Mrs. Cavenaugh, who missed it all, slipped her hand through Buck’s elbow, and they walked to where they could talk with more privacy.
“I already told this to one young man with disaster relief or some such, but anyway I thought all the racket was a tornado. Who ever heard of an earthquake in the Midwest? You hear about a little rattling and shaking downstate once in a while, but an honest to goodness earthquake that knocks over buildings and kills people? I thought I was smart, but I was a fool. I ran to the basement. Of course, ran is relative. It just means I didn’t go a step at a time, as usual. I went down those stairs like a little girl. The only pain now is in my knees.
“I went to the window to see if there was a funnel. It was bright and sunny, but the noise was getting louder and the house banged all around me, so I still figured I knew what it was. That’s when I saw your wife.”
“Where, exactly?”
“That window is too high for me to see out. All I could see was the sky and the trees. They were really moving. My late husband kept a stepladder down there. I climbed just high enough so I could see the ground. That’s when your wife, Chloe, came running out. She was carrying something. Whatever it was was more important than putting something on her feet. She was barefoot.”
“And she ran where?”
“To your car. It’s stupid, but I hollered at her. She was holding her stuff in one arm and trying to unlock the car with the other, and I was yelling, ‘You don’t want to be outside, girl!’ I was hoping she’d put that stuff down and get in the car quick enough to outrun the funnel, but she wasn’t even looking up. She finally got it open and started the car, and that’s when everything broke loose. I swear one of my basement walls actually moved. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. That car started to move, and the biggest tree in Loretta’s yard tore itself right from the ground, roots and all. It took half Loretta’s yard with it and sounded like a bomb dropping in the street, right in front of her car.
“She backed up, and the tree on the other side of Loretta’s yard started to give way. I was still yellin’ at that girl like she could hear me inside the car. I was sure that second tree would land right on her. She jerked left, and the whole road twisted up right in front of her. If she had pulled onto that pavement a split second earlier, that street flipping up would have tipped her over. She must have been scared to death, one tree lying in front of her, one threatening to fall on her, and the street sticking straight up. She whipped around that first tree and raced right up the driveway into the garage. I was cheering for her. I hoped she’d have enough sense to get to the basement. I couldn’t believe a tornado could do that much damage without me seeing it. When I heard everything crash to the floor like the whole house was coming apart—well, of course, it was—I finally got it into my thick head that this wasn’t a tornado. When the other two trees in Loretta’s yard came down, that window blew out, so I climbed down and ran to the other end of the basement.
“When my front room furniture crashed into where I’d just been, I stepped over the sump pump and pulled myself up on the concrete cutout to the window. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just hoping Chloe was where she could hear me. I screamed bloody murder out that window. She came out the side door white as a sheet, still barefooted and now empty-handed, and she went runnin’ to the back as fast as she could go. That was the last I saw of her. The rest of my house fell in, and somehow the pipes deflected everything a little and left me a tiny space to wait until somebody found me.”
“I’m glad you’re all right.”
“It was pretty exciting. I hope you find Chloe.”
“Do you remember what she was wearing?”
“Sure. That off-white dress, a shift.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cavenaugh.”
The old woman stared into the distance and shook her head slowly.
Chloe’s still alive, Buck thought.
“The first thing Dr. Rosenzweig asked about was your well-being, Captain Steele.”
“I hardly know the man, Supreme Commander Fortunato,” Rayford said, carefully enunciating.
“Commander is sufficient, Captain.”
“You can call me Ray.”
Now Fortunato was angry. “I could call you Private,” he said.
“Oh, good one, Commander.”
“You’re not going to bait me, Captain. As I told you, I’m a new man.”
“Brand-new,” Rayford said, “if you really were dead yesterday and alive today.”
“The truth is, Dr. Rosenzweig next asked after your son-in-law, daughter, and Tsion Ben-Judah.”
Rayford froze. Rosenzweig couldn’t have been that stupid. On the other hand, Buck always said Rosenzweig was enamored of Carpathia. He didn’t know Carpathia was as much an enemy of Ben-Judah as the State of Israel was. Rayford maintained eye contact wi
th the glaring Fortunato, who seemed to know he had Rayford on the ropes. Rayford prayed silently.
“I brought him up-to-date and told him your daughter was unaccounted for,” Leon said. He let that hang in the air. Rayford did not respond. “And what did you wish us to tell him of Tsion Ben-Judah?”
“What did I wish?” Rayford said. “I have no knowledge of his whereabouts.”
“Then why did Dr. Rosenzweig ask about him in the same breath with your daughter and son-in-law?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Because I’m asking you, Captain! You think we weren’t aware that Cameron Williams aided and abetted his escape from the State of Israel?”
“Do you believe everything you hear?”
“We know that to be fact,” Fortunato said.
“Then why do you need my input?”
“We want to know where Tsion Ben-Judah is. It is important to Dr. Rosenzweig that His Excellency come to Dr. Ben-Judah’s aid.”
Rayford had listened in when that request was brought to Carpathia. Nicolae had laughed it off, suggesting his people make it appear he tried to help while actually informing Ben-Judah’s enemies where they could find him.
“If I knew the whereabouts of Tsion Ben-Judah,” Rayford said, “I would not tell you. I would ask him if he wanted you to know.”
Fortunato stood. Apparently the meeting was over. He walked Rayford to the door. “Captain Steele, your disloyalty has no future. I say again, you will find me most conciliatory. I would consider it a favor if you would not intimate to Dr. Rosenzweig that His Excellency is as eager to know the whereabouts of Dr. Ben-Judah as he is.”
“Why would I do you a favor?”
Fortunato spread his hands and shook his head. “I rest my case,” he said. “Nicolae, er, the poten—His Excellency has more patience than I. You would not be my pilot.”
“That’s correct, Supreme Commander. I will, however, be piloting this week when you pick up the rest of the Global Community boys.”
