“I told him it had been forged by the GC, Ray,” T said. “He seemed to be all right. He cried a lot, blamed himself. Said he sold his brother out just for money. But he hadn’t sold him out. He had merely made the mistake of getting him involved in an ill-conceived plan. He was down when I left him, but he let me pray with him. I thought that was a huge step.”
“I’m sure it was,” Rayford said, “but you didn’t ask to see me so you could give me good news. What happened?”
T sat back and sighed. “Bo killed himself last night, Ray. Drank himself sick at a bar, waved a gun around, cursed Carpathia and the world, and shot himself.”
Rayford had been inconsolable for days. “I might as well have pulled the trigger myself,” he said.
The rest of the Trib Force offered the usual “can’t blame yourself” speeches, and in the end he came to agree. He turned the blame on the one who had all the blame he needed: Nicolae Carpathia.
Rayford immersed himself in the prophetic passages about the death of Antichrist, never seeking Tsion’s counsel or interpretation. In his feverish state he interpreted the Scripture the way he wanted to, shoehorning himself into the agent God would use to do the deed. When he read that “He who kills with the sword must be killed with the sword,” and knew that even Tsion believed this was a reference to Antichrist, Rayford shuddered. Was this a message just for him? A later verse referred to “the beast who was wounded by the sword and lived.” That had to be a reference to one of the heads of the beast “as if it had been mortally wounded, and his deadly wound was healed.”
He didn’t understand it all. Who could? But without Tsion’s analysis, Rayford believed he had figured out these verses. Carpathia was to be mortally wounded in the head by a sword and then come back to life. A sword? What was it Albie called the superb killing machine Rayford had stashed behind loose bricks in the basement? Saber.
Could he—would he do it? Was it his duty? He shook his head. What was he thinking?
Mac missed Rayford. He had been the voice of reason, a mentor, a spiritual model. Mac enjoyed David and Annie. Great kids. But hard to identify with. Abdullah was a good first officer and a wonderful flyer, but he could go days without saying anything except in response to Mac.
Life was interesting, but it sure wasn’t fun anymore. Flying to the major capitals and listening in on Fortunato’s incessant courting of the ten kings was as sickening as it was fascinating. Behind a podium on the tarmac at the airport in Nairobi, Leon grandly welcomed to “His Excellency Nicolae Carpathia’s cabinet of esteemed regional potentates, the honorable Mr. Enoch Litwala. How this great leader and renowned pacifist was overlooked during the initial search for a regional potentate of the United States of Africa will go in the embarrassment file of the history of the Global Community. We may have come to him late, but we found him, didn’t we?”
The crowds cheered their favorite son. Leon continued, “His Excellency sends his heartfelt greetings to Africa and his highest compliments on your achievement of international goals. And it is my singular pleasure, on his behalf, to personally invite your new potentate to Jerusalem in September for the Global Gala!”
After waiting for the crowd to quiet, Leon affected a serious tone. “We have endured rough times and much loss of life. But His Excellency is sparing no expense for an international festival like nothing ever seen before. Besides celebrating the halfway mark of the agreement with Israel, and I am so pleased he has given me permission to share this publicly with you, His Excellency is guaranteeing—you heard that right—guaranteeing an end to killer plagues. You ask how can he do this? The potentate is on record that if the two so-called witnesses at the Wailing Wall do not cease and desist their torment of Israel and the rest of the world, he will personally deal with them.”
This message was repeated in every capital to enthusiastic response. Mac believed people were so tired of death and devastation and so addicted to their own sin that they looked forward to a return to life before the two prophets of doom had seemed to unleash the anger of heaven. Was it possible Carpathia would literally kill the pair? Hadn’t he threatened to do that before? They had made a fool of him. But now he was making a guarantee. And he was also pledging to help people get to the Gala in spite of the disastrous loss of public services due to the decreased population.
“We are about to see a dramatic turn back toward our goals and ideals for a utopian society,” Fortunato quoted Carpathia, and the Global Gala would mark the first step.
Bizarre, Mac thought, to see Antichrist himself in a public relations nightmare, trying to salvage his image.
In the capitals, Leon followed his praising of the regional potentates with promises from the Global Community for better services. “We’re going to work smarter and harder,” he would say, “to meet your needs. Within a decade, the only memory of the population attrition will be sadness for those we have lost. Inconvenience will be a thing of the past as we work together until cutting-edge technology brings us to a higher level of services than we ever dreamed.”
There were always photo opportunities for the Carpathia-controlled press, in which Fortunato gravely studied underdeveloped areas due to the widespread deaths. Then he would kiss babies and hold them aloft, proclaiming “the future of the Global Community.” Finally, with people in the area encouraged and inspired, he would invite the potentate back onto the opulent Phoenix 216 for “a high-level confidential meeting where your leader can best represent the needs of this region.”
Fortunato would listen to the potentates, of course, and make promises a million Carpathias could never keep. But each private confab eventually centered on the “Enigma Babylon situation.” As Mac listened in, he found that most of the potentates knew exactly what Leon was talking about as soon as he raised the issue. A few wanted to know, “What situation is that?” but either way, by the time Leon took off for his next appearance, it was clear which potentates could be counted on. Stunning to Mac was that every one was on record in opposition to the overbearing Peter II.
That was so amazing that Mac requested a private phone chat with Tsion, despite the time difference. He went through Leah, as did all communication now, and assured her that he would understand if Tsion didn’t have the time. But within a day, the two were on secure phones together.
“Captain McCullum, my friend, I am so grateful for all the inside information you have sent my way. It makes my work so much easier and gives me insights into the inner workings that I would never otherwise have. What can I do for you?”
“Well, sir, just a quick question, I hope. I know David has kept everybody up-to-date, through Leah, about the plot to rally the ten kings against Peter the Second. We know that not all the kings are even loyal to Carpathia, but every one of them is on board with this anti-Peter thing. Are they just blowing smoke with Fortunato, or am I naive to believe what sounds like true anger and agreement?”
“Excellent question, Captain, and the only reason I have not dealt with it on the Net is that I feel it might be too revealing and I would then be inserting myself into history in the making. That is a dangerous precedent, and we must guard against trying to help God, as it were, fulfill his promises. If he says it will happen, it will happen.
“But as for the ten kings and their willingness to conspire against Peter the Second: This is biblical. God is working out his eternal plan. Just as in the Old Testament he used pagan armies to punish his own people and today he uses demon hordes to get the attention of unbelievers, he is also using these kings. Revelation 17 says, ‘And the ten horns which you saw on the beast’ (these are the kings, Mac), ‘these will hate the harlot’ (that is the false religion, represented now by Peter the Second), ‘make her desolate and naked, eat her flesh and burn her with fire.’
“Now get this, Captain. The next verse answers your question. The reason they are agreeing on this when in truth they are all egomaniacs who agree on little—not even on Carpathia—is this. Listen as I read. ‘God has p
ut it into their hearts to fulfill His purpose, to be of one mind, and to give their kingdom to the beast, until the words of God are fulfilled.’”
“Wow.”
“Isn’t that something? It is amazing to witness the fulfillment of prophecy.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You will find these kings of one mind, because God said so. And you know it will mean the demise of Peter, don’t you?”
“I figured that.”
“The question is how and where it will happen.”
“I have an idea,” Mac said.
“Really,” Tsion said.
Mac told him of the private conversation between Leon and the newest king, Kenyan Enoch Litwala. Fortunato had listened through Litwala’s list of suggestions and demands, taking notes, telling him what he thought he heard him saying, and so forth, then got to the Peter the Second issue:
“His Excellency has asked that I raise with you personally a most delicate situation. He most admires your wisdom and ability to size up circumstances, but this is a matter with which you may not be familiar. Are you aware of any, shall we say, hesitation on the part of the other regional potentates concerning the, ah, visibility of Peter the Second?”
Litwala had responded so quickly that Mac had sat up in the cockpit and pressed the earphone tighter. “I don’t know or care what my colleagues think,” Litwala said, “but I will speak my own heart. I despise the man. He is egotistical, legalistic, self-possessed. He has appropriated huge amounts of money for his Enigma Babylon that should have been used in my country for my people. I do not find him loyal to His Excellency the potentate, and—”
“Indeed?”
“As soon as he heard I was being considered for this post he came to see me, flew all the way here, I believe on this very plane. Was this not his before?”
“It was.”
“He tried to elicit my support for his playing a larger role in world governance, aside from religion. I said nothing. I believe he has too much influence now. Why would I want him to have more? I told him I would study his proposals and, should I be so honored as to be chosen for this position, I would consult more experienced regional potentates about their views. That seemed to please him. He tried to pry from me any negative thoughts I had about His Excellency, but I just listened. I did not challenge or counter him, but neither did I reveal precisely where I stood. That might prove valuable later.”
“It’s good, Potentate Litwala. He believes he has the support of the others and likely assumes you will fall in line. Do you agree he is potentially a danger to the harmony of Global Community leadership?”
“Not potentially. Presently.”
“What would you propose we do about it? That is His Excellency’s question of you.”
“He would not appreciate my deepest feelings.”
“You might be surprised.”
“If the potentate appreciates that I believe Peter needs to be eliminated, yes, that would surprise me.”
“By eliminated, you mean diplomatically removed from—”
“By eliminated, Supreme Commander, I mean eliminated.”
There was silence over the reverse intercom for a moment. Litwala spoke first. “My problem is that I trust few. After what I have endured with Rehoboth and others . . .”
“I’m telling you the other potentates are agreed on this,” Leon said.
“They would have him eliminated?”
“They would.”
Another pause. “But who would do it?”
“You need to talk with them about that.”
“There must be a way to ensure we’re in it together, without the possibility of betrayal. We must all be equally culpable.”
“Like all contributing to the remuneration for the—”
“No,” Litwala said. “We must all have equal responsibility and liability.”
After Litwala left the aircraft, Mac heard Fortunato on the phone with Carpathia. “Did you pick a winner with the new African potentate! . . . You did? . . . You’re not serious. . . . You are! . . . That is amazing. Have you ever done that to me? . . . Planted thoughts? . . . Tell me what he’ll suggest. . . . All ten of them? At the same time? So no one can point the finger at another. Brilliant.”
Mac called David. “Have you got a tap on Carpathia’s phone?”
“Always.”
“Check it. You remember the story Buck Williams tells about how Nicolae told people what they saw and what they would remember? I think Nicolae just revealed to Leon that he’s done something like that again.”
“They’re talking now?”
“Right now.”
“I’ll listen to ’em live, Mac. Safe trip.”
By the time David got patched in to Carpathia’s phone, Nicolae and Leon were finishing their conversation.
“I can be totally free of it that way,” Carpathia was saying. “No one willing to talk, no weapon, no body. Enough DNA in the ashes to identify the body if there is any question, but as Peter will never turn up again, I cannot imagine there being a doubt.”
“And who would corroborate the disease? Dare they involve yet another party?”
“Leon! Think! Od Gustav.”
“Ah, yes! Doctor Gustav. Who needs an outsider when one of the ten can sign the death certificate? Did I say you were brilliant, Excellency?”
“Probably, but even the confident man can take hearing that more than once.”
“Well, the ice idea. I mean, really. There’s no other word for that.”
“Thank you, Commander. Safe trip.”
David smirked at the repeat of how he had signed off with Mac. Two buddies saying good-bye. Dave and Mac; Nick and Lee. Both pairs playing games, outsmarting the competition. He sighed. The difference between the pairs of friends was only eternal.
David quickly moved from listening live to listening to the recording from the beginning, when Fortunato had said, “Did you pick a winner with the new African potentate!”
“How well I know,” Carpathia said. “I handpicked him the day I first visited the U.N. I knew I would have to wait while we worked our way through either Ngumo or Rehoboth. I found him very suggestible.”
“You did?”
“From the beginning. I hypnotized him on the phone once. Told him he would be unswervingly loyal to me, that my enemies would be his enemies and my friends his friends.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Shall I prove it? He is willing to eliminate Peter, and he means eliminate.”
“You are!”
“But he wants them all in on it, all ten of them. How am I doing?”
“That is amazing. Have you ever done that to me?”
“Done what?”
“Planted thoughts?”
“I do not need to, Leon. You are my most trusted friend and adviser. With Enoch I have even verbally implanted a whole plan in his mind. He will think about it, and when he comes back, he will suggest what is already in his head.”
“Tell me what he’ll suggest,” Leon said.
“A meeting in Jerusalem the morning before the gala. He will invite Peter and tell him it is to discuss his succession to my role if a certain plan of theirs is carried out. It would be a meeting of just Peter and the potentates.”
“All ten of them?”
“Yes. And it will be at the fancy new Global Community Grand Hotel, where the ice sculptures have become so popular. For the meeting they will order the large sculpture of Peter himself, the one that depicts him as a mighty angel, life size, with the huge wings with pointed feathers. As the ten are admiring it, each will break off one of those thick feathers with the sharp ends, and as Peter is wondering what in the world it is all about, each will plunge his into him from different angles—neck, eye, temple, heart.”
“At the same time?” Leon said. “So no one can point the finger at another. Brilliant.”
“The weapons will melt, the body will be transported to a crematorium in a bag brought in Sc
andinavian Potentate Gustav’s briefcase. The body will be burned to avoid the spread of the deadly disease that causes one to bleed to death through his mucus membranes.”
“Which will explain any blood in the meeting room.”
“Exactly. I can be totally free of it that way. No one willing to talk, no weapon, no body. Enough DNA in the ashes . . .”
CHAPTER 20
Buck was getting the cold shoulder.
It had been a long time since he and Chloe had found themselves at loggerheads. “I know it’s only three and a half more years,” she said, “but do you think I want to raise this child alone?”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” he said, reaching for her. She turned away.
“You’re going,” she said. “It’s written all over you. I love Chaim, but it was unfair of him to ask.”
“If I don’t go, Tsion’s going to go, and we don’t want that.”
Chaim Rosenzweig had been invited to appear at the Global Gala as an honored guest of His Excellency the potentate. Chaim had Jacov communicate to the Tribulation Force by posting a cryptic message on Tsion’s Web site. Leah had found it, almost by accident.
“Is this anything?” she asked Rayford late one night when the two were working at their computers in the kitchen. “The initials aren’t a coincidence, are they?”
She turned her laptop so he could see. The message was one of thousands posted on the site, most encouraging Dr. Ben-Judah, some asking questions, some criticizing or threatening. Part of Leah’s job was to monitor those and see if any required personal responses. Most didn’t. This post stuck out due to its brevity and the unique initials. It read: “C (B) W call J re boss. Signed, H’s.”
“I don’t know who J is or what H’s means,” she said, “but how many people know they can reach Cameron (Buck) Williams at this site? Or am I reading into it?”
Rayford studied it and summoned Buck. The three huddled in front of Leah’s screen and stared. Buck suddenly stood. “Jacov,” he said. “Pretty crafty. He’s Hannelore’s husband, and he wants to talk about Chaim.”