The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books

by Tim LaHaye

  Buck drove home with a vehicle full of supplies, a full tank of gas, and a preoccupation about Mac and Abdullah. The radio was full of news of the insurrection and death of Bindura Rehoboth. GC casualties had included a cook and two aides, but accounts of the destruction of Global Community One left Buck wondering. He called home, pleased to discover that Rayford had heard from David and that their compatriots were worse for wear but alive.

  A week later David and Annie sat in the Personnel office at the Global Community palace. The personnel director held David’s memo. “So the bottom line, Mr. Hassid, is that you take responsibility for Ms. Christopher’s breach of procedure protocol?”

  David nodded. “I should have told her something that basic.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Why is it the department head’s responsibility when the subordinate has a procedure manual?”

  David shifted. “Annie—Ms. Christopher—may have been distracted by a romantic interest on the part of a coworker.”

  The director looked over the top of his glasses. “Really,” he said, more statement than question. “That hardly excuses the violation. Are you interested in pursuing this relationship, Ms. Christopher?”

  “Very much.”

  “And this coworker is in your department?”

  “You’re looking at him,” David said.

  “Brilliant. Well, look. . . . Ms. Christopher’s file shows a list of minor offenses, insubordination and the like. But I’ll waive the usual lowering of a grade level for this kind of a breach, provided she allows me to reassign her where she can be most profitable.”

  She hesitated. “And where might that be?”

  “Administrative branch. This crisis has cost us more than a dozen analysts. Your profile shows you would excel.”

  “What does it entail?”

  He flipped a page and mumbled as he read: “Administrative branch, chain of command: Potentate, Supreme Commander, Director of Intelligence, Analysis Department Director, Employee. Major duties and responsibilities: examining and interpreting data from sources not sympathetic to the Global blah, blah, blah. Intelligence Analyst, yes or no?”

  “Yes.”

  “And try not to lock yourself in the office.”

  As soon as they were out of the Personnel office, David took her hand. He felt such freedom! Then he saw Leon Fortunato stride toward the elevator with Peter the Second barking at him from behind.

  “I don’t want a face-to-face with you, Leon.”

  Fortunato pushed the button and turned on him. “Supreme Commander to you, Peter.”

  “Then do me the courtesy of using my—”

  “I will if you will,” Leon said.

  “All right, Commander! But I’ll not have Carpathia appropriating my—”

  “His Excel—”

  “All right! But he must answer to me if he’s going to abscond with my aircraft and—”

  As they boarded the elevator Leon said, “If you think the potentate of the Global Community would ever answer to you . . .”

  “I want to hear this one,” David said. “I’ll call you, Annie.”

  “Be careful,” she said.

  David sprinted to his quarters, locked the door, and called up on his computer the bug in Fortunato’s office. Peter II was in mid-sentence:

  “. . . refuse to sit when this is not where I want to be.”

  “It’s as close as you’re going to get.”

  “Why does His Excellency duck me, Commander? You tell the world I offered my plane, which I might have been happy to do. But I was not consulted, not given a chance to—”

  “Everything you have, you have because of the potentate. Do you think Enigma Babylon Faith is independent of the Global Community? Do you think you report other than to His Excellency?”

  “I demand to see him this instant!”

  “You demand? You demand of me? I am the gatekeeper, Supreme Pontiff. You are denied access, refused an audience with His Excellency. Do you understand?”

  “I swear to you, Leon, you’ll regret insulting me this way.”

  “I have asked you not to call me—”

  “I will call you anything I please. You sit here in artificial authority not because of any following or accomplishments, but because you have mastered the art of kissing up to the boss. Well, I don’t kiss up, and I will be heard.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Maybe you will,” Leon said. “But not today.”

  David heard heavy footsteps and a door slam. Then Leon’s voice. “Margaret?”

  Over the intercom: “Yes, sir?”

  “See if the potentate has a moment. You may tell him who just stormed out of here.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  David switched to Carpathia’s office and listened in on the exchange. His secretary had passed along the message from Fortunato’s. “What does he want?” Carpathia asked.

  “She says he just had a meeting with the supreme pontiff.”

  “Invite him up.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Mac was up and walking long before Abdullah and was eager to get back to New Babylon. Difficult as his job was, therapy had been no respite. He might have otherwise felt pampered in the Johannesburg palace, but his injuries negated any rest. Between painkillers his body was afire. He requested doses only large enough to take the edge off. The last thing he wanted was an addiction to pills.

  Mac was disgusted with himself for two gaffes. He had hollered over the air that believers were on board Global One. Fortunately Dwayne Tuttle, the erstwhile “Dart,” had covered for him. But Mac had also tossed Leon Fortunato, of all people, his secure phone.

  It was nearly twice as heavy as a normal cell phone, packed with so much secure technology. Leon hadn’t seemed to notice, but what if someone had called Mac while Leon had the phone? If they didn’t recognize Leon’s voice or had less than perfect reception, they could have compromised the whole Trib Force.

  What troubled Mac was that neither lapse was a result of panic or desperation; both were due to lack of faith. He sincerely believed they were not going to survive the onslaught, and thus, what was the difference?

  Fortunately, he had been wise in his selection of a new first officer. Abdullah had saved the day with the phone. Mac had awakened with a start late the first night during his recovery. He shook Abdullah awake. “Leon has my phone,” he said. “One call from the wrong person and we’re history.”

  “Sleep well, my friend,” Abdullah said. “Your roommate is a pickpocket.”

  “Come again?”

  “When you and Leon were helping me into the terminal, I retrieved your phone from his pocket.”

  “That’s a heavy phone. Why didn’t he notice?”

  “He was scared to death. I picked my spot. The phone is in my possession.”

  “What time is it?”

  Abdullah checked his watch. “Two in the morning.”

  “What time in the States?”

  “They are nine hours behind us when we are in New Babylon. Eight here.”

  “Let me have that phone.”

  Mac called Rayford and filled him in on the Tuttles, who had disappeared shortly after delivering Mac and Abdullah to the infirmary. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell them how connected we were to the co-op,” Mac said, “but your daughter is surely aware of them.”

  Rayford found Chloe was aware of the Tuttles. “They’re going to handle a huge South Sea area for us,” she said. “That they were close enough to hear Mac’s Mayday is nothing short of a miracle.”

  “It’s a contact straight from God,” Rayford said. “If you can spare them, I need them to get me to Europe.”

  “Why don’t you fly yourself, Dad?”

  “I don’t want to fly alone and then try to be at my best incognito. I’d share the flying with Dwayne. We can take his Super J or the Gulfstream.”

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “Beauregard Hanson is going to tell me, n
ext time he shows up at Palwaukee. T is going to keep him there under some pretense, I’m going to wave a little cash under his nose, and he’s going to sing. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  David Hassid sat transfixed before his computer, earplug in, listening to Carpathia and Fortunato.

  “Leon, you must not feel obligated to kiss my ring every time you come into my presence. I appreciate it in public, but—”

  “Begging your pardon, Excellency, but—”

  “And you must also feel the freedom to address me informally in private. We go back a long way and—”

  “Oh, but I could not. Not now. Not after all I have witnessed and experienced. You must understand, Potentate, that I do not do these things from any other motive than genuine devotion. I believe you to be inspired, sir, and while it is the highest honor that you consider me enough of a friend to call me by name, forgive me if I cannot reciprocate.”

  “Very well, then, Leon. Now tell me about your encounter with the man who would be king.”

  David listened as Fortunato recounted the conversation. Carpathia was silent a moment. Then, “Peter does not know, does he? He does not have any idea that I knew of his alliance with Rehoboth. He believes he can divide me from my regional potentates and conquer me.”

  “I’m sure that’s what he believes, Excellency.”

  “What a fool!” Carpathia said.

  “Shall we let him lead us to another subversive or two, or has his time come?”

  David heard movement, as if Carpathia had stood. His voice quality had changed, so David assumed he was pacing. “I nearly lost patience with you months ago when he had not been eliminated. But in the end there was benefit. Not only did he lead us to Rehoboth, a recent communiqué from him proved most enlightening and may have bearing on our two friends to the south.”

  “The Jerusalem Twosome?”

  “The same. You like that term, do you not?”

  “Genius, sir. Only you . . .”

  “I had asked him to put his scholars on all the mysterious manuscripts from the past, from Nostradamus to ancient holy writings and such, and see if there are any clues to the vulnerability of those two. I know the Ben-Judah-ites believe they are the two witnesses prophesied in the Christian Scriptures. In the unlikely event that they are, Mathews tells me they will be vulnerable four months from now. They themselves have spoken often of their being protected from harm until the due time.”

  “But, sir,” Fortunato whined, “the people who say these men are the prophesied ones are the same who say you are the Antichrist.”

  “I know, Leon. You and I know I am merely doing what I have been called to do.”

  “But if they have a due time, so does their enemy!”

  “Leon! Take a deep breath. Do I act like an Antichrist?”

  “Certainly not, Excellency!”

  “Who do you say that I am?”

  “You know well that I believe in my heart you may be Christ himself.”

  “I shall not make that claim for myself, trusted friend. At least not yet. Only when it is obvious to the world that I have divine power could I personally make such a claim.”

  “I have spread far and wide the story of your resurrecting me—”

  “I appreciate that and am confident many believe it. But it was not witnessed by anyone else, so there may be doubt. I have been ineffective in containing the two preachers, which has damaged my credibility. But I worship a deity determined to be the god above all gods, to sit high above the heavens, to evolve into the perfect eternal being. How can I fail if I pledge myself to him?”

  “As I pledge myself to you, Excellency.”

  To David it seemed Carpathia had returned to his chair behind his desk, where the microphone fidelity was best. “Let us bide our time on Peter,” he said. “Are the majority of the potentates at the limits of their patience with him?”

  “They are, and, sir, despite that Potentate Rehoboth misled me on this very issue, I believe most of the others were sincere. They assured me they were not only sympathetic to eliminating him, but that they would also be willing to participate in his demise.”

  “Leon, I have worked with rulers long enough to know that their word is worthless until it has been confirmed by action. We must allow Peter to believe that more regional potentates are disloyal to me. Clearly his goal is to usurp my role. Rehoboth would have been his Fortunato, had the assassination attempt succeeded. Surely Peter must believe he has the confidence of the others. Let us use that to our advantage.”

  “I will give this my full attention, sir. And thank you again for surrounding me with protection in Johannesburg.”

  “Think nothing of it. When will the pilots return so we may confer the medals upon them?”

  “Soon, sir.”

  “The people love pageantry, do they not?” Leon agreed aloud, but Carpathia talked over him. “With the turmoil of late, we have had too few opportunities to make examples of model citizens, of heroes.”

  “Our workforce is depleted, Excellency, but with creativity we can rise to the occasion and make their return to New Babylon a world-class event.”

  To David, Carpathia sounded as if he were dreaming. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I like that. I like that very much. And get someone on this timing issue with the Twosome. If the Ben-Judah-ites put the due time at the midpoint of our agreement with Israel, I want the precise date.”

  David’s heart pounded as he could feel Carpathia’s excitement. The potentate raised his voice, spoke more quickly. “Talk about pageantry, my friend! Talk about an event! Fool the two. Surprise them. Defer to them until that time. Give them the audience they think they deserve. Pull out all the stops, Leon. Global television coverage. Plan a happening. Put me there.

  “Yes, I shall be in Jerusalem, the heart of the country with whom I have made a solemn pact. We will celebrate the halfway point of the peace that has been accomplished there. Produce the dignitaries. Get Peter there in all his laughable finery. My old friend Dr. Rosenzweig must be a guest of honor. We will do as the so-called saints do and recommit ourselves. I will dedicate myself anew to the protection of Israel!

  “With all the world’s eyes there, I shall personally take responsibility for the end of the preachers. How her citizens will love the end of plagues, harangues, drought, famine, bloody water! Leon, take a note. Get the potentates to encourage Peter in his scheming against me. Have them lead him to believe they are with him, that they are, are, yes, unanimous in their antipathy toward me. They want him to be their ruler. Be sure he comes to Jerusalem believing he has the confidence of every one of them.”

  “I will do my best, sir.”

  “We have only a few months. Make it your top priority. High-level, confidential meetings whenever and wherever you need them. Full use of all our resources. This must be our proudest moment, the perfect performance. It shall be the end of insurrection, the end of opposition, the end of Enigma Babylon trying to assume my authority, the end of the Judah-ites, with no preachers in Jerusalem to worship.”

  “But Ben-Judah still has that vast audience—”

  “Even he will lose heart when it becomes clear there is only one power on earth and that it resides in New Babylon. Invite him! Invite his followers! They were so buoyed by embarrassing me and trying to kill me there last year. Well, welcome them back, and watch their reaction!”

  “You are brilliant, Excellency.”

  “If you like that, Leon, consider this. It will take the best you have to offer. But start confiding in Peter that all is not well between you and me.”

  “But, Excellency, I love—”

  “I know, Leon.”

  “But the supreme pontiff knows too. I can’t imagine convincing him that my unwavering loyalty has suddenly—”

  “Of course! It must not be sudden. Let him suggest it! Surely he finds negative things to plant in your mind about me, does he not? Has he never criticized me?”

  “Certainly, but I always defend yo
ur motives and—”

  “Just hesitate once, Leon. Let him render you silent just once. I know him. He will pounce on it. He believes he can persuade anyone of anything. What an ego to believe the ten potentates admire him, when we know beyond doubt most of them would kill him themselves! Can you do it, Leon?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I have every confidence in you. Within four months we will consolidate all power and authority and render opposition moot. Just the thought of it energizes me! Go now, friend. Hesitate to ask for nothing. All my—our—resources are at your disposal.”

  “Thank you, Excellency. Thank you for the privilege of serving you.”

  “What a nice thing to say,” Carpathia said.

  David had a headache from listening intently for so long. He was about to shut down the computer when he heard someone in Carpathia’s office again. The secretary chatted with him for a minute, then he asked her to hold all calls and allow no visitors until further notice. David heard the door close and then a click, and he assumed Carpathia had locked it. He waited to see if Carpathia made a significant phone call.

  He heard the squeak of Nicolae’s chair, and then perhaps it rolled. Finally, he heard the potentate whispering. “O Lucifer, son of the morning! I have worshiped you since childhood.” David shivered, his heart thudding. Carpathia continued, “How grateful I am for the creativity you imbue, O lion of glory, angel of light. I praise you for imaginative ideas that never cease to amaze me. You have given me the nations! You have promised that I shall ascend into heaven with you, that we will exalt our thrones above the stars of God. I rest in your promise that I will ascend above the heights of the clouds. I will be like the Most High.

  “I shall do all your bidding so I may claim your promises to rule the universe by your side. You have chosen me and allowed me to make the earth tremble and to shake kingdoms. Your glory will be my glory, and like unto you, I will never die. I eagerly await the day when I may make plain your power and majesty.”

  Rayford got the call late on a Friday night. “He’s here,” T said. “And I told him someone was coming in with an interesting and potentially profitable proposition. So far he’s bit, but I hadn’t seen him since your woman friend disappeared, and I can tell he’s waiting for me to raise the issue.”