The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (23 page)

The glow of the call seemed to stay with Carpathia, but he quickly changed the subject. “Buck, I want to answer all your questions and give you whatever you need. You have been so good to Chaim, and I am prepared to give you a bit of a secret—you would call it a scoop. But first, you are in deep trouble, my friend. And I want to help you if I can.”

Buck had no idea how Carpathia knew he was in trouble. So he wouldn’t even have to bring him up to speed and ask for his help? This was too good to be true. The question was, what did Carpathia know, and what did he need to know?

The Romanian sat forward and looked directly into Buck’s eyes. That gave Buck such a feeling of peace and security that he felt free to tell him everything. Everything. Even that his friend Dirk had tipped him off about someone meeting with Stonagal and Todd-Cothran, and Buck’s assuming it was Carpathia.

“It
was
I,” Carpathia said. “But let me make this very clear. I know nothing of any conspiracy. I have never even heard of such a thing. Mr. Stonagal felt it would be good for me to meet some of his colleagues and men of international influence. I formed no opinions about any of them, neither am I beholden to any of them.

“I will tell you something, Mr. Williams. I believe your story. I do not know you except by your work and your reputation with people I respect, such as Dr. Rosenzweig. But your account has the ring of truth. I have been told that you are wanted in London for the murder of the Scotland Yard agent and that they have several witnesses who will swear they saw you distract Tompkins, plant the device, and activate it from within the pub.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Well, of course it is if you were mourning the mysterious death of your mutual friend.”

“That’s exactly what we were doing, Mr. Carpathia. That and trying to get to the bottom of it.”

Rosenzweig was called to the door again; then he whispered in Carpathia’s ear. “Buck, come here,” Carpathia said, rising and leading Buck toward a window, away from Rosenzweig. “Your plan to get in here while being pursued was most ingenious, but your boss has been identified and now they know you are here. They would like to take you into custody and extradite you to England.”

“If that happens and Tompkins’s theory is right,” Buck said, “I’m a dead man.”

“You believe they will kill you?”

“They killed Burton and they killed Tompkins. I’m much more dangerous to them with my potential readership.”

“If this plot is as you and your friends say it is, Cameron, writing about these people, exposing them, will not protect you.”

“I know. Maybe I should do it anyway. I don’t see any way out.”

“I can make this go away for you.”

Buck’s mind was suddenly reeling. This was what he had wanted, but he had feared Carpathia could do nothing quickly enough to keep him from getting into Todd-Cothran’s and Sullivan’s hands. Was it possible Carpathia was in deeper with these people than he had let on?

“Sir, I need your help. But I am a journalist first. I can’t be bought or bargained with.”

“Oh, of course not. I would never ask such a thing. Let me tell you what I can do for you. I will arrange to have the London tragedies revisited and reevaluated, exonerating you.”

“How will you do that?”

“Does it matter, if it is the truth?”

Buck thought a moment. “It
is
the truth.”

“Of course.”

“But how will you do that? You have maintained this innocence, Mr. Carpathia, this man-from-nowhere persona. How can you affect what has happened in London?”

Carpathia sighed. “Buck, I told you your friend Dirk was wrong about a conspiracy. That is true. I am not in bed with Todd-Cothran or Stonagal or any of the other international leaders I have been honored to meet recently. However, there are important decisions and actions coming up that will affect them, and it is my privilege to have a say in those developments.”

Buck asked Carpathia if he minded if they sat down again. Carpathia signaled to Rosenzweig to leave them for a few minutes. “Look,” Buck said when they were seated, “I’m a young man, but I’ve been around the block. It feels to me as if I’m about to find out just how deep into this—well, if it’s not a conspiracy, it’s something organized—how deep into this thing you are. I can play along and save my life, or I can refuse and you let me take my chances in London.”

Carpathia held up a hand and shook his head. “Buck, let me reiterate that we are talking politics and diplomacy, not skullduggery or crime.”

“I’m listening.”

“First,” Carpathia said, “a little background. I believe in the power of money. Do you?”

“No.”

“You will. I was a better-than-average businessman in Romania while still in secondary school. I studied at night, many languages, the ones I needed to succeed. During the day I ran my own import-and-export businesses and made myself wealthy. But what I thought was wealth was paltry compared to what was possible. I needed to learn that. I learned it the hard way. I borrowed millions from a European bank, then found that someone in that bank informed my major competitor what I was doing. I was defeated at my own game, defaulted on my loan, and was struggling. Then that same bank bailed me out and ruined my rival. I didn’t mean to or want to hurt the rival. He was used by the bank to lock me into a relationship.”

“Was that bank owned by an influential American?”

Carpathia ignored the question. “What I had to learn, in just over a decade, is how much money is out there.”

“Out there?”

“In the banks of the world.”

“Especially those owned by Jonathan Stonagal,” Buck suggested.

Carpathia still wasn’t biting. “That kind of capital is power.”

“This is the kind of thing I write against.”

“It is about to save your life.”

“I’m still listening.”

“That kind of money gets a man’s attention. He becomes willing to make concessions for it. He begins to see the wisdom of letting someone else, a younger man, someone with more enthusiasm and vigor and fresh vision take over.”

“That’s what happened in Romania?”

“Buck, do not insult me. The former president of Romania asked me of his own free will to replace him, and the support for that move was unanimous within the government and almost totally favorable among the masses. Everyone is better off.”

“The former president is out of power.”

“He lives in luxury.”

Buck could not breathe. What was Carpathia implying? Buck stared at him, unable to move, unable to respond. Carpathia continued. “Secretary-General Ngumo presides over a country that is starving. The world is ripe for my plan of ten members of the Security Council. These things will work together. The secretary-general must devote his time to the problems within Botswana. With the right incentive, he will do that. He will be a happy, prosperous man, with a happy and prosperous people. But first he will endorse my plan for the Security Council. The representatives from each of the ten will be an interesting mix, some current ambassadors, but mostly new people with good financial backgrounds and progressive ideas.”

“Are you telling me you will become secretary-general of the U.N.?”

“I would never seek such a position, but how could I refuse such an honor? Who could turn his back on such an enormous responsibility?”

“How much say will you have about who represents each of the ten permanent members of the Security Council?”

“I will merely be there to provide servant leadership. Are you aware of that concept? One leads by serving, not by dictating.”

“Let me take a wild guess,” Buck said. “Todd-Cothran is in line for a role on your new Security Council.”

Carpathia sat back, as if learning something. “Would that not be interesting?” he said. “A nonpolitician, a brilliant financial mind, one who was wise enough and kind enough and globally minded enough to allow the world to go to a three-currency system that did not include his own pounds sterling? He brings no baggage to such a role. The world would have a certain level of comfort with him, would they not?”

“I suppose they would,” Buck said, his mind black with depression as if he were losing his soul before his very eyes. “Unless, that is, Todd-Cothran were in the middle of a mysterious suicide, a car bombing, that sort of a thing.”

Carpathia smiled. “I should think a man in a position of international potential like that would want a very clean house just now.”

“And you could effect that?”

“Buck, you overestimate me. I am just saying that if you are right, I might try to stop what is clearly an unethical and illegal action against an innocent man—you. I cannot see how there is anything wrong with that.”

Rayford Steele could not sleep. For some reason he was overcome anew with grief and remorse over the loss of his wife and son. He slid out of bed and onto his knees, burying his face in the sheet on the side where his wife used to sleep. He had been so tired, so tense, so worried about Chloe that he had pushed from his heart and mind and soul his terrible loss. He believed totally that his wife and son were in heaven, and he knew they were better off than they had ever been.

Rayford knew he had been forgiven for mocking his wife, for never really listening, for having ignored God for so many years. He was grateful he had been given a second chance and that he now had new friends and a place to learn the Bible. But that didn’t stop the aching emptiness in his heart, the longing to hold his wife and son, to kiss them and tell them how much he loved them. He prayed for the grief to lessen, but part of him wanted it, needed it, to remain.

In a way he felt he deserved this pain, though he knew better. He was beginning to understand the forgiveness of God, and Bruce had told him that he needn’t continue to feel shame over sin that had been dealt with.

As Rayford knelt praying and weeping, a new anguish flooded over him. He felt hopeless about Chloe. Everything he had tried had failed. He knew it had been only days since the disappearance of her mother and brother, and even less time since his own conversion. What more could he say or do? Bruce had encouraged him just to pray, but he was not made that way. He would pray, of course, but he had always been a man of action.

Now, every action seemed to push her farther away. He felt that if he said or did anything more, he would be responsible for her deciding against Christ once and for all. Rayford had never felt more powerless and desperate. How he longed to have Irene and Raymie with him right then. And how he despaired over Chloe.

He had been praying silently, but the torment welled up within him, and despite himself he heard his own muffled cries, “Chloe! Oh, Chloe! Chloe!”

He wept bitterly in the darkness, suddenly jarred by a creak and footsteps. He turned quickly to see Chloe, the dim light from her room silhouetting her robed form in the doorway. He didn’t know what she had heard.

“Are you all right, Dad?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Nightmare?”

“No. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“I miss them, too,” she said, her voice quavery. Rayford turned and sat with his back to the bed. He held his arms open to her. She came and sat next to him, letting him hold her.

“I believe I’ll see them again someday,” he said.

“I know you do,” she said, no disrespect in her voice. “I know you do.”

After a few minutes, Chloe gave Rayford evidence that she had heard his cry. “Don’t worry about me, Daddy, OK? I’m getting there.”

Getting where? Did she mean that her decision was just a matter of time or simply that she was getting over her grief? He wanted so badly to tell her he was worried, but she knew that. Her very presence brought him comfort, but when she padded back to her room he felt desperately alone again.

He could not sleep. He tiptoed downstairs and turned on the new TV, tuning in CNN. From Israel came the strangest report. The screen showed a mob in front of the famous Wailing Wall, surrounding two men who seemed to be shouting.

“No one knows the two men,” said the CNN reporter on the scene, “who refer to each other as Eli and Moishe. They have stood here before the Wailing Wall since just before dawn, preaching in a style frankly reminiscent of the old American evangelists. Of course the Orthodox Jews here are in an uproar, charging the two with desecrating this holy place by proclaiming that Jesus Christ of the New Testament is the fulfillment of the Torah’s prophecy of a messiah.

“Thus far there has been no violence, though tempers are flaring, and authorities keep a watchful eye. Israeli police and military personnel have always been loath to enter this area, leaving religious zealots here to handle their own problems. This is the most explosive situation in the Holy Land since the destruction of the Russian air force, and this newly prosperous nation has been concerned almost primarily with outside threats.

“For CNN, this is Dan Bennett in Jerusalem.”

Had it not been so late, Rayford would have called Bruce Barnes. He sat there, feeling a part of the family of believers to which the two men in Jerusalem apparently belonged. This was exactly what he had been learning, that Jesus was the Messiah of the Old Testament. Bruce had told him and the rest of the core group at New Hope that there would soon spring up 144,000 Jews who would believe in Christ and begin to evangelize around the world. Were these the first two?

The CNN anchorwoman turned to national news. “New York is still abuzz following several appearances today by new Romanian president Nicolae Carpathia. The thirty-three-year-old leader wowed the media at a small press conference this morning, followed by a masterful speech to the United Nations General Assembly in which he had the entire crowd standing and cheering, including the press. He reportedly sat for a cover photo session with
People
magazine and will be their first ever Sexiest Man Alive to appear less than a year after the previous designate.

“Associates of Carpathia have announced that he has already extended his schedule to include addresses to several international meetings in New York over the next two weeks and that he has been invited by President Fitzhugh to speak to a joint session of Congress and spend a night at the White House.

“At a press conference this afternoon the president voiced support for the new leader.”

The president’s image filled the screen. “At this difficult hour in world history, it’s crucial that lovers of peace and unity step forward to remind us that we’re part of a global community. Any friend of peace is a friend of the United States, and Mr. Carpathia is a friend of peace.”

CNN broadcast a question asked of the president. “Sir, what do you think of Carpathia’s ideas for the U.N.?”

“Let me just say this: I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anybody, inside or outside the U.N., show such a total grasp of the history and organization and direction of the place. He’s done his homework, and he has a plan. I was listening. I hope the respective ambassadors and Secretary-General Ngumo were, too. No one should see a fresh vision as a threat. I’m sure every leader in the world shares my view that we need all the help we can get at this hour.”

The anchorwoman continued: “Out of New York late this evening comes a report that a
Global Weekly
writer has been cleared of all charges and suspicion in the death of a Scotland Yard investigator. Cameron Williams, award-winning senior writer at the
Weekly
, had been feared dead in a car bombing that took the life of the investigator Alan Tompkins, who was also an acquaintance of Williams.

“Tompkins’s remains had been identified and Williams’s passport and ID were found among the rubble after the explosion. Williams’s assumed death was reported in newspapers across the country, but he reappeared in New York late this afternoon and was seen at the United Nations press conference following Nicolae Carpathia’s speech.

“Earlier this evening, Williams was considered an international fugitive, wanted by both Scotland Yard and Interpol for questioning in connection with the bombing death. Both agencies have since announced he has been cleared of all charges and is considered lucky to have escaped unharmed.

“In sports news, Major League Baseball teams in spring training face the daunting task of replacing the dozens of players lost in the cosmic disappearances. . . .”

Rayford still was not sleepy. He made himself coffee, then phoned the twenty-four-hour line that kept track of flight and crew assignments. He had an idea. “Can you tell me whether I can still get Hattie Durham assigned to my JFK run Wednesday?” he asked.

“I’ll see what I can do,” came the response. “Whoops, no. I guess you can’t. She’s going to New York already. Yours is the 10 a.m. flight. Hers is the 8 a.m.”

Buck Williams had returned to his apartment after midnight, assured by Nicolae Carpathia that his worries were over. Carpathia had phoned Jonathan Stonagal, put him on speakerphone, and Stonagal had done the same as he made the middle-of-the-night phone call to London that cleared Williams. Buck heard Todd-Cothran’s husky-voiced agreement to call off the Yard and Interpol. “But my package is secure?” Todd-Cothran asked.

“Guaranteed,” Stonagal had said.

Most alarming to Buck was that Stonagal did his own dirty work, at least in this instance. Buck had looked accusingly at Carpathia, despite his relief and gratitude.

“Mr. Williams,” Carpathia said, “I was confident Jonathan could handle this, but I am just as ignorant of the details as you are.”

“But this just proves Dirk was right! Stonagal
is
conspiring with Todd-Cothran, and you knew it! And Stonagal promised him his package was secure, whatever that means.”

“I assure you I knew nothing until you told me, Buck. I had no prior knowledge.”

“But now you know. Can you still in good conscience allow Stonagal to help promote you in international politics?”

“Trust me, I will deal with them both.”

“But there have to be many more! What about all the other so-called dignitaries you met?”

“Buck, just be assured there is no place around me for insincerity or injustice. I will deal with them in due time.”

“And meanwhile?”

“What would you advise? It seems to me that I am in no position to do anything right now. They seem intent on elevating me, but until they do I can do nothing but what your media calls whistle-blowing. How far would I get with that, before I know how far their tentacles reach? Before recently, would you not have thought Scotland Yard would be a trustworthy place to start?”

Buck nodded miserably. “I know what you mean, but I hate this. They know that you know.”

“That may work to my advantage. They may think I am with them, that this makes me even more dependent upon them.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Only temporarily. You have my word. I
will
deal with this. For now I am glad to have extricated you from a most delicate situation.”

“I’m glad, too, Mr. Carpathia. Is there anything I can do for you?”

The Romanian smiled. “Well, I need a press secretary.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that. I’m not your man.”

“Of course not. I would not have dreamed of asking.”

As a joke, Buck suggested, “What about the man you met in the hall?”

Carpathia displayed his prodigious memory once more. “That Eric Miller fellow?”

“He’s the one. You’d love him.”

“And I already told him to call me tomorrow. May I say you recommended him?”

Buck shook his head. “I was kidding.” He told Carpathia what had happened in the lobby, on the elevator, and in the hall before Miller introduced himself. Nicolae was not amused. “I’ll rack my brain and see if I can think of another candidate for you,” Buck said. “Now you promised me a scoop tonight, too.”

“True. It is new information, but it must not be announced until I have the ability to effect it.”

“I’m listening.”

“Israel is particularly vulnerable, as they were before Russia tried to invade them. They were lucky that time, but the rest of the world resents their prosperity. They need protection. The U.N. can give it to them. In exchange for the chemical formula that makes the desert bloom, the world will be content to grant them peace. If the other nations disarm and surrender a tenth of their weapons to the U.N., only the U.N. will have to sign a peace accord with Israel. Their prime minister has given Dr. Rosenzweig the freedom to negotiate such an agreement because he is the true owner of the formula. They are, of course, insisting on guarantees of protection for no less than seven years.”

Buck sat shaking his head. “You’re going to get the Nobel Peace prize,
Time
’s Person of the Year, and our Newsmaker of the Year.”

“Those certainly are not my goals.”

Buck left Carpathia believing that as deeply as he had ever believed anything. Here was a man unaffected by the money that could buy lesser men.

At his apartment Buck discovered yet another phone message from Hattie Durham. He had to call that girl.

Bruce Barnes called the core group together for an emergency meeting at New Hope Village Church Tuesday afternoon. Rayford drove over, hoping it would be worth his time and that Chloe wouldn’t mind being home alone for a while. They had both been edgy since the break-in.

Bruce gathered everyone around his desk in the office. He began by praying that he would be lucid and instructive in spite of his excitement and then had everyone turn to the book of Revelation.

Bruce’s eyes were bright and his voice carried the same passion and emotion as when he had called. Rayford wondered what had him so excited. He had asked Bruce on the phone, but Bruce insisted on telling everyone in person.

“I don’t want to keep you long,” he said, “but I’m onto something deep here and wanted to share it. In a way, I want you all to be wary, to be wise as serpents and harmless as doves, as the Bible says.

“As you know, I’ve been studying Revelation and several commentaries about end-times events. Well, today in the pastor’s files I ran across one of his sermons on the subject. I’ve been reading the Bible and the books on the subject, and here’s what I’ve found.”

Bruce pulled up the first blank sheet on a flip chart and showed a time line he had drawn. “I’ll take the time to carefully teach you this over the next several weeks, but it looks to me, and to many of the experts who came before us, that this period of history we’re in right now will last for seven years. The first twenty-one months encompass what the Bible calls the seven Seal Judgments, or the Judgments of the Seven-Sealed Scroll. Then comes another twenty-one-month period in which we will see the seven Trumpet Judgments. In the last forty-two months of this seven years of tribulation, if we have survived, we will endure the most severe tests, the seven Vial Judgments. That last half of the seven years is called the Great Tribulation, and if we are alive at the end of it, we will be rewarded by seeing the Glorious Appearing of Christ.”

Loretta raised her hand. “Why do you keep saying ‘if we survive’? What are these judgments?”

“They get progressively worse, and if I’m reading this right, they will be harder and harder to survive. If we die, we will be in heaven with Christ and our loved ones. But we may suffer horrible deaths. If we somehow make it through the seven terrible years, especially the last half, the Glorious Appearing will be all that more glorious. Christ will come back to set up his thousand-year reign on earth.”