by Tim LaHaye
“Heard of him?”
Albie shook his head. “Ask me tomorrow.”
A few minutes later they passed the Quonset-hut-style building deep off a side road. Rayford said, “Question. Why not come in here with a GC jeep—complete the image?”
“Surprise. You told Ms. Durham in no uncertain terms you were not coming, knowing they were listening. They’re not expecting anyone. Let them wonder who’s pulling in. I show up in uniform, outranking everyone; they don’t recognize the civilian. They’ll worry more about impressing us than making up a story. Anyway, I don’t want to transport this woman in an open jeep, do you?”
Rayford shook his head. “You really think we’ll surprise ’em?”
“Only briefly. The gate guard will let them know brass is coming.”
Rayford popped a U-turn and headed for the entrance. The guard at the gate asked him to state his business. “Just chauffeuring the deputy commander here.”
The guard stooped to get a look at Albie, then saluted. “An appointment with whom, sir?”
“Stephens, and I’m late, if you don’t mind.”
“Sign here, please.”
Rayford signed “Marvin Berry,” and they were waved on.
As they entered the front office, a woman at the desk was listening to a strange voice over the intercom. It was high-pitched and nasal, and Rayford couldn’t tell if it came from a man or a woman. “A deputy commander to see me?” the voice said.
“Yes, Mr. Stephens. I checked the name with the GC database and the only Marvin Berry employed by us is not in Peacekeeping. He’s an elderly fisherman in Canada.”
“I smell a rat,” the voice said.
So it’s a man, but what’s the matter with him? Rayford wondered.
“One moment, sir,” the woman said, standing when she noticed the deputy commander behind Rayford. “Is your name Berry?”
“Berry’s my driver,” Albie barked. “Look up Elbaz on your computer. None of my family knows how to fish.”
“Mystery solved, Mr. Stephens,” the woman announced over the intercom. “The gate guard had the driver sign.”
“Incompetent!” Stephens’s weird voice sang into the squawk box. “Send him in!”
“The guard?”
“The deputy commander!”
She pointed to the first door on the left down a short hallway, but when Rayford moved to follow, she said, “Only the deputy commander, please.”
“He’s with me,” Albie said. “I’ll clear it with the boss.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“I do,” Albie said. He stopped at the door and knocked.
“Come in,” came the disembodied voice.
“Come in?” Albie repeated in a whisper. “Is he going to be embarrassed when he realizes he didn’t open the door to a superior officer.”
Albie pushed the door open, stepped in, and hesitated, causing Rayford to bump into him. “Sorry,” Rayford mumbled. He could not see Stephens, but he heard the whine of an electric motor.
“Forgive the lack of protocol,” came the voice as Stephens’s wheelchair rolled into view. Rayford was taken aback. The man had one leg, the other a stump just above the knee; his right hand had small protrusions in place of fingers, and the other hand, though whole, had clearly suffered severe burns. “I’d stand, but then, I can’t.”
“Understood,” Albie said, hesitantly shaking the man’s partial hand.
Rayford did the same, and they followed Stephens’s gesture to two chairs that filled the small office. What was it about the face? Stephens’s neck was permanently red and scarred, as were his cheekbones and ears. He was clearly wearing a toupee. Except for the lips, the middle of his face—chin, nose, eye sockets, and the center of his forehead—seemed all of one piece, the color of a plastic hearing aid.
“Don’t know you, Elbaz,” Stephens said, almost like a man with no tongue or no nose. “You, Berry, you look familiar. You GC?”
“No, sir.”
“I’m here on business,” Albie said. “I don’t have a hard copy of my orders, but—”
“Excuse me, Deputy Commander, but I’ll get to you. You got a minute?”
“Well, sure, but—”
“Just give me a minute. I mean, I know you outrank me and all, but unless you’re in an unusual hurry, bear with me. Your story checks out. I’ll give you all the help I can on whatever you need. Now, Berry, were you ever GC?”
Rayford, disconcerted by the wasted body and the voice, hesitated. “No, uh, no, sir. Not Peacekeeping anyway.”
“But something.”
“I didn’t mean to say that.”
“But you did. You were GC connected some way, weren’t you? You look familiar. I know you or of you, or I’ll bet I know a friend of yours.”
Albie gave Rayford a look, and Rayford quit talking. Regardless of the question, Rayford merely stared at the man, racking his brain. Where would he have run into a Pinkerton Stephens, and how could he forget him if he had?
“I was a whole man then, Mr. Berry. If that’s your real name.”
Rayford grew more uncomfortable by the second. Had they been set up? Would he ever get out of here? And what of Hattie? Albie seemed to have stiffened and was no more comfortable than he.
Stephens cocked his head for one more lingering glance at Rayford, then turned to Albie. “Now then, Deputy Commander Elbaz. What might be your business with me?”
“I’ve been assigned to take custody of your prisoner, sir.”
“And who told you I had a prisoner?”
“Top brass, sir. Said the subject was uncooperative, that some plan or mission failed, and that we were to return her to Buffer.”
“Buffer? What’s that?”
“You know what that is, Stephens, if you are who you say you are.”
“Doesn’t make sense that half a man would be in a leadership role in the GC?” Stephens said.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But it doesn’t add up, does it?”
“Can’t say it does.”
“Never saw another like me in the ranks, have you, Elbaz?”
“No, sir, I haven’t.”
“Well, I’m legit whether you like it or not, and you’re going to have to deal with me.”
“Happy to, sir, and when you check me out, you’ll see that everything is in order, and—”
“Did I say I was housing a prisoner here, Deputy Commander?”
“No, sir, but I know you are.”
“You know I am.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Buffer is a female rehab facility, sir. Were you under the impression I had a female incarcerated here?”
Albie nodded.
“Does this look like a detention center to you?”
“They take different forms during different times.”
“Indeed they do. Is there a reason, sir, why you did not greet me with the new protocol?”
“I’ve been having trouble remembering that, Mr. Stephens.”
“Indeed? Do you realize, sir, that you have a smudge on your forehead?”
Albie jerked. Rayford felt a chill. A GC Peacekeeper could see Albie’s mark? Things tumbled into place so fast that Rayford could barely keep up. How much had been compromised? Albie knew everything!
“I do?” Albie said innocently. He swiped at his forehead with his palm.
“There, that’s better,” Stephens said.
Albie slowly moved his hand until it rested on his side arm. If only Rayford had one.
“Gentlemen,” Stephens enunciated carefully past his awful sound, “if you’ll do me the kindness of following me, I’d like us to start over in a new room. This time we’ll begin with the proper protocol—what do you say?”
He rolled past Rayford and Albie, reached for the door, swung it open, and sped through before it slammed on him. Albie rose and grabbed it, and Rayford followed him down the hall. Albie unsnapped the strap that held the 9 mm in its holster. Rayford wonde
red if he had time to peel off and get out the front door to the van before Albie knew he was gone. He hesitated, hoping the whir of the chair would cover him if he made the decision.
But Albie turned and motioned Rayford to walk in front of him, behind the fast-moving chair. Even if he could escape, Hattie was history. He had no choice but to stay and play it out.
CHAPTER 5
Buck settled on the white Hummer, confirmed it had a full tank, checked the tires, found the keys, checked the engine, and fired it up.
“What shall we name her?” Chloe said.
“This is a big, ol’ muscle car,” he said. “It’s got Chloe written all over it.”
It would be hours before dark, and they would be in touch with Zeke frequently to discover what he knew about the positioning of the GC stakeout. They were looking for rebels who gassed up at his dad’s station, not expecting Zeke Jr. to even be there. But could Buck get him out of there without their seeing?
Kenny was down for a nap, and Leah was reading when they returned. “Tsion said you could join him and Chaim,” she said. “And Chloe was going to involve me in the co-op stuff.”
“I’ve got to start communicating with everyone,” Chloe said, setting up her computer as Leah pulled up a chair. Buck moved up one floor to Tsion’s hideaway.
What a spot he had set up for himself. In a room just big enough for a U-shaped desk, Tsion had what amounted to a cockpit, where he was within arm’s length of whatever he needed. With his computer before him and his commentaries and Bible on a ledge above, he was ready. Buck was struck by how few books he had brought with him, but Dr. Ben-Judah explained that most of what he needed had been scanned onto his massive hard drive.
Chaim sat in a comfortable chair looking less than comfortable. He had been hurt worse than Buck in the plane crash, yet he sat weeping tears of apparent joy, as Tsion rushed to teach him.
“Much of this you have heard from your youth, Chaim,” the rabbi said, “but now that God has opened your eyes and you know Jesus is the Messiah, you will be amazed at how it all comes together for you and makes sense.”
Chaim rocked and wept and nodded. “I see,” he said over and over. “I see.”
Buck sat transfixed, hearing in a gush much of what he had learned over the past three-plus years from Tsion’s daily cybermessages. At times the rabbi himself would be overcome and have to stop and exult, “Chaim, you don’t know how we prayed for you, again and again, that God would open your eyes. Do you need a break, my brother?”
Chaim shook his head but held up a hand, trying to make himself understood despite the wired-shut jaw. “God is opening my eyes to so many things,” he managed. “Cameron, come close. I must ask you something.”
Buck looked at Tsion, who nodded, and he pulled his chair closer to Chaim’s. “I always wondered why you had not come to Nicolae’s first meeting with his new leadership team at the United Nations. Remember?”
“Of course.”
“Forgive me for spitting on you, Cameron, but I cannot speak another way just now.”
“Don’t give it a second thought.”
“I could not fathom it! The privilege of a lifetime, the opportunity no self-respecting journalist could miss. You were invited. I invited you! You said you would come, and yet you did not. It was the talk of New York. You were demoted because of it. Why? Why did you not come?”
“I was there, Chaim.”
“No one saw you there! Nicolae was disappointed, enraged. Everyone asked about you. Your boss, what was his name?”
“Steve Plank.”
“Mr. Plank could not believe it! Hattie Durham was there! You were the one who introduced her to Carpathia, and yet you were not there when she expected you.”
“I was there, Chaim.”
“I was there too, Cameron. Your place at the table was empty.”
Buck was about to say again that he was there, but he suddenly realized what was happening and why Chaim would bring this up again after so long. “Your eyes truly are being opened, aren’t they, Chaim?”
The old man put a quivering hand on Buck’s knee. “I could not understand it. It made no sense. Jonathan Stonagal had embarrassed Nicolae by going after you. Nicolae shamed him into committing suicide, and he killed Joshua Todd-Cothran in the process.”
Buck wanted to say he had seen it and that was not the way it had happened, but he waited.
“None of it made sense,” Rosenzweig whined. “None of it. But the eyes don’t lie. Stonagal grabbed the gun from the security guard, shot himself and his colleague with him.”
“No, Chaim,” Buck whispered. “The eyes don’t lie. But the Antichrist does.”
Rosenzweig began to shiver until his whole body shook. He pressed his hands against his tender face to stop the quivering of his lips. “Why were you not there, Cameron?”
“Why would I not have been there, sir? What could have kept me away?”
“I cannot imagine!”
“Neither could I.”
“Then why? Why?”
Buck did not respond. He had quit trying to convince the old man. “I was assigned to be there; my boss expected me to go.”
“Yes, yes!”
“It was the mother of all cover stories for the largest circulation magazine in history. It was the apex of my career. Would I have thrown that away?”
Rosenzweig shook his head, tears falling, hands trembling. “You would not.”
“Of course I wouldn’t. Who would?”
“Maybe you had come to believe Nicolae was Antichrist and you didn’t want to be exposed to him?”
“By then I knew, yes, or I thought I did. I would not have gone in there without the protection of God.”
“And you did not have it?”
“I had it.”
“And so why not go? You would have been the only one there with God’s hand upon you.”
Buck merely nodded. Rosenzweig’s eyes cleared, and it appeared he was studying something a thousand miles away. His pupils darted back and forth. “You were there!”
“Yes, I was.”
“You were there, weren’t you, Cameron?”
“I was, sir.”
“And you saw it all!”
“I saw everything.”
“But you did not see what the rest of us saw.”
“I saw what really happened. I saw the truth.”
Chaim’s hands fluttered beside his head, and through clenched teeth he described what he had once seen and what he now saw anew. “Nicolae! Nicolae murdered those men! He made Stonagal kneel before him, stuck the weapon in the man’s ear, and killed the both of them with one shot!”
“That’s what happened.”
“But Nicolae told us what we had seen, told us what we would remember, and our perception became our reality!”
Chaim turned around and knelt, resting his fragile head in his hands, elbows on the seat of his chair. “Oh, God, oh, God,” he prayed, “open my eyes. Help me to always see the truth, your truth. Don’t let me be led by a madman, deceived by a liar. Thank you, Jehovah God.”
Slowly he stood and embraced Buck, then turned to face Tsion. “Truly Nicolae is Antichrist,” he said. “He must be stopped. I want to do whatever I have to do.”
Tsion smiled ruefully. “May I remind you that you already tried?”
“I certainly did, but not for the reasons I would try today.”
“If you think you know the depths of the depravity of the man,” Tsion said, “wait till we get to what he has in mind for God’s chosen people.”
Chaim sat and reached for a pad of paper. “Skip to that, Tsion. Please.”
“In due time, my friend. Just a few thousand more years to go.”
Despite his pain, David was rested. He could have used more, but he had slept the sleep of the drugged, and his mind—at least—felt refreshed. Unfortunately, that made it hard for him to separate his dread over Annie from his wariness over the indwelt Carpathia. He had been in the pres
ence of evil many times, but never in the company of Satan himself. He breathed a prayer for Annie, thanks for Nurse Palemoon, for Tsion who had taught him that Satan—though more powerful than any human—was no match for the Lord God. “He is not omniscient,” Tsion had taught. “Not omnipresent. Deceiving, persuasive, controlling, beguiling, possessive, oppressive, yes, but greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world.”
“They’re waiting for you,” Sandra told him. “Apparently the risen potentate did not want you to miss a thing.”
“Well, good then.”
“And with your arrival, I leave. And that’s good too. Long day.”
“You and me both.”
“Feeling all right? Heard you took a tumble.”
“Better.”
“Good night, Director Hassid. And, oh yes. He is risen.”
David stared at her and was struck by the plainness of her forehead compared to that of the beautiful, dark sister he had just met. “He is risen indeed,” he said, meaning just what he said.
He knocked and entered and was dazed when not only Carpathia and Fortunato stood, but all the other managers too. “My beloved David,” Carpathia began, “how good that you were up to joining us.”
“Thank you,” David said as Intelligence Director Jim Hickman pushed out a chair for him.
“Yes,” Hickman said. “How good it is!” He beamed, peeking at Carpathia as if to see whether he had pleased the boss. The potentate pursed his lips and squinted, ignoring Hickman. To David it appeared purposeful. Hickman was Fortunato’s choice, and Carpathia had scarcely hidden his opinion of the man as a buffoon.
The team of two dozen, plus Nicolae and Leon, sat around a huge mahogany table in Nicolae’s office, the first time David had been there for this size of a meeting. David felt a dark foreboding as he sat and was shaken to see a well-worn Bible on the table in front of Nicolae. Everyone else sat when David did, but Carpathia remained standing. The man seemed energized, his breath coming quickly in great gasps that whistled through his teeth. It was as if he were a football player caged in the locker room before kickoff of a championship game.
