by Tim LaHaye
“Albie to Scuba, over.”
“This is Scuba, go,” Rayford said.
“ETA three minutes. Sit tight. Over and out.”
Buck and Chloe agreed that he would keep trying Hattie’s number while she continued to call medical facilities in Denver. Buck got a taste of Chloe’s frustration when he began hitting the redial button for Hattie’s phone every minute or so. Even a busy signal would have been encouraging. “I can’t stand just sitting here,” Buck said. “I feel like heading off on foot and searching for her.”
“Got your laptop with you?” Ritz said.
“Always,” Buck said. Ken had been riveted to his for some time.
“Tsion’s online, rallying the troops. He’s gotta be gettin’ under Carpathia’s skin. I know there’s a lot more people who still love Carpathia than there are like us who finally saw the light, but look at this.”
Ritz turned his computer so Buck could watch the numbers whiz by, indicating how many responses hit the bulletin board every minute. With a fresh message out there, the total was multiplying again.
Ritz was right, of course, Buck thought. Carpathia had to be enraged by the response to Tsion. No wonder he wanted credit for Tsion’s escape and also for eventually bringing him back to the public. But how long would that satisfy Carpathia? How long before his jealousy got the best of him?
“If it’s true, Buck, that the Global Community would like to sponsor Tsion’s return to Israel, they ought to look at what he’s saying about Enigma Babylon.”
“Carpathia’s got Mathews in charge of Enigma Babylon right now,” Buck said, “and he regrets it. Mathews sees himself and the faith as bigger and more important than even the GC. Tsion says the Bible teaches that Mathews will only last so long.”
The phone rang. It was Chloe.
“Buck, where are you?”
“Still sitting here on the runway.”
“You and Ken head for a rental car. I’ll talk as you walk.”
“What’s up?” Buck said, climbing out and signaling Ken to follow.
“I got through to a small, private hospital. A woman told me they were being shut down in three weeks because they’re better off to sell to the Global Community than pay the ridiculous taxes.”
Buck jogged toward the terminal but soon slowed when he realized Ken was lagging. “Is that where Hattie is?” he asked Chloe.
“No, but this woman told me there’s a big GC testing laboratory in Littleton. It’s housed in a huge church Enigma Babylon took over and then sold to Carpathia when attendance dwindled. A reproductive clinic in the old educational wing of that church takes in longer-term patients. She wasn’t fond of it. The clinic and the lab work hand in hand, and apparently there’s a lot of cloning and fetal tissue research going on.”
“So you reached Hattie there?”
“I think I did. I described Hattie, and the receptionist got suspicious when I didn’t know what name she might be using. She told me that if someone was using a phony name, that meant they didn’t want to be contacted. I told her it was important, but she didn’t buy it. I asked if she would just tell every patient that one of them had a message to call CW, but I’m sure she ignored it. I called a little later and disguised my voice. I said my uncle was the janitor and could somebody get him to come to the phone. Pretty soon this guy came on and I told him I had a friend in there who forgot to give me her alias. I told him my husband was on the way there with a gift, but he would have to know whom to ask for to be able to get in. He wasn’t sure he ought to help until I told him my husband would give him a hundred dollars. He was so excited he gave me his name before he gave me the names of the four women staying there right now.”
Buck reached the rental car desk and Ken, knowing the drill, slapped his driver’s license and credit card on the counter. “You’re gonna owe me a ton,” he said. “Let’s hope they’ve got a decent-sized car.”
“Give me the names, hon,” Buck said, pulling out a pen.
“I’ll give you all four just in case,” Chloe said, “but you’re gonna know right away which is hers.”
“Don’t tell me she called herself something like Derby Bull.”
“Nothing so creative. It’s just that with the makeup of the women represented, we got lucky. Conchita Fernandez, Suzie Ng, Mary Johnson, and Li Yamamoto.”
“Give me the address, and have Uncle Janitor tell Mary we’re on our way.”
Mac set the chopper down close to the Challenger and jumped aboard with Rayford.
“I don’t know what all’s going down, Ray, but I wouldn’t stall you like that without a reason. It gives me chills to think I almost missed this, but after you dropped me off, I taxied the Condor into that south hangar, like you said. I’m coming out of there and heading to the cab line when Fortunato pages me from the ambassador’s house. He asks me will I let him back on the Condor because he’s got a classified call he’s gotta make and the only secure phone is on board. I tell him sure, but that I’m gonna have to unlock it for him and get some power on for his call and then lock up after him. He tells me that’s OK as long as I stay in the pilot’s quarters or in the cockpit and give him privacy. I told him I had stuff to do in the cockpit. Check this out, Ray.”
Mac pulled a dictation machine from his pocket. “Do I think ahead, or what? I slipped in there, jammed on those headphones, and flipped the switch. I tucked the machine inside one of the phones and turned it on. Listen.”
Rayford heard dialing, then Fortunato saying, “OK, Your Excellency, I’m on the Condor, so this is secure. . . . Yes, I’m alone. . . . Officer McCullum let me in. . . . In the cockpit. No problem. . . . On his way to Denver. . . . They’re gonna do it right there? . . . It’s as good a place as any. It’s going to change our trip back, though. . . . One pilot simply can’t physically do this whole trip. I wouldn’t feel safe. . . . Yes, start telling the ambassadors we’ll need more time to get back. Did you want me to try to hire a pilot from here in Dallas? . . . I see. I’ll check in with you later.”
“What do you make of that, Mac?”
“It’s pretty clear, Ray. They want to take you both out at once. What got to me is when he rushed to the cockpit and knocked quickly. He looked flushed and shaken. He asked if I would come back and join him and to please sit down. He looks nervous, wiping his mouth and looking away, totally unlike him, you know. He says, ‘I just heard from Captain Steele, and there’s a chance he’ll be delayed. I would like you to plot our return and work in enough rest time for yourself in case you have to do all the flying.’
“I say, ‘All the flying? The whole way back and all the stops en route?’
“He says I should make the schedule easy on myself and that with enough rest, they have full confidence I can do it. He adds, ‘You will find His Excellency much in your debt.’”
Rayford was not amused. “So he recruited you to be the new captain.”
“Just about.”
“And I’m going to be delayed. Well, isn’t that a nice way to say I’m going to be toast.”
CHAPTER 17
By the time Buck and Ken got their car—with more room than they needed—and were informed of shortcuts around destruction, it took nearly forty-five minutes to get to Littleton. Finding a church that had been retrofitted into a testing laboratory and reproductive clinic was easy. It was on the only navigable street in a fifteen-mile radius. Every vehicle they saw was dusty and mud-caked.
Buck went in alone to see if he could sneak Hattie from the place. Ken waited out front with the engine idling and monitored Buck’s phone.
Buck approached the receptionist. “Hi!” he said breezily. “I’m here to see Mary.”
“Mary?”
“Johnson. She’s expecting me.”
“And who may I say is asking for her?”
“Just tell her it’s B.”
“Are you related?”
“We soon will be, I think. I hope.”
“One moment.”
Buck sat and found a magazine as if he had all the time in the world. The receptionist picked up the phone. “Ms. Johnson, were you expecting a visitor? . . . No? . . . A young man who calls himself B. . . . I’ll check.”
The receptionist motioned to Buck. “She would like to ask where you know her from.”
Buck smiled as if exasperated. “Remind her we met on an airplane.”
“He says you met on an airplane. . . . Very well.”
The receptionist hung up. “I’m sorry, sir, but she believes you may have her confused with someone else.”
“Can you tell me if she’s alone?”
“Why?”
“That may be the reason she’s not admitting she knows me. She may need some assistance and doesn’t know how to tell me.”
“Sir, she is recovering from a medical procedure. I’m quite sure she’s alone and well taken care of. Without her permission, I am not at liberty to share anything more with you.”
In his peripheral vision, Buck saw a small, dark figure shuffle past in a long robe. The tiny, long-haired, severe-looking Asian woman peered curiously at Buck, then quickly looked away and disappeared down the hallway.
The receptionist’s phone rang. She whispered, “Yes, Mary? . . . You don’t recognize him at all? Thank you.”
“So, Mac, am I paranoid, or does it sound like they’re using Hattie as bait to get the two of us together?”
“Sounds that way to me,” Mac said. “And neither of you are going to walk away.”
Rayford grabbed his phone. “I’d better let Buck know what he’s getting into before I decide what to do about it.”
It sounded to Buck as if the receptionist was calling security. It would do no good to be ushered out by security, or worse, detained by them. His first thought was to bolt. But still there was a chance to bluff his way past the receptionist. Maybe Ken could distract her. Or maybe Buck could convince her he didn’t know what name his friend used and had been only guessing.
The receptionist stunned him, however, when she suddenly hung up and said, “You don’t happen to work for the Global Community, do you?”
How she knew that was as puzzling as Hattie using an ethnic alias while an Asian girl was either named Mary Johnson or had selected that as her pseudonym. If Buck denied working for the Global Community, he might never find out why she asked. “Uh, yeah, as a matter of fact I do,” he said.
The front door swung open behind him. Ken was on the run, Buck’s phone in hand.
The receptionist said, “And does your name happen to be Rayford Steele?”
“Uh . . .”
Ken shouted, “Sir? Is that your car out there with the lights on?”
Buck could tell he should not hesitate. He spun, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be back.”
“But, sir! Captain Steele!”
Buck and Ken bounded down the steps to the car. “They thought I was Rayford! I was almost in!”
“You don’t want in there, Buck. Rayford’s been set up. He’s sure he would have walked into an ambush.”
Ken tried to shift into Drive, but it wouldn’t budge. “I thought I left this thing running.” The keys were gone.
A uniformed GC security officer materialized at his window. “Here, sir,” he said, handing Ken the keys. “Which of you is Captain Steele?”
Buck could tell Ken was tempted to race off. He leaned across Ken’s lap and said, “That would be me. Were you expecting me?”
“Yes, we were. When your driver left the car, I thought I’d shut it off and bring him the keys. Captain Steele, we have your cargo inside, if you’ll join us.” Turning to Ken, he said, “Are you also with the GC?”
“Me? Nope. I work for the rental company. The captain here wasn’t sure he’d be bringing the car back, so I drove him. He still pays for a round trip, of course.”
“Of course. And if there’s nothing you need from the car then, Captain, you may follow me.” To Ken, “And we will provide transportation, so you may take the car.”
“Let me settle up with him,” Buck said. “And I’ll be right with you.”
Ken closed his window. “Say the word, Buck, and they’ll never catch us. You go in there as Rayford Steele and neither you or Hattie will come out.”
Buck made a show of taking out a few bills for Ken. “I have to go in,” he said. “If they think I’m Rayford and that I smelled a rat and slipped away, Hattie’s life is worthless. She’s carrying a child, and she’s not a believer yet. I’m not about to hand her over to the GC.” Buck glanced at the guard on the sidewalk. “I gotta go.”
“I’ll stay close,” Ritz said. “If you aren’t out of there soon, I’m comin’ in.”
“I’m tempted to fly straight to Baghdad and prove to myself Amanda isn’t buried in the Tigris. What’s Carpathia going to do when I show up? Take credit for my resurrection?”
“You know where your daughter is, right? If they’ve found a place to hide, that’s the place to go. By the time it gets back to Carpathia that you didn’t show in Denver, you’ll be hidden.”
“It’s not like me to hide, Mac. I knew this gig with Carpathia was temporary, but it’s strange to be a target. None of us are likely to make it to the Glorious Appearing, but that’s been my goal since day one. What are the odds now?”
Mac shook his head.
Rayford’s phone rang. Ritz told him what was going on.
“Oh, no!” Rayford said. “You shouldn’t have let him go back in there. They may not figure out he’s not me until after they’ve killed him. Get him out of there!”
“There was no stopping him, Rayford. He thinks if we do something suspicious, Hattie is history. Trust me, if he’s not out in a few minutes, I’m going in.”
“These people have unlimited weapons,” Rayford said. “Are you armed?”
“Yes, but they’re not going to risk shooting inside, are they?”
“Why not? They care for no one but themselves. What are you carrying?”
“Buck doesn’t know, and I’ve never had to use it, but I carry a Beretta anytime I fly for him.”
Buck and the GC guard were met inside by an unhappy receptionist. “Had you simply told me who you were, Captain Steele, and used the proper name for the person you were seeking, I could have easily accommodated you.”
Buck smiled and shrugged. A younger guard emerged. “She will see you now,” he said. “Then we’ll all fill out a little paperwork, and we’ll run you both out to Stapleton.”
“Oh,” Buck said, “you know, we didn’t put down at Stapleton after all.”
The guards caught each other’s eyes. “You didn’t?”
“We were told the terrain between here and Stapleton was worse than between here and Denver International, so we—”
“I thought DIA was closed.”
“Closed to commercial, yes,” Buck said, scrambling. “If you can get us out there, we’ll be heading back.”
“Back where? We haven’t given you your orders yet.”
“Oh, yeah. I know. I just assumed New Babylon.”
“Hey,” the younger guard said. “If DIA is closed to commercial, where’d you get the car?”
“One outfit was still open,” Buck said. “Guess they’re serving the GC military.”
The older guard glanced at the receptionist. “Tell her we’re on our way.”
As the receptionist reached for the phone, the guards asked Buck to follow them down the hall. They entered a room labeled “Yamamoto.” Buck was afraid Hattie would say his name as soon as she saw him. She lay facing the wall. He couldn’t tell whether she was awake.
“She’s going to be surprised to see her old captain,” Buck said. “She used to call me Buck for short. But in front of the crew and passengers, it was always Captain Steele. Yeah, she was my senior flight attendant at Pan-Con for many years. Always did a good job.”
The older guard put a hand on her shoulder. “Time to go, dear.”
Hattie rolled over, appearing puzz
led, squinting against the light. “Where are we going?” she said.
“Captain Steele is here for you, ma’am. He’ll take you to an intermediate site and then back to New Babylon.”
“Oh, hi, Captain Steele,” she said groggily. “I don’t want to go to New Babylon.”
“Just following orders, Ms. Durham,” Buck said. “You know all about that.”
“I just don’t want to go that far,” she said.
“We’ll take it in stages. You’ll make it.”
“But I—”
“Let’s get started, ma’am,” the older guard said. “We’re on a schedule.”
Hattie sat up. Her pregnancy was beginning to show. “I would appreciate it if you gentlemen would excuse me while I dress.”
Buck followed the guards into the hall. The younger said, “So, what did you fly up here?”
“Oh, one of the little jets that survived the quake.”
The other asked, “How was the flight from Baghdad?”
Buck thought Rayford had told him Baghdad Airport was unusable. Relieved they hadn’t asked more about the plane, he wondered if he was being tested. “We flew out of New Babylon,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe how fast the rebuilding is going.”
“Long flight?”
“Very. But of course we stopped every so many hours to pick up another dignitary.” Buck had no idea how many, when, or where, and he hoped they wouldn’t ask.
“What’s that like? All those muckety-mucks on the same plane?”
“Another day, another dollar,” Buck said. “Pilots stay in the cockpit or in our quarters anyway. We don’t get involved in the pageantry.”
Buck knew he had already been inside long enough to worry Ken Ritz. No way these guys were taking him or Hattie to either airport, regardless of how he misled them. He was surprised they hadn’t already offered them a poisoned drink. Apparently they had orders to make it neat and clean and quiet. There could be no witnesses.
