Apollyon: The Destroyer Is Unleashed (2 page)

Mac nodded. “So they tell me. There’s more good news. They like and trust David.”

“Hassid? Good!”

“He’s been put in charge of purchasing. Beyond all the computer stuff he’s been doing, he contracts for all major purchases. Even in avionics.”

Rayford squinted. Mac pulled a yellow sheet from his jacket and slid it across the table. “Don’t tell me he’s bought me a plane,” Rayford said.

Mac snorted. “Should have thought of that. You know those little handheld electronic organizers? David ordered a half dozen specially built. He doesn’t even know yet that he won’t be seeing you around anymore.”

“I can’t steal these, not even from Carpathia.”

“You don’t have to steal them, Ray. These are just the specs and where to get ‘em. They’re not cheap, but wait till you see what these babies can do. No more laptops for you guys. Well, maybe the rabbi still needs a keyboard, but these things are solar powered, satellite connected, and contain geographic positioning chips. You can access the Internet, send and receive, use them as phones, you name it.”

Rayford shook his head. “I suppose he thought of tracer blocks.”

“Of course.”

Rayford stuffed the sheet into a pocket. “What am I going to do, Mac?”

“You’re going to get your tail out of this hemisphere, what else?”

“But I have to know about Amanda. Buck will tell me only face-to-face, and he’s in Jerusalem.”

Mac looked down. “You know how that’s going to go, Ray. I’d be the last one to try to tell a man about his own wife, but you know as well as I do that everything points to what you don’t want to hear.”

“I haven’t accepted it yet, but I have to know.”

“Buck found out for sure?”

“Sounds like it.”

“How can he be sure?”

“I told you about Hattie.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She knows.”

“So ask her yourself, Ray. Go home.”

“Like I wouldn’t be noticed trying to slip out of here tomorrow morning.”

“The GC can’t keep track of everything. Use your people’s pilot―Ritz, is it? What’s he got to do the next few days?”

Rayford looked at Mac with admiration. “You’re not as dumb as you look, old-timer.”

Mac pulled a phone from his pocket. “Know his number?”

“Your phone scrambled? If I get detected talking to Ken Ritz on either of our phones―”

“You are dumber than you look if you think I’d risk that. I know the purchasing guy, remember?” Mac showed Rayford the phone, a generic model that had been doctored by David Hassid.

Rayford dialed Chloe’s phone. “Daddy!” she exulted. “Are you here?”

Buck considered it a privilege to pray with the Israeli committee before he and Ken and Tsion headed back to find Chloe. He threw his arm around Tsion. “Are you as tired as I am?”

“Exhausted. I only hope the Lord will allow me to sleep tonight. I am ready to share his message with these dear members of the family, and all that is left before that is to talk with Eli and Moishe. You will go with me, will you not?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Me either,” Ken said.

But the news from Chloe changed Ken’s plans. “Daddy called,” she whispered. “He needs a ride home tomorrow.”

After she explained Rayford’s situation, Ken decided to get the Gulfstream out of the Jerusalem Airport and into Ben Gurion that night. Buck was nearly despondent, wanting to talk to Rayford personally. “At least he can hear the truth about Amanda from the horse’s mouth,” he said.

An hour later Jacov drove as they delivered Ken to the airport. “We will see you back here Friday,” Tsion said, embracing him.

Chloe fell asleep on Buck’s shoulder during the after-dark ride to the Temple Mount. As they left the car, the spectacular new temple gleamed on the horizon. “I do not even want to see the new structure,” Tsion said. “It is an abomination.”

“I can’t wait to meet the witnesses,” Chloe said.

“You may not actually meet them,” Tsion cautioned. “These are heavenly beings with their own agenda. They may communicate with us; they may not. We approach them with great caution.”

Buck felt the usual tingle to the soles of his feet. “You know the stories, hon.”

Chloe nodded. “I’m not saying I’m not scared.”

The three slowed as they approached the typical crowd that gathered thirty feet from the wrought-iron fence, behind which the witnesses stood, sat, or spoke. Usually they spoke. No one had seen them sleep, and none dared get closer. Threats on the lives of the two witnesses had ended in the ugly deaths of would-be assassins.

Buck’s excitement masked his fatigue. He worried about Chloe but would not deny her this privilege. At the edge of the crowd of about forty, Buck was able to see past the fence to where Eli sat, Indian style, his back to the stone wall of a small building beyond the fence. His long hair and beard wafted softly in the breeze, but he was unmoving, unblinking, his leathery skin and burlap-like garb appearing to meld.

Moishe stood two feet from the fence, silent, unmoving, staring at the crowd. Occasionally someone shouted. “Speak! Say something!” But that made others back away, obviously fearing the violent reactions they had heard of. Moishe’s feet were spread, his arms loose at his sides. Earlier in the day Buck had monitored on his computer a long monologue from Moishe. Sometimes the two traded off speaking, but this day must have been all Moishe’s responsibility.

“Watch them carefully,” Buck whispered to Chloe. “Sometimes they communicate without opening their mouths. I love how everyone understands them in his own language.”

Commotion near the front caused several people to back away, opening a gap in the crowd. Someone said, “Carpathia! It’s the potentate!”

Tsion held up a hand. “Let us stay right here,” he whispered.

Buck was riveted as Leon Fortunato smoothly supervised GC guards who kept gawkers from Carpathia. The potentate appeared bemused, boldly moving to within ten feet of the fence. “Hail, Potentate!” someone shouted. Carpathia half turned, holding a finger to his lips, and Fortunato nodded to a guard, who stepped toward the crowd. They backed away farther.

“Stay here,” Buck said, slipping away.

“Honey, wait!” Chloe called, but Buck moved around behind the crowd and into the shadows.

He knew he would appear to the guards as simply someone leaving. But when he was far enough away to be ignored, he doubled back through shrubbery to where he could see Carpathia’s face as he stared at Moishe.

Carpathia appeared startled when Moishe suddenly spoke in a loud voice. “Woe unto the enemy of the Most High God!”

Nicolae seemed to quickly collect himself. He smiled and spoke softly. “I am hardly the enemy of God,” he said. “Many say I am the Most High God.”

Moishe moved for the first time, crossing his arms over his chest. Carpathia, his chin in his hand, cocked his head and studied Moishe. The ancient witness spoke softly, and Buck knew only he and Carpathia could hear him.

“A sword shall pierce your head,” Moishe said in a haunting monotone. “And you shall surely die.”

Buck shivered, but it was clear that Carpathia was unmoved. “Let me tell you and your companion something,” he said through clenched teeth. “You have persecuted Israel long enough with the drought and the water turned to blood. You will lift your hocus-pocus or live to regret it.”

Eli rose and traded places with Moishe, beckoning Carpathia closer. The potentate hesitated and looked back to his guards, who tentatively raised their weapons. Eli spoke with such volume that the crowd dispersed and ran, and even Tsion and Chloe recoiled.

“Until the due time, you have no authority over the lampstands of God Almighty!”

The guards lowered their weapons, and Fortunato seemed to hide behind them. Carpathia’s smirk remained, but Buck was convinced he was seething. “We shall see,” he said, “who will win in the end.”

Eli seemed to look through Carpathia. “Who will win in the end was determined before the beginning of time. Lo, the poison you inflict on the earth shall rot you from within for eternity.”

Carpathia stepped back, still grinning. “I warn you to stay away from the charade of the so-called saints. I have guaranteed their safety, not yours.”

Eli and Moishe spoke in unison. “He and she who have ears, let them hear. We are bound neither by time nor space, and those who shall benefit by our presence and testimony stand within the sound of our proclamation.”

Buck thrilled at the message and looked beyond the square to where Tsion stood with Chloe. The rabbi thrust his fists in the air as if he had gotten the message, and he walked Chloe back toward, the car. Buck ducked out of the shrubs and headed around the other way, arriving in the parking lot seconds later.

“Did you hear that?” Tsion said.

Buck nodded. “Incredible!”

“I didn’t get it,” Chloe said. “What were they saying?”

“Did it sound like Hebrew to you?” Tsion said. “They spoke in Hebrew.”

“I heard it in English,” she said.

“Me too,” Buck said. “They said that he or she who had ears to hear―”

“I heard,” Chloe said. “I just don’t understand.”

“That is the first time I ever heard them add ‘or she,’ ” Tsion said. “That was for you, Chloe. They knew we were here. We did not have to approach them, did not have to identify ourselves, did not have to face Carpathia before we were ready. We did not even have to discuss with Eli and Moishe plans for their appearance at the stadium. They said that those who would benefit by their presence and testimony stood within the sound of their proclamation.”

“They’re coming?” Chloe said.

“That is what I gather,” Tsion said.

“When?”

“At just the right time.”

Rayford had a lot in common with Ken Ritz and found him fascinating. Distraught over his own future―and income―and fearful of what he might learn about his late wife, Rayford nonetheless enjoyed Ken’s company. More than ten years his senior, Ken was former military, gruff, to the point, and aglow in what Tsion Ben-Judah called his “first love” of Christ.

Rayford and Ken spent hours in the air on the way home bringing each other up to date on their pasts, and Rayford silently thanked God for a new friend. His relationship with Tsion was as student to mentor. To Buck he was the father-in-law. How he missed Bruce Barnes, his first friend and spiritual guide after the Rapture! Ken seemed a gift from God.

Ritz assured Rayford he could learn the Gulfstream in no time. “You guys who drive the heavies can handle these skiffs like a bike racer goin’ back to a trike.”

“I wish it were that easy,” Rayford said, “but I’ll count on you for driver’s training.”

“Roger. And, man, with your replacement there for Carpathia―what’s his name again?”

“Mac. Mac McCullum.”

“Yeah. He gives us three pilots in the Trib Force. Now we gotta talk Sawbones into gettin’ out of that GC hospital before they catch onto him. That’ll give us a doctor. So, three pilots, a doc, and a rabbi―sounds like the start of a joke. The only member without a specialty is your daughter, and she’s what I call the voice of reason. Nobody’s more reasonable than Tsion, of course, but Chloe’s the voice of reason for guys like me who don’t understand everything the scholar says.”

Rayford told Ritz about David Hassid. “I have no idea how long he’ll be safe, but he gives us another pair of eyes and ears inside. Someday both he and Mac will have to run. Then look at the lineup we’ll have.”

“Hot dog!” Ritz said, clapping. “I don’t like bein’ on the defensive, man! Let’s take on that rascal!”

Rayford had never heard Nicolae referred to as a rascal, but he liked Ritz’s attitude. Weary and wary after so long in Carpathia’s orbit, he too longed to quit playing and get to war.

Ritz seemed to grow uncomfortable when Rayford told him about Amanda. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, when Rayford’s story came full circle to the plane crash into the Tigris that had killed her.

“So you’ve heard the rest, too?” Rayford asked, having left out the charges of her duplicity.

“Yes, sir. I didn’t come to any conclusions, but I can imagine how it all makes you feel.”

“But you didn’t hear from Buck what he found out from Hattie?”

“I didn’t even know she was talking. Tell you the truth, I’ll be surprised if she’s still kickin’ when we get back.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.”

Buck hoped staying up late would make sleep come easily in the new time zone. But his brain was on Chicago time, and he lay staring at the ceiling. Chloe slept soundly beside him, and for that he was grateful.

By dawn in Israel, when he felt Chloe stir, Buck was so exhausted he could neither move nor open his eyes. He felt the brush of her lips on his cheek but couldn’t even emit a groan.

“Stay still, big guy,” she whispered. “Huge day ahead.”

She got up, and Buck soon smelled breakfast, but he fell asleep and didn’t rouse until early afternoon.

Rayford was impressed with Ken Ritz’s facility on the radio and on the ground at Palwaukee Airport at dawn in the Chicago suburbs. “You push this thing around like you own it,” he said.

“It’d be a good staff plane for the Trib Force, don’t you think?”

Buck’s Range Rover sat gleaming behind a damaged hangar. As they approached, a young man angled toward them. “Rover cleans up pretty good, doesn’t she?” he said, a shock of red hair in his face.

“Yeah,” Ritz said. “You been playin’ under the hood too?”

“Lucky for you. Timing was all screwed up.”

“I told you that, Ernie.”

“You also told me you wouldn’t be back for another week. I only got into that engine ‘cause I was bored.”

Ritz introduced Ernie to Rayford, who remained guarded until Ritz pulled the young man close and said, “Notice anything?”

Ernie stepped toward Rayford and peered at his forehead. Ernie smiled and held his hair away from his face with both hands. Rayford embraced him. “Brother.”

“There’s more of us around here, including the boss man,” Ritz said, “but not too many, so we’re careful. Ernie here’s a Ben-Judah groupie.”

“You got that right,” Ernie said. “I can’t wait for the big meeting. It’s gonna be on the Net at noon tomorrow.”