The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books

by Tim LaHaye

  “I know that. Her quarters, please.”

  “Who may I say is calling?”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “I need to know, sir, or I won’t ring someone at this time of the night.”

  “If you have to know, it’s her uncle Gregory.”

  “One moment.”

  Mac shot Rayford a look. “Uncle Gregory?”

  “Long story.”

  “Long flight. I’ll look forward to it.”

  “Uncle Gregory?” Krystall said, her voice thick from sleep.

  “Is this line secure?” Rayford said.

  “I think so. I don’t know. This isn’t my uncle, is it?”

  “You know who it is.”

  “You never told me.”

  “You know I’m a friend.”

  “I’ll know for sure if you can really help my uncle. I passed along your message.”

  “You did? Is he following up?”

  “I think he is.”

  “Believe me, if he makes contact, our people will get him everything he needs.”

  “I’m grateful, but why are you call—”

  “A favor.”

  “I knew it. I can’t—”

  “Hear me out. I had no idea I would need anything when I talked to you. I just need information that only you can give me.”

  “I can’t be giving you inf—”

  “I’m not asking for much, but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “Oh, what’s the difference?” she said. “Being in trouble is no worse than being in his good graces around here.”

  “I need to know if there’s been any talk of an important arrest in the United North American States. It would be a young wom—”

  “Yes! Yes! Late in the day, a couple of hours after quitting time—we were still working because of the move tomorrow afternoon—Mr. Akbar came in excited about some break in San Diego. Local GC there arrested someone connected with the Judah-ites.”

  “Any idea whether they are planning to—”

  “That’s all I know. Really.”

  “I appreciate this more than I can say, Krystall. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “What could you possibly do for me?”

  “I just wish—”

  “If you can’t send me a pair of eyes, I can’t think of a thing.”

  CHAPTER 6

  The tattoo artist snapped on her rubber gloves and asked Mainyu Mazda in an Indian accent if he wanted anesthetic. He pulled back and looked at her.

  “You never do,” she said. “Head back, chin up.”

  Albie did not expect a meeting with this man in this part of this town to be other than bizarre, but neither did he dream he would have to compete with a dermatological procedure.

  “Go ahead, my friend,” Mainyu said, gesturing. “You come to me why?”

  Albie leaned forward, forearms on the desk, and told MM of his urgent need in Al Hillah. The woman’s battery-powered applicator emitted a loud, rapid clicking as she worked. Mainyu winced but managed to encourage Albie with “Uh-huhs” and “Hmms.” Finally he said, “A moment, Kashmir.” The woman pulled away and busied herself with the needle in the glow of the lamp.

  “It is no secret that you are not a friend of the potentate,” MM said.

  Albie smiled. “I hope it is a secret in some places.”

  “Why do you not let me have Kashmir give you a loyalty mark? Any number you wish.”

  “You know I cannot do that, Mainyu.”

  “Oh yes. You are now a Judah-ite and believe in the evil spirits.”

  “The evil sp—?”

  Mainyu waved with the back of his hand. “Don’t you people believe that anyone who takes the mark of Carpathia goes to hell, something like that?”

  “More important is where our loyalty lies.”

  MM looked at Kashmir, then leaned back and grinned at Albie. He laughed loudly. “You are not going to start in on me now, are you, old friend? I wondered.”

  “No, you have made your choice. I am curious as to why you have a 72 and not a 216, though.”

  “You think I am a friend of the international regime?”

  “Well, I wond—”

  “You think my mark is real? You know me better than that.” He spat.

  “But the penalty for a fake mark is worse than death,” Albie said.

  “Public torture, I know,” Mainyu said. “But the GC is not interested in me except in how I can benefit them. If I were to bear the mark of the one to whom I am loyal, it would have to be the number 1. What is it our Mexican friends say, Albie? ‘Look out for número uno!’ And if I was not a benefit to the GC, I would be assigned to the Plain of Jezreel like so many millions of others. What kind of business could I do there?”

  “How do you benefit the GC?”

  Kashmir dabbed at a tiny stream of blood on Mainyu’s neck.

  “I am a businessman, Albie. I look for the biggest profit for the smallest expense, and right now that is bounty money.”

  “You—”

  “Deliver the disloyal to the Peacekeepers. Of course I do. Tell me, what is the cost of doing that kind of business? Twenty thousand Nicks a head, same price dead or alive. I find the dead more manageable. Once the victim is still, there is no danger, no escape attempt, nothing messy. With the right size plastic bag, even the car stays clean. Follow?”

  “So, you are a supplier—”

  “To the GC, yes, of course. If low overhead and high profit is the businessman’s mantra, what better business is there than something for nothing? They are willing to pay for something I can provide.”

  Albie wondered how many unmarked victims of Mainyu’s were Judah-ites. “My request, then,” Albie said, “does it constitute a conflict of interest for you?”

  “Of course not, my friend! Not if you brought the money. I am not a friend of the GC. I am merely a business associate. My interest is profit.”

  “I wasn’t sure what such services would cost.”

  “Oh yes, you were. You are not out of the business that long. And surely you didn’t expect me to commit to this without all the money up front, not when it has to be done almost immediately.”

  “You have the people, the hardware, the—?”

  “You know I have everything. It will be done. Provided you have the money.”

  “Such a job would have cost twenty thousand Nicks a few years ago,” Albie said.

  “So I assume you brought more, due to inflation and the urgent nature of the request.”

  Albie hesitated.

  “Sure you did, and you will not make the mistake of holding out on me, because you know how easy it would be for me to find out how much you have with you.”

  “Of course. I brought thirty thousand Nicks.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Surely that’s enough. Fifty percent more than before has to cover inflation and the rush.”

  “It’s not enough,” Mainyu said. “It’s twenty thousand short.”

  Albie assumed the deal was about to go down. They were in the haggling stage, and anything other than a vigorous argument from both sides would show disrespect. “Thirty thousand is all I brought, and all I am willing to pay.”

  “Uh-huh. And is it all on your person or did you leave some on your bike?”

  “You know better than that, Mainyu. Who leaves cash in the alley here?”

  Mainyu laughed. “Sahib!”

  The tall man unlocked the door and entered.

  “How much is our friend paying you to watch his bike?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “How much does he owe?”

  “Ten.”

  Mainyu turned to Albie. “Do you have thirty thousand plus the ten you owe Sahib?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any more?”

  “Spare change for the trip home.”

  “Let me see the thirty thousand.”

  Albie reached inside his jacket and produced a brick of bills wrapped in cellopha
ne.

  “Now the ten you owe Sahib.”

  Albie slapped a ten on the table.

  “Now your spare change.”

  From his left pocket Albie produced a wad of bills and coins. “Maybe another fifteen-plus,” he said.

  Mainyu pressed his lips together and cocked his head, arching his eyebrows at Albie. “We are still twenty thousand apart,” he said.

  “I said thirty thousand is all I’m willing to pay.”

  “Then we have a problem. What are we going to do about the other twenty?”

  Albie fought a grin. Mainyu had always driven a hard bargain. “You’re serious,” Albie said. “You won’t do it for thirty? You want me to take my business elsewhere?”

  “Oh no! And pass up what’s before me? No!”

  “It’ll be done, then?”

  “It’s already done, my friend. Something for nothing. Fifty thousand and change for virtually no overhead.”

  “Fifty?”

  “Kashmir, call the palace for me, will you? Get Mr. Akbar. Sahib? Remember what I have been teaching you about the business? Creative solutions for getting to where a deal makes sense?”

  Sahib nodded. “Yes, Mr. Mazda.”

  “Your handgun, please.”

  Sahib produced a .44 revolver.

  Mainyu Mazda hefted it and turned it over in his hands. “My old friend and I are twenty thousand Nicks apart, and he is the solution. What is the bounty on unmarked citizens again, Sahib?”

  “Twenty thousand.”

  “That makes fifty. And we don’t even have to do the job.”

  He pointed the barrel between Albie’s eyes and pulled the trigger.

  Her cell, Chloe thought, was in a strange location. It consisted of a cage in the corner of a larger room. A metal shelf protruded from the wall. Her bed, she imagined. And a combination sink and toilet stood in plain sight. It was what wasn’t there that concerned her. Nothing was movable or removable. There wasn’t so much as a toilet seat, a blanket, or a pillow. No reading material. Nothing.

  Faint from hunger, Chloe crawled onto the shelf and lay on her side, facing the door. She was supported by woven strips of metal about four inches wide that might have given a bit if she weighed a hundred more pounds. Not even the formerly ubiquitous Nigel was anywhere to be seen. The outer room was bright enough, the sun streaming through the windows and bars. But the room was otherwise drab, all tile and linoleum and steel in institutional greens.

  Chloe wanted to call out, to tell someone she was hungry, but her pride overcame her discomfort. She sat up quickly when she heard the door open, and a man in a custodial-type uniform hurried in. Cleaning bottles hung from his belt next to his cell phone. He carried a rag and had another in his back pocket.

  “Oh, hi,” he said. “Didn’t know we had somebody in custody.”

  “You’re not supposed to,” she said, dying to be charming.

  “Pardon?”

  “I just wandered in here. Locked myself in like an idiot.”

  He laughed, a smile radiating. “And you had the bad fortune of wearing a jumpsuit today that makes you look like an inmate too. Unlucky.”

  “Yeah, that’s me,” she said.

  “Maybe they locked you up for your taste in clothes, huh?”

  “Must have.”

  “Well, I’m just getting a bucket over here. Best of luck to ya.”

  “Thanks.”

  He grabbed a bucket from the corner under a suspended TV set and headed back toward the door. Then he stopped and turned on his heel. “They gave you your phone call, didn’t they?”

  “Oh, sure. I’ve been treated like a queen. I called Santa Claus.”

  He set the bucket down and moved to within a few feet of the cage. He looked over his shoulder at the door, then turned back and lowered his voice. “No, I’m serious. That’s the one thing I don’t like here. I mean, people get what they deserve, not taking the mark and all, like you. I’m not so naive as to think there’d still be a trial for that after all these years, but what ever happened to one phone call? I mean, this is still America, isn’t it?”

  “Not the one I remember.”

  “Me either. Hey, you wanna make a phone call?”

  “What?”

  “You gotta promise not to tell. I’d be in a lot of trouble.”

  “What, with your phone?”

  “Sure. Here.” He slid it from his belt and angled it so it would fit between the wires of the cage. “But just one, and you gotta make it quick. Then hide it. Or slide it across the floor like I dropped it or something. I’ll come back for it in a while.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Sure. What’s the harm? Go ahead. Knock yourself out. Pretty little thing like you. I’ll be back.”

  Chloe’s hands shook as she went to a corner with her back to the door. How dumb do they think I am? Thing probably doesn’t even work, and if it does, not from here. She didn’t care. It was worth a try. She had to talk with someone. She didn’t dare risk calling the safe house, assuming this was a setup and that any call would be traced.

  Chloe dialed her dad’s phone number. He had to be back in Petra by now.

  Rayford had awakened Krystall in the palace yet again. “I’ve been thinking about your request,” he said.

  “My request?”

  “For eyes.”

  “Don’t play with me.”

  “No, it kept working on me, and I might just know of a pair you could use. You remember, just before you and I spoke, someone opened the door, then shut it again and ran off?”

  “How could I forget? That’s when you scared the life out of me.”

  “He’s a believer too, and he can see in New Babylon.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I might be able to talk him into coming back and helping you when everyone else is gone. He can tell you where stuff is, do all sorts of things for you.”

  “What’s in it for you?”

  “There might be things in the files I’d like to know about.”

  “More than you know.”

  “See? He helps you for a few days, or for however long you want, and you give him access to things that might help me. Deal?”

  “What’s in it for him?”

  “I’ll take care of that. In fact, I’ll call him right now and see if I can set it up. Well, I’ll call him tomorrow. No sense waking him.”

  “No, why should I be the only one up at this hour?”

  “Sorry.” Rayford heard a tone that told him he had a call coming in. “Hang on just a second, Krystall.” He checked the caller ID. A San Diego area code, but a number he didn’t recognize. “I’d better take this. If I can get this deal arranged, I’ll have the guy call you.”

  He punched his call button twice, ending one call and picking up the other. “Steele here.”

  “Daddy, it’s me.”

  “Chloe!”

  “Please, just listen. You still have that record feature on your phone?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Turn it on right now. Do it. Did you? Is it on?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I know this call is being traced and your phone is going to be useless after this, but I couldn’t call anyone else. I’m in the San Diego GC jail, and they’re trying to bargain with me to get to the others. Tell Buck and Kenny I love them with all my heart and that if I don’t see them again before heaven, I’ll be waiting for them there. Dad, this was all my fault, but I was jogging within thirty miles of our place and, oh, listen, I just wanted to tell you that I’m all right for now. I’ve just been sitting here reminiscing about that wonderful trip you and Mom and I took to Colorado when I was five or six. Remember?”

  “Vaguely. Chloe, listen—”

  “Dad, I don’t dare stay on long. It’s important to me that you remember that trip!”

  “Honey, that had to be more than twenty years ago. I—”

  “It was! But it was so special, and I wish everybody could go
there again. If I had one dream, it’s that we could all go there right now, as soon as possible.”

  “Chloe—”

  “Dad, don’t. You know they have to be listening. Just please give my love to everybody and tell them to pray that I’ll be strong to the end. I will give nothing away. Nothing. And, Dad, think of the Colorado trip so I know we’ll both be thinking of the same thing at the same time. I love you, Dad. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “I love you too, honey. I—”

  “Bye, Daddy.”

  And she was gone.

  “You’re supposed to be the combat guy, George,” Buck said. “And all you want to talk about is packing.”

  “I just want you to know, Buck, that I’m not going to hold you responsible for any mean thing you say to me until Chloe is back safe and sound. Then I’m going to tell on you.”

  “Yeah, and she’ll ground you,” Priscilla said.

  Buck owed George a smile, and it never ceased to amuse him when Priscilla vainly tried to add to or improve on her husband’s humor. It was just that Buck’s spirits could not be lifted. His father-in-law had confirmed where Chloe was through his contact at the palace, and the local GC headquarters simply was not a place vulnerable to a raid.

  “The best thing we have going for us,” Sebastian said, “is that as soon as they determine who she is, she’s most valuable to them alive.”

  Buck knew it was true, but talking about his beloved as a commodity of war left a bad taste.

  Late in the afternoon Ming brought Beth Ann Sebastian and Kenny into the workout room. Ree leaped to his feet and uncharacteristically embraced Ming. Buck knew the Chloe situation had sobered him. He wondered if it had even given Ree second thoughts about marriage.

  Beth Ann ran back and forth between her parents, showing off. Kenny, frowning, trudged to Buck and climbed in his lap.

  “He didn’t nap,” Ming said.

  Buck nodded and held Kenny’s cheek to his chest. “Sleepy, bud?” he said.

  Kenny shook his head. “I want Mommy.”

  “She’ll be back later.”

  The boy closed his eyes.

  Buck looked at Priscilla, biting his lip and unable to stanch the tears. “This is the part I’m going to hate,” he mouthed, his chest convulsing. Kenny roused, but Buck tucked the boy’s head under his chin and wrapped both arms around him, rocking. And weeping.