Blaze (14 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE OFFICE OF THE PRIME MINISTER, JERUSALEM, ISRAEL

I
t was the day after Passover and Chaim Simmons, Israel's larger-than-life prime minister, still reveled in the joy of the celebration.

Prime Minister Simmons was a man for whom controversy, scourge, negative press, and straight up reality show-esque drama did not deter nor detract. The finger-pointing political pundits had a hard time figuring him out, but he certainly knew how to play the game. And deep down beneath the ever-outrageous show he loved to star in, there were some real, core beliefs.

The ever-increasing threats from Iran kept him up at night. The increasingly neatly packaged alliance formed between Iran, Turkey, Lebanon, and the nations of North Africa kept him up even later. The fact that Russia had been blended into this geopolitical cocktail from hell damn near made his heart stop.

But at the moment, Chaim was basking in the freedom, albeit fragile and elusive, that the nation of Israel had been feeling in recent months. He felt as if he was among the Jews of old having just been freed from Egypt. The ramifications of Israel's newfound wealth and prosperity were vast. Massive oil findings had catapulted the nation into an era of self-sufficiency that would have been an outright laughable notion just years prior. The narrative of the nation of Israel continued to surprise the world. One hundred years ago, the notion of a re-established Jewish state was mocked as a fantasy.

Now, Israeli citizens were discovering prosperity and opportunity like never before. Entrepreneurship now dominated the nation's new psyche. Israel had developed the ultimate and supreme ownership-based economy. As Chaim took a sip of some very fine home-pressed red wine, plucked carefully from the vast collection he kept in his cellar, he pondered the juxtaposition of Israel's prosperity with the lingering threat of her organized and motivated enemies. He resolved that barring verification of Iran's rumored nuclear capabilities, Israel was indeed safer now, and strategically more secure, than at any other point since her re-birth. That said, the premise that Iran did not either already possess these weapons, or were inches away from possession, was one that many challenged. Including Chaim.

As Chaim concluded his reflections, the silhouette from the kitchen disappeared and its source figure appeared before him in the study. As he reclined in his favorite brown leather chair, she placed an ashtray on the adjacent end table.

“Thank you Abigayil.” Chaim smiled with gratitude.

Abigayil smiled seductively as she walked slowly out of the study. Chaim gazed at the short skirt that hid her rather attractive backside for longer than any modest man would venture to stare. Chaim reached up to flick the switch on the overhead exhaust fan. Then he lit his madura Crown David cigar. It was one of his favorites. He had picked up a box of them from a small cigar boutique shop outside of Philadelphia once after he had given a speech at a conference in a hotel near St. Joseph's University. The cigar shop was called SJ Cigars and was owned by a nice Israeli entrepreneur who was more than pleased to have Prime Minister Simmons visit his shop.

As he exhaled the first puff of his cigar and enjoyed the lingering taste on his palate, he chuckled to himself as he thought of his colorful relationship with Abigayil. She was not his first mistress. And if in his heart of hearts he were to be honest, she would likely not be his last. Chaim Simmons had a problem with women. The discipline he practiced in his work life did not transfer over into his personal life into the complicated realm of his relationships.

Chaim's problem had always been well known and had earned him the nickname of ‘the Jewish Clinton', though sexual permissiveness was the only thing he had in common with the former US president. After the huge amount of controversy and press that resulted from his last wife, of a mere four years, leaving him upon discovering Abigayil, Chaim had been trying to tell himself that he would finally settle down. Three divorces was enough, he reckoned. If he ever did marry Abigayil, which he knew she would be soon pushing for, he would try to hold this one down.

As he pondered this internal promise, cigar smoke bellowed upward and the thick aroma saturated the study. He knew he was weak in this area. But for now, the tabloids had finally been leaving him alone and he would enjoy this time with Abigayil and, day by day, try to focus on fidelity.

And also for now, he would enjoy the peace and prosperity of his nation. Even while he prepared to counter or, more provocatively, pre-empt the evil and terror he knew was still bubbling up furiously within the nations that so tightly surrounded his beloved Israel.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE OFFICE OF PRESIDENT SAMANI, TEHRAN, IRAN

H
adi Samani peered out his office window at his beloved city. A city rich with history and significant meaning. President Samani often fantasized about the imminent return of the Twelfth Imam descending in glory upon his cherished metropolis.

The World Toward Illumination project had now been in full effect for months, and Hadi Samani was more than pleased with the influence it was having on the wonderful people of the Islamic Republic of Iran. The Promised One was indeed nearing His arrival. The preparations were becoming increasingly feverish and anticipatory. Some truths Hadi knew unequivocally—deep within his ever-patient soul. He knew with certainty that he had been chosen for this point in time. He knew he had been chosen to facilitate the global conditions necessary to hasten the imminent return of his beloved Twelfth Imam.

Hadi was pleased with the coalition of nations that was forming in his favor. It was absolutely necessary to squelch the illegitimate pigs of Zion. It was all coalescing perfectly according to plan.
Praise be to Allah.
The root connectors of the coalition had been percolating for years. But it wasn't until the uprisings of 2011, and the subsequent shifts in power from Sunni to Shia throughout the Middle East and North Africa, that the coalition really began solidifying. It had grown to take on a more pure and focused coat of devotion towards the end goal of wiping Israel off the map.

Sure, the world applauded and hailed the U.N. peace treaty with Israel, that gave birth to a nominal Palestinian state, as the end of all strife in the middle east, but no one in the Islamic world truly had any intentions of holding to that agreement. The clouds of jihad had continued to gather, despite the news reports to the contrary, and despite the newfound feeling of peace and security that Israel had felt for the first time since its illegitimate national birth.

While the world basked in a false sense of peace, the soldiers of the Mahdi and devotees of Allah planned for the coming Caliphate with diligence, patience, and cunning strategic forethought. Allah knows Hadi Samani had no love in his heart for the atheists to the north, and that ultimately, they would be targeted very shortly after the Saturday people and the Sunday people were dealt with, but for now, the dealings with the bears of Russia were necessary and crucial. Hadi took a deep breath and dialed his secure phone to call Maksim Koslov for an update on their joint venture efforts.

“Good afternoon Maksim. How are things in Russia this fine day?” Hadi was adamant about maintaining manners in communication even if they were clearly sterile and performed only out of duty and formality.

“Well indeed Hadi. The wind is at our back, and we're rapidly accomplishing a myriad of goals that we have set long ago. How are things in Iran and what shall we talk about today?” Maksim was in a good mood and felt no anxiety as he launched into his call with Hadi.

“Things are progressing perfectly here. Our people are anxious for the justice of Allah. I know you don't understand such sentiments, so let's talk about common matters. When will your scientists be arriving at the plant to help us with the finishing processes needed to be online? The day is nearing, and having full nuclear capabilities and delivery abilities is paramount.” Hadi Samani was, if nothing else, a driven taskmaster. He obsessively monitored every tentacle of his operations and made sure every element was constantly feeling pressure to maintain its pace and meet its goals to his pleasure.

Maksim responded to Hadi's concerns. “A week from Tuesday they will arrive in Tehren. So I'm told. Take heart, Hadi, we're almost ready. The Israeli's have known no boundaries with their incessant boasting. Ever since they struck the black gold of hidden treasures in the sand near the Jezreel Valley, they've been pronouncing to the world that they are enjoying an age of prosperity greater than that which was enjoyed in the days of Solomon. They're fools to think that simply because they've discovered large amounts of oil that they have the right to now bully the world economically. So they are experiencing an unprecedented boom of construction and building. And they've adjusted to a relative veneer of calm with the Palestinian state that they've begrudged for years. All of this will blind them with arrogance. They'll continue to oppress their Arab neighbors and control politics and economics in the US. But we'll not sit idly by as they hide behind their borders and seek to humiliate the rest of the world with their extreme indulgences.”

“Indeed, there's too much injustice in the world for one nation to hoard such wealth and contain such prosperity. You know full well this is their nature. It can't be changed without force. Persuasion and reason have never worked with the Jew. Only imposition and war has ever put them in their place and eliminated their arrogance. Just because they have dug their treasures near Megiddo, does not mean they will rule Megiddo. Our book tells a different story as to who wins the battle of Armageddon. Praise be to Allah.” Hadi was now losing Maksim's attention. Maksim's threshold for religious speak was notoriously low.

“Well I spoke with President Fitz by phone last week. I've begun to lay the groundwork to nudge him in our direction. As we've agreed before, he's very weak in his mindset and is prone to following, particularly when two or more agree internationally on an issue. Fitz is very reluctant to go against anything seen as a global consensus. His vision of a peaceful new world order is also very helpful in getting him to cooperate, or at the very least remain uninvolved, with our plans.” Hadi Samani and Maksim Koslov had the same read on President Fitz. This helped to solidify their working relationship.

“Very good to hear. Please keep nudging him Maksim, and work that angle. As you know, he's not able to speak to me, and I of course, would be loathe to ever engage in a conversation with him. Allah forbids me. But we do need him neutralized if we are to confront the Zionists. I now have other matters to which I must attend. Let's plan to speak again after the scientists have finished their work next week.”

“Until then.” Maksim rolled his eyes at all the religious talk.

“Goodbye Maksim.” Hadi was aflame with excitement about the progress of Iran's nuclear progress and the increasing sense of anticipation he harbored for the re-occultation of the Twelfth Imam.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH OF DETROIT, DETROIT, MICHIGAN

I
t had only been approximately thirty-six hours, give or take a few. Pastor McCardle had, for the most part, gotten through by staying on task and keeping busy with his studies and sermon preparations. The more frequent hospital visitations to the most senior and infirm elements of his flock also soaked up the time. He took lunch at his desk. It was rare that he left the building for lunch. As he took a bite of his leftover meatloaf, he was painfully aware that it was meal times—altogether before, during, and after meals—as Churchill had enjoyed, during which he had the hardest time resisting the urge to twist the cap and pour himself a stiff drink.

His current moratorium on alcohol was far from perfect. In a way he was like some churchgoers. He'd managed to stay away from the booze the way many stayed away from church. But there was always Christmas and Easter. Everyone had to worship once in a while.

Yet, in Pastor McCardle's mind, any movement towards lessening his reliance on alcohol was a step in the right direction. Regardless of how feeble and indecisive the step. He prayed God would help nudge his steps more and more. He knew full well his own ability to guide those steps was minimal and weak. As he pondered the nuances of his current fight against his cravings for booze, he heard the familiar and deliberate steps of Blaze McIntyre in the hallway leading to his office. It was rather divinely ordained timing. He had been staring at the bottle of Laphroig scotch he had in his lower right desk drawer. And he was intent on pulling it out until Blaze walked in.

“McCardle, whaddya say pally?” Blaze was very happy to see Liam.

“How are you Blaze?” Liam, likewise.

“Doing good. Doing good.” Blaze rarely repeated his words for the sake of emphasis. This time, however, he really was doing quite good and felt the need to say it twice. After saying it, he was reminded of his friend Johnny who was always mocked by his cigar-smoking peers at the lounge for saying everything twice. The habit didn't make him at all as cool as Jimmy Two Times from
Goodfellas
.

“Come. Sit. Talk to me my friend.” McCardle motioned for Blaze to take a seat.

As usual, Blaze took full liberty to kick his boots up on McCardle's desk as he prepared to launch into a purging of his heart and mind.

“I haven't seen you since the accident. When I came to see you in the hospital you were going on about a great number of random and incoherent things. Are you more clear now? Can we talk about the details of what went through your mind during the accident?” McCardle was both sincerely concerned for his friend's mental well-being and personally intrigued as to the nature of Blaze's mental disturbances.

“Well, I'm all healed up now. I was lucky to have such a quick, full and successful physical recovery. I'm even back to sparring regularly with Chuck Gallagher. But I'll tell you more about that here in a bit. As for mental recovery, that's a bit harder to diagnose. Maybe you can help.”

“What do you mean Blaze? Explain.” McCardle's interest now fully peaked.

“I crashed because I was having another vision. Harry's ghost again. This time it seemed more real than ever. And ten times more haunting.” Blaze didn't really want to talk about it, but knew that he should.

“You'd mentioned that in the hospital. Tell me more.” McCardle was fascinated by these episodes that Blaze was experiencing.

“It was extremely cryptic. Almost apocalyptic. He was laughing and then crying and then pleading. He was manic and maniacal. The ghost was hanging upside down in thin air. Blood dripped from his wrist. A nail was spiked through his wrist and a tattoo of the Star of David was etched upon it. He began quoting the book of Ezekiel repeatedly and with a fury I've never heard before in my life. He kept going on about rising evil in the nations, the poor and the lost, and future wars. He went on and on about the watchmen of Ezekiel and urged me to be one. He told me to find, and hold onto, my honor. He wept for me and spoke to what seemed to be a future version of me. He spoke of my family in the
past tense,
Pastor. I can't shake that from my mind.”

Pastor McCardle stared at Blaze momentarily, as if trying to put the finishing touches on his thoughts, and then replied cautiously, “I'd love to tell you that your vision was meaningless and nothing but an hysterical figment of your tortured imagination and war-weary soul. But I know you wouldn't believe me, nor would you believe that I believe that.”

“I know. So what do I do with what I saw and heard?” Blaze agreed, but still needed some direction.

“I'm not sure. As you said, most of Harry's words were fragmented and cryptic and his ramblings shifted in tone and content from sentence to sentence.” McCardle was still trying to wrap his arms around Blaze's narrative.

“Right, but nonetheless, I feel like I was meant to hear something from all of it.” Blaze knew deep inside that each visit from Harry was somehow providential.

“What does your gut tell you that you were meant to hear the most?” McCardle was trying to drive Blaze to the heart of this matter.

“I suppose the most pressing messages I took away were messages of affirmation of my recent decision to get back into the fight.” This was true.

“And what else Blaze? What else?” McCardle's job was in part, to prod people to dig deeper and think more comprehensively.

Blaze shook his head. “All the stuff you talk about I suppose. Gog and Magog. A war against Israel. Evil rising in the nations. Rumors of War. You know, all the end-times stuff. As a warrior, I try not to connect too many of the larger dots, only the necessary dots to complete the mission at hand at any given moment. But, now, I feel like I may need to know all the connecting points of data. I feel like Harry was urging me to know more and to be more.” Blaze realized the weight of this admission.

“What more could he be asking you to be?” McCardle sensed real purpose in Harry's last visit.

“A watchman.” Blaze felt a heaviness in this thought.

“What does that mean to you?” McCardle was beginning to understand this line of thought.

“I'm not yet sure. But my eyes are open to discovering what it might mean. I have a sense that this pending mission with Gallagher has something to do with that discovery process.”

“Have you informed Diem of the decision?” McCardle had to make sure the obvious question was asked and sufficiently answered.

“Oh yeah, you can put that on the to-done list.” Blaze said with a sense of accomplishment.

“Really? How did
that
go?” McCardle was a tad startled with the ease in which Blaze pronounced this new development.

“She was feisty and resistant at first, but she now gets it. She knows who I am. She knows I am a warrior through and through. She worries most about the boys. So do I.”

“This is understandable. You'll have to wrestle with that worry as you go down this path. There is no easy approach to that piece of things.” McCardle knew the seriousness in which this issue would weigh on Blaze and Diem.

“I know this. Such is the nature of the cross I carry.” Blaze said this with a knowing smile.

“So how did your last meeting with Gallagher go? How much has he told you about the mission?” McCardle was excited for Blaze in regard to the bold decisions he was making.

“The meeting went well. As you know, I can't say much about what he's briefed me on so far. But, I'll tell you it seems to fit in somewhere with the prophecy narratives you endorse and warn about. God willing, I can be used as a strategic instrument to delay the inevitable outcomes of such foretold events.”

“Blaze, tell me more about what you mean by delaying the outcomes?” McCardle's curiosity was piqued.

“The way I see it, if your interpretation of the prophecy regarding the Ezekiel war is accurate, there isn't much we can do about the fact that it
will
happen.”

“I would say that's accurate.”

Blaze nodded and continued. “And although there are many pieces of that picture that seems to be coming together right now, that doesn't mean the good Lord isn't going to delay the fulfillment. He gave us free will, right?”

“He sure did.”

“And He is always looking to graciously give people as many warnings and as much time as possible to figure out the truth, right?”

“It's in His very nature.”

“Right. So it stands to reason that maybe these promptings I've been getting have something to do with God intervening to delay the war of Gog and Magog. Maybe, maybe not. But if my skill set can at all help that possibility, I gotta suit up and show up.”

“I think you're showing some wise discernment.”

“Call it what you will Pastor, it's just the way I see it.”

“Given the news lately on the dictator in Turkey and increasing Neo-Ottoman posturing they have been displaying as of late, I'd imagine any mission you were to embark on would rightly have something to do with combating the forces of the coming storm heading Israel's way. I hope and pray that somehow you indeed can be one instrument in God's hands to delay the coming event for just a bit more, if not a lot more, time.” McCardle was keenly aware of the daily developments in the Middle East and North Africa and the relationship these developments had with Israel and America.

Blaze gave a pensive look and began to elaborate on his reflections, “Ever since Egypt fell into the hands of The Muslim brotherhood and the subsequent movement towards a Caliphate accelerated, the stability of the world has been increasingly threatened. As much as I'd like to not think about the ramifications, I can see how this might fit into the events described in Ezekiel 38 and 39. The alliance described sure seems to be forming.” Blaze could see McCardle thoroughly digesting his observations.

“Let's be on guard as if the times are truly unfolding, even as we pray that we are wrong. For your part, Blaze, you need to fight as if you fear you're right, even as you pray that your fight will effect things in such a way to prove that you're wrong.” McCardle's words lingered in Blaze's mind for a bit before he responded.

“Wise council my friend. Wise council indeed.” Blaze felt as if his path was becoming more and more clear.

“Blaze, I'll be leaving later this week for a trip to Northern Ireland to visit family. I'll be gone for a few months, but we must keep in touch as much as possible. I'll be constantly praying for you and your family.”

“I appreciate that, Pastor. Let's meet via videoconference while you're away. I'll certainly need more sessions like this as things continue to rapidly progress. Are you going to be okay in Belfast with all that down time? I'm worried about your weakness for the spirits mixing a little to seamlessly with a boatload of downtime—in Ireland of all places.” Blaze raised his eyebrows to belabor the point.

“Your candidness is brazen my lad, but your concern is real. I am working on the drinking. Keep me in your prayers in that regard. You're one of the few I confide in about the issue.” McCardle was grateful that Blaze cared and that he could speak to him with courage about his struggle.

“No problem. Mum's the word. Be safe and enjoy your visit.”

“May the road rise to meet you, Blaze.”