Mark of Evil (21 page)

Harry nodded.

“Present your case,” Straworth ordered.

It was now in the lap of the defense. The court watchers had predicted that Harry’s case could consist of an array of law professors, designed to counter the parade of law professors that had already been presented by the prosecution. On the other hand, the betting money had the odds heavily against President Hewbright actually testifying. In Las Vegas the odds sat at five hundred to one.

Harry had one request. “Mr. Chief Justice, I will need a twenty-eight minute recess.”

“For what conceivable reason?”

“For the eminently conceivable reason that the
only
witness I will be calling needs at least that long in order to get over here.”

That bit of news sent ripples through the chambers.

Straworth was still visibly inflamed. “And why, pray tell, is that?”

“Because, Mr. Chief Justice, that is how long it takes to get out of the White House and over to these Senate chambers. Depending on how fast the president’s security motorcade can make it down Pennsylvania Avenue, of course.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

NEW BABYLON, IRAQ

The question was important enough that Alexander Colliquin had to repeat it again to his chief of international security. “Mr. Martisse, you’re sure about this?”

“Indeed, sir. We’ve run it up and down our chain of intelligence several times, link by link, just to make certain.”

“In Canada, you say?”

“Yes, Chancellor. In the Yukon Territory. We’re trying now to get a closer fix on the exact location.” Then Martisse added, “It looks like our global reward system is working. This delivery person responded to our public notice about payment for information on suspicious activities or the whereabouts of Remnant facilities.”

Colliquin spoke up. “And this facility . . . You think this could be linked to the Remnant?”

“I think it is very possible. The delivery man contacted our public information and reward office. The whistle-blower center. He indicated that, according to the sender’s packing slip on the boxes, a tourist hotel in Canada was receiving products from a company he was familiar with. A sophisticated digital and electronics corporation. He said that it looked suspicious for a Yukon tourist hotel to receive shipments from a company that produces military-grade defense monitoring and computing equipment. It turns out that the delivery man had once worked for that company. But after the global depression, he was fired and took on his current job.”

“And this snitch, what does he do?”

“He drives a delivery truck now, sir.”

“So could this be some kind of electronic listening station—up there in the Yukon Territory?”

“It appears to be. We put a trace on the components to the electronics company that sold them. They told us that the digital telecommunications equipment they have sold to this hotel would compete with the most advanced technology available today.”

Colliquin rubbed the solid-gold underside of his large ring, feeling the tiny, perfectly designed scales along the reptilian image. “We have to be careful not to let them know we are coming . . .”

“Yes, Your Excellency. And I have an idea about that.”

“Tell me.”

“If we bring Global Alliance forces into the area for an all-out assault, that could tip them off in advance. I suggest instead that we use the Canadian authorities to make a casual investigation. That won’t raise as much attention.”

Colliquin thought on that for a while. “Fine. But watch out for the Canadians. I’m not sure they can be trusted. They were nearly the last ones to join the Alliance. Next to England.”

“We do have substantial Global Alliance troops already stationed in Canada,” Martisse answered. “So, when the time comes to advance against this electronic listening station of the Remnant up there in the Yukon, if indeed it is one . . .”

Noticing that Alexander Colliquin was gazing off into space, he let his voice trail off. Colliquin’s face morphed into a grimace as he said something else, under his breath. “They must know . . . what I am about to do.”

“What you are about to do?” Martisse asked. “What do you mean, sir?”

“Nothing,” Colliquin snapped. “Get the Canadians on this. But they must be discreet. Don’t let them blunder this. Or heads will roll, I swear it.”

VICTORIA HARBOR, HONG KONG

It was evening, and Ethan March and Rivka sat on the third deck of Jo Li’s sleek Azimut-Benetti super yacht. Jo himself sat at the varnished mahogany deck table across from them, eating canapés and sipping Dom Perignon White Gold Jeroboam champagne.

“You are sure you don’t want a drink?” Jo asked.

Ethan and Rivka shook their heads.

“You know, this is sixty thousand dollars a bottle now,” Jo remarked, lifting his glass to study the sparkling lights of the Hong Kong skyline through his champagne. “I remember when it was only forty thousand a bottle. But then, inflation, global recession . . . it wreaks havoc with luxury items.”

Ethan smiled. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

Jo lifted an eyebrow. “Yes. Not many luxuries for you Jesus Remnant-type people?”

“No, not really. But that’s okay. The reason I’m here is to find out more about your underground economy and your system of barter and trade.”

“I know all about you, Mr. Ethan,” Jo said. “You are the disciple of Colonel Jordan.”

“Actually,” Ethan said, “more like a disciple of Jesus Christ. But I also consider it a compliment to ever be mentioned in the same breath as brave, brilliant men like Joshua Jordan or brave, brilliant women like his wife, Abigail.”

“And your people—all of these Jesus people in your group—they are how many now?”

“If you are trying to calculate the potential numbers that would be added to your financial structure, it’s millions upon millions who are coming to Christ. And when they do, they quickly realize the devilish direction that the whole Global Alliance is taking, including their BIDTag system. And they wonder why it took them so long to question a world government that electronically marks the human race. Ever since the Rapture, though, people are coming around.”

“Okay, so you’ve got impressive numbers. Which means I can make a decent profit off their transactions.” Jo eyed Ethan closely. “Though I’ve wondered about something, ever since my man Gikas cleared you for this meeting: Why didn’t you set up your own underground barter system?”

“We tried. A couple of our very sharp Remnant economists worked on it. But only on paper. They kept running into a practical roadblock.”

Jo broke into a grin. “Let me guess: your Remnant people are scattered everywhere. And are being systematically hunted, of course. So you need a buying-and-selling system among your people that is both instantaneous and global. To be one step ahead of the Alliance. That means a digital scheme, which requires the Internet. But the Alliance controls every Internet transaction.”

“Except for those inside the United States—the one country that is hanging on by a thread, still refusing to join the Alliance,” Ethan added. “Except for those transactions.”

“And the ones in my system,” Jo added with a smile. “My underground digital economy. As for America, well, that thread is about to break, I hear.”

“I would love to know how your system has managed to bypass the heavy hand of the Alliance.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Jo replied with a laugh. “Didn’t Harry Houdini say that? The point is that his tricks worked. And so do mine. I can only tell you that I have managed to exploit a loophole in the Alliance economic control regulations. But you can ask me anything else about my financial masterwork.” He gave a sigh of delight as he gestured with arms open wide to take in the expanse of his super yacht and added, “It has obviously served me very well.”

Ethan was unimpressed. “I need some assurance that your underground economy is not tied to criminal elements. Drugs, prostitution, money laundering, kidnapping, any of that.”

Jo grew solemn and put his champagne glass down along with a half-eaten canapé. “I am a financial wizard. London School of Economics. And also a smart technology fellow. Stanford University. With honors. So I grow weary of that kind of question. This is no illegal money-laundering operation. Not some second-rate Ponzi scheme. Want to know the type of people who buy and sell in my economy? Business people who don’t trust this new global government. I can supply you with plenty of testimonials. Others are people who think their rights have been taken away. Some are the doomsday types who keep guns and gasmasks in their basement and grow their own vegetables. Some people join my system because they are afraid. Others just think it’s good business.”

He abruptly stood. “I will think on our meeting today. And will
give some thought to allowing your Jesus Remnant people to join my buy-and-sell economy. I must admit, I admire their courage in not getting BIDTagged. Even if I don’t agree with their religion.” He reached out his hand to shake with Ethan. “I will let you know my decision.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

JERUSALEM, ISRAEL

Micah and his fellow Jesus followers clustered in a corner of the grounds of the Yad Vashem memorial, near the long lane of trees that had been planted through the decades in memory of Jewish heroes and their protectors.

Earlier that day the group had left Rabbi ZG’s apartment in the Old City section of Jerusalem. Now they awaited the arrival of a few others—members of the core group, the most trusted members of the Jerusalem Remnant. A few thought holding a Jesus meeting in the open at the Holocaust memorial grounds was risky. On the other hand, some of the secretive places in the old Jewish Quarter were now being regularly raided. Neither the Global Alliance police nor its peacekeeping force that occupied Jerusalem had ever come up there
to the memorial. The same went for the Alliance drone-bots. Micah had reliable information that Prime Minister Sol Benksy had negotiated with the Alliance to make that entire area a “no-fly/no-patrol zone.”

A few stragglers jogged their way over to join the group. Micah felt his Allfone watch buzz on his wrist. He looked at the square miniscreen and noticed a message icon in the corner. It was from Rabbi ZG. He put his finger to the icon and the message appeared.

Micah, important news. Bishop Dibold Kora is giving another of his global addresses. You can get it on channel 3-Q. Started at 11.

When Micah looked at the time function on his watch, he realized Bishop Kora was already fifteen minutes into his speech. He told everyone to crowd around him as he pulled out his pocket microweb TV and tabbed onto channel 3-Q. Bishop Kora appeared on the screen, a man in his fifties with a head of curly silver hair and a smile that always seemed to be permanently pasted onto his face. He was decked out in his usual ecclesiastical dress—red velvet jacket, black shirt, and baby-blue clerical collar.

Years before, Kora had made huge headlines when he managed to forge an international coalition of the world’s religions, getting them behind the Alliance’s international treaty on global warming and environmental protection, declaring that the “defense of Mother Earth is the highest spiritual duty.” In the wake of all that, he’d created the One Movement.

But few could have foreseen the heavy-handed legal enforcement that would follow, including international takeovers of industries in noncompliance. Even companies in Chicago, Micah’s boyhood city, where he and his parents had been living before they ended up moving to Israel. But then, neither Micah nor his family could have imagined the climactic events that would follow their immigration to Israel: an ill-fated invasion of that tiny nation by a Russian-Arab League army. A war that looked impossible for Israel to defend against, until
an amazing rescue occurred—an event nonbelieving journalists and pundits tried to ascribe to a mere “cataclysm of nature.” That is when Micah and his parents started realizing that something utterly stupendous and supernatural was happening—something of biblical proportions.

Equally miraculous was the disappearance of millions of Christians around the world. And the troubling capitulation of Israel’s prime minister to overtures by Alexander Colliquin that resulted in a covenant that promised lasting peace in Israel and Jewish control over the Temple Mount so that a Jewish temple could be built there.

It was all coming true—not only the Old Testament prophecies, but also the ones in the New Testament that Micah and his parents had been secretly studying. Christ as the long-awaited Messiah? By then it was undeniable. Micah couldn’t help thinking back on all of that as he studied Bishop Kora, who was wrapping up his address on the little screen.

And so, at long last, it is here. A seminal moment in the history of this planet. A coming together of all the world’s religions in a single statement of common faith. And so we have called it “Our Common Faith,” a document unifying our belief and settling our former differences. A promise of an end to religious strife, bigotry, and ethnic racism. And an end to fear and mistrust. By this common faith, every one of you can become a spiritual king or queen, a prince or princess, royalty over the destiny of your own soul. Churches, synagogues, mosques, temples, and centers of worship around the world have begun to embrace it. The long journey of man and woman away from the intolerant and barbaric beliefs of the past and those dangerous, prehistoric allegiances to religious texts and books we once thought were inspired, but which in the end have only caused dissension and strife and, yes, even holy wars and bloody crusades of all kinds.