The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (48 page)

Carpathia pulled an extra chair from his conference table, added it to the two before his desk, and sat with Buck and Steve.
Right out of a management book,
Buck thought.
Break down the barrier between the superior and the subordinate.

Yet despite the attempt at an equal playing field, it was clear the intent of the meeting was to impress Buck. And he was impressed. Hattie and Steve had already changed enough to be nearly unrecognizable. And every time Buck looked at Carpathia’s strong, angular features and quick, seemingly genuine disarming smile, he wished with everything in him that the man was who he appeared to be and not who Buck knew him to be.

He never forgot, never lost sight of the fact that he was in the presence of the slickest, most conniving personality in history. He only wished he knew someone as charming as Carpathia who was real.

Buck felt for Steve, and yet he had not been consulted before Steve had left
Global Weekly
for Carpathia’s staff. Now, much as Buck wanted to tell him about his newfound faith, he could trust no one. Unless Carpathia had the supernatural ability to know everything, Buck hoped and prayed he would not detect that Buck was an enemy agent within his camp. “Let me begin with a humorous idiom,” Carpathia said, “and then we will excuse Steve and have a heart-to-heart, just you and me, hmm?”

Buck nodded.

“Something I have heard only since coming to this country is the phrase ‘the elephant in the room.’ Have you heard that phrase, Buck?”

“You mean about people who get together and don’t talk about the obvious, like the fact that one of them has just been diagnosed with a terminal illness?”

“Exactly. So, let us talk about the elephant in the room and be done with it, and then we can move on. All right?”

Buck nodded again, his pulse increasing.

“I confess I was confused and a little hurt that you did not attend the private meeting where I installed the new ambassadors. However, as it turned out, it would have been as traumatic for you as it was for the rest of us.”

It was all Buck could do to keep from being sarcastic. One thing he could not and would not do was apologize. How could he say he was sorry for missing a meeting he had not missed?

“I wanted to be there and wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Buck said. Carpathia seemed to look right through him and sat as if waiting for the rest of the thought. “Frankly,” Buck added, “that whole day seems a blur to me now.” A blur with vivid details he would never forget.

Carpathia seemed to loosen up. His formal pose melted and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked from Buck to Steve and back. He looked peeved. “So, all right,” he said, “apparently there is no excuse, no apology, no explanation.”

Buck glanced at Steve, who seemed to be trying to communicate with his eyes and a slight nod, as if to say,
Say something, Buck! Apologize! Explain!

“What can I say?” Buck said. “I feel badly about that day.” That was as close as he would come to saying what they wanted him to say. Buck knew Steve was innocent. Steve truly believed Buck had not been there. Carpathia, of course, had masterminded and choreographed the whole charade. Acting upset that he wasn’t getting an apology or an explanation was the perfect move, Buck thought. Clearly, Carpathia was fishing for some evidence that Buck knew what had happened. All Buck could do was play dumb and be evasive and pray that God would somehow blind Carpathia to the truth that Buck was a believer and that he had been protected from susceptibility to Carpathia’s power.

“All right,” Carpathia said, sitting back and composing himself again. “We all feel bad, do we not? I grieve the loss of two compatriots, one a dear friend for many years.” Buck felt his stomach turn. “Now, Buck, I want to talk to you as a journalist, and we will excuse our friend Mr. Plank.”

Steve stood and patted Buck on the shoulder, leaving quietly. Buck became painfully aware that now it was just him and God sitting knee-to-knee with Nicolae Carpathia.

But it wasn’t knee-to-knee for long. Nicolae suddenly rose and went back around his desk to the executive chair behind it. Just before he sat, he touched the intercom button, and Buck heard the door open behind him.

Hattie Durham whispered, “Excuse me,” took the extra chair from in front of the desk, and put it back at the conference table. As she was leaving, she adjusted and straightened the chair Steve had used. Just as quietly, she slipped out. Buck thought that very strange, this seemingly scripted arrangement of the entire meeting, from the formal announcement of his presence, to the staging of who would be there and where they would sit. With the office now back to the way it was when Buck entered and Carpathia ensconced behind his massive desk, all pretense of equalizing the power base was gone.

Yet Carpathia still had the charm turned all the way up. He intertwined his fingers and stared at Buck, smiling. “Cameron Williams,” he said slowly. “How does it feel to be the most celebrated journalist of your time?”

What kind of a question was that? It was precisely because Buck didn’t ask such questions that he
was
a respected journalist. “Right now I’m just a demoted hack,” he said.

“And humble besides,” Carpathia said, grinning. “In a moment I am going to make clear to you that even though your stock may have fallen at
Global Weekly
, it has not fallen in the eyes of the rest of the world, and certainly not with me. I should have been more upset by your missing my meeting than your publisher was, and yet he overreacted. We can put these things behind us and move on. One mistake does not negate a lifetime of achievement.”

Carpathia paused as if he expected Buck to respond. Buck was becoming more and more fond of silence. It seemed to be the right choice with Carpathia, and it certainly was the way God had led him during the murderous meeting when Carpathia had polled everyone to assess what they had seen. Buck believed silence had saved his life.

“By the way,” Carpathia said when it was clear Buck had nothing to say, “do you have with you your cover story on the theories behind the vanishings?”

Buck couldn’t hide his surprise. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Carpathia shrugged. “Steve told me about it. I would love to see it.”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to show it to anyone until the
Weekly
gets the final draft.”

“Surely they have seen your working copy.”

“Of course.”

“Steve said you might want a quote or two from me.”

“Frankly, unless you have something new, I think your views have already been so widely broadcast that they would be old to our readers.”

Carpathia looked hurt.

“I mean,” Buck said, “you still hold to the nuclear reaction with natural forces idea, right? That lightning may have triggered some spontaneous interaction between all the stockpiled nuclear weapons, and—”

“You know your friend Dr. Rosenzweig also subscribes to that theory.”

“I understand that, yes sir.”

“But it will not be represented in your article?”

“Sure it will. I thought the question was whether I needed a fresh quote from you. Unless your view has changed, I do not.”

Carpathia looked at his watch. “As you know, I am on a tight schedule. Your trip was all right? Accommodations acceptable? A good lunch? Dr. Rosenzweig filled you in some?”

Buck nodded to every question.

“Assuming he told you about the U.N. treaty with Israel and that the signing will be a week from today in Jerusalem, let me extend a personal invitation to you to be there.”

“I doubt the
Weekly
would send a Chicago staff writer to an international event of that magnitude.”

“I am not asking that you join the press corps of thousands from around the world who will be seeking credentials as soon as the announcement is made. I am inviting you to be part of my delegation, to sit at the table with me. It will be a privilege no other media person in the world will have.”

“
Global Weekly
has a policy that its journalists are not to accept any favors that might—”

“Buck, Buck,” Carpathia said. “I am sorry to interrupt, but I will be very surprised if you are still an employee of
Global Weekly
a week from today. Very surprised.”

Buck raised his eyebrows and looked skeptically at Carpathia. “Do you know something I don’t know?” And as soon as it was out of his mouth, Buck realized he had unintentionally asked the core question of this meeting.

Carpathia laughed. “I know of no plans to fire you, no. I think the punishment for your blown assignment has already been meted out. And though you turned down an offer of employment from me before, I truly believe I have an opportunity for you that will change your mind.”

Don’t count on it,
Buck thought. But he said, “I’m listening.”

“Before I get into that,” Carpathia said, stalling, a maddening trait of his that never failed to annoy Buck, “let me just reflect on something. Do you remember when I assured you that I could make a problem go away for you?”

Did Buck remember? Up to the day of the murders, it had been his most chilling look at Carpathia. An informant of Buck’s, a Welshman with whom he had gone to college, had turned up dead after getting too close to an international banking scheme involving his own boss, Joshua Todd-Cothran, head of the London Exchange.

Buck had flown to England to investigate with a Scotland Yard friend, only to be nearly killed himself when the Yard agent died in a car bombing. Buck determined that what had been ruled the suicide of his Welsh friend had actually been a homicide, and Buck had had to escape Britain under a phony name. When he got back to New York, none other than Nicolae Carpathia promised him that if Todd-Cothran had been involved in anything underhanded, Carpathia himself would take care of it. Not long after, Todd-Cothran died before Buck’s eyes at Carpathia’s hand in a double murder that only Buck seemed to recall.

“I remember,” Buck said flatly, the understatement of his life.

“I made clear that I would not tolerate insincerity or deviousness in my administration of the U.N. And the Todd-Cothran situation took care of itself, did it not?”

Took care of itsel
f
?
Buck remained silent.

“Do you believe in luck, Mr. Williams?”

“No.”

“You do not believe that luck comes to those who do the right things?”

“No.”

“I do. I always have. Oh, the occasional bumbler or even criminal gets lucky once in a while. But usually the better someone does his job, the luckier he seems to be. You follow?”

“No.”

“Let me simplify. You were in dire danger. People around you were dying. I told you I would take care of that, and yet obviously I could have nothing personally to do with it. I confess that when I so boldly assured you that I could make your problems go away, I was not sure how I would effect that. Not being a religious person, I have to say that in this case, good karma was with me. Would you not agree?”

“To be perfectly honest with you, sir, I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“And you wonder why I like you so much?” Carpathia smiled broadly. “You are a person I need! What I am saying is that you and I both had a problem. You were on someone’s hit list, and I had two people in my trust who were involved in serious crimes. By committing suicide and killing Todd-Cothran in the process, my old friend Jonathan Stonagal took care of the problems we both had. That is good karma, if I understand my Eastern friends.”

“So while you say you’re grieving over the deaths of your friends, in reality you’re glad they’re both dead.”

Carpathia sat back, looking impressed. “Precisely. Glad for your sake. I grieve their loss. They were old friends and once trusted advisers, even mentors. But when they went bad, I was going to have to do something about it. And make no mistake, I would have. But Jonathan did it for me.”

“Imagine that,” Buck said. Carpathia’s eyes bored into him as he seemed to examine Buck’s mind.

“I never cease to be amazed,” Nicolae continued, “at how quickly things change.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“Not a month ago I served in the Romanian senate. The next minute I was president of the country, and an hour later I became secretary-general of the United Nations.”

Buck smiled at Carpathia’s attempt at hyperbole, and yet his ascent to power had seemed almost that fast. Buck’s smile faded when Carpathia added, “It is almost enough to make an atheist believe in God.”

“But you ascribe it to good karma,” Buck said.

“Frankly,” Carpathia said, “it merely humbles me. In many ways it does seem this has been my destiny, but I never would have dreamed it or imagined it, let alone planned it. I have sought no office since I ran for the Romanian senate, and yet this has been thrust upon me. I can do nothing less than give it my all and hope I act in a manner worthy of the trust that has been placed in me.”

A month earlier, Buck would have cursed the man to his face. He wondered if his sentiment showed. Apparently it did not.

“Buck,” Carpathia continued, “I need you. And this time I am not going to take no for an answer.”

Rayford clicked off his cell phone after talking with Bruce Barnes. Rayford had asked if he could come a few minutes early that night to show Bruce something, but he did not tell him what it was. He pulled the note from Hattie from his breast pocket and spread it across the steering wheel. What in the world did it mean, and how did she, or obviously her boss, know where to find him?

His cell phone chirped. He pushed a button and spoke into the speaker embedded in the visor in front of him. “Ray Steele,” he said.

“Daddy, have you been on the phone?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Earl’s been trying to reach you.”

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know. Sounds serious though. I told him you were on the way home and he was surprised. He said something about nobody ever keeping him informed about anything. He thought you were coming back from Dallas later and—”

“So did I.”

“Anyway, he had been hoping to catch you at O’Hare before you left.”

“I’ll call him. See you tonight. I’m going to go a little early to talk with Bruce. You can come with me and wait in the outer office, or we can take two cars.”

“Yeah, right, Dad. I’m so sure I’ll wait in the outer office and have to face Buck alone. I don’t think so. You go ahead. I’ll be a few minutes late.”

“Oh, Chloe.”

“Don’t start, Dad.”

Buck felt bold. Curious, but bold. Certainly he wanted to hear what Carpathia had in mind, but it seemed the man was most impressed when Buck spoke his mind. Buck wasn’t ready to tell him all that he knew and what he really thought, and he probably never would, but he felt he owed it to himself to speak up now.

“I probably shouldn’t have come without knowing what you wanted,” Buck said. “I almost didn’t. I took my time getting back to Steve.”

“Oh, let us be frank and serious,” Carpathia said. “I am a diplomat, and I am sincere. You must know me well enough by now to know that.” He paused as if waiting for Buck to assure him it was true. Buck did not even nod. “But, come, come. You do not apologize or explain why you ignored my last invitation, and yet I hold no grudge. You could not have afforded to snub me again.”

“I couldn’t? What would have happened to me?”

“Perhaps it would have gotten back to Stanton Bailey again, and you would have been demoted even further. Or fired. Disgraced either way. I am not naive, Buck. I know the origin of your nickname, and it is part of what I admire so much about you. But you cannot keep bucking me. It is not that I consider myself anything special, but the world and the news media do. People ignore me at their peril.”

“So I should be afraid of you, and that’s why I should look favorably on whatever role you’re about to offer me?”

“Oh, no! Afraid of ignoring me, yes, but only for the obvious, practical reasons I just outlined. But that fear should motivate you only to come when I ask and provide your way. It should never be the basis on which you decide to work with me. It will not take fear to persuade you on that score.” Buck wanted to ask what it would take, but it was clear that was what Nicolae wanted him to ask, so he again said nothing.

“What is that old phrase from the movies you Americans are so fond of? ‘An offer you cannot refuse’? That is what I have for you.”

“Rayford, I hate to do this to you, but we’ve got to talk face-to-face, and this afternoon.”

“Earl, I’m almost home.”

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important.”

“What’s up?”

“If I could tell you over the phone, I wouldn’t be apologizing about insisting on the face-to-face, would I?”

“You want me to head back there right now?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry.”

“There are laws and there are rules,” Carpathia was saying. “Laws I obey. Rules I do not mind ignoring if I can justify it. For instance, in your country you are not allowed to bring your own food into a sporting arena. Something about wanting to keep all the concession money for management. Fine. I can see why they would have such a rule, and if I were the owner, I would probably try to enforce the same. But I would not consider it a criminal act to smuggle in my own snack. You follow me?”

“I guess.”

“There is a rule that pertains to heads of state and official bodies, like the United Nations. It is understood that only in a repressive dictatorship would the ruler have any ownership or financial interest in a major news media outlet.”

“Absolutely.”

“But is it a law?”

“In the United States it is.”

“But internationally?”

“Not uniformly.”

“There you go.”

Carpathia clearly wanted Buck to ask where he was going, but Buck would not. “You are fond of the term
bottom line
,” Nicolae said. “I have heard you use it. I know what it means. The bottom line here is that I am going to purchase major media, and I want you to be part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“Part of the management team. I will become sole owner of the great newspapers of the world, the television networks, the wire services. You may run for me any one of those you wish.”

“The secretary-general of the U.N. owning major media? How could you ever possibly justify that?”

“If laws need to be changed, they will change. If ever the time was right to have a positive influence on the media, Buck, it is now. Do you not agree?”

“I do not.”

“Millions have vanished. People are scared. They are tired of war, tired of bloodshed, tired of chaos. They need to know that peace is within our grasp. The response to my plan to disarm the world has been met with almost unanimous favor.”

“Not by the American militia movement.”

“Bless them,” Carpathia said, smiling. “If we accomplish what I have proposed, do you really think a bunch of zealots running around in the woods wearing fatigues and shooting off popguns will be a threat to the global community? Buck, I am merely responding to the heartfelt wishes of the decent citizens of the world. Of course there will still be bad apples, and I would never forbid the news media to give them fair coverage, but I do this with the purest of motives. I do not need money. I have a sea of money.”