The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books

by Tim LaHaye

  “My love will not die, even if I do,” he had said.

  “That was not exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  He thanked her for letting him go. She punched him on the arm. “Like I had a choice. Didn’t I make your life sufficiently miserable? I’m probably the reason you’re going.”

  She seemed to maintain her good spirits, though tears came as Buck and Rayford and Leah pulled away from the house under Tsion’s prayer, blessing, and “Godspeed!”

  “Do you believe this?” Mac asked Abdullah as they gawked at the television lights and cables and satellites erected near the Wailing Wall. There seemed nearly as many cameras as at the festival site.

  Abdullah, typically brief, merely shook his head.

  Mac felt a thrill at seeing Eli and Moishe, even from a distance. They were preaching loudly and evangelistically, and the crowd seemed schizophrenic. Mac had heard that the preachers’ audience was usually quiet, either out of respect or fear. They kept their distance from the strange pair—who had been known to incinerate attackers, leaving charred remains. No one wanted to be mistaken for a threat.

  This crowd—larger than normal and boisterous—was apparently made up of early arrivers for the Gala. Some responded to the pair’s every sentence, cheering, clapping, whistling, amen-ing. Others booed, hooted, catcalled. Mac could only gawk at several on the edge of the crowd who danced and ran toward the fence, as if showing their bravado. It was clear the preachers could distinguish would-be assassins from foolish newcomers who considered this just part of the Gala hullabaloo.

  Strangest, however, was a group of about two dozen who seemed moved by the preaching. They knelt within ten feet of the fence and appeared to be weeping. Eli and Moishe traded sentences, pleading with the crowd to come to Christ before it was too late. These evidently were doing just that.

  “One reason to be grateful,” Mac said, “in the middle of all this.”

  The two witnesses seemed especially urgent. The timing was not lost on Mac. He was a student of Tsion’s as much as anyone else was, and he knew the “due time” they had so often mentioned coincided with the opening day of the Global Gala half a mile away.

  Further insight into the relationship—or the lack of one—between Rayford and Leah came to Buck on the drive to Palwaukee. Her conversation centered on Tsion.

  Tsion?

  “He seems so lonely,” she said.

  “He is,” Rayford said. “Except for Chloe and Buck, we’re single people in very artificial close quarters.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she said. She asked about the details of Tsion’s life before he joined the Trib Force, so Buck filled her in.

  At Palwaukee, T had the Gulfstream fueled and the charts on board. He had even stocked the refrigerator.

  “That’s above and beyond the call, T,” Rayford said.

  “Don’t mention it. Our little church body is praying for you all, though I have, obviously, given them no details.”

  From Israel, Mac checked in with David in New Babylon late Sunday night. “It’s like a ghost town here,” David said. “I have free reign but no one to spy on. Annie and I are getting time together, but we spend it planning to escape from here and deciding where we’ll go.”

  “Don’t leave before you have to,” Mac said. “We need you right where you are.”

  The clock showed two hours earlier, Belgian time, when Rayford put down in Brussels. He was as nervous as when he had approached Hattie’s apartment door in Le Havre. He had to cover his feelings. For all his son-in-law and Leah knew, his job here was just chauffeur. How would they interpret uncalled-for nervousness?

  “Donna” would check into a hotel not far from the infamous Buffer, planning to attempt a visit the next day. Buck, under his new alias, Russell Staub, would head for his commercial connection to Tel Aviv.

  “You’ve entered my secure phone number?” Rayford asked Leah as he taxied closer to the terminal.

  “Yours and Buck’s.”

  “There’s not much I can do for you if you can’t reach Ray,” Buck said.

  “If I can’t get hold of Rayford,” she said, gathering her stuff, “I’ll need someone to say good-bye to. Wish me luck.”

  “We don’t do luck,” Buck said. “Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “Pray for me then.”

  Rayford knew he should respond, but he was preoccupied. And Leah was gone.

  “Where are you going to be, Ray?” Buck asked him.

  Rayford shot him a look. “The less you know, the less you’re accountable for.”

  Buck held up his hands. “Ray! I just mean generally. Have you got a place, things to do, ways to blend in?”

  “I’m covered,” Rayford said.

  “And Leah knows everything we want to communicate to Hattie?”

  “I wouldn’t bring her all this way and have her go in there unprepared.” He could tell he was annoying Buck. What was the matter with him?

  “I’m just getting everything set in my head for my own peace of mind, Ray. I’m going into a stressful situation, and I want fewer things to worry about.”

  “You’d better get going,” Rayford said, looking at his watch. “If you find a way to worry about fewer things, let me know. We’re sending a brand-new mole to a prison, and smart as she is, who knows what she’ll do or say under pressure?”

  “That puts me at ease.”

  “Time to grow up, Buck.”

  “Time to lighten up, Dad.”

  “Be careful, hear?” Rayford said.

  Rayford felt very lonely when Buck left the plane. He was undecided about his quest, and he knew what the others would think of it. If God did use him to kill Carpathia, he couldn’t imagine escaping. He feared he had seen his loved ones for the last time. And he hoped he wasn’t putting too much on Buck, who would have to somehow get Leah back to the States.

  Ten minutes after Buck disappeared into the terminal, Rayford refueled and asked the tower for clearance to take off. He had considered looking for any airstrip other than Ben Gurion or Jerusalem, but decided his best chance at slipping through under his new alias—Marv Berry—was to go where the most traffic was. Ben Gurion.

  It was all David could do, even with Annie’s help, to keep straight who was who now that three stateside Trib Forcers were using aliases overseas. He made himself a card that listed the real initials, in reverse order, next to the alias. Thus: “RL Donna Clendenon; SR Marvin Berry; WC Russell Staub.” For good measure he added Hattie’s: “DH Mae Willie.”

  Buck flew directly into Jerusalem on a late flight and checked into a hostel under his alias. At midnight he took a cab to the Wailing Wall and found himself at the back of a crowd so large he could not see Moishe and Eli. He used the occasion to check in by phone with David, then Chloe, then Mac. Finally he called Chaim’s number, and Jacov answered.

  “Oh, Buck!” he said. “I had so hoped you would call! It’s awful, terrible!”

  “What?”

  “Dr. Rosenzweig could not get out of bed this morning, and he could not communicate. He appeared paralyzed and afraid. He drooled and moaned and his left hand was curled, his arm straight. His mouth drooped. We called for an ambulance, but it took so long, I was afraid he would die.”

  “A stroke?”

  “That’s the diagnosis. They finally took him to the hospital and are running tests. We won’t know the results until tomorrow, but it does not look good.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I can tell you, Buck, but you will not be allowed in. Not even any of us have been allowed to see him. He’s in intensive care, and they say his vital signs look good for now, everything considered. But we are worried. All the time before the ambulance arrived, we prayed over him and pled with him to become a believer. Because he could not talk, I kept watching his forehead for evidence that he had prayed. But I saw nothing. He looked angry and frightened and kept waving me away with his good hand.”

  “Jacov, I’m so sorry. Keep
me posted any time there’s even a small change.”

  “We don’t dare call your number from here. Your phone is secure, but ours isn’t.”

  “Good thinking. I’ll check in whenever I can. And I’ll pray.”

  Rayford—as Marv Berry—was detained only briefly in the busy customs area, where an agent bought his story that the heavy metal box in his suitcase was a computer backup battery. Rayford rented a tiny car and checked into a seedy hotel on the west side of Tel Aviv. He called Leah’s hotel in Brussels. It was well after midnight there, but he hoped with the time change and jet lag, she might be awake.

  The hotel operator was unwilling to ring Mrs. Clendenon’s room, but “Mr. Berry” insisted it was an emergency. Leah answered groggily on the sixth ring, and Rayford was impressed that she had her wits about her. “This is Donna,” she said.

  “It’s Marv. Did I wake you?”

  “Yes. What’s wrong?”

  “Everything’s fine. Listen, it’s going to be impossible to pick you up until Friday.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t get into details. Just be ready Friday.”

  “Well, ah, Marv, I should be ready Tuesday.”

  “Don’t try to call me before Friday, all right?”

  “All right, but—”

  “All right, Donna?”

  “All right! You can’t tell me anything more specific?”

  “I would if I could.”

  Buck awoke early Monday and hurried to the Wailing Wall. The night before he had not been able to get close to Eli and Moishe, though he thrilled to see people coming out of the crowd and kneeling by the fence to receive Christ.

  The witnesses had always spoken with power and urgency, but Buck could tell from their delivery that they knew as well as anyone they were running out of time. The world had been left depleted of population with the plagues wrought by the 200 million horsemen, and those who survived seemed determined as ever to continue in their sin. Now it seemed the witnesses were making their last concerted effort to wrest souls from the evil one.

  Monday crowds at the Temple Mount were even bigger, because the Gala would not begin until early evening, and hundreds of thousands of delegates were curious about the preachers they had only heard about before. The sophisticated sin businesses in the center of Jerusalem were crowded too, but the majority of tourists were gaping at the strange men preaching from behind the fence.

  This was their 1260th and last day to preach and prophesy before the due time. Buck felt unspeakably privileged to be there. He shouldered his way through the crowd until he popped out of the front row, striding past new converts kneeling before the fence. Buck stood close enough that he could have touched the fence, closer to Eli and Moishe than anyone else was. Some from the crowd cautioned him, reminding him that people had died for such boldness. He knelt, his eyes on the two, and settled in to listen.

  Eli held forth with Moishe sitting behind him, his back against the wall of a small stone building. “Watch that one!” someone shouted. “He’s hiding the flamethrower!” Many laughed, but more shushed them. Buck was overwhelmed at the emotion in Eli’s voice. Eli cried out, near tears, loud enough to be heard for blocks, though he was also being broadcast frequently over GC CNN. TV reporters throughout Jerusalem filed stories about the excitement building for the Gala that evening, and every other one, it seemed, came from right here at the Wall.

  Eli shouted, “How the Messiah despaired when he looked out over this very city! God the Father promised to bless Jerusalem if her people would obey his commandment and put no other god before him. We come in the name of the Father, and you do not receive us. Jesus himself said, ‘O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate. For I say unto you, Ye shall not see me henceforth, till ye shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.’”

  The crowd had fallen silent. Eli continued, “God sent his Son, the promised Messiah, who fulfilled more than one hundred ancient prophecies, including being crucified in this city. Christ’s love compels us to tell you that he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.

  “We are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God. For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.

  “Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved. Though this world and its false rulers promise that all religions lead to God, this is a lie. Jesus is the only way to God, as he himself declared, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.’”

  Eli appeared exhausted and backed away from the fence. Moishe rose and proclaimed, “This world may have seen the last of us, but you have not seen the last of Jesus the Christ! As the prophets foretold, he will come again in power and great glory to establish his kingdom on this earth. The Lord is coming with thousands upon thousands of his holy ones to judge everyone, and to convict all the ungodly of all the ungodly acts they have done in the ungodly way, and of all the harsh words ungodly sinners have spoken against him.

  “His dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed. Come to him this day, this hour! The Lord is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance. Thus saith the Lord.”

  Eli rose and joined Moishe and they called out in unison, “We have served the Lord God Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and Jesus Christ, his only begotten son. Lo, we have fulfilled our duty and finished our task until the due time. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem . . .”

  The two stood before the fence, unmoving, not blinking; their hair, beards, and robes wafting gently in the breeze. The crowd grew restless. Some called out for more preaching; others taunted. Buck slowly rose and backed away, knowing the two were finished with their proclamations. To many it would appear that Nicolae Carpathia had won. He had brought his Global Gala to Jerusalem and silenced the preachers.

  Rayford was as afraid to run into Buck as into the GC. He had purposely not shaved the day of the flight or since. Late Monday he drove to Jerusalem, parked on the outskirts, and walked into the city. He wore a drab green turban over a longish gray wig, and dark sunglasses with tiny holes that allowed him to see almost as well as normal while hiding his eyes.

  He wore a light ankle-length robe, common to the area. Deep in an inside pocket he carried the Saber. The robe was roomy enough that he could pull his hands inside through the armholes and separate the weapon without anyone seeing. Though he saw metal detectors on either side of the great stage, the thousands and thousands of onlookers were allowed into the area without being searched. He felt a tingle from the back of his head to his tailbone, knowing he was carrying a high-powered weapon with kill power from hundreds of feet away. After having been so eager to do this thing, he now pleaded with God to spare him the task. Would he be willing to follow through and kill Carpathia if God made that clear?

  The crowd had gathered early, and the pre-opening act, a Latin band, was loud, the beat addictive. Half the crowd danced and sang, and more joined them as the afternoon wore on. Music, singing, and dancing, interspersed with excited predictions about the soon arrival of the potentate himself, whipped the crowd into delirium.

  As the sky gradually darkened, Rayford kept moving, milling about to ensure he would remain unnoticed. Once he nearly stopped and whipped off his sunglasses. He could have sworn Hattie had brushed past him. Heart racing, he turned and watched her go. Same height, same figure, same gait. Couldn’t be. Simply couldn’t be.

&n
bsp; Mac and Abdullah strolled into the Gala plaza, now jammed with delegates. “You want to hang together or split up this week?” Mac said.

  Abdullah shrugged. “If you want to be alone, it’s no problem.”

  “It’s not that,” Mac said. “I just want you to feel free to be by yourself whenever you want.”

  Abdullah shrugged again. Truth was, Mac wouldn’t have minded being alone. Alone in the huge crowd. Alone with his thoughts about how the world, and his life, had changed. He had come to a decision. If Carpathia somehow survived this event, if for some strange reason even Tsion Ben-Judah had been wrong in his assessment of the prophecies, Mac had a plan. Rayford had had a point. One of them should have pointed Nicolae’s plane toward a mountain long ago, sacrificing himself for the good of all. Mac wouldn’t be so selfish as to involve Abdullah. Somehow he would have to devise an exception that would allow him to fly the potentate by himself. He wouldn’t even need a mountain, really. All he needed was to cut the power and let gravity take over.

  Could he? Would he? He looked at Abdullah and scanned the crowd. This was no way to live.

  Finally, helicopters appeared. Rayford looked up as the people cheered. The choppers landed on either end of the stage, and the dignitaries bounded out to thunderous applause. All ten regional potentates, the supreme commander, and a woman in gaudy Enigma Babylon vestments trotted up the stairs. From under the stage came the burly security detail that formed a half-circle around the lectern.

  Only when everyone else was in place did Carpathia arrive alone in another copter. To deafening roars he was welcomed to the stage by the standing VIPs, all seeming eager to shake his hand. Fortunato was last and led the potentate to a chair big and ornate as a throne.

  The rest sat when he did, but the seemingly endless applause brought Carpathia to his feet again and again to shyly, humbly wave. Each time he stood, so did all the others on stage. Rayford was about two hundred feet from the man and twice had drawn his hands inside his robe and fingered the Saber, sliding it open an inch, then closing it. He did not have a clear shot with so many people in front of him. If he was to do this, God would have to orchestrate it. Rayford would bide his time, see if God provided an opening or opened a path to the front. If anyone in that crowd fired at Carpathia, no one would notice him until after the first shot, so enamored were they with their potentate.