Left Behind: A Novel Of Earth's Last Days (31 page)

But he did. Rosenzweig came back on and said, “Nicolae says that any friend of yours is a friend of his. He has a few moments, but only a few moments, right now.”

Buck and Hattie rushed to the Plaza in a cab. Buck realized immediately how awkward he felt and how much worse he was about to feel. Whatever reputation he enjoyed with Rosenzweig and Carpathia as an international journalist would forever be marred. He would be known as the hanger-on who dragged a groupie up to shake hands with Nicolae.

Buck couldn’t hide his discomfort, and on the elevator he blurted, “He really has only a second, so we shouldn’t stay long.”

Hattie stared at him. “I know how to treat VIPs, you know,” she said. “I often serve them on flights.”

“Of course you do.”

“I mean, if you’re embarrassed by me or—”

“It’s not that at all, Hattie.”

“If you think I won’t know how to act”

“I’m sorry. I’m just thinking of his schedule.”

“Well, right now we’re on his schedule, aren’t we?”

He sighed. “I guess we are.” Why, oh, why, do I get myself into these things?

In the hallway Hattie stopped by a mirror and checked her face. A bodyguard opened the door, nodded at Buck, and looked Hattie over from head to toe. She ignored him, craning her neck to find Carpathia. Dr. Rosenzweig emerged from the parlor. “Cameron,” he said, “a moment please.”

Buck excused himself from Hattie, who looked none too pleased. Rosenzweig pulled him aside and whispered, “He wonders if you could join him alone first?”

Here it comes, Buck thought, flashing Hattie an apologetic look and holding up a finger to indicate he would not, be long. Carpathia’s gonna have my neck for wasting his time.

He found Nicolae standing a few feet in front of the TV, watching
CNN
. His arms were crossed, his chin in his hand. He glanced Buck’s way and waved him in. Buck shut the door behind him, feeling as if he had been sent to the principal’s office. But Nicolae did not mention Hattie.

“Have you seen this business in Jerusalem?” he said. Buck said he had. “Strangest thing I have ever seen.”

“Not me,” Buck said.

“No?”

“I was in Tel Aviv when Russia attacked.”

Carpathia kept his eyes on the screen as
CNN
played over and over the attack on the preachers and the collapsing of the would-be assassins. “Yes,” he mumbled. “That would have been something akin to this. Something unexplainable. Heart attacks, they say.”

“Pardon?”

“The attackers are dead of heart attacks.”

“I hadn’t heard that.”

“Yes. And the Uzi did not jam. It is in perfect working order.”

Nicolae seemed transfixed by the images. He continued to watch as he talked. “I wondered what you thought of my choice for press secretary.”

“I was stunned.”

“I thought you might be. Look at this. The preachers never touched either of them. What are the odds? Were they scared to death, was that it?”

The question was rhetorical. Buck didn’t answer.

“Hm, hm, hm,” Carpathia exclaimed, the least articulate Buck had ever heard him. “Strange indeed. There is no question Plank can do the job though, do you agree?”

“Of course. I hope you know you’ve crippled the Weekly.”

“Ah! I have strengthened it. What better way to have the person I want at the top?”

Buck shuddered, relieved when Carpathia looked away from the TV at last. “This makes me feel just like Jonathan Stonagal, maneuvering people into positions.” He laughed, and Buck was pleased to see that he was kidding.

“Did you hear what happened to Eric Miller?” Buck asked.

“Your friend from Seaboard Monthly? No. What?”

“Drowned last night.”

Carpathia looked shocked. “You do not say! Dreadful!”

“Listen, Mr. Carpathia—”

“Buck, please! Call me Nicolae.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be comfortable doing that. I just wanted to apologize for bringing this girl up to meet you. She’s just a flight attendant, and—”

“Nobody is just anything,” he said, taking Buck’s arm. “Everyone is of equal value, regardless of their station.”

Carpathia led Buck to the door, insisting he be introduced. Hattie was appropriate and reserved, though she giggled when Carpathia kissed her on each cheek. He asked her about herself, her family, her job. Buck wondered if he had ever taken a Carnegie course on how to win friends and influence people.

“Cameron,” Dr. Rosenzweig whispered. “Telephone.”

Buck took it in the other room. It was Marge. “I hoped you’d be there,” she said. “You just got a call from Carolyn Miller, Eric’s wife. She’s pretty shook up and really wants to talk to you.”

“I can’t call her from here, Marge.”

“Well, get back to her as soon as you get a minute.”

“What’s it about?”

“I have no idea, but she sounded desperate. Here’s her number.”

When Buck reemerged, Carpathia was shaking hands with Hattie and then kissed her hand. “I am charmed,” he said. “Thank you, Mr. Williams. And Miss Durham, it shall be my pleasure should our paths cross again.”

Buck ushered her out and found her nearly overcome. “Some guy, huh?” he said.

“He gave me his number!” she said, nearly squealing.

“His number?”

Hattie showed Buck the business card Nicolae had handed her. It showed his title as president of the Republic of Romania, but his address was not Bucharest as one would expect. It was the Plaza Hotel, his suite number, phone number, and all. Buck was speechless. Carpathia had penciled in another phone number, not at the Plaza, but also in New York. Buck memorized it.

“We can eat at the Pan-Con Club,” Hattie said. “I don’t really want to see this pilot at one, but I think I will, just to brag about meeting Nicolae.”

“Oh, now it’s Nicolae, is it?” Buck managed, still shaken by Carpathia’s business card. “Trying to make someone jealous?”

“Something like that,” she said.

“Would you excuse me a second?” he said. “I need to make a call before we head back.”

Hattie waited in the lobby while Buck ducked around the corner and dialed Carolyn Miller. She sounded horrible, as if she had been crying for hours and hadn’t slept, which was no doubt true.

“Oh, Mr. Williams, I appreciate your calling.”

‘“course, ma’am, and I am so sorry about your loss.”

“You remember that we’ve met?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Miller. Refresh me.”

“On the presidential yacht two summers ago.”

“Certainly! Forgive me.”

“I just didn’t want you to think we’d never met. Mr. Williams, my husband called me last night before heading for the ferry. He said he was tracking a big story at the Plaza and had run into you.”

“True.”

“He told me a crazy story about how you two had a wrestling match or something over an interview with this Romanian guy who spoke at—”

“Also true. It wasn’t anything serious, ma’am. Just a disagreement. No hard feelings.”

“That’s how I took it. But that was the last conversation I’ll ever have with him, and it’s driving me crazy. Do you know how cold it was last night?”

“Nippy, as I recall,” Buck said, puzzled at her abrupt change of subject.

“Cold, sir. Too cold to be standing outside on the ferry, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And even if he was, he’s a good swimmer. He was a champion in high school.”

“All due respect, ma’am, but that had to be—what, thirty years ago?”

“But he’s still a strong swimmer. Trust me. I know.”

“What are you saying, Mrs. Miller?”

“I don’t know!” she shouted, crying. “I just wondered if you could shed any light. I mean, he fell off the ferry and, drowned? If doesn’t make any sense!”

“It doesn’t to me either, ma’am, and I wish I could help. But I can’t.”

“I know,” she said. “I was just hoping.”

“Ma’am, is someone with you, watching out for you.”

“Yes, I’m OK. I have family here.”

“I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Thank you.”

Buck could see Hattie in a reflection. She seemed patient enough. He called a friend at the telephone company. “Alex! Do me a favor. Can you still tell me who’s listed if I give you a number?”

“Long as you don’t tell anybody I’m doin’ it.”

“You know me, man.”

“Go ahead.”

Buck recited the number he had memorized from the card Carpathia had given Hattie. Alex was back to him in seconds, reading off the information as it scrolled onto his computer screen. “New York, U.N., administrative offices, secretary-general’s office, unlisted private line, bypasses switchboard, bypasses secretary. OK?”

“OK, Alex. I owe you.”

Buck was lost. He couldn’t make any of this compute. He jogged out to Hattie. “I’m gonna be another minute,” he said. “Do you mind?”

“No. As long as we can get back by one. No telling how long that pilot will wait. He’s got his daughter with him.”

Buck turned back to the phones, glad he had no interest in competing with Carpathia or this pilot for Hattie Durham’s affection. He called Steve. Marge answered and he was short with her. “Hey, it’s me. I need Plank right away.”

“Well, have a nice day yourself,” she said and rang him through.

“Steve,” he said quickly, “your boy just made his first mistake.”

“What’re you talking about, Buck?”

“Is your first job going to be announcing Carpathia as the new secretary-general?”

Silence.

“Steve? What’s next?”

“You’re a good reporter, Buck. The best. How did this get out?”

Buck told him about the business card.

“Whew! That doesn’t sound like Nicolae. I can’t imagine it was an oversight. Must have been on purpose.”

“Maybe he’s assuming this Durham woman is too ditzy to figure it out,” Buck said, “or that she wouldn’t show me. But how does he know she won’t call the number too soon and ask for him there?”

“As long as she waits until tomorrow, Buck, he’ll be all right.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You can’t use this, all right? Are we off the record?”

“Steve! Who do you think you’re talking to? Are you working for Carpathia already? You’re still my boss. You don’t want me to run with something, you just tell me. Remember?”

“Well, I’m telling you. The Kalahari Desert makes up much of Botswana where Secretary-General Ngumo is from. He returns there tomorrow a hero, having become the first leader to gain access to the Israeli fertilizer formula.”

“And how did he do that?”

“By his stellar diplomacy, of course.”

“And he cannot be expected to handle the duties of both the U.N. and Botswana during this strategic moment in Botswana history, right, Steve?”

“And why should he, when someone is so perfectly suited to step right in? We were there Monday, Buck. Who’s going to oppose this?”

“Don’t you?”

“I think it’s brilliant.”

“You’re going to be a perfect press secretary, Steve. And I’ve decided to accept your old job.”

“Good for you! Now you’ll sit on this till tomorrow, you got it?”

“Promise. But will you tell me one more thing?”

“If I can, Buck.”

“What did Eric Miller get too close to? What lead was he tracking?”

Steve’s voice became hollow, his tone flat. “All I know about Eric Miller,” he said, “is that he got too close to the railing on the Staten Island Ferry.”

RAYFORD
watched Chloe as she wandered around the Pan-Con Club, then stared out the window. He felt like a wimp. For days he had told himself not to push, not to badger her. He knew her. She was like him. She would run the other way if he pushed too hard. She had even talked him into backing off of Hattie Durham, should Hattie show up.

What was the matter with him? Nothing was as it was before or would ever be again. If Bruce Barnes was right, the disappearance of God’s people was only the beginning of the most cataclysmic period in the history of the world. And here I am, Rayford thought, worried about offending people. I’m liable to “not offend” my own daughter right into hell.

Rayford also felt bad about his approach to Hattie. He had dealt with his own wrong in having pursued her, and he regretted having led her on. But he could no longer treat her with kid gloves, either. What scared him most was that it seemed, from what Bruce was teaching, that many people would be deceived during these days. Whoever came forward with proclamations of peace and unity had to be suspect. There would be no peace. There would be no unity. This was the beginning of the end, and all would be chaos from now on.

The chaos would make peacemakers and smooth talkers only more attractive. And to people who didn’t want to admit that God had been behind the disappearances, any other explanation would salve their consciences. There was no more time for polite conversation, for gentle persuasion. Rayford had to direct people to the Bible, to the prophetic portions. He felt so limited in his understanding. He had always been an erudite reader, but this stuff from Revelation and Daniel and Ezekiel was new and strange to him. Frighteningly, it made sense. He had begun taking Irene’s Bible with him everywhere he went, reading it whenever possible. While the first officer read magazines during his downtime, Rayford would pull out the Bible.

“What in the world?” he was asked more than once.

Unashamed, he said he was finding answers and direction he had never seen before. But with his own daughter and his friend? He had been too polite.

Rayford looked at his watch. Still a few minutes before one o’clock. He caught Chloe’s eye and signaled that he was going to make a phone call. He dialed Bruce Barnes and told him what he had been thinking.

“You’re right, Rayford. I went through a few days of that, worried what people would think of me, not wanting to turn anybody off. It just doesn’t make sense anymore, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t. Bruce, I need support. I’m going to start becoming obnoxious, I’m afraid. If Chloe wants to laugh or run the other way, I’m going to force her to make a decision. She’ll have to know exactly what she’s doing. She’ll have to face what we’ve found in the Bible and deal with it. I mean, the two preachers in Israel alone are enough to give me the confidence that things are happening exactly the way the Bible said they would.”