by Tim LaHaye
Priscilla pushed Beth Ann toward her dad and leaned close to Buck. “Don’t you dare give up, Buck. None of us are.”
Chloe wanted to call everybody she knew, but she had little question she’d been set up. It had all been too easy. The global positioning system in her father’s phone would tell the GC right where he was. She had assumed Petra, but from the ambient sounds, he was in the air. How long had he and Abdullah been in New Babylon if he was just heading back now? It didn’t compute. Of course he would have been informed of her disappearance. Maybe he was on his way home. She only hoped he could get rid of the phone before getting close to California. The last thing she wanted was to lead the GC right to the safe house.
Chloe reached as high as she could and pushed the phone through an opening in the cage. It flew about eight feet before landing on the floor and breaking into pieces. “Oops,” she said. “And after that nice man entrusted it to me.”
Inside a minute Custodian returned, still dressed the same but this time with no props. No bucket, no cleansers, no rags. No smile either. He knelt to pick up the pieces.
“Thanks for the use of your phone. That was most thoughtful. Maybe you could smuggle me in a cake with a file in it or get word to my people. Sorry about the damage.”
“That’s all right, doll,” he said, not looking at her. “We got what we needed. Looks like Daddy’s just off the East Coast. Gotta think he’s due to refuel by now. Should be able to alert the most likely airports. You wanna do yourself a favor, work with Jock. He’s a fair guy. No, he really is. I’m not saying he’s got your best interests at heart, but he’s a realist. You’ve got what he wants, and he knows that’s going to cost him.”
“Well, then by all means, friend, tell Jock I’m ready to wheel and deal. I’ll give him everything he wants, now that I know he’s fair. I mean, I heard that from you, and I’ve known you long enough to trust you completely.”
“Be as much of a smart aleck as you want, kid. See where it gets ya. Oh, by the way, Nigel’s got your energy bar. Should I tell him you’re hungry?”
Chloe sat on the metal bed. She was famished but still more proud than desperate. “Nah. I had a big breakfast. I couldn’t eat another thing just yet.”
“Maybe some television then.”
“Spare me. I’ve heard enough propaganda to last a lifetime.”
“But it’s time for the news.”
“Oh yes, the eminently objective Global Community News Network. Hey, okay, all right! That’s plenty loud enough!”
He ignored her, leaving the volume up and heading for the door.
“Turn it down, please! Sir?”
“Can’t hear you,” he said. “TV’s too loud.”
Jock must have been choreographing everything. The five o’clock news was just coming on, Anika Janssen anchoring live from Detroit.
“Good evening. Darkness continues to plague Global Community International Headquarters in New Babylon at this hour. It is confined to the borders of the city and is believed to be an act of aggression on the part of dissidents against the New World Order.
“GC Chief of Security and Intelligence Suhail Akbar spoke with us by phone earlier from the beleaguered capital. In spite of the turmoil there, he reports good news, constituting our top story tonight.”
“Yes, Anika,” Akbar said, “following months of careful planning and cooperation between the various law-enforcement branches of the Global Community, we are happy to report that a combined task force of crack agents from both our Peacekeeping and Morale Monitor divisions has succeeded in apprehending one of the top-echelon Judah-ite terrorists in the world.
“The arrest was made before dawn today in San Diego after months of planning. I’d rather not go into the details of the operation, but the suspect was disarmed and arrested without incident. Her name is Chloe Steele Williams, twenty-six, a former campus radical at Stanford University in Palo Alto, California, from which she was expelled six years ago after making threats on the lives of the administration.”
“Thank you, Chief Akbar. We have further learned that Mrs. Williams is the daughter of Rayford Steele, who once served as pilot for Global Community Supreme Potentate Nicolae Carpathia. He was fired some years ago for insubordination and drinking while on duty, and GC intelligence believes his resentment led to his current role as an international terrorist. He was implicated in the conspiracy to assassinate Potentate Carpathia and is a known associate of former Israeli statesman and now leading Judah-ite Dr. Chaim Rosenzweig. Both are known to serve on the cabinet of Rabbi Tsion Ben-Judah, head of the Judah-ites, the last holdouts in opposition to the New World Order.
“Mrs. Williams is the wife of Cameron Williams, formerly a celebrated American journalist who also worked directly for the potentate before losing his job due to differences in management style. He edits a subversive cyber and printed magazine with a limited circulation.
“Williams, his wife, and her father are international fugitives in exile, wanted for more than three dozen murders around the world. Mrs. Williams herself heads a black-market operation suspected of hijacking billions of Nicks’ worth of goods around the world and selling them for obscene profits to others who cannot legally buy and sell due to their refusal to pledge loyalty to the potentate.
“The Williamses, who have amassed a fortune on the black market, have one child remaining after Mrs. Williams apparently aborted two fetuses and an older daughter died under questionable circumstances. The son, whom they have named Jesus Savior Williams, pictured here, is two years old. Acquaintances report that the Williamses believe he is the reincarnation of Jesus Christ, who will one day conquer Nicolae Carpathia and return the globe to Christianity.”
Chloe sat staring at a toddler, clearly not Kenny Bruce, who had a Bible in his lap and wore a tiny T-shirt that read “Kill Carpathia!”
“Chief Akbar reports that his forces traced the leading cell of the Judah-ites in the United North American States to San Diego, where Mrs. Williams was apprehended today. Local GC operatives there say she is already, quote, ‘singing like a bird, offering all kinds of information on her colleagues, including her own family, to avoid a death sentence.’
“Here’s San Diego GCNN reporter Sue West with Colonel Jonathan ‘Jock’ Ashmore. Sue?”
“Thank you, Anika. Colonel Ashmore, how important would you say this arrest is?”
“It’s almost inestimable,” Jock said, nervously tugging at his uniform jacket, which came short of covering his middle. “And Mrs. Williams has proved to be the typical terrorist who knows when it’s time to bargain. When the reality hit her that she had been positively identified and we informed her of the overwhelming charges against her, it was only a matter of minutes before she began offering various deals to save her skin.”
“Are you at liberty to say what some of those might be?”
“Not entirely, though she has already pledged to enroll her son in Junior GC as soon as possible. She did reveal the whereabouts of a low-level Middle Eastern black marketer named Al Basrah, after the Iranian city of the same name.”
“I believe that’s in Iraq, Colonel, but go ahead.”
“What?”
“Al Basrah is in Iraq, sir.”
“Whatever. Anyway, this character shot himself to death rather than be arrested.”
“We are about to show a picture of the dead Al Basrah,” Sue West said, “but we warn you that the picture is very graphic.”
Chloe stood and stared as the photo was displayed. It showed Albie with a black hole between lifeless eyes, a pool of blood behind his head. It was clearly him. But was it real or doctored?
Chloe shouted, “Jock! Jock! Nigel! Get Jock!” Her screams became sobs, and she demanded, “Is that true? I want to know if that’s true! Is Albie dead? Tell me Albie’s not dead!”
But no one came. No one responded. As the TV blared, Chloe slid to the floor, wailing, “God, please! No!”
CHAPTER 7
“Got me a frien
d in Florida,” Mac said. “Jacksonville. Co-op guy. We can refuel there and avoid the normal spots.”
“And I can put this phone under one of the wheels before we take off,” Rayford said. “If they find a mass of metal and plastic on the tarmac, what’re they going to do with it?”
“Wouldn’t you rather drown it? Won’t take but a minute to drop it in the drink.”
“What’m I going to do, Mac, roll down my window and toss it out?”
“Nah. There’s a dandy little thing we used to do in the military when we wanted to drop something from altitude. You stick it in the speed brake well, which is, of course, closed on the ground. When we get back in the air, I’ll activate the speed brake—”
“Which will open the panel. Beautiful.”
“Yes,” Mac said. “You just take her up, throttle up, activate the brake, and send that phone into the wild blue yonder.”
“I don’t want to lose any time fooling around.”
“Gimme that thing. I’ll do it. Won’t take more’n sixty seconds.”
“I’ve got to copy Chloe’s message first. She’s trying to tell me something, that’s for sure.”
“It’s about my turn for a break anyway, Ray. Once you get it ciphered, switch seats with me and I’ll study it.”
Chang had arrived at Petra in the middle of the afternoon, and Naomi offered to give him his first look at the place. “I will leave word at the computer center to let us know when they learn anything about Chloe,” she said, “but I don’t want you to see that place until the end, okay?”
He shrugged.
“Abdullah got someone to take your things to your new quarters, which are not far from his. He will take you there so you can get settled, and then I will come by to give you your first day’s tour.”
Chang had been determined not to let anyone immediately pair him off with somebody. Especially not Naomi. She had to still be a teenager, which was all right. He was just twenty himself. And while there was no question about her intellect and technical brilliance, they were going to have to work closely over the next year. Why complicate things?
And yet . . . in person she was stunning. Olive skin and welcoming dark eyes were set off by her long, black hair. Chang found it difficult not to stare. She had a beautiful, shy smile, and she seemed so friendly and selfless. He had never even had a girlfriend, only girls he had been interested in in high school but whom he would never have dared let know it.
On the way to Chang’s prefabricated quarters, Abdullah seemed to know everybody and wanted them to meet him. They treated Chang like royalty, but he was so ashamed of bearing the mark of Carpathia that he kept his baseball cap pulled low. His instinct was to remove it and bow each time, but he could not.
“Our man inside the palace,” Abdullah called him, and people embraced him or shook his hand, and many blessed him.
To Chang it was a foretaste of heaven. “I wonder what the chances are of meeting Dr. Ben-Judah and Dr. Rosenzweig,” he said.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” Abdullah said. “I was supposed to tell you. They send their most abject apologies for not greeting you appropriately. They have been meeting with the elders about the issue of Chloe’s disappearance, and they have a council meeting later. They request that you join them over manna in the morning.”
“Good, yes. Thank you, Mr. Smith. I have something I must consult with Dr. Ben-Judah about.”
“I believe Naomi’s father would like to meet you too.”
He could tell from Abdullah’s inflection that he was trying to say something, but Chang would not bite. “Well, I will look forward to meeting him as well.”
When they reached the dwellings, shipped in and assembled by a team led by Lionel Whalum, Abdullah first showed Chang his own place. “You can see that I like to live close to the ground. I sit outside near a fire when I eat my manna. And inside, I sleep on the floor. If that is not your custom, you need not do that. Your place is not much different in size from what you had at the palace, but of course it is much plainer and simpler.”
“It’s perfect,” Chang said when they arrived. His luggage lay next to his cot, and his computers and file boxes sat by the door. “I will sleep tonight a free man, worried about nothing but the welfare of our comrades.”
“I’ll leave you to unpack. If you need anything, you can see my place from here. Do you need anything at all?”
“Just one thing. I am a little nervous about the manna. Does everyone care for it?”
“Yes, they do. I am confident you will enjoy it. Imagine, being fed by the King. Yes, it is just sustenance, and yes, it appears to be merely bread. But it comes from the kitchens of heaven. How can it be anything but glorious? We are due a portion just before sundown, so you will know before you join the doctors for breakfast whether you like it or not.”
Half an hour later, when Chang had his place situated just the way he wanted it, he heard a knock. “Come in!” he said, but no one did. As he approached the door, he said, “It’s open!” Still nothing.
He opened the door to Naomi. “Come in, come in!” he said.
“Oh, I must not,” she said. “In my culture it is improper.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ll learn. Come, let me show you Petra.”
“No word yet on Chloe?” he said as they ventured out.
She shook her head. “It’s not going to come to a good end, you know.”
“That’s my fear,” he said. “But we can hope and pray.”
Naomi explained that the city was so spread out that it would take days to see it all. “We’ll get ATVs near the tech center. Then let me take you to the Treasury first, then to a few of the nearby tombs—there are many. Finally I’d like to take you to the high place where the missile hit and the spring still bubbles, providing daily water for more than a million people. If I have timed it right, it should then be close to sundown, and we can enjoy our manna with water directly from the source.”
Chang was not used to this much walking and climbing, so he was glad when they were finally aboard four-wheelers. He was stunned by Petra’s beautiful architecture and wondered how anyone could have carved such structures out of solid rock.
When they finally reached the crest of the high place, where the spring cascaded into cisterns and aqueducts to the entire area, Naomi cut her engine and signaled Chang to do the same.
“Are you thirsty?” she said.
“Always. But mostly I’m trying to get used to not worrying who is watching.”
“I cannot imagine. Are you willing to drink from my hands?”
Chang, usually quick and flippant, only smiled. “Whatever is proper in your culture.”
She knelt and washed her hands in a brook, shaking them dry. Chang did the same. She took him as close as they could get to the center of the spring. “Ready?” she said.
He nodded, and she thrust her cupped hands into the water, bringing them up to just under his chin. “Hurry,” she said, laughing. “My hands are not watertight.”
He lowered his face into her hands and took a huge gulp. His throat had been more parched than he knew, and though the water could have been only a few degrees cooler than the air, it felt almost icy. He coughed and laughed and said, “More.”
He drank from her hands again, and she said, “My turn.”
Chang made a bowl of his palms and let her drink. “Enough?” he said, when his hands were empty. She nodded, and he cupped her face and wiped the dust from under her shining eyes. He spread his fingers and extended his hands, brushing through her hair.
Naomi closed her eyes and lifted her face to the setting sun, spreading her arms and holding her hands palms up. “Here it comes, Chang. Receive your daily bread from the God of heaven.”
Chang stepped back, looked up, and extended his arms as the skies seemed to snow bits of soft bread that covered the entire area. Below, the million strong emerged from their quarters with jars and baskets, and gathered what they needed for dinne
r.
“Just like in the Bible,” Naomi said, “we are to take what we need but not store any. It will spoil and we will have shown our lack of faith in God to provide every day.”
Chang sat beside her and scooped manna into his hand. “Do you ask God to bless food that he has just personally delivered?” he said.
She laughed. “Would you like me to?”
“Please.” He quickly removed his cap as she began.
“To the great God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and to the Father of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, we offer our humble thanks for everything you provide.”
Her young voice was so pure and sweet and her words so perfect, Chang found his face contorting as tears welled.
“Thank you for safety for our mission today and for allowing us to bring Chang here. May he find refreshing peace and rest in you. In the name of Jesus we ask you to bless to our nourishment this gift you have given. Amen.”
With tears streaming, Chang turned away and tugged his cap back on. He sat with the warm manna in his hand, unable to eat for crying. He felt Naomi caressing his shoulder. “God bless you, Chang,” she said. “Bless you.”
He gathered himself and wiped his face with his free hand. “Don’t wait for me,” he managed. “Go ahead.”
“I just might,” she said lightly. “I never grow tired of this.”
“What does it taste like?” he said.
“Oh no, that is not for me to tell you. I know only what it tastes like to me.”
Chang picked two of the small, white disks from his hand and laid them on his tongue.
“Well?” she said.
It was as if he had been struck dumb. “Oh,” he said. “Oh.”
“That’s all you can say?”
He took several more at once. “Oh!”
“I’m guessing you approve.”
“I taste honey. Honey for sure.”
“Yes.”
“Almost like cookies, those sweet wafer things. And they’re so filling. I want more and yet I’ve had enough.”
