The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (60 page)

“You’re the best, Marge.”

“Flattery will get you, Buck.”

“Get me what?”

“It’ll just get you.”

“What about my rabbi?”

“Your rabbi says he’s refusing all news contacts until after he presents his findings.”

“And when is that?”

“Word just came today that CNN is giving him an hour of uninterrupted time on their international satellite. Jews will be able to see it all over the world at the same time, but of course it will be in the middle of the night for some of them.”

“And when is this?”

“Monday afternoon, after the signing of the treaty. Signing is at 10 a.m. Jerusalem time. Rabbi Ben-Judah goes on the air for an hour at two in the afternoon.”

“Pretty shrewd, going on while the world’s press elite is crowding Jerusalem.”

“All these religious types are shrewd, Buck. The guy who’ll probably be the next pope will be at the treaty signing, schmoozing the Israelis. This rabbi thinks he’s so all-fired important that the treaty signing will be upstaged by the reading of his research paper. Be sure I’m right on my TV schedule there, Buck. I want to be absolutely certain I miss that one.”

“Aw, c’mon, Marge. He’s going to tell you how to spot the Messiah.”

“I’m not even Jewish.”

“Neither am I, but I’d sure want to be able to recognize the Messiah. Wouldn’t you?”

“You want me to get serious and tell you the truth one time here, Buck? I think I’ve seen the Messiah. I think I recognize him. If there’s really supposed to be somebody sent from God to save the world, I think he’s the new secretary-general of the United Nations.”

Buck shivered.

Rayford was priority listed as a first-class passenger for the next flight to Chicago out of Baltimore. He called Chloe to let her know why he would be later than expected.

“Hattie Durham’s been trying to reach you.”

“I’ve been on my cell. What does she want?”

“She’s trying to set up a meeting with you and Carpathia before you become his pilot.”

“I’m going to fly him round-trip to Tel Aviv. Why do I have to meet him?”

“More likely he feels he has to meet you. Hattie told him you were a Christian.”

“Oh, great! He’ll never trust me.”

“Probably wants to keep an eye on you.”

“I want to talk to Hattie in person, anyway. When does he want to see me?”

“Tomorrow.”

“My life’s getting too busy all of a sudden. What’s new with you?”

“Something more from my secret admirer today,” she said. “Candy this time.”

“Candy!” Rayford said, spooked by the fears Leonard Gustafson had planted. “You didn’t eat any of it, did you?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“Just don’t touch that stuff till you know who it’s from.”

“Oh, Dad!”

“You never know, hon. Please, just don’t take any chances.”

“All right, but these are my favorites! They look so good.”

“Don’t even open them until we know, OK?”

“All right, but you’re going to want some too. They’re the same ones you always bring me from New York, from that one little department-store chain.”

“Windmill Mints from Holman Meadows?”

“Those are the ones.”

That was the height of insult. How many times had Rayford mentioned to Hattie that he had to get those mints from that store during layovers in New York. She had even accompanied him more than once. So Hattie wasn’t even trying to hide that she was sending the mysterious gifts. What was the point? It didn’t seem to fit as vengeance for the cavalier way he had treated her. What did it have to do with Chloe? And was Carpathia aware of—or even behind—something so pedestrian?

Rayford would find out, that was sure.

Buck felt alive again. His life had been in such turmoil since the disappearances, he had wondered if it would ever settle back into the hectic norm he so enjoyed. His spiritual journey had been one thing, his demotion and relocation another. But now he seemed back in the good graces of the brass at
Global Weekly
, and he had used his instincts to trade for what he considered the top-breaking stories in the world.

He sat in his new makeshift home office, faxing, e-mailing, phoning, working with Marge and with reporters at
Weekly
, and making contacts for himself as well. He had a lot of people to interview in a short time, and all the developments seemed to be breaking at once.

Though part of him was horrified at what had happened, Buck enjoyed the rush of it. He desperately wanted to convince his own family of the truth. His father and brother would hear none of it, however, and if he had not been busy with challenging, exciting work, that fact alone would have driven him crazy.

Buck had just a few days to get his work done before and after the treaty signing. It seemed his whole life was on fast-forward now, trying to cram as much into seven years as he could. He didn’t know what heaven on earth would be like, though Bruce was trying to teach him and Rayford and Chloe. He longed for the Glorious Appearing and the thousand-year reign of Christ on the earth. But in his mind, until he learned and knew more, anything normal he wanted to accomplish—like investigative reporting and writing, falling in love, getting married, maybe having a child—all had to be done soon.

Chloe was the best part of this new life. But did he have the time to do justice to a relationship that promised to be more than anything he had ever experienced? She was different from any woman he had known, and yet he couldn’t put a finger on that difference. Her faith had enriched her and made her a new person, and yet he had been attracted to her before either of them had received Christ.

The idea that their meeting might have been part of some divine plan boggled his mind. How he wished they had met years before and had been ready together for the Rapture! If he was going to get any time with her before starting his trip to Israel, it would have to be that very day.

Buck looked at his watch. He had time for one more call, then he would reach Chloe.

Rayford dozed with his earphones on in first class. Images from the news filled the screen in front of him, but he had lost interest in reports of record crime waves throughout the United States. The name Carpathia finally roused him. The United Nations Security Council had been meeting several hours every day, finalizing plans for the one-world currency and the massive disarmament plan the secretary-general had instituted. Originally, the idea was to destroy 90 percent of weapons and donate the remaining 10 percent to the U.N. Now each contributing country would also invest its own soldiers in the U.N. peacekeeping forces.

Carpathia had asked the president of the United States to head up the verification committee, a highly controversial move. Enemies of the U.S. claimed Fitzhugh would be biased and untrustworthy, making certain they destroyed their weapons while the U.S. hoarded its own.

Carpathia himself addressed these issues in his customarily direct and sympathetic way. Rayford shuddered as he listened. Undoubtedly, he would have trusted and supported this man if Rayford hadn’t been a Christian.

“The United States has long been a keeper of the peace,” Carpathia said. “They will lead the way, destroying their weapons of destruction and shipping to New Babylon the remaining 10 percent. Peoples of the world will be free to come and inspect the work of the U.S., assuring themselves of full compliance and then following in like manner.

“Let me just add this,” the secretary-general said. “This is a massive, major undertaking that could take years. Every country could justify month after month of procedural protocol, but we must not let this occur. The United States of America will set the example, and no other country will take longer than they do to destroy their weapons and donate the rest. By the time the new United Nations headquarters is completed in New Babylon, the weapons will be in place.

“The era of peace is at hand, and the world is finally, at long last, on the threshold of becoming one global community.”

Carpathia’s pronouncement was met with thunderous applause, even from the press.

Later, on the same newscast, Rayford saw a brief special on the new
Air Force One
, a 777 which would be delivered to Washington’s Dulles Airport and then flown to New York to await its official maiden voyage under the control of “a new captain to be announced shortly. The new man has been culled from a list of top pilots from the major airlines.”

In other news, Carpathia was quoted as saying that he and the ecumenical council of the meeting of religious leaders from around the world would have an exciting announcement by the next afternoon.

Buck reached the assistant to Archbishop Peter Cardinal Mathews in Cincinnati. “Yes, he’s here, but resting. He leaves tomorrow morning for New York for the final meeting of the ecumenical council, and then he’ll be on to Israel and the Vatican.”

“I would come anywhere, anytime, at his convenience,” Buck said.

“I’ll get back to you with an answer, one way or the other, within thirty minutes.”

Buck phoned Chloe. “I’ve got only a few minutes right now,” he said, “but can we get together, just the two of us, before the meeting tonight?”

“Sure, what’s happening?”

“Nothing specific,” he said. “It’s just that I’d like to spend some time with you, now that you know I’m available.”

“Available? That’s what you are?”

“Yes, ma’am! And you?”

“I guess I’m available too. That means we’ve got something in common.”

“Did you have plans this evening?”

“Nope. Dad’s going to be a little late. He was interviewed at the White House today.”

“He’s taking the job then?”

“He’s going to make the maiden voyage and then decide.”

“I could have been on that flight.”

“I know.”

“Pick you up at six?” Buck said.

“I’d love it.”

As promised, Cardinal Mathews’s assistant called Buck back, and the news was good. The cardinal had been so impressed with Buck’s interview of him for the soon-to-appear cover story that he said Buck could ride with him to New York the following morning.

Buck booked the last flight out of O’Hare to Cincinnati that evening. He surprised Chloe by showing up at six with Chinese food. He told her of his plans for the evening trip and added, “I didn’t want to waste talking time trying to find a place to eat.”

“My dad’s going to be jealous when he gets home,” she said. “He loves Chinese.”

Buck reached deep into the big sack, pulled out an extra order, and grinned. “Gotta keep the dad happy.”

Buck and Chloe sat in the kitchen, eating and talking for more than an hour. They talked about everything—their respective childhoods, families, major events of their lives, hopes, fears, and dreams. Buck loved to hear Chloe talk, not just what she said, but even her voice. He didn’t know whether she was the best conversationalist he had ever met, or if he was simply falling for her.
Probably both,
he decided.

Rayford arrived to find Buck and Chloe at Raymie’s computer, which had not been turned on since the week of the disappearances. Within a few minutes, Buck had Chloe connected to the Internet and set up with a new e-mail address. “Now from here, just like with your cell, you can reach me anywhere in the world.

Rayford left Buck and Chloe at the computer and examined the mints from Holman Meadows. The candies were still shrink-wrapped and had been delivered by a reputable company. They had been addressed to Chloe, but with no message. Rayford decided they had not been tampered with, and even if they had come from Hattie Durham for some inexplicable reason, there was no sense in not enjoying them.

“Whoever’s in love with your daughter sure has good taste,” Buck said.

“Thank you,” Chloe said.

“I mean good taste in chocolate mints.”

Chloe blushed. “I know what you meant,” she said.

At Rayford’s insistence, Buck had agreed to leave his car in the Steele’s garage during his trip. Buck and Chloe left the Tribulation Force meeting early to get to the airport. Traffic was lighter than he expected, and they arrived more than two hours before his flight. “We could have stayed longer at the church,” he said.

“Better to be safe, though, don’t you think?” she said. “I hate always running on the edge of lateness.”

“Me too,” he said, “but I usually do. You can just drop me at the curb.”

“I don’t mind waiting with you if you don’t mind paying for the parking.”

“You going to be all right going back to the car this time of night?”

“I’ve done it lots of times,” she said. “There are a lot of security guards.”

She parked and they strolled through the massive terminal. He lugged his leather over-the-shoulder case with his whole world in it. Chloe seemed awkward, but Buck had nothing for her to carry, and they weren’t at the hand-holding stage yet, so they just kept moving. Every time he turned so she could hear him, his bag shifted and the strap slipped off his shoulder, so they eventually settled into a silent trek to the gate.

Buck checked in and found that it was going to be a nearly empty flight. “Wish you could come with me,” he said lightly.

“I wish—,” she began, but apparently thought better of saying it.

“What?”

She shook her head.

“You wish you could come with me too?”

She nodded. “But I can’t and I won’t, so let’s not start with any of that.”

“What would I do with you?” he said. “Put you in my bag?”

She laughed.

They stood at the windows, watching baggage handlers and ground traffic controllers in the night. Buck pretended to look out the window as he stared at Chloe’s reflection a few inches from his own. A couple of times he sensed her focus had shifted from the tarmac to the glass as well, and he imagined he was holding her gaze.
Wishful thinking,
he decided.

“We’re going to be delayed twenty minutes,” the woman at the counter announced.

“Don’t feel obligated to stay, Chloe,” Buck said. “You want me to walk you back to the car?”

She laughed again. “You’re really paranoid about that big old parking garage, aren’t you? No, see, the deal is that I bring you here, wait with you at your gate so you won’t feel lonely, and then I stay until you’re safely on the plane. I wave as it takes off, pretend to be rooted to the spot, and only when the jet trail fades out of sight do I venture out to the car.”

“What, do you make this stuff up as you go along?”

“Of course. Now sit down and relax and pretend you’re a frequent worldwide traveler.”

“I wish for once I could pretend I’m not.”

“And then you’d be nervous about the flight and need me here?”

“I need you here anyway.”

She looked away.
Slow down,
he told himself. This was the fun part, the parrying stage, but it was also maddeningly uncertain. He didn’t want to say things to her just because he would be gone for a few days that he wouldn’t say otherwise.

“I need you here too,” she said lightly, “but you’re leaving me.”

“That is something I would never do.”

“What, leave me?”

“Absolutely.” He kept a humorous tone in an effort not to scare her off.

“Well, that’s encouraging. Can’t have any of this leaving stuff.”

Rayford kept an ear out for Chloe while packing for his quick trip to New York the next afternoon. Earl had called, wanting to know if Carpathia’s office had reached him.

“And is that the same Hattie Durham who used to work for us?” Earl asked.

“One and the same.”

“She’s Carpathia’s secretary?”

“Something like that.”

“Small world.”

“I guess it would be silly to tell you to be careful in Cincinnati and New York and Israel, considering all you’ve been through,” Chloe said.

Buck smiled. “Don’t start your good-byes until you’re ready to leave.”

“I’m not leaving till your plane is out of sight,” she said. “I told you that.”

“We have time for a cookie,” he said, pointing at a vendor in the corridor.

“We already had dessert,” she said. “Chocolates and a cookie.”

“Fortune cookies don’t count,” he said. “Come on. Don’t you remember our first cookie?”

The day they had met, Chloe had eaten a cookie and he had dabbed a tiny piece of chocolate from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Not knowing what to do with it, he had licked it off.

“I remember I was a slob,” she said. “And you tried a very old joke.”

“You feel like a cookie?” he said, setting her up the way she had him in New York that first day.

“Why, do I look like one?”

Buck laughed, not because the joke was any funnier than the first time, he decided, but because it was theirs and it was stupid.

“I’m really not hungry,” she said as they peered through the glass as a bored teenager waited for their order.

“Me either,” Buck said. “These are for later.”

“Tonight later or tomorrow later?” she asked.

“Whenever we synchronize our watches.”

“We’re going to eat them together? I mean, at the same time?”

“Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

“Your creativity never ceases.”

Buck ordered two cookies in two bags.

“Can’t do that,” the teenager said.

“Then I want one cookie,” he said, handing over the money and slipping some to Chloe.

“And I want one cookie,” she said, money in hand.

The teenager made a face, bagged the cookies for each of them, and made change.

“More than one way to skin a cat,” Buck said.

They moseyed back to the gate. A few more passengers had gathered, and the woman at the counter announced that their plane had finally arrived. Buck and Chloe sat watching as the arriving passengers filed past, looking tired.

Buck carefully folded his cookie sack and laid it in his carry-on bag. “I’ll be on a plane to New York at eight tomorrow morning,” he said. “I’ll have this with coffee and think of you.”

“That’ll be seven o’clock my time,” Chloe said. “I’ll still be in bed, anticipating my cookie and dreaming of you.”

We’re still playing around the edges,
Buck thought.
Neither of us will say anything serious.

“I’ll wait till you’re up, then,” he said. “Tell me when you’re going to eat your cookie.”

Chloe studied the ceiling. “Hmm,” she mused. “When will you be in your most important, most formal meeting?”

“Probably sometime late morning at a big hotel in New York. Carpathia is coming for some joint announcement with Cardinal Mathews and other religious leaders.”

“Whenever that is, I’ll eat my cookie,” Chloe said. “And I dare you to eat yours then, too.”

“You’ll learn not to dare me.” Buck smiled, but he was only half kidding. “I know no fear.”

“Ha!” she said. “You’re afraid of the parking garage here, and you’re not even the one walking through it alone!”

Buck reached for her cookie sack.

“What’re you doing?” she said. “We’re not hungry, remember?”

“Just smell this,” he said. “Fragrance is such a memory enhancer.”

He opened her cookie sack and held it up to his face. “Mmm,” he said. “Cookie dough, chocolate, nuts, butter, you name it.”

He tilted it toward her, and she leaned to sniff it. “I do love that smell,” she said.

Buck reached with his other hand and cupped her cheek in his palm. She didn’t pull away but held his look. “Remember this moment,” he said. “I’ll be thinking of you while I’m gone.”

“Me too,” she said. “Now close that bag. That cookie has to stay fresh so the smell will remind me.”