Dead Heat

by Joel C. Rosenberg

  Israelis—I suspect Mr. Doron could be forced to think twice about defying the will of the international community."

  Lucente set down his teacup and looked Al-Hassani straight in the eye. "Mustafa, tell me you were not behind these attacks."

  Al-Hassani affected a stunned expression. "What? How could you even think such a thing?"

  "Tell me I'm wrong," Lucente said.

  "I won't even dignify that with a response," the Iraqi leader sniffed, not daring to look at Tariq.

  "I will ask you again," Lucente pressed. "Did you or did you not have anything whatsoever to do with these attacks on the United States?"

  "I'm insulted by the very premise," Al-Hassani snapped back. "We don't even have any nuclear weapons. You should know that better than anyone."

  "Maybe yes, maybe no," Lucente said. "I have seen intelligence reports that

  several Russian tactical nuclear weapons that were known to be in the region, or on the way, were unaccounted for after the Day of Devastation."

  "I have heard such reports myself," Al-Hassani agreed.

  "And?"

  "And what?"

  "And I have heard rumors that those tactical nukes were found by Iraqi forces and

  brought back to Babylon for safekeeping," Lucente said.

  "Lies," Al-Hassani shot back. "Who told you that? the Kurds? the ones who now want to pressure you and the rest of the world into letting them illegally secede from the United States of Eurasia to form their own pathetic little country? Liars. They are all liars! We have no nuclear weapons. We've never had nuclear weapons. We never will have

  nuclear weapons. And I for one am deeply offended that you would come here, to my

  home, and accuse me of seeking to annihilate the very country that liberated me and my

  people from the tyranny of Saddam and his sons."

  "I am not accusing," Lucente repeated calmly. "I am simply asking questions—

  questions the whole world will soon be asking me. Do you not agree that the secretary-

  general of the United Nations should have answers to such questions?"

  But the Iraqi leader made it clear with his expression that the answer was an adamant

  no.

  7:14 A.M.-A REFUGEE CAMP IN NORTHERN JORDAN

  Bennett was stunned.

  It wasn't him. It was Oaks. But why would the new president call him? Why now?

  "Jon, is that you?"

  "Yes, sir, Mr. President," he replied, swallowing hard.

  "I understand you're in the Middle East right now—is that right?"

  "Yes, sir—Jordan, sir."

  "In a refugee camp of some kind?"

  "That's correct, sir. Erin and I have been here since just after our honeymoon."

  "What's that, about six months now?"

  "Closer to seven, sir."

  "Well, good for you—both of you. It must be rewarding to do something good while all hell breaks out, no?"

  "It was until today," Bennett said, grateful for the kind words but uncomfortable with the focus on him and Erin under the circumstances. "Indeed," the president replied so quietly that Bennett could barely hear him. "That's why I'm calling."

  "I don't even know what to say, Mr. President," Bennett said. "I'm so sorry to hear about President MacPherson and his family, and about everything that's happened, of

  course. Words cannot even begin . . ."

  Bennett's voiced trailed off. Powerful emotions were again forcing their way to the

  surface, and he had to fight to keep them back.

  "What's happened today is incomprehensible," Oaks agreed, his own voice wavering a bit.

  "Are Marie and the boys safe?" Bennett asked.

  "They are. Thanks for asking. They're not with me, but I just spoke to them by

  phone. We were all very lucky."

  "I'm afraid I don't believe in luck, Mr. President."

  Oaks seemed startled. "What do you mean?"

  "Luck is random," Bennett explained. "But God isn't random. He has a plan."

  "You think America getting attacked by nuclear bombs is God's plan?"

  "No, sir, that's not what I meant."

  "Then, forgive me, but what did you mean?"

  "Men make evil plans, not God," Bennett replied. "But the Bible says what man plans for evil, God can turn for good."

  "So God knew this was all going to happen?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Why didn't He stop it?"

  "I don't know, sir."

  "He could have."

  "Yes, He could have."

  "But He didn't."

  "I can't explain it all, Mr. President. All I know for certain is that in your case, He has chosen to keep you safe and to make you the next leader of the free world. That's not luck, sir. That's not random. That's the grace of God. That's His supernatural hand on you,

  guiding you, positioning you just where He wants you. And to be honest, sir, there are

  only two relevant questions now."

  There was no point beating around the bush, Bennett thought. Too much was at stake.

  If he had the president's ear, he might as well speak his mind.

  "What are they?" Oaks asked.

  "The first is the question every one of us must face before it's too late: if God forbid, you were to die tonight, do you know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you'd spend

  eternity with God in heaven?"

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

  "And the second?" Oaks asked.

  "The second is a question only you must face: what are you going to do with this enormous responsibility God has just handed you?"

  There was another long pause. Bennett wondered if he had gone too far. Yet, again,

  under the circumstances, he knew he didn't have a choice. This wasn't a political moment.

  Bennett wasn't a political advisor. The president's soul hung in the balance. The man was an agnostic in the earth's final days, days that would lead straight to the ultimate Day of Judgment. Oaks needed to get right with God before it was too late.

  "Actually, Jon," the president stammered, uncharacteristically, "this is . . ."

  "Yes, sir?"

  "This really is why I called."

  Bennett wasn't sure what to say next, so he just listened.

  "I never thought anything like this was possible, not after the last war," Oaks continued. "I thought such horrors were behind us. But in the last few hours, I keep recalling your old friend Dr. Mordechai saying that the whole Gog and Magog thing

  wasn't the end, just the beginning of the end."

  "He did, sir; that's true," Bennett acknowledged, surprised that Oaks had paid attention, much less remembered the line.

  "I'm beginning to think that you and he might have been right about a lot of things,"

  the president continued. "I'll admit, I was a skeptic until now—a cynic, perhaps. But after this

  . . . I don't know. . . . That's why I'm calling. I'd . . . well, I'd be grateful for your counsel, Jon."

  "I beg your pardon, sir?" Bennett asked, not sure he'd heard the man correctly.

  "I'd like to see you as soon as possible—you and Erin," the president explained. "Most of

  our top people are dead. Nearly all the White House and NSC staff are gone. State is gone.

  Most of the team at the Pentagon. And I'm sure you've heard about Langley."

  "Yes, sir, I'm afraid I did."

  "I need people around me I know, people I can trust," Oaks said plainly. "I need to assemble a team of people who can give me wise counsel through some very dark days,

  people who are willing to speak their minds even if it's not popular. I haven't had much time to process all this yet or form a plan of action going forward. But I immediately

  thought of you and insisted my staff track you down."

  "You're very kind, sir, but I—"

  "It's not kindness, Jon," the president interrupted. "It's desperation. Lo
ok, I'll be honest with you. I thought you'd completely lost your mind when you gave Mac and me that

  'Ezekiel Option' memo. And when you quit the White House staff after the U.N. vote and

  headed into Russia to find Erin, I seriously thought you had become delusional or suicidal or both. I've never been a religious person. I always thought religion and politics were a bad combination. I thought only weak people needed to believe in God, you know, as a crutch.

  And again, to be completely candid with you, I really lost respect for you when you put your religious views ahead of what I thought were our country's national security interests. But .

  . ."

  The president paused.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Well, I have to say, while I still don't understand anything about the Bible or prophecy or any of that . . . well, whatever . . . Anyway, it's obvious that you've been downright prescient—eerily so—about some major events. . . . You seemed to know they were coming, and maybe all those prophecies have something to do with that."

  Oaks paused again. Bennett still wasn't certain how to respond.

  "What I'm saying," the president finally continued, "is that I need you to come back to the U.S. and spend some time with Marie and me—as soon as humanly possible."

  "Doing what exactly, Mr. President?"

  "I'm sure we both would like to hear more about your own spiritual journey, how you and Erin, you know, found God, or whatever. But look, Jon, the bottom line is, I need to know what you know. I need to know what's coming next. I need to understand where the

  U.S. fits into Bible prophecy. Like, are we going to be hit again?"

  "I honestly don't know, sir."

  "Does the Bible say anything about us, about America?"

  "Not really, sir, no; it doesn't."

  "What about China? Are there any prophecies about China in the End Times or the

  last days or whatever you call it?"

  So there it was, Bennett thought. The president really was considering action against the PRC.

  "Mr. President, I'm not sure I'm the right person to advise you on this," Bennett demurred.

  "There isn't anybody else," the president replied, "and there isn't much time. I need you here by tomorrow. How far are you from Amman?"

  Tomorrow? A shudder ran through Bennett's system. He wanted to help the president.

  He wanted to do something for his country, and if this was it, it was a tremendous and

  unexpected honor. But it was impossible, wasn't it? He couldn't move Erin so quickly, and

  he certainly wasn't going to leave her in Jordan.

  He quickly explained Erin's condition. Oaks was sympathetic, but he was equally

  adamant that time was of the essence. There was only one conclusion Bennett could draw.

  The president must be seriously considering a massive retaliatory strike against China and wanted to know as quickly as possible if there was a prophetic angle to such a nightmare scenario. It wasn't something they could talk about over the phone. Indeed, Bennett was surprised the president wanted to talk about it at all. He had never shown any interest in prophecy before. But clearly events were now forcing the issue. Nancy Reagan had turned to astrology in her darkest hours after her husband was nearly assassinated. At least Oaks wanted to turn to the Bible. But still ...

  The president knew full well that the Bennetts were both loath to reenter government

  service. Then again, he wasn't asking for Jon's assistance on any normal day. He was

  asking on the very day four American cities had been obliterated by nuclear weapons. A

  full-blown global thermonuclear war was just hours or days away, and with it, perhaps, the Rapture and the beginning of the Tribulation. Still, the last thing Bennett wanted to do was force a long, difficult, and premature move on Erin.

  "Don't worry about a thing," the president insisted, accurately sensing the depths of Bennett's hesitation. "I'll have my staff arrange for one of the camp's ambulances to take you and Erin to Amman. From there, we'll figure out a way to get you both back to the U.S.

  But look, I've got NORAD on the other line. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe. Take care of that sweet wife of yours. And pray for me, Jon. Whatever you do, don't stop praying for me."

  "You have my word on that, Mr. President," Bennett replied.

  "I know I do," the president said, "and I appreciate that very much. I promise to be thinking about the questions you posed."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "And you'll let me know if there is anything I can do for you?"

  "Actually, Mr. President," Bennett said without hesitation, "there is."

  "What's that?"

  "Would you help me track down my mother and see that she's safe?"

  7:36 A.M.-A REFUGEE CAMP IN NORTHERN JORDAN

  Bennett couldn't believe what had just happened.

  He felt honored that the president had reached out to him at such a moment and was

  eager to help. He was also deeply grateful that the president had agreed to assign Bobby Caulfield, his personal aide, to do everything he possibly could to track down Bennett's mother. But he suddenly realized that in his shock at hearing the president's voice, he had said nothing about the mysterious caller. Nor had he gotten a number to call the president back, and a quick glance at the caller ID on his satphone confirmed Oaks had been calling on an unlisted and most likely scrambled line.

  Now what? Bennett wondered. America had been attacked. Millions lay dead or

  dying. Prophetic events were moving quickly. The leader of the free world—what was

  left of it, anyway—was asking for his help.

  Bennett finally reached his tent and grabbed his toiletries, a clean pair of khakis, a

  fresh shirt, and a towel before heading to the showers. He needed to clear his mind. He needed to figure out how to proceed. His instincts had been right after all. He and Erin were leaving—quickly, and for good.

  News of the attacks in the U.S. was just starting to spread through the general

  population of the camp. He noticed small groups of people huddled around shortwave

  radios, listening to the latest developments.

  Some were crying. Many looked shell-shocked. But there were also gangs of young

  boys laughing and cheering the attacks on the U.S.

  Bennett's first instinct was to grab several of them and knock their heads together. But it was a temptation he would have to resist. He and Erin had come to Jordan, after all, to love their neighbors and their enemies, not to punch their lights out. It wasn't easy for Bennett to stay calm in such circumstances. But he had to be faithful to the mission for which he'd been called. People were watching his every move, especially now. As one of

  the few Americans in the camp, he couldn't betray his country. More importantly, though, as one of the few followers of Christ there, he couldn't betray the God who had sent him there to be His hands and feet, to bless the poor and needy in the name of Jesus. He had to stay focused.

  Hearing young boys mock his country suddenly put in sharp relief the question on so many people's minds—the same question that until yesterday had been front and center in his own.

  Ever since Ezekiel's War, people had been asking him where the United States fit into End Times prophecy and what else was going to happen before Jesus returned. He hadn't been

  certain what to tell them. He'd never claimed to be a prophecy expert, as Dr. Mordechai

  had been.

  But people kept asking, and the question kept gnawing at Bennett's soul. So for the last few months, he'd been devoting his spare time to finding the answer. Amid all their

  responsibilities in the camp, of course, there was precious little "spare" time. At first, he and Erin would get up ten or fifteen minutes early to read the Bible and have some quick prayer together before heading to their post for work. But that quickly proved insufficient.

  The spiritual warfare was too intense.
Bennett's hunger for God's presence and His Word was too deep, too desperate.

  Soon he found himself waking up at two or three in the morning to study the Scriptures

  by flashlight. He was taking detailed notes in the leather journal Erin had given him. He was often on his knees until daybreak, asking the Lord for wisdom and insight and the

  ability to explain what he was learning to others. He prayed for his mother. He prayed hour upon hour for every friend he could think of, asking that Christ would open their eyes to His love, draw them into His Kingdom, and build them up strong in the faith.

  Occasionally, when he had a few hours off, he would use his laptop's satellite connection and jump on the Internet. Then he would scour the Web site and weblog that Dr.

  Mordechai had left behind, trying to glean every tidbit on End Times prophecy he could.

  He would often e-mail Mordechai's friends, as well as various pastors and seminary

  professors around the world, asking for their wisdom and insight as well. It was a crash course in biblical eschatology, to be sure. But he had no choice. People wanted to know the truth. Increasingly, they were turning to him for answers. And the clock was ticking.

  Bennett reached the showers and let the cool water wash over him as he processed a

  flood of new emotions and new questions. Was he ready? Ready to talk about where China

  fit into the last days? Ready to discuss the future of Israel and the Third Temple? Ready to explain the future of Babylon? Ready to explain why there were no biblical references to America in all of Bible prophecy—none at all?

  This last one was the toughest of all, he mused, for it raised a deeper question: if they were really living in the last days, then how was it possible that the United States, the wealthiest and most powerful nation on the face of the earth in the history of mankind, didn't seem to have a role?

  7:43 A.M.-A REFUGEE CAMP IN NORTHERN JORDAN

  Bennett forced himself to be analytical, not emotional.

  For the moment, there was nothing he could do about whatever attacks lay ahead. But

  he could get prepared for his meeting with the president, and this, he decided, had to be his focus. He tried to clear his head and concentrate on what he had learned so far.