Tribulation Force: The Continuing Drama Of Those Left Behind (10 page)

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Authors: Tim Lahaye,Jerry B. Jenkins

Tags: #Adventure, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Adult, #Suspense, #Thriller, #Contemporary, #Spiritual, #Religion

BOOK: Tribulation Force: The Continuing Drama Of Those Left Behind
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“Please, you will honor me. Please!”

“All right, Chaim,” Buck said, barely able to get the name out. “Why am I here? What is this all about?”

The old man pulled the napkin from his lap, wiped his whole bearded face with it, balled it up, and plopped it onto his plate. He pushed the plate aside, sat back, and crossed his legs. Buck had seen people warm to a subject before, but never with as much relish as Chaim Rosenzweig.

“So, the journalist in you comes out, eh? Let me begin by telling you that this is your lucky day. Nicolae has in mind for you an honor that is such a privilege I cannot tell you.”

“But you will tell me, won’t you, sir?”

“I will tell you what I have been instructed to tell you, and no more. The rest will come from Nicolae himself.” Rosenzweig glanced at his watch, a plastic-banded twenty-dollar toy that seemed incongruous with his international status. “Good. We have time. He has allotted thirty minutes for your visit, so please keep that in mind. I know you are friends and you may want to apologize for missing his meeting, but just remember that he has a lot to offer you and not much time to do it. He flies to Washington late this afternoon for a meeting with the president. By the way, the president offered to meet in New York, if you can imagine, but Nicolae, humble as he is, would hear nothing of it.”

“You find Carpathia humble?”

“Probably as humble as any leader I have ever met, Cameron. Of course, I know many public servants and private people who are humble and have a right to be! But most politicians, heads of state, world leaders, they are full of themselves. Many of them have much to be proud of and in many ways it is their egos that allow them to accomplish what they accomplish. But never have I seen a man like this.”

“He’s pretty impressive,” Buck admitted.

“That’s not the half of it,” Dr. Rosenzweig insisted. “Think about it, Cameron. He has not sought these positions. He rose from a low position in the Romanian government to become president of that nation when an election was not even scheduled. He resisted it!”

[_I’ll bet, _]Buck thought.

“And when he was invited to speak at the United Nations not a month ago, he was so intimidated and felt so unworthy, he almost declined. But you were there! You heard the speech. I would have nominated him for prime minister of Israel if I thought he would have taken it! Almost immediately the secretary-general stepped down and insisted Nicolae replace him. And he was elected unanimously, enthusiastically, and he has been endorsed by nearly every head of state around the world.

“Cameron, he has ideas upon ideas! He is the consummate diplomat. He speaks so many languages that he hardly ever needs an interpreter, even for the chiefs of some of the remote tribes in South America and Africa! The other day he shared a few phrases understood only by an Australian Aborigine!”

“Let me just stop you for a second, Chaim,” Buck said. “You know, of course, that in exchange for stepping down from the secretary-generalship of the U.N., Mwangati Ngumo was promised access to your formula for use in Botswana. It wasn’t quite so selfless and altruistic as it seemed, and—”

“Of course, Nicolae has told me all about that. But it was not part of any agreement. It was a gesture of his personal gratitude for what President Ngumo has done for the United Nations over the years.”

“But how can he show his personal gratitude by giving away
your
formula, sir? No one else anywhere has access to it, and—”

“I was more than happy to offer it.”

“You were?” Buck’s mind reeled. Was there no limit to Carpathia’s persuasive power?

The old man uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Cameron, it all ties together. This is part of why you’re here. The agreement with the former secretary-general was an experiment, a model.”

“I’m listening, Doctor.”

“It’s too early to tell, of course, but if the formula works as well as it has in Israel, Botswana will immediately become one of the most fertile countries in all of Africa, if not the world. Already President Ngumo has seen his stature rise within his own nation. Everyone agrees he was distracted from his duties at the U.N. and that the world is better now for the new leadership.”

Buck shrugged, but apparently Rosenzweig didn’t notice. “And so Carpathia plans to do more of this, brokering your formula for favors?”

“No, no! You’re missing the point. Yes, I have persuaded the Israeli government to license use of the formula to the secretary-general of the United Nations.”

“Oh, Chaim! For what? Billions of dollars that Israel no longer needs? It makes no sense! Having the formula made you the richest nation on earth for its size and solved myriad problems, but it was the exclusivity that made it work! Why do you think the Russians attacked you? They don’t need your land! There’s no oil to be found! They wanted the formula! Imagine if all the vast reaches of that nation were fertile!”

Dr. Rosenzweig held up a hand. “I understand that, Cameron. But money has nothing to do with this. I need no money. Israel needs no money.”

“Then what could Carpathia offer that is worthy of the trade?”

“What has Israel prayed for since the beginning of her existence, Cameron? And I am not talking about her rebirth in 1948. From the beginning of time as the chosen people of God, what have we prayed for?”

Buck’s blood ran cold, and he could only sit there and nod resignedly. Rosenzweig answered his own question. “
Shalom
. Peace. ‘Pray for the peace of Israel.’ We are a fragile, vulnerable land. We know God Almighty supernaturally protected us from the onslaught of the Russians. Do you know that there was so much death among their troops that the bodies had to be buried in a common grave, a crater gouged from our precious soil by one of their bombs, which God rendered harmless? We had to burn some of their bodies and bones. And the debris from their weapons of destruction was so massive that we have used it as a raw resource and are refabricating it into marketable goods. Cameron,” he added ominously, “so many of their planes crashed—well, all of them, of course. They still had burnable fuel, enough that we estimate we will be able to use it for five to eight more years. Can you see why peace is so attractive to us?”

“Chaim, you said yourself that God Almighty protected you. There could be no other explanation for what happened the night of that invasion. With God on your side, why do you need to barter with Carpathia for protection?”

“Cameron, Cameron,” Rosenzweig said wearily, “history has shown our God to be capricious when it comes to our welfare. From the children of Israel wandering forty years in the desert to the Six-Day War to the Russian invasion to now, we do not understand him. He lends us his favor when it suits his eternal plan, which we cannot comprehend. We pray, we seek him, we try to curry his favor. But in the meantime we believe that God helps those who help themselves. You know, of course, that this is why you are here.”

“I know nothing,” Buck said.

“Well, it’s part of why you’re here. You understand that such an agreement takes a lot of homework—”

“What agreement are we talking about?”

“I’m sorry, Cameron, I thought you were following. You do not think it was easy even for me, despite my stature within my own country, to persuade the powers to release a license to the formula even to a man as attractive as Nicolae.”

“Of course not.”

“And you are right. Some of the meetings went long into the night, and every time I felt I had convinced someone, another was brought in. Every new ear had to be convinced. Many times I nearly gave up in despair. But finally, finally, with many conditions, I was empowered to hammer out an arrangement with the United Nations.”

“With Carpathia, you mean.”

“Of course. Make no mistake. He is the United Nations now.”

“You got that right,” Buck said.

“Part of the agreement is that I become part of his senior staff, an adviser. I will cochair the committee that decides where the formula will be licensed.”

“And no money changes hands?”

“None.”

“And Israel gets protection from her neighbors from the United Nations?”

“Oh, it is much more complex than that, Cameron. You see, the formula is now tied into Nicolae’s global disarmament policy. Any nation even suspected of resisting the destruction of 90 percent of its weapons and the surrender of the remaining 10 percent to Nicolae—or I should say to the U.N.—will never be allowed to even be considered as an applicant for a license. Nicolae has pledged that he—and I will be there to ensure this, of course—will be more than judicious in licensing our nearest neighbors and most dangerous enemies.”

“There has to be more than that.”

“Oh, there is, but the crux of it is this, Cameron. Once the world has been disarmed, Israel should not have to worry about protecting her borders.”

“That’s naive.”

“Not as naive as it might appear, because if there is one thing Nicolae Carpathia is not, it is naive. Knowing full well that some nations may hoard or hide weapons or produce new ones, the full agreement between the sovereign state of Israel and Security Council of the United Nations—with the personal signature of Nicolae Carpathia—makes a solemn promise. Any nation that threatens Israel will suffer immediate extinction, using the full complement of weaponry available to the U.N. With every country donating 10 percent, you can imagine the firepower.”

“What I cannot imagine, Chaim, is an avowed pacifist, a rabid global-disarmament proponent for his entire political career, threatening to blow countries off the face of the earth.”

“It’s only semantics, Cameron,” Rosenzweig said. “Nicolae is a pragmatist. There is a good bit of the idealist in him, of course, but he knows that the best way to keep the peace is to have the wherewithal to enforce it.”

“And this agreement lasts for—?”

“As long as we want it. We offered ten years, but Nicolae said he would not require the freedom to license the formula for that long. He said he would ask for only seven years, and then the full rights to the formula return to us. Most generous. And if we want to renew the agreement every seven years, we are free to do that, too.”

You won’t have any need for a peace treaty in seven years
, Buck thought. “So, what does this have to do with me?” he asked.

“That’s the best part,” Rosenzweig said. “At least for me, because it honors you. It is no secret that Nicolae is aware of your status as the most accomplished journalist in the world. And to prove that he bears no ill will for your snub of his last invitation, he is going to ask you to come to Israel for the signing of the treaty.”

Buck shook his head.

“I know it is overwhelming,” Rosenzweig said.

Rayford’s plane hit the ground at O’Hare at one o’clock Chicago time. He called home and got the answering machine. “Yeah, Chloe,” he said, “I’m back earlier than I thought. Just wanted you to know I’ll be there within the hour and—”

Chloe grabbed the phone. She sounded awful. “Hi, Dad,” she mumbled.

“You under the weather?”

“No. Just upset. Dad, did you know that Buck Williams is living with someone?”

“What!?”

“It’s true. And they’re engaged! I saw her. She was carrying boxes into his condo. A skinny little spikehaired girl in a short skirt.”

“Maybe you had the wrong place.”

“It was the right place.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Dad, listen to me. I was so mad I just drove around a while, then sat in a parking lot and cried. Then around noon I went to see him at the [_Global Weekly _]office, and there she was, getting out of her car. I said, ‘Do you work here?’ and she said, ‘Yes, may I help you?’ and I said, ‘I think I saw you earlier today,’ and she said, ‘You might have. I was with my fiancé. Is there someone here you need to see?’ I just turned and left, Dad.”

“You didn’t talk to Buck then?”

“Are you kidding? I may never talk to him again. Just a minute. Someone’s at the door.”

A minute later Chloe came back on. “I can’t believe it. If he thinks this makes any difference … ”

“What?”

“Flowers! And of course they’re anonymous. He had to have seen me driving by and knew how I’d feel. Unless you want these, you’ll find them in the trash when you get home.”

At a few minutes after two in New York, Buck waited with Chaim Rosenzweig in the opulent waiting room outside the office of the secretary-general of the United Nations. Chaim was merrily going on about something, and Buck pretended to pay attention. He was praying silently, not knowing if his foreboding sense of evil was psychological because he knew Nicolae Carpathia was nearby, or if the man truly emitted some sort of demonic aura detectable to followers of Christ. Buck was warmed by the knowledge that Bruce was praying for him right then, and he was having second thoughts about not informing Rayford and Chloe of his trip. His return ticket was for the 5 P.M. flight, so he knew he’d be back in time for the first of the 8 P.M. study sessions Bruce had planned. Buck looked forward to it already. He might even see if Chloe wanted to have a late dinner, just the two of them, before the meeting. “So what do you think about that?” Dr. Rosenzweig said.

“I’m so sorry, Doctor,” Buck said. “My mind was elsewhere.”

“Cameron, don’t be nervous. Nicolae was upset, yes, but he has only good things in store for you.”

Buck shrugged and nodded.

“Anyway, I was saying. My dear friend Rabbi Tsion Ben-Judah has finished his three-year study, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he wins a Nobel Prize for it.”

“His three-year study?”

“You weren’t listening at all, were you, my friend?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You must do better when you are with Nicolae, promise me.”

“I will. Forgive me.”

“It’s all right. But listen, Rabbi Ben-Judah was commissioned by the Hebrew Institute of Biblical Research to do a three-year study.”

“A study of what?”

“Something about the prophecies relating to Messiah so we Jews will recognize him when he comes.”

Buck was stunned. The Messiah had come, and the Jews left behind had missed him. When he had come the first time most did not recognize him. What should Buck say to his friend? If he declared himself a “Tribulation saint,” as Bruce liked to refer to new believers since the Rapture, what might he be doing to himself? Rosenzweig was a confidant of Carpathia’s. Buck wanted to say that a legitimate study of messianic prophecies could lead only to Jesus. But he said only, “What are the major prophecies pointing to the Messiah?”

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