Armageddon: The Cosmic Battle Of The Ages (15 page)

Rayford Steele did serve, while already a believer, as pilot on the staff of Nicolae Carpathia, providing invaluable information to the cause of Christ’s fol-lowers everywhere. He was never fired and never charged with insubordination or drinking while on duty. He left after his second wife was killed in a plane crash.

The Judah-ites are anything but “the last holdouts in opposition to the New World Order.” Many Jewish and Muslim factions, as well as former mili-tia groups primarily in the United North American States, still have refused to accept the mark of loy-alty to the supreme potentate and must live clandes-tinely in fear for their lives.

Cameron Williams was indeed formerly a cele-brated American journalist who also worked directly for the potentate, but he quit rather than “losing his job due to differences in management style.” As for his subversive cyber and printed mag-azine’s “limited circulation,” that, of course, is a matter of opinion.
The Truth is
circulated to the same audience that is ministered to daily by Dr. Tsion Ben-Judah, at last count still more than a billion.

Rayford Steele, Cameron Williams, and Chloe Williams are not “wanted for more than three dozen murders around the world.” The Tribulation Force acknowledges one kill for Cameron Williams and two for Rayford Steele, both in self-defense.

The International Commodity Co-op, headed by Mrs. Williams, has never hijacked any goods, nor does it sell for any kind of profit, but rather trades for the benefit of its members.

The Williamses have amassed no fortune on the black market or otherwise. In fact if not for the generosity of its members, no such Co-op could exist.

Mrs. Williams has never had an abortion or lost a child, and has had but one pregnancy, resulting in a son, now three-and-a-half years old. The Williamses have never claimed deity or special powers for their son, though they do believe Nicolae Carpathia is the Antichrist and that Jesus Christ will one day conquer Carpathia and bring his own kingdom to earth.

Limited contact with Mrs. Williams since her capture has confirmed that she is committed to not bargaining with the GC, and that is the policy of the Tribulation Force. Not only is she not offering anything to avoid a death sentence, but she has also been on the record many times in the past regard-ing her willingness to die for the cause of Christ.

There is no evidence that Mrs. Williams provided any information about Tribulation Force activist Al Basrah, and neither is there evidence to support that he committed suicide.

“Will this do any good?” Chang said.

“Among our people it will,” Naomi said. “Even people who know better want to be reassured. Everybody else is preoccupied with troop buildup in the Jezreel Valley anyway.”

“What’s happening in San Diego?”

“Not much until Captain Steele and Mr. McCullum get there, which should be any minute now. We are gear-ing up for at least two hundred new arrivals over the next few days, so that should tell you something. Have you talked with your sister lately?”

“No. But I’ve been meaning to, and now, of course, I have news for her.”

“Well, she has news for you too.”

“What?”

“Oh, I can’t spoil it for her.”

“Naomi!”

“Now, no. I can’t wait to meet her, and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot by breaking her confi-dence.”

“She told you something she hasn’t told me?”

“Not exactly. But my job makes me privy to informa-tion I might not otherwise know.”

“Such as . . .”

“Such as messages to the leadership. Rather than have them come and read them off the computer, often we print them out and deliver them ourselves.”

“And so from one of those you learned something about my sister that she would want to tell me herself.”

Naomi nodded.

“Well, I can take care of that in short order,” he said, pulling out his phone. “And then when will you have a few minutes?”

“Right now,” she said. “But only a few. It’s going to be a hectic day.”

“You owe me a story.”

“My story, you mean? It’s really my father’s and my story, but it’s not a long one, so yes, I’ll have time to tell it.”

“I’ll see you in ten minutes then,” Chang said, punch-ing his sister’s number.

“Hello, Chang,” Ming said when she answered. “For-give me for whispering, but I am baby-sitting Kenny Bruce, and he is finally asleep.”

“Just wondering how you were and how things are going out there.”

“I’m sure you know.”

“Yes. I have news for you.”

“Tell me, Brother.”

“God has removed the mark of the beast from my forehead.”

“Praise God! Tell me all about it! I can’t wait to see you.”

He told her what had happened.

“That’s too wonderful for words, Chang. Too bad it had to happen on an otherwise unhappy day.”

“Yes, and you have news for me, no?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have no idea. It’s just a hunch.”

“Oh, Chang. Ree has asked me to marry him, and I have asked Dr. Ben-Judah to officiate when we arrive.”

“
LET
ME
SCOUT
the area,” Buck said, “make sure they’re clear to land.”

George, behind the wheel of the Hummer, shot Buck a sideward glance. “Nobody was in the area when we left the compound, there’s been no one suspicious along the way, and no one followed us. We came the last half mile in the dirt, using the lights only to make sure we were on track. Buck, the airstrip is as secure as it’s ever been.”

Buck sighed and shook his head. “When did I become the cautious one? You’re the military guy.”

“There’s cautious and prepared, and there’s para-noid,” Sebastian said. “I know they’ve got Chloe, but that wasn’t because of some vast stakeout. It was her fault. I’m sorry, but your father-in-law said she admitted that herself. And she has a history of venturing out-”

“But
why
was she out? I saw guys. She must have seen ‘em too. And they got her.”

“Routine reconnaissance. You said yourself they looked bored.”

“Well, they’re not bored now, are they?”

“No, Buck, they’re not bored now. I’m parking at the end of the runway. You want to go traipsing around in the woods till they get here, be my guest.”

“You’re not coming?”

“You’re the boss. If you tell me to come, I’ll come. But you distinctly said, `Let me scout the area.’ Well, I’m letting you scout the area.”

“Come with me.”

“You’re making me?”

“I’m asking you as a friend.”

“That’s not fair, Buck. Don’t play that card.”

“Come on. What if I find something? You’ll never forgive yourself.”

“You’re incurable.”

Buck knew Sebastian was right. The fact was, he was frazzled and needed something to do. He was ready to head straight to San Diego GC headquarters, guns blazing, and bust Chloe out. “You know Rayford will be up for going after Chloe,” Buck said as they tramped through the woods in their fatigues, Uzis at their sides.

“C’mon, he and Mac will have just spent nearly sixteen hours in the air, probably splitting the piloting duties. These guys are going to need to sack out.”

“You know Mac’s heard about Albie. He’ll be wired and ready to go.”

“He’ll be looking to get back to Al Basrah and find out what happened. Anyway, Buck, even if we do plan a raid, when are we going to do it, and who’s going to get our people to Petra in the meantime?”

“I thought Rayford was getting Lionel on that.”

“Lionel will organize and supply it, sure. But we’ve got to lead these people and see the work gets done.”

Buck slapped a mosquito. “What’re we doing? There’s nothing out here. Whose idea was this anyway? You hear a jet?”

“No. Now we’re out here like you said, so let’s do a job.”

“Now you
want
to look for something?”

“I just don’t want to waste time, that’s all. Let’s not get too far from the landing strip.”

Buck was suddenly swarmed by bugs. He let his Uzi dangle and smacked his head and face with both hands. “Let’s get out into the open.”

They emerged at about the midpoint of the strip.

“Now we’re going to have to go all the way down to that end when they get here,” George said.

“Let’s head that way now,” Buck said. “You can occupy your time helping me plan the attack.”

“On GC headquarters?”

“Where else?”

“What do you know about the place?”

“What do you mean? We’ve been past there. You’ve seen it.”

“Buck, neither of us has ever been inside. I know it’s four floors plus a basement, but I don’t even know if they use the basement for prisoners. Do you?”

“Nope, but I remember they have bars on the win-dows down there.”

“Well, that’s good. That’s helpful. But the more you know, the more you should realize you don’t know.”

“What kind of GI mumbo jumbo is that?”

The big man stopped. “All right,” George said, “look. Here’s my take on San Diego GC headquarters. I know it’s one of the biggest in North America, but I have no idea how many personnel they have. Do you?”

“No.”

“Of the four floors and the basement, I don’t know which houses the jail. Do you?”

“No.”

“I’m guessing they segregate men and women prison-ers, but I don’t know for sure. Do you?”

“No.”

“Well, if they do, are they all on the same floor or different floors?”

“Couldn’t tell you.”

“You see where we are, Buck? Nowhere. A military operation, especially a surprise first strike, is a compli-cated, highly planned maneuver. We’d have one objective and one only, and that is to get Chloe out alive. To accomplish that, we’d have to have someone inside.”

“We can’t get someone inside!”

“Then how are we going to do this, Buck? Think, man. Think what we’d have to know before we go charging in there. Do they keep high-profile prisoners separate from the general population, and if they do, where?”

“All right. You’ve made your point.”

“I haven’t even started, Buck. You guys are all enam-ored with my military training, but you don’t know the half of it. Most of this is just common sense. Besides knowing exactly where Chloe is, we’d have to know the shortest distance in and out. We’d have to know what doors or windows might be vulnerable. We’d have to know how much firepower we’d need, and, Buck, you tell me what that means. What will determine our muni-tions needs?”

“The size and strength of the doors and windows?”

“Well, that, yeah. But it’s their personnel, buddy. How many of them are we going to run into, and what will their resources be? If you could tell me Chloe was in the northeast corner of the second floor and how many GC I’d have to get through to get there, then how many are guarding her and what kind of weapons they are toting, I might be able to plan a mission for you. Otherwise, we’re messing around, guessing, and we’re likely to get a strike mission force wiped out.”

They reached the end of the runway and sat in the grass in the darkness. “Then how does anybody ever pull off a raid like that?”

George cradled his weapon in his lap. “It’s never easy, but there are prerequisites, and in the good old days when people weren’t identified by a mark, you could usually get somebody into a place. Somebody has to have a thorough working knowledge of the building, maybe even access to the blueprint, the floor plan, the utility systems.”

“I can’t just do nothing, George. What’re we going to do?”

Buck saw the landing lights before he heard the roar of the Gulfstream’s engines. He signaled with a powerful flashlight that the area was clear, and within minutes the plane was down and hidden, and Rayford and Mac were disembarking.

The four shook hands without a word; then Buck and Rayford embraced. Neither was much for showing emo-tion, but they held each other tight for longer than Buck could remember doing before. They loaded the Hummer, but before they got in, Mac said, “I feel twenty years older. Do we have to sit in a cramped space again right away?”

“We’re in no hurry,” Rayford said. “Stretch your legs.”

“I don’t mind getting back a little late anyway,” Buck said. “We’ve had no GC activity today, but they’ll be snooping around later for sure.”

Rayford said, “You don’t suppose Chloe got them started in a whole new direction by claiming she was thirty miles from home?”

Buck chuckled. “Hardly, but you got to hand it to her for trying. Actually, it’ll be interesting to see where they are tonight. That should give us an idea where they picked her up.”

“Now you’re thinking,” George said. “It’ll also give us an idea how long it’ll take them to discover the com-pound and how much time we’ve got to get out of there.”

“I really mustn’t be gone too long,” Naomi said. Chang sat with her beside a pillar that made up part of the por-tico in the courtyard of the Urn Tomb. “Now if I had someone like you who could fill in for me, I could be gone longer.”

“But with who?” he said, and she laughed. “Seriously, though, I’m curious about your background.”

“I love remembering, Chang, though it is also a sad story. My father was a businessman, a restauranteur. He owned several eateries in the area around Teddy Kollek Stadium. Do you know Jerusalem?”

“No.”

“He was honest and good and people liked him, respected him. That is very important in my culture.”

“Mine too.”

“I suppose in all cultures a person’s reputation is para-mount. But my father took great pride in his many friends and his successful businesses. He provided well for my mother and me. He was also a devoutly religious man, and so our family was too. Synagogue every Sabbath. We knew the Scriptures. We loved God. I believe my father was proud of that, but not in a bad way-you know what I mean?”

Chang nodded.

“About eight years ago-this was when I was eleven- my mother fell ill. Cancer. Cancer of the ... well, you’ll forgive me if I am too shy to mention it. We do not know each other well enough for me to be comfortable about it.”

“It’s all right.”

“She was very ill. My father was so good to her. He had the money to hire help for her, full-time help. But he would not do that. He hired part-time help, but he cut his workday in half and spent every afternoon and all night with her. He was a wonderful example to me and made me want to help even more. We loved my mother, and my father said we should consider it a privilege to serve her the way she had served us for so many years. He made her happy despite her pain.”