Mark of Evil (49 page)

At that same moment across the border in neighboring India, hundreds of thousands of forgotten and malnourished souls in the slums of Dharavi and Calcutta, having witnessed and heard the same message in their Marathi and Hindi languages, knelt down in piles of garbage and prayed for Jesus Christ, the Savior, to redeem their souls and to enter their hearts and to grant them eternal life. In upscale Bangalore, the city of seven million, with its international hub of IT companies, Indian technicians and professionals halted their work to consider what they had just seen and heard.

Identical scenes were taking place throughout the world: in the Balkans and in Red Square in Moscow, and on the stark plains of Mongolia among the tent dwellers, and across all of Europe and down through all of the Arab nations of the Middle East, and over the entire
continent of Africa in all of its cities and towns and among the far-flung tribes living on the veldt, and in the deep rainforests of Brazil and the remote mountain villages of Peru, and up through Central America and Mexico, and across the U.S.A. from New Orleans to Duluth and Bangor to San Francisco and all points in between, and across Canada, and on every Pacific island with human inhabitants, and in every city in Australia and among the ranchers and the Aborigines in the remote regions of the Outback.

The four and a half billion people living in China and in the rest of Asia all witnessed the message from Rabbi ZG that day. In Beijing alone, it was estimated that some six million Chinese citizens bowed their knee to Jesus of Nazareth.

In the ravaged city of Athens, Gikas, the local go-between for Jo Li, stood with his bodyguard when he was confronted with the stunning 3-D message that spoke about salvation by God’s grace and through faith in His Son Jesus Christ. Gikas quietly dismissed his bodyguard and walked up to the Areopagus hill alone, to the place where Ethan March had told him the story about the apostle Paul and his preaching about knowing the “unknown God.” As he sat up on the stone outcropping, he knew that this was the time for knowing. And for the first time in his adult life he talked directly to God and said that he wanted to trust in Jesus and be saved.

HONG KONG

In the city of Hong Kong, with a view of Victoria Harbor, Hadley Brooking was a man with a lot on his mind. He sat in the penthouse of Zhang Lee, jiggling the ice in the glass of tea that Zhang had served him. He didn’t know exactly how much the easygoing Christian real-estate mogul really knew about him. But regardless, even if Zhang
had an inkling about the truth—that Brooking had been working as a double informant for the governments of both England and the United States for years and that even his superficial collaboration with Jo Li was just one more part of that mission—still, the former English solicitor-turned-spy hadn’t called on Zhang because of that.

He had come because of something else. For personal reasons. It started when he was confronted, like billions of others, with the 3-D video statement from Dr. Terrance Radameyer, the imagery forensics expert who explained how the hoax perpetrated by Colliquin and the Alliance had camouflaged the disappearance of millions of Jesus followers in the Rapture. But even more than that, it was the message from Rabbi ZG that had jabbed at something deep inside of Brooking, as if he had been poked with an ice pick.

“You see,” Brooking said, “I was raised in the Church of England. Baptized and as a boy learned the catechism and all of that, and I became rather knowledgeable about all of the Christian doctrines of the faith, you know. But never felt, well, transformed by any of it, you might say. It stayed in my head. But never went any further.”

“It’s good to have it in your head,” Zhang said with a smile. “But it’s very, very necessary to have it in your heart too. That’s where the transformation comes.”

“And the sin business . . .”

“Sin resides in the human heart,” Zhang said. “When you willingly invite Jesus to reside in your heart, sin is forgiven. A new life begins.”

“New life, yes. That’s what I’m thinking about. I’ve lived a life that’s been rather full of secrets.”

“Yet there are no secrets from God.”

Brooking nodded. He knew that, but had avoided it all of those years.

Zhang studied the Englishman closely. “Jesus is knocking on the door of your heart. You must decide today. Will you open the door?
Will you tell Him what you believe about yourself, and about Him, and about what Jesus did on the cross and how He rose from the dead? And then will you allow Him to enter? Will you?”

Such a decision seemed to Brooking, for the very first time in his life, to be so effortless, so self-evident. Those doctrines he had once learned in his head but that felt as cold and dead as the stone walls of the little country church in Staffordshire he had attended in his youth—those truths now seemed to have been birthed into new life.

“I shall,” Brooking said, nodding as he said it. “Yes. The time has come.”

Zhang invited his guest to pray. Both men knelt down on the floor, and Brooking began a halting prayer, acknowledging that God had sent His Son, Jesus, to save sinners like himself by dying on the cross as the perfect sacrifice—and yes, he was such a sinner, Brooking added. He spoke to God about how he did believe the Bible’s account of Jesus, and about His life, and about His death. And yes, that he believed in Jesus’ actual resurrection too. And that he knew Jesus could redeem him from judgment and rescue his soul in every way that such a rescue could be accomplished. And that he now wanted that, more than any other thing in the world.

But when Brooking was about to finish, his throat tightened and his voice wavered. “Oh, God, I have wandered so far from You,” he said with a frankness that held nothing back and with tears that began to fill his eyes and would soon stream down his cheeks. “I have ignored the knocking on the door of my heart. I always knew somehow that the Savior was out there, on the other side, waiting for me. But I ignored Him. Dear God, please, if You would, permit Your Son, Jesus, to enter. I’ve bolted the door for too long. I open it now. My heart is ready. I do not want to waste another minute living apart from You. I have known the face of evil. Its shadow is spreading over the entire world. But You are mighty, Lord. I put my trust in You and in Jesus, my Savior . . .”

UTAH

Somewhere in the desert in Utah, John Galligher pulled the truck over to the side of the road so they could await a U.S. Army transport helicopter. They had been told that it would soon pick up Galligher and Ethan and, of course, the body of Chiro Hashimoto. While they waited, Galligher told Ethan he needed to make a call, so he climbed out of the truck and strolled out a few yards onto the sandy ground by a big yucca bush and he dialed Helen, his ex-wife. When it rang eight times and she hadn’t answered, he figured she’d seen the incoming number flash on her Allfone and that she wouldn’t pick up. But on the ninth ring, she did.

Galligher stumbled over himself a little at first as he spoke. Helen didn’t say a thing. He apologized for his failings as a husband and as a man. And then he told her that something pretty amazing had happened to him over the last two years and how he had become a follower of Jesus. And that for the first time in his life he had peace inside—and it reminded him of that lake in New Hampshire where they had taken their honeymoon, the one with the long, funny Indian name. The place where the surface of the water in the early morning was as smooth and peaceful as glass and everything about life seemed right at the time. But this peace that he had now was even better than that, he said, because he knew that it was real and it was forever.

Galligher ended by saying that he had to tell her about his new life with Jesus, because if he didn’t, it would be the biggest mistake of his life.

Finally Helen spoke up. She said simply, “You sound different.”

“I am,” he replied.

After a moment of silence she added, “Okay. So, John, go back to that part about you and Jesus. Tell me that again . . .”

SIXTY-FIVE

ONE MONTH LATER

Ethan March had heard rumors about Colliquin’s reaction to the Remnant victory at Bluffdale. An inside source in New Babylon had told him that when the Remnant’s, rather than Colliquin’s, message went global, the Alliance chancellor happened to be standing before a wall of a hundred monitors keyed to different parts of the globe. The video feed had been designed to verify the successful launch of Colliquin’s digital control over the planet. But instead, Colliquin caught the horrifying sight of millions of humans receiving a message about Jesus and then bowing their knees to Him.

As the story went, Colliquin then turned from the wall of monitors, stunned, almost robot-like in his movements, tripping a bit and then striding out of the room with a face scarlet with rage, saying
nothing. It was shortly after that when Colliquin began making his terrifying threats to retaliate against Jesus followers everywhere. His rage would now build to epic proportions. Ethan was sure of that.

And then there were some things that Ethan was less certain about. Like providing an economic system for his Remnant followers while Colliquin tightened his net. Interestingly, a courier of Jo Li had contacted Ethan and said his boss now wanted to meet again and to offer his apologies. That he was done with Colliquin and he wanted to talk terms with Ethan. The messenger shared a quip that he said was straight from Jo Li himself. “ ‘Better to do business with a Jesus-cross than with a double-cross.’ ”

On any other day, all of that would have occupied Ethan’s mind. But not today. Not on this occasion.

In a small fishing village on the island of Great Cumbrae off the coast of Scotland, Ethan gathered with his closest friends. Jimmy Louder was there, and John Galligher, and so were Pack and Victoria McHenry, Zhang Lee, and Nick Akonos. Bobby Robert had come all the way from White Horse, the heart of the Yukon. Alvin Leander showed up, although Judge Rice was unable to attend—he had recently suffered a mild heart attack and couldn’t travel.

Bart Kingston and Terri Schultz, however, had disappeared from the AmeriNews headquarters. Neither Ethan nor his leadership had heard directly from them, but a Remnant contact in North America reported that they had made it to a safe house in Nova Scotia. Everyone was anxious to verify that.

Ethan also thought of some others. Those who couldn’t join in the festivities. The ones who had died valiantly while resisting the evil empire. Brave ones like Chiro and Dr. Adis. And Andre Chifflet, who gave his life in the rescue mission to save Ethan’s.

But those who had come were now gathered together in a little church perched on a hill that overlooked the waters of the Firth of Clyde. The usually somber Rabbi Zechariah Gamaliel stood before
them with a grin that spread over his bearded face. Ethan was wearing his best suit, the only one he owned. And next to him, in a white dress full of delicate lace, Rivka held tightly to his hand with one of her own, as if she would not let him go. A lesser bride would have been exasperated at having to wear her other arm in a sling, but not Rivka. Nothing was going to dim this day for her.

Ethan had just slipped a plain gold ring onto her finger, and the joy on her face was incandescent. Marriage, Rabbi ZG had just told them, was a reflection, a portrait, of the relationship between Christ and His church. He was the Bridegroom and the church His bride. Rabbi ZG spoke of the love and honor and respect that was to be exchanged between a husband and a wife.

Ethan cracked a little smile when his strong-willed bride unhesitatingly declared her pledge to obey her new husband, because at that exact moment Rivka’s bridesmaid, young Meifeng, the Hong Kong teenager, had started to giggle.

When Ethan finally wrapped his arms around his new bride and kissed her passionately, a cheer rose up from the small crowd. As Ethan studied the pretty, smiling face of his bride, he saw the glint of tears starting to show. He only hoped he could live up to the standard set before him—to love her as Christ loved the church and gave Himself for it. The Bible commanded that of him, of course. But Ethan also believed Rivka deserved it, more than any woman he’d ever known.