by Tim LaHaye
Rosenzweig noticed Buck, motioned for him to sit, and hit the speaker button on the phone. Leon was in mid-threat. “Our intelligence sources tell us your man turned.”
“Turned what? He’s not Jewish anymore? Not Israeli? Doesn’t work for me? What are you talking about? He’s been with me for years. If you know where he is, tell me and I will come get him.”
“Dr. Rosenzweig, all due respect, sir, I’m telling you your man is one of them. We wanted GC guards to personally escort Rabbi Ben-Judah back to Jacov’s vehicle, but he came running from the stadium firing off a high-powered weapon. Who can say how many guards and innocent civilians were killed.”
“I can. None. It would have been all over the news. I heard the same story. Your people were coming after Ben-Judah to exact revenge for the embarrassment to Nicolae and might have done who-knows-what to him if he had not slipped away on his own.”
“He wasn’t on his own. He was with Buck Williams’s wife, who has proven to be an American subversive who escaped from one of our facilities in Minnesota, where she had been detained for questioning.” Rosenzweig glanced at Buck, who sat shaking his head slowly as if wondering where they dreamed up this stuff. Fortunato continued, “She was suspected of looting after the earthquake.”
“Leon, is Jacov alive?” There was a pause. Rosenzweig grew irate. “I swear, Leon, if something has happened to that young man—”
“Nothing has happened to him, Doctor. I’m trying to train you to address me properly.”
“Oh, for the sake of heaven, Leon, are there not more important things to worry about right now? Like people’s lives!”
“Supreme Commander, Dr. Rosenzweig.”
“Supreme Nincompoop!” Rosenzweig shouted. “I am going out to search for my Jacov, and if you have any information that would help me, you’d better give it to me now!”
“I don’t need to be spoken to that way by you, sir.”
And Leon hung up.
Rayford put an arm on Floyd’s shoulder as they went back into the house. “I’m no love counselor,” he said, “but you’re right when you say this one makes no sense. She’s not a believer. You’re old enough to know the difference between pity and love and between medical compassion and love. You hardly know her, and what you know is not that pretty. It doesn’t take a scientist to see that this is something other than what you think it is. You lonely? Lose a wife in the Rapture?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Better tell me about her.”
CHAPTER 7
Buck peeked in on Chloe before heading out with Chaim. She appeared sound asleep.
“Do you mind driving?” Chaim asked. “It has been so long since I was allowed.”
“Allowed?”
Chaim smiled wearily. “Once you become, how shall I say it, a personality in this country, especially in this city, you are treated like royalty. I cannot go anywhere unescorted. I was not even famous when first you did the cover story on me.”
“You were revered, however.”
Chaim checked with his gateman, Jonas, for the latest word on Jacov. “Stefan?” Buck heard him say. Then something urgent and frustrated in Hebrew.
Chaim directed Buck to the last stall in the garage, and Buck slid behind the wheel of an ancient sedan. “I don’t want everyone to know I am coming. The Mercedes is well known. You drive a stick shift, do you not?”
Buck feathered the throttle and quickly caught on to the vagaries of the manual transmission. He worried more about the bald state of the tires. “Any idea where we’re going?”
“Yes, I am afraid I do,” Chaim said. “Jacov is an alcoholic.”
Buck shot him a double take. “You have an alcoholic as your driver?”
“He’s dry. Recovering they call it. But in times of crisis, he reverts.”
“Falls off the wagon?”
“I do not know that expression.”
“It’s an old Americanism. Early in the twentieth century the Women’s Christian Temperance Union would roll the Temperance Wagon into town, decrying the evils of alcohol and calling on offenders to give it up and get on the wagon. When a sober man went back to drinking, it was called falling off the wagon.”
“Well, I’m afraid that is what has happened here,” Chaim said, pointing where Buck was to turn. As they moved into smaller neighborhoods with houses and buildings closer together, Buck began noticing things he hadn’t seen on the drive from Chaim’s to the stadium. Jerusalem had grown seedy. How he had loved to visit this city just a few years before! It had had its rundown areas, but overall it had been kept with pride. Since the disappearances, certain types of crime and lewd activity had sprung up that he never expected to see in public here. Drunks staggered along, some with their arms slung around ladies of the evening. As Buck drove farther into the city he saw strip clubs, tattoo parlors, fortune-telling shops, and triple-X-rated establishments.
“What has happened to your city?”
Chaim grunted and waved dismissively. “This is something about which I would love to speak to Nicolae. All that money spent on the new temple and moving the Dome of the Rock to New Babylon! Ach! This Peter the Second fellow wearing the funny costumes and welcoming the Orthodox Jew into the Enigma Babylon faith. I am not even a religious man, and I wonder at the folly of it. What is the point? The Jews have maintained for centuries that they worship the one true God, and this somehow now fits with a religion that accepts God as man and woman and animal and who knows what else? And you see what effect it has had on Jerusalem. Haifa and Tel Aviv are worse! The Orthodox are locked away in their gleaming new temple, slaughtering animals and going back to the literal sacrifices of centuries gone by. But what impact do they have on this society? None! Nicolae is supposed to be my friend. If he will see me, I will inform him of this, and things will change.
“When my Jacov—a wonderful, spirited man, by the way—falls off the wagon, as you put it, he winds up on the same street in the same bar and in the same condition.”
“How often does this happen?”
“Not more than twice a year. I scold him, threaten him, have even fired him. But he knows I care for him. He and his wife, Hannelore, still grieve over two little ones they lost in the disappearances.”
Buck was chagrined to realize he had pushed Jacov spiritually without getting to know him. He just hoped Chaim was wrong about Jacov and that they would not find him where the old man expected to.
Chaim pointed Buck to a parking place in the middle of a row of cars and vans that lined a crowded street. It was after midnight now, and Buck was suddenly overcome with fatigue. “The Harem?” he said, reading the neon sign. “You sure this is only a bar?”
“I’m sure it is not, Cameron,” Rosenzweig said. “I don’t want to think about what else goes on in there. I’ve never been inside. Usually I wait out here while my security chief goes in and drags Jacov out.”
“That’s why I’m here?”
“I would not ask you to do that. But you may need to help me with him because if he resists, I am no match for him. He will not hurt me, even when drunk, but a little old man cannot make a thick mule of a young man go anywhere he does not want to go.”
Buck parked and sat thinking. “I’m hoping you’re wrong, Dr. Rosenzweig. I’m hoping Jacov will not be here.”
Chaim smiled. “You think because he became a believer he will not get drunk after being shot at? You are too naive for an international journalist, my friend. Your new faith has clouded your judgment.”
“I hope not.”
“Well, you see that green truck there, the old English Ford?” Buck nodded. “That belongs to Stefan of my valet staff. He lives between here and Teddy Kollek Stadium, and he is Jacov’s drinking partner. Stefan does not suffer as Jacov does. He can hold his liquor, as we like to say. He was off work today, but if I was a man of wagers, I would bet Jacov ran to him while escaping the Global Community guards. Naturally shaken and scared out of his wits, he no doubt allowed Stefan to take
him to their favorite place. I cannot hold this against Jacov. But I want him safe. I don’t want him making a spectacle of himself in public, especially if he is a fugitive from the GC.”
“I don’t want him to be here, Dr. Rosenzweig.”
“I don’t either, but I am not a young man with stars in his eyes. Wisdom is supposed to come with age, Cameron. I wish less came with it, frankly. I have gained wisdom I cannot now recall. I have what I call ‘mature moments,’ where I recall in detail something that happened sixty years ago but cannot remember that I told the same story half an hour before.”
“I’m not even thirty-three yet, and I have my share of those.”
Chaim smiled. “And your name again was?”
“Let’s go look for Jacov,” Buck said. “I say he’s not in there, even if Stefan is.”
“I hope Jacov is,” Chaim said, “because if he is not, that means he is lost or caught or worse.”
Dr. Floyd Charles’s story was so similar to Rayford’s it was eerie. He too had had a wife serious about her faith, while he, a respected professional, played at the edges of it. “Fairly regular church attendee?” Rayford asked from experience. “Just didn’t want to get as deep into it as your wife?”
“Exactly,” Floyd said. “She was always telling me my good works wouldn’t get me into heaven, and that if Jesus came back before I died, I’d be left behind.” He shook his head. “I listened without hearing, you know what I mean?”
“You’re telling my story, brother. You lose kids too?”
“Not in the Rapture. My wife miscarried one, and we lost a five-year-old girl in a bus accident her first day of school.” Floyd fell silent.
“I’m sorry,” Rayford said.
“It was awful,” Floyd said with a thick voice. “Gigi and I both saw her off at the corner that morning, and LaDonna was happy as she could be. We thought she would be shy or scared—in fact, we kinda hoped she would be. But she couldn’t wait to start school with her new outfit, lunch box, and all. Gigi and I were basket cases, nervous for her, scared. I said putting her on that big old impersonal bus made me feel like I was sending her off to face the lions. Gigi said we just had to trust God to take care of her. Half an hour later we got the call.”
Rayford shook his head.
“Made me bitter,” Floyd said. “Drove me farther from God. Gigi suffered, sobbed her heart out till it almost killed me. But she didn’t lose her faith. Prayed for LaDonna, asked God to take care of her, to tell her things, all that. Real strain on our marriage. We separated for a while—my choice, not hers. I just couldn’t stand to see her in such pain and yet still playing the church game. She said it wasn’t a game and that if I ever wanted to see LaDonna again, I’d ‘get right with Jesus.’ Well, I got right with Jesus all right. I told him what I thought of what he let happen to my baby girl. I was miserable for a long time.”
They sat at the kitchen table, where Rayford could hear Hattie’s steady, rhythmic breathing. “You know what convinced me?” Floyd said suddenly.
Rayford snorted. “Besides the Rapture, you mean? That got my attention.”
“I was actually convinced before then. I just never pulled the trigger, know what I mean?”
Rayford nodded. “You knew your wife was right, but you didn’t tell God?”
“Exactly. But what convinced me was Gigi. She never stopped loving me, through it all. I was a rascal, man. Mean, nasty, selfish, rude, demeaning. She knew I was grieving, suffering. The light had gone out of my life. I loved LaDonna so much it was as if my heart had been ripped out. But when I was trying to cover the pain by working all hours and being impossible to my coworkers and everyone else, Gigi knew just when to call or send a note. Every time, Rayford, every stinkin’ time, she would remind me that she loved me, cared about me, wanted me back, and was ready to do whatever I needed to make my life easier.”
“Wow.”
“Wow is right. She was hurting just as bad as I was, but she would invite me for dinner, bring me meals, do my laundry—and she was working too—clean my apartment.” He chuckled. “Humiliated me is what she did.”
“She won you back?”
“She sure did. Even lifted me out of my grief. It took a few years, but I became a happier, more productive person. I knew it was God in her life that allowed her to do that. But I still thought that if there was anything to this heaven and hell business, God would have to look kindly on me because I was helping people every day. I even had the right motive. Oh, I loved the attention, but I helped everybody. I did my best work whether the patient was a derelict or a millionaire. Made no difference to me. Somebody needed medical attention, they got my best.”
“Good for you.”
“Yeah, good for me. But you and I both know what it got me when Jesus came back. Left behind.”
Floyd checked on Hattie. Rayford got them Cokes from the refrigerator. “I don’t want to bad-mouth an old friend,” Rayford said, “but I suggest you think about the kind of woman your wife was before you consider Hattie as a replacement.”
Floyd pursed his lips and nodded.
“I’m not saying Hattie couldn’t become that kind of person,” Rayford added.
“I know. But there’s no evidence she wants to be.”
“Know what I’m gonna do?” Rayford said, rising. “I’m gonna call my daughter and tell her I love her.”
Floyd looked at his watch. “You know what time it is where she is?”
“I don’t care. And she won’t either.”
Buck and Chaim got stares from both men and women as they approached The Harem. The place was much bigger inside than it looked from outside. Several rooms, each packed with people shoulder to shoulder—some dancing, some kissing passionately—led to the main bar where women danced and people ate and drank.
“Ach!” Rosenzweig said. “Just as I thought.”
As they made their way in, Buck looked carefully for Jacov and averted his eyes every time he was met with a “what are you looking at” glare. Not all the couples were made up of both sexes. This was not the Israel he remembered. The smoke was so thick that Buck knew he’d have done less damage to his lungs if he himself was smoking.
Buck did not realize Chaim had stopped in front of him, and he bumped into the old man. “Oh, Stefan!” Rosenzweig chided, and Buck turned in time to see a young man with a sloshing drink in his hand. His dark hair was wet and matted, and he laughed hysterically. Buck prayed he was alone. “Is Jacov with you?” Rosenzweig demanded.
Stefan, in midcackle, could barely catch his breath. He bent over in a coughing jag and spilled some of his drink on Rosenzweig’s trousers.
“Stefan! Where’s Jacov?”
“Well, he’s not with me!” Stefan shouted, straightening up and laughing more. “But he’s here all right!”
Buck’s heart sank. He knew Jacov had been sincere in his conversion, and God had proved it with the seal on his forehead. How could Jacov desecrate his own salvation this way? Had his brush with the GC been more gruesome than Buck could imagine?
“Where?” Rosenzweig pressed, clearly disgusted.
“In there!” Stefan pointed with his drink, laughing and coughing all the while. “He’s up on a table having the time of his life! Now let me through so I don’t have an accident right here!” He lurched off, laughing so hard tears ran down his face.
Chaim, appearing overcome, strained to see into the main room, from which music blared and strobe lights flashed. “Oh, no!” he moaned, backing into Buck. “He’s totally drunk. This shy, young man who hardly looks you in the eye when he greets you is carrying on in front of everyone! I can’t take this. I’ll bring the car up. Could you just get him down off that table and drag him out? You’re bigger and stronger than he is. Please.”
Buck didn’t know what to say. He’d never been a bouncer, and while he had once enjoyed the nightlife himself, he had never liked loud bars, especially ones like this. He jostled past Chaim as the old man hurried out. Buc
k shouldered his way through several clusters of revelers until he came to dozens whose attention was on the crazy young Israeli holding forth atop a table. It was Jacov all right.
Rayford hurried to the basement and found Ken with Donny Moore’s telescope in his lap and his microscope on the desk. Ken was reading Donny’s technical journals. “Kid was a genius, Ray. I’m learning a ton that’s gonna help us. If you can get this stuff to your other pilot and your inside techie over there, they can have us up to speed when their cover is blown and we’re all just tryin’ to stay alive. What can I do you for?”
“I want to go with you Friday to Israel.”
“You barely escaped. Didn’t your friend Mac say you were as good as dead if you had stayed?”
“It’s not like me to run. I can’t hide from Carpathia for the rest of my life anyway, short as it may be.”
“What the heck’s got into you, Ray?”
“Just talked with Chloe. I smell trouble. No way Nicolae is going to let them out of Israel alive. We have to go get them.”
“I’m game. How do we do it?”
Buck quit excusing himself; he was being cursed anyway. Finally, he was close enough to hear Jacov, but he was railing in Hebrew and Buck understood none of it. Well, almost none. Jacov was shouting and gesturing and trying to keep people’s attention. They laughed at him and seemed to curse him, whistling and throwing cigarette butts at him. Two women splashed him with their drinks.
His face was flushed and he looked high, but he was not drinking, at least then. Buck recognized the word Yeshua, Hebrew for Jesus. And Hamashiach, the word for Messiah.
“What’s he saying?” he asked a man nearby. The drunk looked at him as if he were from another planet. “English?” Buck pressed.
“Kill the English!” the man said. “And the Americans too!”
Buck turned to others. “English?” he asked. “Anyone know English?”
“I do,” a barmaid said. She carried several empties on a tray. “Make it quick.”
