by Tim LaHaye
Rayford embraced his daughter. “Anything wrong?”
“No, but Bruce has been trying to get you. He’s called an emergency meeting of the core group for early this evening. He’s swamped till then, but he’d like us to try to get hold of Buck.”
“How’d you get here?”
“Cab. I knew your car was here.”
“Where would Buck be?”
“He was going to look for a car and an apartment today. He could be anywhere.”
“Did you call the Weekly office?”
“I talked to Alice, the secretary there, early this afternoon. He wasn’t expected until Monday, but we can try again from the car. I mean, you can. You should call him, don’t you think? Rather than me?”
Rayford suppressed a smile.
Alice sat at her desk leaning forward, her head cocked, gazing at Buck and trying not to laugh aloud as he regaled her with whispered wisecracks. All the while he wondered how much of the stuff from his palatial Manhattan office would fit into the cubicle he was to share with the communal coffeepot. The phone rang, and Buck could hear both ends of the conversation from the speakerphone. From just down the hall came the voice of the receptionist. “Alice, is Buck Williams still back there?”
“Right here.”
“Call for him.”
It was Rayford Steele, calling from his car. “At seven-thirty tonight?” Buck said. “Sure, I’ll be there. What’s up? Hm? Well, tell her I said hi, too, and I’ll see you both at the church tonight.”
He was hanging up as Verna came to the door and frowned at him. “A problem?” he said.
“You’ll have your own work phone soon enough,” she said. “Come on in.”
As soon as he was seated Verna sweetly informed him that he would no longer be the world-traveling, cover-story-writing, star headliner of Global Weekly. “We here in Chicago have an important but limited role in the magazine,” she said. “We interpret national and international news from a local and regional perspective and submit our stories to New York.”
Buck sat stiffly. “So I’m going to be assigned to the Chicago livestock markets?”
“You don’t amuse me, Cameron. You never have. You will be assigned to whatever we need covered each week. Your work will pass through a senior editor and through me, and I will decide whether it is of enough significance and quality to pass along to New York.”
Buck sighed. “I didn’t ask the big boss what I was supposed to do with my works in progress. I don’t suppose you know.”
“Your contact with Stanton Bailey will now funnel through me as well. Is that understood?”
“Are you asking whether I understand, or whether I agree?”
“Neither,” she said. “I’m asking whether you will comply.”
“It’s unlikely,” Buck said, feeling his neck redden and his pulse surge. He didn’t want to get into a shouting match with Verna. But neither was he going to sit for long under the thumb of someone who didn’t belong in journalism, let alone in Lucinda Washington’s old chair and supervising him.
“I will discuss this with Mr. Bailey,” she said. “As you might imagine, I have all sorts of recourse at my disposal for insubordinate employees.”
“I can imagine. Why don’t you get him on the phone right now?”
“For what?”
“To find out what I’m supposed to do. I’ve accepted my demotion and my relocation. You know as well as I do that relegating me to regional stuff is a waste of my contacts and my experience.”
“And your talent, I assume you’re implying.”
“Infer what you want. But before you put me on the bowling beat, I have dozens of hours invested in my cover story on the theory of the disappearances—ah, why am I talking to you about it?”
“Because I’m your boss, and because it’s not likely a Chicago bureau staff writer will land a cover story.”
“Not even a writer who has already done several? I dare you to call Bailey. The last time he said anything about my piece, he said he was sure it would be a winner.”
“Yeah? The last time I talked to him, he told me about the last time he talked to you.”
“It was a misunderstanding.”
“It was a lie. You said you were someplace and everybody who was there says you weren’t. I’d have fired you.”
“If you’d had the power to fire me, I’d have quit.”
“You want to quit?”
“I’ll tell you what I want, Verna. I want—”
“I expect all my subordinates to call me Ms. Zee.”
“You have no subordinates in this office,” Buck said. “And aren’t you—”
“You’re dangerously close to the line, Cameron.”
“Aren’t you afraid Ms. Zee sounds too much like Missy?”
She stood. “Follow me.” She bristled past him, stomping out of her office and down the long hallway in her sensible shoes.
Buck stopped at Alice’s desk. “Thanks for everything, Alice,” he said quickly. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff that’s being shipped here that I might need to have you forward to my new place.”
Alice was nodding but her smile froze when Verna hollered down the hall. “Now, Cameron!”
Buck slowly turned. “I’ll get back to you, Alice.” Buck moved deliberately enough to drive Verna crazy, and he noticed people in their cubicles pretending not to notice but fighting smiles.
Verna marched to the corner that served as the coffee room and pointed to a small desk with a phone and a file cabinet. Buck snorted.
“You’ll have a computer in a week or so,” she said.
“Have it delivered to my condo.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”
“No, Verna, what’s out of the question is you trying to vent all your frustration from who knows where in one breath. You know as well as I do that no one with an ounce of self-respect would put up with this. If I have to work out of the Chicago area, I’m going to work at home with all my wireless toys. And if you expect to see me in this office again for any reason, you’ll get Stanton Bailey on the phone right now.”
Verna looked prepared to stand her ground right there, so Buck headed back to her office with her trailing him. He passed Alice, who looked stricken, and waited at Verna’s desk until she caught up. “Are you dialing, or am I?” he demanded.
Rayford and Chloe ate on the way home and arrived to an urgent phone message from Rayford’s chief pilot. “Call me as soon as you get in.”
With his cap under his arm and still wearing his uniform trench coat, Rayford punched the familiar numbers. “What’s up, Earl?”
“Thanks for getting back to me right away, Ray. You and I go back a long way.”
“Long enough that you should get to the point, Earl. What’d I do now?”
“This is not an official call, OK? Not a reprimand or a warning or anything. This is just friend to friend.”
“So, friend to friend, Earl, should I sit down?”
“No, but let me tell you, buddy, you’ve got to knock off the proselytizing.”
“The—?”
“Talking about God on the job, man.”
“Earl, I back off when anyone says anything, and you know I don’t let it get in the way of the job. Anyway, what do you think the disappearances were all about?”
“We’ve been through all that, Ray. I’m just telling you, Nicky Edwards is gonna write you up, and I want to be able to say you and I have already talked about it and you’ve agreed to back off.”
“Write me up? Did I break a rule, violate procedure, commit a crime?”
“I don’t know what he’s going to call it, but you’ve been warned, all right?”
“I thought you said this wasn’t official yet.”
“It’s not, Ray. Do you want it to be? Do I have to call you back tomorrow and drag you in here for a meeting and a memo for your file and all that, or can I just smooth everybody’s feathers, tell ’em it was a misunderstanding,
you’re cool now, and it won’t happen again?”
Rayford didn’t respond at first.
“C’mon, Ray, this is a no-brainer. I don’t like you having to think about this one.”
“Well, I will have to think about it, Earl. I appreciate your tipping me off, but I’m not ready to concede anything just yet.”
“Don’t do this to me, Ray.”
“I’m not doing it to you, Earl. I’m doing it to myself.”
“Yeah, and I’m the one who has to find a replacement pilot certified for the ’forty-seven and the ’seventy-seven.”
“You mean it’s that serious! I could lose my job over this?”
“You bet you could.”
“I’ll still have to think about it.”
“You’ve got it bad, Ray. Listen, in case you come to your senses and we can make this go away, you need to recertify on the ’seventy-seven soon. They’re adding a half dozen more within a month or so, and they’re going to be running them out of here. You want to be on that list. More money, you know.”
“Not that big a deal to me anymore, Earl.”
“I know.”
“But the idea of flying the 777 is attractive. I’ll get back to you.”
“Don’t make me wait, Ray.”
“I will get Mr. Bailey on the phone if I can,” Verna said. “But you realize it’s late in New York.”
“He’s always there, you know that. Use his after-hours number or even his cell.”
“I don’t have that.”
“I’ll write it down for you. He’s probably interviewing a replacement for me.”
“I’ll call him, Cameron, and I will even let you have your say, but I am going to speak to him first, and I reserve the right to tell him how insubordinate and disrespectful you’ve been. Please wait outside.”
Alice was gathering up her stuff as if about ready to leave when Buck emerged with a mischievous look. Others were streaming from the office to the parking lot and the train. “Did you hear all that?” Buck whispered.
“I hear everything,” she mouthed. “You know those speakerphones that don’t make you wait till the other person is done talking?”
He nodded.
“Well, they don’t make it obvious you’re listening in, either. You just shut off the transmit button, like this, and then if something happens to hit the speakerphone button, oops, then you can hear a conversation without being heard.”
From the speakerphone on her desk came the sound of the phone ringing in New York.
“Stanton. Who’s this?”
“Um, sir, sorry to bother you at this hour—”
“You got the number; you must have something important. Now who is this?”
“Verna Zee in Chicago.”
“Yeah, Verna, what’s happening?”
“I’ve got a situation here. Cameron Williams.”
“Yeah, I was going to tell you to just stay out of his hair. He’s working on a couple of big pieces for me. You got a nice spot there he can work in, or should we just let him work out of his apartment?”
“We have a place for him here, sir, but he was rude and insubordinate to me today and—”
“Listen, Verna, I don’t want you to have to worry about Williams. He’s been put out to pasture for something I can’t figure out, but let’s face it, he’s still our star here and he’s going to be doing pretty much the same thing he’s been doing. He gets less money and a less prestigious title, and he doesn’t get to work in New York, but he’s going to get his assignments from here. You just don’t worry yourself about him, all right? In fact, I think it would be better for you and for him if he didn’t work out of that office.”
“But, sir—”
“Something else, Verna?”
“Well, I wish you had let me know this in advance. I need you to back me on this. He was inappropriate with me, and—”
“What do you mean? He came on to you, made a pass at you, what?”
Buck and Alice pressed their hands over their mouths to keep from bursting with laughter. “No, sir, but he made it clear he is not going to be subordinate to me.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that, Verna, but he’s not, OK? I’m not going to waste Cameron Williams on regional stuff, not that we don’t appreciate every inch of copy that comes out of your shop, understand.”
“But, sir—”
“I’m sorry, Verna, is there more? Am I not being clear, or what’s the problem? Just tell him to order his equipment, charge it to the Chicago account, and work directly for us here. Got that?”
“But shouldn’t he apolog—”
“Verna, do you really need me to mediate some personality conflict from a thousand miles away? If you can’t handle that job there . . .”
“I can, sir, and I will. Thank you, sir. Sorry to trouble you.”
The intercom buzzed. “Alice, send him in.”
“Yes, ma’am, and then may I—”
“Yes, you may go.”
Buck sensed Alice taking her time gathering her belongings, however, staying within earshot. He strode into the office as if he expected to talk on the phone with Stanton Bailey.
“He doesn’t need to talk with you. He made it clear that I’m not expected to put up with your shenanigans. I’m assigning you to work from your apartment.”
Buck wanted to say that he was going to find it hard to pass up the digs she had prepared for him, but he was already feeling guilty about having eavesdropped on her conversation. This was something new. Guilt.
“I’ll try to stay out of your way,” he said.
“I’d appreciate that.”
When he reached the parking lot, Alice was waiting. “That was great,” she said.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” He smiled broadly.
“You listened too.”
“That I did. See ya.”
“I’m going to miss the six-thirty train,” she said. “But it was worth it.”
“How about if I drop you off? Show me where it is.”
Alice waited while he unlocked the car door. “Nice car.”
“Brand-new,” he answered. And that was just how he felt.
Rayford and Chloe arrived at New Hope early. Bruce was there, finishing a sandwich he had ordered. He looked older than his early thirties. After greeting them, he pushed his wire rims up into his curly locks and tilted back in his squeaky chair. “You get hold of Buck?” he asked.
“Said he’d be here,” Rayford said. “What’s the emergency?”
“You hear the news today?”
“Thought I did. Something significant?”
“I think so. Let’s wait for Buck.”
“Then let me tell you in the meantime how I got in trouble today,” Rayford said.
When he finished, Bruce was smiling. “Bet that’s never been in your personnel file before.”
Rayford shook his head and changed the subject. “It seems so strange to have Buck as part of the inner core, especially when he’s so new to this.”
“We’re all new to it, aren’t we?” Chloe said.
“True enough.”
Bruce looked up and smiled. Rayford and Chloe turned to see Buck in the doorway.
CHAPTER 2
Buck didn’t know how to respond when Rayford Steele greeted him warmly. He appreciated the warmth and openness of his three new friends, but something nagged at him and he held back a little. He still wasn’t quite comfortable with this kind of affection. And what was this meeting about? The Tribulation Force was scheduled to meet regularly, so a specially called meeting had to mean something.
Chloe looked at him expectantly when she greeted him, yet she did not hug him, as Steele and Bruce Barnes had done. Her reticence was his fault, of course. They barely knew each other, but clearly there had been chemistry. They had given each other enough signals to begin a relationship, and in a note to Chloe, Buck had even admitted he was attracted to her. But he had to be careful. Both were brand-new in their
faith, and they were only now learning what the future held. Only a fool would begin a relationship at a time like this.
And yet wasn’t that exactly what he was—a fool? How could it have taken him so long to learn anything about Christ when he had been a stellar student, an international journalist, a so-called intellectual?
And what was happening to him now? He felt guilty about listening in on the phone while his bosses discussed him. He would never have given eavesdropping a second thought in the past. The tricks and schemes and outright lies he had told just to get a story would have filled a book. Would he be as good a journalist now with God in his life, seeming to prick his conscience over even little things?
Rayford sensed Buck’s uneasiness and Chloe’s hesitancy. But mostly he was struck by the nearly instantaneous change in Bruce’s countenance. Bruce had smiled at Rayford’s story of getting into trouble on the job, and he had smiled when Buck arrived. Suddenly, however, Bruce’s face had clouded over. His smile had vanished, and he was having trouble composing himself.
Rayford was new to this kind of sensitivity. Before his wife and son had disappeared, he had not wept in years. He had always considered emotion weak and unmanly. But since the disappearances, he had seen many men weep. He was convinced that the global vanishings had been Christ rapturing his church, but for those who remained behind, the event had been catastrophic.
Even for him and for Chloe, who had become believers because of it, the horror of losing the rest of their family was excruciating. There were days when Rayford had been so grief-stricken and lonely for his wife and son that he wondered if he could go on. How could he have been so blind? What a failure he had been as a husband and father!
But Bruce had been a wise counselor. He too had lost a wife and children, and he, of all people, should have been prepared for the coming of Christ. With Bruce’s support and the help of the other two in this room, Rayford knew he could go on. But there was more on Rayford’s mind than just surviving. He was beginning to believe that he—and all of them—would have to take action, perhaps at the risk of their very lives.
