Carpathia looked directly into the network pool camera and with moist eyes and thick voice said, “I am overwhelmed to have been asked to serve as secretary-general of the United Nations. I aspire to nothing else. While the idea of one world government resonates deep within me, I can say only that there are many more qualified candidates to lead such a venture. It would be my privilege to serve in any way I am asked, and while I do not see myself in the leadership role, I will commit the resources of the United Nations to such an effort, if asked.”
Smooth, Buck thought, his mind reeling. As commentators and world leaders endorsed one world currency, one language, and even the largesse of Carpathia expressing his support for the rebuilding of the temple in Israel, the staff of Global Weekly’s Chicago bureau seemed in a mood to party. “This is the first time in years I’ve felt optimistic about society,” one reporter said.
Another added, “This has to be the first time I’ve smiled since the disappearances. We’re supposed to be objective and cynical, but how can you not like this? It’ll take years to effect all this stuff, but someday, somewhere down the line, we’re going to see world peace. No more weapons, no more wars, no more border disputes or bigotry based on language or religion. Whew! Who’d have believed it would come to this?”
Buck took a call from Steve Plank. “You been watching what’s going on?” Plank said.
“Who hasn’t?”
“Pretty exciting, isn’t it?”
“Mind-boggling.”
“Listen, Carpathia wants you here Monday morning.”
“What for?”
“He likes you, man. Don’t knock it. Before the press conference he’s going to have a meeting with his top people and the ten delegates to the permanent Security Council.”
“And he wants me there?”
“Yup. And you can guess who some of his top people are.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, one’s obvious.”
“Stonagal.”
“Of course.”
“And Todd-Cothran. I assume he’ll move in as new ambassador from the U.K.”
“Maybe not,” Steve said. “Another Brit is there. I don’t know his name, but he’s also with this international finance group Stonagal runs.”
“You think Carpathia told Stonagal to have someone else in the wings, in case Carpathia wants to squeeze Todd-Cothran out?”
“Could be, but nobody tells Stonagal anything.”
“Not even Carpathia?”
“Especially not Carpathia. He knows who made him. But he’s honest and sincere, Buck. Nicolae will not do anything illegal or underhanded or even too political. He’s pure, man. Pure as the driven snow. So, can you make it?”
“Guess I’d better. How many press will be there?”
“You ready for this? Only you.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m serious. He likes you, Buck.”
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch. He didn’t ask for a thing, not even favorable coverage. He knows you have to be objective and fair. The media will get the whole scoop at the press conference afterward.”
“Obviously I can’t pass this up,” Buck said, aware his voice sounded flat.
“What’s the matter, Buck? This is history! This is the world the way we’ve always wanted it and hoped it would be.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m right. There’s something else Carpathia wants.”
“So there is a catch.”
“No, nothing hinges on this. If you can’t do it, you can’t do it. You’re still welcome Monday morning. But he wants to see that stewardess friend of yours again.”
“Steve, no one calls them stews anymore. They’re flight attendants.”
“Whatever. Bring her with you if you can.”
“Why doesn’t he ask her himself? What am I now, a pimp?”
“C’mon, Buck. It’s not like that. Lonely guy in a position like this? He can’t be out hustling up dates. You introduced them, remember? He trusts you.”
He must, Buck thought, if he’s inviting me to his big pre-press-conference meeting. “I’ll ask her,” he said. “No promises.”
“Don’t let me down, buddy.”
Rayford Steele was as happy as he had been since his own decision to receive Christ. To see Chloe smiling, to see her hungry to read Irene’s Bible, to be able to pray with her and talk about everything together was more than he had dreamed of. “One thing we need to do,” he said, “is to get you your own Bible. You’re going to wear that one out.”
“I want to join that core group of yours,” she said. “I want to get all the stuff from Bruce firsthand. The only part that bothers me is that it sounds like things are going to get worse.”
Late in the afternoon they dropped in on Bruce, who confirmed Chloe’s view. “I’m thrilled to welcome you into the family,” he said, “but you’re right. God’s people are in for dark days. Everybody is. I’ve been thinking and praying about what we’re supposed to do as a church between now and the Glorious Appearing.”
Chloe wanted to know all about that, so Bruce showed her from the Bible why he believed Christ would appear in seven years, at the end of the Tribulation. “Most Christians will be martyred or die from war, famine, plagues, or earthquakes,” he said.
Chloe smiled. “This isn’t funny,” she said, “but maybe I should have thought of that before I signed on. You’re going to have trouble convincing people to join the cause with that in your sign-up brochure.”
Bruce grimaced. “Yes, but the alternative is worse. We all missed out the first time around. We could be in heaven right now if we’d listened to our loved ones. Dying a horrible death during this period is not my preference, but I’d sure rather do it this way than while I was still lost. Everyone else is in danger of death, too. The only difference is, we have one more way to die than they do.”
“As martyrs.”
“Right.”
Rayford sat listening, aware how his world had changed in such a short time. It had not been that long ago that he had been a respected pilot at the top of his profession, living a phony life, a shell of a man. Now here he was, talking secretly in the office of a local church with his daughter and a young pastor, trying to determine how they would survive seven years of tribulation following the Rapture of the church.
“We have our core group,” Bruce said, “and Chloe, you’re welcome to join us if you’re serious about total commitment.”
“What’s the option?” she said. “If what you’re saying is true, there’s no room for dabbling.”
“You’re right. But I’ve also been thinking about a smaller group within the core. I’m looking for people of unusual intelligence and courage. I don’t mean to disparage the sincerity of others in the church, especially those on the leadership team. But some of them are timid, some old, many infirm. I’ve been praying about sort of an inner circle of people who want to do more than just survive.”
“What are you getting at?” Rayford asked. “Going on the offensive?”
“Something like that. It’s one thing to hide in here, studying, figuring out what’s going on so we can keep from being deceived. It’s great to pray for the witnesses springing up out of Israel, and it’s nice to know there are other pockets of believers all over the world. But doesn’t part of you want to jump into the battle?”
Rayford was intrigued but not sure. Chloe was more eager. “A cause,” she said. “Something not just to die for but to live for.”
“Yes!”
“A group, a team, a force,” Chloe said.
“You’ve got it. A force.”
Chloe’s eyes were bright with interest. Rayford loved her youth and her eagerness to commit to a cause that to her was only hours old. “And what is it you call this period?” she asked.
“The Tribulation,” Bruce said.
“So your little group inside the group, a sort of Green Berets, would be your Tribul
ation force.”
“Tribulation Force,” Bruce said, looking at Rayford and rising to scribble it on his flip chart. “I like it. Make no mistake, it won’t be fun. It would be the most dangerous cause a person could ever join. We would study, prepare, and speak out. When it becomes obvious who the Antichrist is, the false prophet, the evil, counterfeit religion, we’ll have to oppose them, speak out against them. We would be targeted. Christians content to hide in basements with their Bibles might escape everything but earthquakes and wars, but we will be vulnerable to everything.
“There will come a time, Chloe, that followers of Antichrist will be required to bear the sign of the beast. There are all kinds of theories on what form that might take, from a tattoo to a stamp on the forehead that might be detected only under infrared light. But obviously we would refuse to bear that mark. That very act of defiance will be a mark in itself. We will be the naked ones, the ones devoid of the protection of belonging to the majority. You still want to be part of the Tribulation Force?”
Rayford nodded and smiled at his daughter’s firm reply. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Two hours after the Steeles had left, Buck Williams parked his rental car in front of New Hope Village Church in Mount Prospect, Illinois. He had a sense of destiny tinged with fear. Who would this Bruce Barnes be? What would he look like? And would he be able to detect a non-Christian at a glance?
Buck sat in the car, his head in his hands. He was too analytical, he knew, to make a rash decision. Even his leaving home years before to pursue an education and become a journalist had been plotted for years. To his family it came like a thunderbolt, but to young Cameron Williams it was a logical next step, a part of his long-range plan.
Where Buck sat now was not part of any plan. Nothing that had happened since that ill-fated flight to Heathrow had fit into any predefined pattern for him. He had always liked the serendipity of life, but he processed it through a grid of logic, attacked it from a perspective of order. The firestorm of Israel had jarred him, but even then he had been acting from a standpoint of order. He had a career, a position, a role. He had been in Israel on assignment, and though he hadn’t expected to become a war correspondent overnight, he had been prepared by the way he had ordered his life.
But nothing had prepared him for the disappearances or for the violent deaths of his friends. While he should have been prepared for this promotion, that hadn’t been part of his plan, either. Now his theory article was bringing him close to flames he had never known were burning in his soul. He felt alone, exposed, vulnerable, and yet this meeting with Bruce Barnes had been his idea. Sure, the airline pilot had suggested it, but Buck could have ignored him without remorse. This trip had not been about getting in a few extra hours with the beautiful Chloe, and the Chicago bureau could have waited. He was here, he knew, for this meeting. Buck felt a bone weariness as he headed for the church.
It was a pleasant surprise to find that Bruce Barnes was someone near Buck’s own age. He seemed bright and earnest, having that same authority and passion Rayford Steele exhibited. It had been a long time since Buck had been in a church. This one seemed innocuous enough, fairly new and modern, neat and efficient. He and the young pastor met in a modest office.
“Your friends, the Steeles, told me you might call,” Barnes said.
Buck was struck by his honesty. In the world in which Buck moved, he might have kept that information to himself, that edge. But he realized that the pastor had no interest in an edge. There was nothing to hide here. In essence, Buck was looking for information and Bruce was interested in providing it.
“I want to tell you right off,” Bruce said, “that I am aware of your work and respect your talent. But to be frank, I no longer have time for the pleasantries and small talk that used to characterize my work. We live in perilous times. I have a message and an answer for people genuinely seeking. I tell everyone in advance that I have quit apologizing for what I’m going to say. If that’s a ground rule you can live with, I have all the time you need.”
“Well, sir,” Buck said, nearly staggered by the emotion and humility he heard in his own voice, “I appreciate that. I don’t know how long I’ll need, because I’m not here on business. It might have made sense to get a pastor’s view for my story, but people can guess what pastors think, especially based on the other people I’m quoting.”
“Like Captain Steele.”
Buck nodded. “I’m here for myself, and I have to tell you frankly, I don’t know where I am on this. Not that long ago I would never have set foot in a place like this or dreamed anything intellectually worthwhile could come out of here. I know that wasn’t exactly journalistically fair of me, but as long as you’re being honest, I will be, too.
“I was impressed with Captain Steele. That’s one smart guy, a good thinker, and he’s into this. You seem like a bright person, and—I don’t know. I’m listening, that’s all I’ll say.”
Bruce began by telling Buck his life story, being raised in a Christian home, going to Bible college, marrying a Christian, becoming a pastor, the whole thing. He clarified that he knew the story of Christ and the way of forgiveness and a relationship with God. “I thought I had the best of both worlds. But the Scripture is clear that you can’t serve two masters. You can’t have it both ways. I discovered that truth in the severest way.” And he told of losing his family and friends, everyone dear to him. He wept as he spoke. “The pain is every bit as great today as it was when it happened,” he said.
Then Bruce outlined, as Rayford had done, the plan of salvation from beginning to end. Buck grew nervous, anxious. He wanted a break. He interrupted and asked if Bruce wanted to know a little more about him. “Sure,” Bruce said.
Buck told of his own history, concentrating most on the Russia/Israel conflict and the roughly fourteen months since. “I can see,” Bruce said at last, “that God is trying to get your attention.”
“Well, he’s got it,” Buck said. “I just have to warn you, I’m not an easy sell. All this is interesting and sounds more plausible than ever, but it’s just not me to jump into something.”
“Nobody can force you or badger you into this, Mr. Williams, but I must also say again that we live in perilous times. We don’t know how much pondering time we have.”
“You sound like Chloe Steele.”
“And she sounds like her father,” Bruce said, smiling.
“And he, I guess, sounds like you. I can see why you all consider this so urgent, but like I say—”
“I understand,” Bruce said. “If you have the time right now, let me take a different tack. I know you’re a bright guy, so you might as well have all the information you need before you leave here.”
Buck breathed easier. He had feared Bruce was about to pop the question, pushing him to pray the prayer both Rayford Steele and Chloe had talked about. He accepted that that would be part of it, that it would signal the transaction and start his relationship with God—someone he had never before really spoken to. But he wasn’t ready. At least he didn’t think he was. And he would not be pushed.
“I don’t have to be back in New York until Monday morning,” he said, “so I’ll take as much time tonight as you’ll give me.”
“I don’t mean to be morbid, Mr. Williams, but I have no family responsibilities anymore. I have a core group meeting tomorrow and church Sunday. You’re welcome to attend. But I have enough energy to go to midnight if you do.”
“I’m all yours.”
Bruce spent the next several hours giving Buck a crash course in prophecy and the end times. Buck had heard much of the information about the Rapture and the two witnesses, and he had picked up snippets about the Antichrist. But when Bruce got to the parts about the great one-world religion that would spring up, the lying, so-called peacemaker who would bring bloodshed through war, the Antichrist who would divide the world into ten kingdoms, Buck’s blood ran cold. He fell silent, no longer peppering Bruce with questions or comments. He scribble
d notes as fast as he could.
Did he dare tell this unpretentious man that he believed Nicolae Carpathia could be the very man the Scriptures talked about? Could all this be coincidental? His fingers began to shake when Bruce told of the prediction of a seven-year pact between Antichrist and Israel, of the rebuilding of the temple, and even of Babylon becoming headquarters for a new world order.
Finally, as midnight came, Buck was overcome. He felt a terrible fear deep in his gut. Bruce Barnes could have had no knowledge whatever of the plans of Nicolae Carpathia before they had been announced on the news that afternoon. At one point he thought of accusing Bruce of having based everything he was saying on the CNN report he had heard and seen, but even if he had, here it was in black and white in the Bible.
“Did you see the news today?” Buck asked.
“Not today,” Bruce said. “I’ve been in meetings since noon and grabbed a bite just before you got here.”
Buck told him what had happened at the U.N. Bruce paled. “That’s why we’ve been hearing all those clicking sounds on my answering machine,” Bruce said. “I turned the ringer off on the phone, so the only way you can tell when a call comes in is by the clicking on the answering machine. People are calling to let me know. They do that a lot. We talk about what the Bible says may happen, and when it does, people check in.”
“You think Carpathia is this Antichrist?”
“I don’t see how I could come to any other conclusion.”
“But I really believed in the guy.”
“Why not? Most of us did. Self-effacing, interested in the welfare of the people, humble, not looking for power or leadership. But the Antichrist is a deceiver. And he has the power to control men’s minds. He can make people see lies as truth.”
Buck told Bruce of his invitation to the pre-press-conference meeting.
“You must not go,” Bruce said.
“I can’t not go,” Buck said. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“I’m sorry,” Bruce said. “I have no authority over you, but let me plead with you, warn you, about what happens next. The Antichrist will solidify his power with a show of strength.”