by Tim LaHaye
“It is beyond human comprehension,” Tsion said, “but God foretold it. Now my dream for the faithful here is that they be useful in the cause of aiding our brothers and sisters around the world. Peter warns us to be sober and vigilant because our adversary walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. ‘Resist him, steadfast in the faith, knowing that the same sufferings are experienced by your brotherhood in the world.’
“The evil one will grow angrier, more determined, more vicious, and many will die at his hand. What better, nobler task could the million strong here undertake than to aid your daughter’s Commodity Co-op and equip the saints to thwart Antichrist?
“I envision thousands of technological experts creating a network of resources for believers, informing them of safe havens, putting them in touch with each other. We know we will lose many brothers and sisters, and yet we should offer what we can to keep the gospel going forth, even now.”
Rayford sat back. “Can’t argue with that. And it’s not a bad idea, Tsion, this becoming your new base of operation. We will miss you, of course, but it makes no sense to risk losing you to the cause when all you need is right here.”
“I have been thinking,” Chaim said, “and, Rayford, feel free to correct me, as I am out of my element on this topic. But I wonder if the day of a safe house for the Tribulation Force is past. We know New Babylon is sniffing around and that it is only a matter of time before Chicago is exposed. Yes, perhaps we need a central location for the coordinating of the Co-op, but if I were you I would worry for my little one, being moved hither and yon. I leave the details to you and your compatriots. But I ask you, is it not true that anyone who is asked to remain at the safe house quickly gets the cottage fever?
“The young man there, Zeke, who so masterfully equips us to venture out, might find moving around a nuisance. And the matter of record keeping and computers is difficult. But perhaps the safe house of the future will be in a thousand places, not just one. Perhaps the time has come to make your home in the hiding places of the believers around the world.”
Rayford feared Chaim was right, and it must have shown.
“I am not saying it will be easy,” Chaim said, “but I urge you to take the initiative. Make the hard decision. Disband the safe house and disperse your people before they are found out, for then you could lose everyone at once. Surely you all know you have stayed in one place long past a reasonable hour.”
“Oh, I know that, Chaim,” Rayford said. “In reality, we have not been at the Strong Building very long. Too long, no doubt, but not even as long as we were at our previous location.”
Tsion stood and stretched. “We need to leave this with you. God will lead you. I intended to seek your counsel, and now we have tried to counsel you.”
“I appreciate it.”
“But please, Rayford, counsel me. Let me tell you what I believe God is impressing upon me, and see if it makes any sense to you. I know it will jar the sensibilities of many hearers, and yet I dare not casually disregard it. You see, because of what has happened since the Rapture of the church, I believe there is ample evidence of one part of God’s nature and character. Clearly this is a time of judgment, even of wrath. We are in the middle of the last seven of the twenty-one judgments of God, and we even endured one he himself refers to in the Scriptures as the wrath of the Lamb.
“It would be easy for a preacher to illumine and drive home the truth of God’s impatience, his judgment poured out on his enemies, his demand for justice for the blood of the prophets. But I have come to the conclusion that all this goes without saying. Yes, this is the last chance. Yes, everything has been telescoped into seven last years, and we are already well into the second half of that. God will do what God will do, but I am jealous to protect his reputation.
“Oh, I know he does not need me, does not require my assistance. I am humbled to the depths of my soul that he has seen fit to allow me any role in ministering to the nations. But a profound and seemingly contradictory message presses on my heart. I believe it is of God, but it is such a paradox, such a dichotomy, that I dare not run ahead of him without the counsel of and wisdom of my spiritual family.”
Tsion massaged his temples and began to pace. “Gentlemen,” he said, “walk with me.”
“The crowds will press if you leave here,” someone said.
“They will see we are engaged, I am sure,” Tsion said. “Let us not make a spectacle. Surround me and let us move away from the masses.”
The people still frolicked around the spring while others filled containers and gathered manna. Rayford joined the elders and Chaim and casually moved into a ravine and down a rocky slope.
When they were clear of others, Tsion talked as he walked. “I am not unaware that I have been bestowed a great privilege. I have a congregation here alone of a million souls. I have opportunity to teach the babies in the faith, offering them the milk of the Word. I also enjoy breaking the bread and carving the meat of the deeper things to the more mature. And I am blessed to preach the gospel, evangelizing, for even here, there are the undecided. We will not win all of them, a truth that astounds me, especially in the glow of an event such as we experienced just hours ago. But the point is, God daily refreshes me and allows me—expects me—to exercise all the gifts he has bestowed on a pastor-teacher.”
When Tsion stopped, the rest stopped. He sat on a rock, and they gathered around him. “It may sound strange to you all, because I have said many, many times that this is the worst seven-year period in the history of mankind, but in many ways I count it an almost limitless benefit to be alive right now. Technology has allowed me a congregation, if the figures can be believed, of more than a billion via the Internet. Someday in heaven I will ask God to let me get my finite brain around that figure. For now it is too much to take in. I cannot picture it, cannot tell you how many one-hundred-thousand-seat stadiums it would take to house them all. Well, of course I know that ten thousand such stadiums would equal a billion people, but does that help you picture it in your mind? Me neither.
“Now, let me tell you what weighs on me when I think of the responsibilities I have to such a congregation. I believe the time has come to stop talking about the judgment of God. There is no denying it. There is no pretending that his wrath is not being poured out. But I have come to the conclusion that the whole message of God throughout the ages is an anthem to his mercy.
“Most of you know that this comes from a man who saw his beloved wife and children murdered. Am I saying that the holiness of God is less important than the love of God? How could I when the Scriptures say that he is love, but that he is holy, holy, holy?
“I am merely saying that I will let God’s justice and judgment and wrath speak for themselves, and I will spend the rest of my time here championing his mercy.”
It seemed to Rayford that Tsion took the time to look into the eyes of everyone who had heard him. He could have gone on, defended himself and his novel opinion. But he simply finished by saying, “You have until noon tomorrow to correct me if you believe I am a wayward brother. Otherwise, my teaching begins, and you know my theme.”
Buck was sympathetic to Albie. The diminutive Middle Easterner was wound tight, unable to sit still. “I can’t live like this, Cameron,” he said. “I’m going to spend this evening with Zeke and look through his files. Have you seen his inventory?”
“Of course.”
“There has to be an identity in there for me. The GC thing probably won’t work for me again, but I’ll do anything. Anything but sit around here. You think he could make me tall and blond?”
Buck had to smile. One of two wasn’t bad. “I might join you,” he said. “Zeke’s a master, and this sitting around is gonna kill me.”
“But you write. You get to download all that stuff from Chang and get it out on the Net. I love your son, Cameron, but trading off babysitting, reading, looking out the window, and waiting for everybody to check in is going to drive me crazy.”
“I know.”
“Have you spent much time with Mac?” Albie said.
“Sure.”
“Great man. Good mind. But we don’t think the same. I can imagine all kinds of things he’s doing in Greece right now that could get—oh, I’m sorry. I keep forgetting Chloe is right there with him.”
“What? You think Mac won’t look out for Chloe? She’s probably looking out for him.”
“I ought to be there is what I’m saying.”
“Deputy Commander Konrad?”
“That is correct,” Chang said, his voice electronically modulated, “and this had better be Nelson Stefanich.”
“It is, sir, and—”
“Commander, I want to know what in the world is going on over there.”
“Yes, sir, we—”
“I sent my senior commander all the way from New Babylon to talk directly with your prisoner.”
“And that will happen, sir. I—”
“I don’t appreciate him getting jerked around when you had fair warning and plenty of time to make arrangements.”
“I know. We—”
“I’ll expect a full report transmitted to my office by noon tomorrow.”
“I’ll definitely do that, sir, because it is explainable.”
“Is Johnson meeting with Sebastian now?”
“Not quite yet—”
“Even as we speak? Because if not, I want to know why not.”
“There was some mix-up with our local team, sir. They thought they heard—”
“I’ll look for those details tomorrow, Commander, but meanwhile I’m going to assume you’re effecting this meeting.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And not making Johnson come to you.”
“Sir?”
“He’s gone as far as I expect him to have to go. Anywhere he is, is a secure environment, so you have your people get the prisoner to him.”
“Yes, sir. Deputy Commander, could I inform you of some good news?”
“There is no good news until I know Johnson has access to Sebastian.”
“I just wanted you to know that we have located the central underground headquarters in Ptolemaïs and plan to raid it at midnight.”
CHAPTER 7
Chloe watched Socrates from inside the shack until he disappeared, limping down toward the road. Then she tiptoed out, went ninety degrees into the trees, hurried past the Fifty and the DEW, which her quarry had passed some forty feet to his left. She found it no chore to keep up with the lame Socrates.
Chloe held tight to the grip on the Uzi, pulling the strap taut to keep it away from her body and from clacking into the Luger. She turned sideways and mince-stepped the decline, carefully crossing the gravel road. Stopping on the other side, she heard movement in the underbrush, someone heading left, east, hurrying and not worrying about snapping twigs and thrashing through the thick stuff. Chloe squatted and regulated her breathing, gauging direction and distance to keep from following too close and giving herself away.
There was no need for her to step into the overgrowth. She could easily keep pace staying at the side of the road in the soft, silent dirt. The only danger was overtaking her prey and being seen. It had to be Socrates. When he came even with the shack again, though he was below the line of sight from the front door, he stopped, apparently to listen. Hearing nothing must have encouraged him, because now out he came, maybe fifty feet ahead of Chloe and also choosing to stay on the quieter surface next to the road.
Chloe stood stock-still in case he decided to turn around. She couldn’t imagine being seen in the darkness, but who knew what kind of vision the limping, unarmed man might have? Some people could see or sense shapes in the darkness. Mac had proved that. And maybe this character knew the area, would notice a silhouette between trees that should have provided a clear shot to the stars.
Chloe waited until he went around a bend, then hurried to where she could again hear the labored footsteps. She peeled her eyes and saw—or at least imagined—that he was testing the knee, trying to walk more upright, more normal, and not succeeding. Occasionally she heard a grunt or a moan. He was in pain, and he certainly was taking the long way to town.
No, Socrates was going to lead her to George Sebastian. Chloe just knew it. Should she attempt a quiet transmission, let Mac know Hopalong was headed the wrong way? How much of a lead could he get if that took thirty seconds? Mac and Hannah could catch up with her quickly, and they could overtake him in no time.
But Mac was double-checking the shack, and Hannah was outside alone, making sure no ambush was afoot. Chloe would never forgive herself if a needless transmission gave someone an audible target. If Socrates led her right to this lean-to or whatever it was, unless she was seen, she couldn’t be in any danger. If the other three were there—even if Stefanich was there—she’d still have plenty of time to call for the others.
Mac knelt in the cool dampness of the cramped cellar. The single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed irregular shapes on the earthen floor. With his flashlight he tried to determine whether George had been mistreated. It was impossible to tell if those were flecks of blood among the footprints and indecipherable shapes. It’s where I would terrorize a hostage, Mac decided.
He shined his light in every corner, flipped off the cellar switch, and was headed upstairs when his phone chirped. Eager to get outside to the rendezvous but hesitant to be on the phone in the open air, he paused on the stairs and flipped it open. Was it his imagination or had he heard a voice from out back? He assumed Hannah would have done her perimeter scan and would be waiting with Chloe by the tree in front.
Mac didn’t dare say anything, so he just listened to the phone.
“Mac?”
It was Chang, but Mac didn’t want to acknowledge. He pressed a button on the keypad.
“Mac? That you?”
He pressed the button longer.
“Okay, you can’t talk, but neither can I until I can confirm it’s you. One beep if the following is true; two if it’s false: After the first book in the New Testament, the next four have exactly the same number of letters in their titles.”
Now Mac for sure heard a voice from the back. Male. Chang’s statement was true, but was it one for true and two for false or the other way around? He hesitated, listening while creeping to the top of the stairs.
“Mac would know this,” Chang said. “One if true, two if—”
Mac pressed one quickly.
“Could have been a lucky guess,” Chang said, and Mac closed his eyes. Come on!
“You have a contact in a very strategic location. Give me a beep for the number of letters in his sister’s maiden name.”
What? Chang would be so clever at a party. Okay, Chang’s the contact. His sister is Ming Toy. Three. Wait! Maiden name. Same as Chang’s. Wong. Four. Mac punched them quickly, now peeking out of the darkened shack toward the back. He could see nothing.
“Okay, Mac, right. Now listen. Talked to Stefanich as Konrad. He’s going to make his guys bring Sebastian to you, so stay put but don’t waste time. He claims they’ve found the underground headquarters and will raid it at midnight. I don’t have any numbers on the Co-op people there. Do you? One if yes, two if no.”
Mac pressed twice.
“I don’t even know that they have phones. Can you send somebody to help? One if—”
Mac beeped once.
“Are you in immediate danger?”
Mac beeped twice.
“Okay, so you’re somewhere where you can’t talk. GPS shows you still where I talked to you last. Someone there with you?”
Twice.
“Outside?”
Once.
“See them?”
Twice.
“Okay, you hear them. Have you got personnel outside?”
Once.
“Both?”
Once.
“I’ll let you go. You want me to stay on?”
Twice.
; “Check in when you’re clear. I want to know we’re doing something for the Co-op there.”
Mac put his phone away and crept outside. Half a dozen armed Peacekeepers milled about by the car.
“I say we take it. We’ve hiked for hours.”
“No keys.”
“So hot-wire it.”
“Come on! Supposed to be only five hundred more meters.”
The Peacekeepers headed east. Mac circled around to the front. So Stefanich sent backup. Wonder if that’s all of ’em?
Neither Hannah nor Chloe was by the tree. Mac made a noise through his teeth, in case they were close by. Nothing. He knelt in the darkness. The Fifty was in place. The DEW was gone.
It felt to George as if Aristotle had turned left onto the road and driven east for about twenty minutes before pulling off to the side and waiting. He had once been able to keep track of the passage of time, but now he had to fight sleep. If he had to guess, George would have said they sat, not moving, for more than an hour. But neither would it have surprised him if it were actually twice that long.
Finally Aristotle said, “What do you think?”
“We could have gone long ago,” Elena said. “The place clears out early, and there aren’t that many people there anymore anyway.”
“Plato?”
“Yes, go! We’ve got to get back up here before long.”
It seemed to George that they eventually made their way out of the woods and off the gravel road to a main road and were heading south. Then they went east, and he had the sense, from ambiance and sound, that they were in a populated area, maybe a town.
“Get him out of sight,” Aristotle said a few minutes later.
Plato reached and grabbed George by the right shoulder and pulled him over to where his head now lay in the big man’s lap.
Aristotle soon slowed and seemed to be parking.
“No, no!” Plato said. “Around back.”
Once they finally stopped and parked, Elena said, “I’ll see if we’re clear.” George felt a cramp in his lower back but could do nothing about it. She returned and got back in the Jeep, shutting the door. “About twenty minutes,” she said.
