by Tim LaHaye
But there had been no glitch. Buck casually fanned through first one ream and then the other, looking for something other than Bruce’s own notes. Every page Buck glanced at contained personal writing from Bruce. This included his own commentary on Bible passages, sermon notes, devotional thoughts, and letters to friends and relatives and churchmen from around the globe. At first Buck felt guilty, as if he were invading Bruce’s privacy. And yet why had Bruce urged Loretta to print all this stuff? Was he afraid he might be gone? Had he wanted to leave it for their use?
Buck bent over the fast-rising stack of continuous-feed sheets. He lifted it from the bottom and allowed the pages to drop before his eyes one at a time. Again, page after page of single-spaced copy, all from Bruce. He must have written several pages a day for more than two years.
When Buck rejoined Chloe and Loretta, Loretta said again, “We might as well shut it off and throw the pages away. He’ll have no use for all that stuff now.”
Chloe had risen and now sat, looking exhausted, in a side chair. It was Buck’s turn to kneel before Loretta. He placed his hands on her shoulders and spoke earnestly. “Loretta, you can still serve the Lord by serving Bruce.” She began to protest, but he continued. “He’s gone, yes, but we can rejoice that he’s with his family again, can’t we?” Loretta pressed her lips together and nodded. Buck continued. “I need your help on a big project. There’s a gold mine in that room. From just glancing at those pages, I can see that Bruce is still with us. His knowledge, his teaching, his love and compassion, they are all there. The best we can do for this little flock that has lost its shepherd is to get those pages reproduced. I don’t know what this place will do for a pastor or a teacher, but in the meantime, people need access to what Bruce has written. Maybe they’ve heard him preach it, maybe they’ve seen it in other forms before. But this is a treasure that everyone can use.”
Chloe spoke up. “Buck, shouldn’t you try to edit it or shape it into some sort of book form first?”
“I’ll take a look at it, Chloe, but there’s a certain beauty in simply reproducing it in the form it’s in. This was Bruce off-the-cuff, in the middle of his study, writing to fellow believers, writing to friends and loved ones, writing to himself. I think Loretta ought to take all those pages to a quick-print shop and get them started. We need a thousand copies of all that stuff, printed on two sides and bound simply.”
“That’ll cost a fortune,” Loretta said.
“Don’t worry about that now,” Buck said. “I can’t think of a better investment.”
As the Learjet made its initial descent into the Dallas/Ft. Worth area, Fortunato ducked into the cockpit and knelt between Hernandez and Rayford. Each slipped the headphone off the ear closest to Carpathia’s aide. “Anybody hungry?” he said.
Rayford hadn’t even thought of food. For all he knew, the world was blowing itself to bits and no one would survive this war. The very mention of hunger, however, triggered something in him. He realized he was famished. He knew Amanda would be as well. She was a light eater, and he often had to make sure she remembered to eat.
“I could eat,” Hernandez said. “In fact, I could eat a lot.”
“Potentate Carpathia would like you to contact DFW tower and have something nice waiting for us.”
Hernandez suddenly looked panicky. “What do you think he means by ‘something nice’?”
“I’m sure you’ll arrange for something appropriate, Captain Hernandez.”
Fortunato backed out of the cockpit and Hernandez rolled his eyes at Rayford. “DFW tower, this is Global Community Three, over.”
Rayford glanced back as Fortunato took his seat. Carpathia had swung around and was in deep conversation with Amanda.
Chloe worked with Loretta in fashioning a terse, two-sentence statement that was sent out by phone to the six names at the top of the prayer chain list. Each would call others who would call others, and the news would quickly spread throughout the New Hope body. Meanwhile, Buck recorded a brief message on the answering machine that simply said: “The tragic news of Pastor Bruce’s death is true. Elder Rayford Steele saw him and believes he may have died before any explosives hit the hospital. Please do not come to the church, as there will be no meetings or services or further announcements until Sunday at the regular time.” Buck turned the ringer off on the phone and directed all calls to the answering machine, which soon began clicking every few minutes, as more and more parishioners called in for confirmation. Buck knew Sunday morning’s meeting would be packed.
Chloe agreed to follow Loretta home and make sure she was all right while Buck was calling Donny Moore. “Donny,” Buck said, “I need your advice, and I need it right away.”
“Mr. Williams, sir,” came Donny’s characteristic staccato delivery, “advice is my middle name. And as you know, I work at home, so I can come to you or you can come to me and we can talk whenever you want.”
“Donny, I’m not mobile just now, so if you could find your way clear to visiting me at the church, I’d sure appreciate it.”
“I’ll be right over, Mr. Williams, but could you tell me something first? Did Loretta have the phones off the hook there for a while?”
“Yes, I believe she did. She didn’t have answers for people who were calling about Pastor Bruce. With nothing to tell people, she just turned off the phones.”
“That’s a relief,” Donny said. “I just got her set up with a new system a few weeks ago, so I hope nothing was wrong. How is Bruce, by the way?”
“I’ll tell you all about that when you get here, Donny, OK?”
Rayford saw billowing black clouds over the Dallas/Ft. Worth commercial airport and thought of the many times he had landed big craft on those long runways. How long would it take to rebuild here? Captain Hernandez guided the Learjet to a nearby military strip, the one Rayford had visited so recently. He saw no other aircraft on the ground. Clearly, someone had moved all the planes to keep the strip from being a target.
Hernandez landed the Learjet as smoothly as a man can land a plane that small, and they immediately taxied to the end of the runway and directly into a large hangar. Rayford was surprised that, indeed, the rest of the hangar was empty, too. Hernandez shut down the engines, and they deplaned. As soon as Carpathia had room, he put back on his disguise. He whispered something to Fortunato, who asked Hernandez where they would find the food. “Hangar three,” Hernandez said. “We’re in hangar one. The plane’s in hangar four.”
The disguise proved unnecessary. There was not much space between the hangars, and the small contingent moved quickly into and out of small doors at the sides of the buildings. Hangars two and three were also empty, except for a table piled with catered lunches near the side door that led to hangar four.
They approached the tables, and Carpathia turned to Rayford. “Say good-bye to Captain Hernandez,” he said. “After he has eaten, he will be on assignment for me near the old National Security Agency building in Maryland. It is unlikely you will see him again. He flies only the small craft.”
It was all Rayford could do to keep from shrugging. What did he care? He had just met the man. Why was it so important for Carpathia to keep him updated on personnel? He had not told Rayford of Earl Halliday’s involvement in helping design a new plane. He had not told Rayford that he expected to need a new plane. He had not even sought Rayford’s input about the plane he would be flying. Rayford would never understand the man.
Rayford ate ravenously and tried to encourage Amanda to eat more than usual. She did not. As the group made its last move between hangars, Rayford heard the characteristic whine of the Learjet and realized Hernandez was already airborne. Interestingly, Fortunato disappeared soon after they entered hangar four. There, standing at attention in a neat row, were four of the ten international ambassadors who represented huge land masses and populations and reported directly to Carpathia. Rayford had no idea where they had been or how they had gotten here. All he knew was that it was his job to get t
hem all to New Babylon for emergency meetings in light of the outbreak of World War III.
At the end of the row was Earl Halliday, standing stiffly and staring straight ahead. Carpathia shook hands with each of the four ambassadors in turn and ignored Halliday, who seemed to expect that. Rayford walked directly to Halliday and stuck out his hand. Halliday ignored it and spoke under his breath. “Get away from me, Steele, you scum!”
“Earl!”
“I mean it, Rayford. I have to bring you up to speed on this plane, but I don’t have to pretend to like it.”
Rayford backed away, feeling awkward, and joined Amanda, who had been left alone and looked out of place herself.
“Rayford, what in the world is Earl doing here?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you later. He’s not happy, I can tell you that. What was Carpathia talking to you about on the plane?”
“He wanted to know what I wanted to eat, of all things. That man!”
Two aides from New Babylon entered and greeted Carpathia with embraces. One motioned for Earl and Rayford to join him in a corner of the hangar as far from the Condor 216 as they could get. Rayford had purposely avoided staring at the monstrous aircraft. Though it sat facing the door that would open to the runway and was more than 150 feet from where they stood, still the Condor seemed to dominate the hangar. Rayford had known from a glance that here was a plane that had been in development for years, not just months. It was clearly the biggest passenger plane he had ever seen, and it was painted such a brilliant white that it seemed to disappear against the light walls in the dimly lit hangar. He could only imagine how difficult it would be to spot in the sky.
Carpathia’s aide, dressed just like Carpathia in a natty black suit, white shirt, and bloodred tie with a gold stickpin, leaned in close to Rayford and Earl and spoke earnestly. “Potentate Carpathia would like to be airborne as soon as possible. Can you give us an estimated time of departure?”
“I’ve never even seen this plane,” Rayford said, “and I have no idea—”
“Rayford,” Earl interrupted, “I’m telling you, you can fly this plane within half an hour. I know you; I know planes. So trust me.”
“Well, that’s interesting, Earl, but I won’t make any promises until I’ve been put through the paces.”
The Carpathia wannabe turned to Halliday. “Are you available to fly this plane, at least until Steele here feels he’s—”
“No sir, I am not!” Halliday said. “Just let me have Steele for thirty minutes and then let me get back to Chicago.”
Donny Moore proved more of a talker than Buck appreciated, but he decided feigning interest was a small price for the man’s expertise. “So, you’re a phone systems guy, but you sell computers—”
“On the side, right, yes sir. Just about double my income that way. Got a trunk full of catalogs, you know.”
“I’d like to see those,” Buck said.
Donny grinned. “I thought you might.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack, apparently one of each of the manufacturers he represented. He spread six out before Buck on the coffee table.
“Whoa,” Buck said, “I can see already there are going to be too many choices. Why don’t you just let me tell you what I’m looking for, and you tell me if you can deliver?”
“I can tell you right now I can deliver,” Donny said. “Last week I sold a guy thirty sub-notebooks with more power than any desktop anywhere, and—”
“Excuse me a moment, Donny,” Buck said. “Did you hear that printer quit?”
“I sure did. It just stopped now. It’s either out of paper, out of ink, or done with whatever it was doing. I sold that machine to Bruce, you know. Top of the line. Prints regular paper, continuous feed—whatever you need.”
“Let me just check on it,” Buck said. He rose and peeked into the inner office. The screen on Bruce’s laptop had already suspended itself. No warning lights on the printer told of shortages of ink or paper. Buck pushed a button on the laptop and the screen came alive. It indicated the print job was finally over. Buck guessed there were about a hundred pages left from the five-thousand-page box Loretta had run through the printer. What a treasure, Buck thought.
“When’s Bruce gonna be back here?” Buck heard Donny ask from the other room.
Rayford and Earl boarded the Condor alone. Earl held a finger to his lips and Rayford assumed he was looking for bugs. He checked the intercom system thoroughly before speaking. “You never know,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” Rayford said.
“You tell me about it, Rayford!”
“Earl, I’m much more in the dark than you are. I didn’t even know you were involved in this project. I had no idea you were working for Carpathia. You knew I was, so why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m not working for Carpathia, Rayford. I was pressed into service. I’m still a Pan-Con chief pilot at O’Hare, but when duty calls—”
“Why didn’t Carpathia tell me he was aware of you?” Rayford said. “He asked me to find somebody to fly Global Community One into New York. He didn’t know I would choose you.”
“He must have,” Earl said. “Who else would you pick? I was asked to help design this new plane, and I thought it would be fun just to test it a little bit. Then I get asked to fly the original plane to New York. Since the request came from you, I was flattered and honored. It was only when I got on the ground and realized the plane and I were targets that I got out of New York and headed back to Chicago as fast as I could. I never got there. I got word from Carpathia’s people while I was in the air that I was needed in Dallas to brief you on this plane.”
“I’m lost,” Rayford said.
“Well, I don’t know much either,” Earl said. “But it’s clear Carpathia wanted my going to New York and winding up dead to look like your decision, not his.”
“Why would he want you dead?”
“Maybe I know too much.”
“I’ve been flying him all over the place,” Rayford said. “I have to know more than you, and yet I don’t sense he’s thinking about doing me in.”
“Just watch your back, Rayford. I’ve heard enough to know this is not all what it seems to be and that this man does not have the world’s best interests at heart.”
There’s the understatement of the ages, Rayford thought.
“I don’t know how you got me into this, Rayford, but—”
“I got you into this? Earl, you have a short memory. You’re the one who encouraged me to become the pilot of Air Force One. I wasn’t looking for that job, and I certainly never dreamed it would turn into this.”
“Piloting Air Force One was a plum assignment,” Earl said, “whether you recognized that at the time or not. How was I to know what would come of it?”
“Let’s stop blaming each other and decide what we’re supposed to do now.”
“Ray, I’m gonna bring you up to speed on this plane, but then I think I’m a dead man. Would you tell my wife that—”
“Earl, what are you talking about? Why do you think you won’t make it back to Chicago?”
“I have no idea, Ray. All I know is that I was supposed to be in New York with that plane when it got obliterated. I don’t see myself as any threat to the Carpathia administration, but if they cared a whit about me, they would have gotten me out of New York before I had the idea I’d better get out of there.”
“Can’t you get yourself some sort of emergency assignment at DFW? There has to be a huge need for Pan-Con personnel over there, in light of everything.”
“Carpathia’s people have arranged a ride back to Chicago for me. I just have this feeling I’m not safe.”
“Tell them you don’t want to put them out. Tell them you’ve got plenty of work to do at DFW.”
“I’ll try. Meanwhile, let me show you this rig. And Ray, as an old friend, I want you to promise me that if anything does happen to me—”
“Nothing is going to happen to you, Earl. But of course I�
�ll keep in touch with your wife either way.”
Donny Moore fell silent at the tragic news. He sat staring, eyes wide, seemingly unable to form words. Buck busied himself leafing through the catalogs. He couldn’t concentrate. He knew there would be more questions. He didn’t know what to tell Donny. And he needed this man’s help.
Donny’s voice came hoarse with emotion. “What’s gonna happen to this church?”
“I know this sounds like a cliché,” Buck said, “but I believe God will provide.”
“How will God provide anybody like Pastor Bruce?”
“I know what you mean, Donny. Whoever it is won’t be another Pastor Bruce. He was unique.”
“I’m still having trouble believing it,” Donny said. “But I don’t guess anything should surprise me anymore.”
Rayford sat behind the controls of the Condor 216. “What am I supposed to do for a first officer?” he asked Earl.
“They’ve got somebody on his way over from one of the other airlines. He’ll fly with you as far as San Francisco, where McCullum will join you.”
“McCullum? He copiloted for me from New Babylon to Washington, Earl. When I went to Chicago, he was supposed to go back to Iraq.”
“I only know what I’m told, Rayford.”
“And why are we flying west to go east, as Carpathia says?”
“I have no idea what’s going on here, Rayford. I’m new to this. Maybe you know better than I do. The fact is, most of the war and devastation seems to be east of the Mississippi. Have you noticed that? It’s almost as if it was planned. This plane was designed and built here in Dallas, but not at DFW where it might have been destroyed. It’s ready for you just when you need it. As you can see it has the controls of a seven-seven-seven and yet it’s a much bigger plane. If you can fly a ’seventy-seven, you can fly this. You just need to get used to the size of it. The people you need are where you need them when you need them. Figure it out, boy. None of this seems a surprise to Carpathia, does it?”
