Assassins: Assignment: Jerusalem, Target: Antichrist (31 page)

“And who would corroborate the disease? Dare they involve yet another party?”

“Leon! Think! Od Gustav.”

“Ah, yes! Doctor Gustav. Who needs an outsider when one of the ten can sign the death certificate? Did I say you were brilliant, Excellency?”

“Probably, but even the confident man can take hearing that more than once.”

“Well, the ice idea. I mean, really. There’s no other word for that.”

“Thank you, Commander. Safe trip.”

David smirked at the repeat of how he had signed off with Mac. Two buddies saying good-bye. Dave and Mac; Nick and Lee. Both pairs playing games, outsmarting the competition. He sighed. The difference between the pairs of friends was only eternal.

David quickly moved from listening live to listening to the recording from the beginning, when Fortunato had said, “Did you pick a winner with the new African potentate!”

“How well I know,” Carpathia said. “I handpicked him the day I first visited the U.N. I knew I would have to wait while we worked our way through either Ngumo or Rehoboth. I found him very suggestible.”

“You did?”

“From the beginning. I hypnotized him on the phone once. Told him he would be unswervingly loyal to me, that my enemies would be his enemies and my friends his friends.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Shall I prove it? He is willing to eliminate Peter, and he means eliminate.”

“You are!”

“But he wants them all in on it, all ten of them. How am I doing?”

“That is amazing. Have you ever done that to me?”

“Done what?”

“Planted thoughts?”

“I do not need to, Leon. You are my most trusted friend and adviser. With Enoch I have even verrbally implanted a whole plan in his mind. He will think about it, and when he comes back, he will suggest what is already in his head.”

“Tell me what he’ll suggest,” Leon said.

“A meeting in Jerusalem the morning before the gala. He will invite Peter and tell him it is to discuss his succession to my role if a certain plan of theirs is carried out. It would be a meeting of just Peter and the potentates.”

“All ten of them?”

“Yes. And it will be at the fancy new Global Community Grand Hotel, where the ice sculptures have become so popular. For the meeting they will order the large sculpture of Peter himself, the one that depicts him as a mighty angel, life size, with the huge wings with pointed feathers. As the ten are admiring it, each will break off one of those thick feathers with the sharp ends, and as Peter is wondering what in the world it is all about, each will plunge his into him from different angles-neck, eye, temple, heart.”

“At the same time?” Leon said. “So no one can point the finger at another. Brilliant.”

“The weapons will melt, the body will be transported to a crematorium in a bag brought in Scandinavian Potentate Gustav’s briefcase. The body will be burned to avoid the spread of the deadly disease that causes one to bleed to death through his mucus membranes.”

“Which will explain any blood in the meeting room.”

“Exactly. I can be totally free of it that way. No one willing to talk, no weapon, no body. Enough
DNA
in the ashes …”

Buck was getting the cold shoulder.

It had been a long time since he and Chloe had found themselves at loggerheads. “I know it’s only three and a half more years,” she said, “but do you think I want to raise this child alone?”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he said, reaching for her. She turned away.

“You’re going,” she said. “It’s written all over you. I love Chaim, but it was unfair of him to ask.”

“If I don’t go, Tsion’s going to go, and we don’t want that.”

Chaim Rosenzweig had been invited to appear at the Global Gala as an honored guest of His Excellency the potentate. Chaim had Jacov communicate to the Tribulation Force by posting a cryptic message on Tsion’s Web site. Leah had found it, almost by accident.

“Is this anything?” she asked Rayford late one night when the two were working at their computers in the kitchen. “The initials aren’t a coincidence, are they?”

She turned her laptop so he could see. The message was one of thousands posted on the site, most encouraging Dr. Ben-Judah, some asking questions, some criticizing or threatening. Part of Leah’s job was to monitor those and see if any required personal responses. Most didn’t. This post stuck out due to its brevity and the unique initials. It read: “C (B) W call J re boss. Signed, H’s.”

“I don’t know who / is or what H’s means,” she said, “but how many people know they can reach Cameron (Buck) Williams at this site? Or am I reading into it?”

Rayford studied it and summoned Buck. The three huddled in front of Leah’s screen and stared. Buck suddenly stood. “Jacov,” he said. “Pretty crafty. He’s Hannelore’s husband, and he wants to talk about Chaim.”

Buck checked his watch and phoned. It was seven in the morning in Israel. Jacov was an early riser. “He’s been invited to the Gala,” Jacov said quickly. “None of us thinks he should go. He has not been well, staying up all hours. He looks terrible. Talk him out of it.”

Chaim didn’t sound well. He seemed to be trying to be his jovial self, but his thick Israeli accent sounded weary and sometimes slurred. “I will not be dissuaded, Cameron, but I have insisted that I be allowed to bring my valet and two guests. I was assured I could bring anyone I wanted. Stefan is petrified of Carpathia and insists he will quit my staff before he would attend. Jacov has agreed to serve as both driver and valet.”

“Dr. Rosenzweig, you don’t want to do this. You’ve read Tsion’s warnings, and―”

“Tsion’s warning is for what the Global Community calls the Judah-ites. I love Tsion and consider him one of my own, but I am not that kind of Judah-ite. I am going, but I want you and Tsion there with me.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “Forgive me, Doctor, but that is naive. We are both _ persona non grata_ with the GC, and we trust Carpathia’s security pledge as far as we can throw it.”

“They said I could bring any guests I wanted.”

“They didn’t know whom you had in mind.”

“Cameron, you and I have become close, have we not?”

“Of course.”

“More than just a journalist and a subject, am I right?”

“Certainly, but―”

“You are a cosmopolitan person. You should know that in my culture it is highly offensive to rebuff a formal invitation. I am formally inviting you and Tsion to attend the Gala with me, and I will take it as a personal insult if you do not.”

“Doctor, I have a family. Dr. Ben-Judah has millions who count on his―”

“You would both be with me! The Carpathia regime has committed some heinous acts, but to threaten the safety of someone as prominent as Tsion in the presence of a guest of honor …”

“I can tell you right now, sir, that Tsion will not be coming. I’m not even sure I will pass along the invitation. He would want to do what you ask because he loves you so, but it would be irresponsible of me to―”

“Do you not love me also, Cameron?”

“Yes, enough to tell you that this is―”

“I will withdraw my invitation of Tsion if I know you will be there.”

Buck hesitated. “I couldn’t come under my own name anyway. And though I look different enough to get through customs, I could never appear with you if you are close to GC brass. They would recognize me instantly.”

Chaim was silent for a moment. Then, “I am very sad that two of my dearest friends, friends who say they care deeply about me―”

“Sir, don’t. This is not becoming. You want me to come because you’ve made me feel guilty? Is that fair? Are you thinking of me and my wife and my child?”

Rosenzweig, totally out of character, ignored Buck’s mention of his family. “What would Tsion say if you told him I might be ready to become a Judah-ite?”

Buck sighed. “For one thing, he hates that term with a passion. You of all people should know Tsion well enough to know that this is not about him, not about his developing a following. And to dangle a decision about your eternal soul as a bargaining ch―”

“Cameron, have I ever asked for anything? For years I have considered you a young man whose admiration for me is unwarranted but cherished. I don’t believe I have ever taken advantage of that. Have I?”

“No, and that’s why this―”

“You are a journalist! How can you not want to be here for this?”

Buck had no answer. In truth he had wanted to attend since the moment he heard of the Gala. He could hardly believe Carpathia himself was hosting the event at which so much prophecy would culminate. But he had never seriously considered going. He had been encouraged by how easily he had traveled to and from Israel under an alias not long before. But Chloe. Kenny. Tsion’s stance on any believer attending. Buck considered it out of the question.

Now Chaim had finally tapped into the core of Buck’s being. Pagan or believer, single or married, childless or a father, he had been a journalist for as long as he could remember. He had been curious as a child―nosy, his friends and family said―before he’d ever had a conduit through which he could publish his findings. His trademark was incisive eyewitness reporting, and he was never happier than when he was on a story, not hidden away in a safe house where all he could do was comment on previously published material.

His hesitation seemed to feed Rosenzweig, as if he knew Buck had taken the bait and now all the old man had to do was yank the line to set the hook.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be there,” Buck said weakly, hating the whine in his voice.

“Then you’ll come? That would mean so much to―”

“This is not a decision I can make independently,” Buck said, and he realized he had turned a corner. He had gone from a flat refusal to mulling a full-blown prospect that had to be decided.

“That is another distinction between our cultures,” Chaim said. “A Middle Eastern man is his own person, charting his own course, not answerable to―”

“I cannot be seen with you,” Buck said.

“Just knowing you are there will warm me, Cameron, and surely we will be able to interact privately at some point. I will withdraw my formal invitation to Tsion, and I will not procrastinate about our spiritual discussions any longer.”

“You don’t need to wait for me for that, Doctor. In fact, I would urge that before you even dream of attending the Gala you would―”

“I need to discuss these things in person, Cameron. You understand.”

Buck didn’t, but he feared if he spent any more time on the phone he would make more concessions. He was sure to incur the wrath of the rest of the Trib Force regardless, so Buck negotiated one condition.

“I must insist on one thing,” he said.

“Oh, Cameron, you’re not going to go back on your word now, are you?”

“I could not sanction your being there on the second day of the pageant.”

Chaim was silent, but Buck heard papers rustling in the background. “It is a five-day event,” Rosenzweig said, “Monday through Friday next week. Monday is the anniversary of the treaty. Nicolae wants me on the platform for that celebration. Tuesday is a party at the Temple Mount, which I fear will turn into a confrontation between him and your preacher friends. That is what you want me to avoid?”

“Exactly.”

“Granted.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“My packet of information requests the honor of my presence at both the opening and closing ceremonies. That would be Monday night and Friday night.”

“My preference is that you not go at all.”

“I heard you say you would be there.”

Annie and David had become even closer. He felt bad when she told him that sometimes she felt he appreciated her more as a co-subversive than as one who loved him. Glancing around to be sure they were alone at the end of a corridor, he took her face in his hands and touched the tip of his nose to hers. “I love you,” he said. “Under any other circumstances, I’d marry you.”

“Is that a proposal?”

“I wish. You can imagine the pressure, the stress. You have it too. The only other two believers I’ve seen here besides us and Mac and Abdullah, those two women in inventory, were somehow found out last night.”

“Oh, no! We hadn’t even made contact yet. They probably thought they were alone.”

“They were shipped to Brussels this morning.”

“Oh, David.”

“Odds are we aren’t going to be here much longer either. I don’t know exactly when the mark requirement is coming, but we have to escape first.”

“I want to be your wife, even if only for a few years.”

“And I want you to be, but we can’t do anything like that until we know whether we can get out of here together. If one escapes and the other doesn’t, that’s no kind of life.”

“I know,” she said. “We’re likely to be the first to know when Carpathia does start requiring a mark of loyalty. And you know he’ll start right here in the palace.”

“Probably.”

“Meanwhile, David, you might want to tell the stateside Force that if they need to travel, now’s the best time. I saw a document that’s going to the Peacekeeping Force around the world. It calls for a moratorium on arrests or detainment, even of enemies of the Global Community, until after the Gala.”

There had been no keeping the Rosenzweig request from Tsion, of course, and Tsion had been unusually melancholic ever since. “I will not tell you what to do, Buck,” he said in front of Rayford, “but I wish your father-in-law would pull rank on you.”

“Frankly,” Rayford said, at the next meeting of the household, “I wish I were going with Buck.”

“You’re letting him go,” Chloe said, with her fourteen-month-old on her lap. Kenny turned to face her and put his hands over her eyes as she spoke. She turned her head so she could see. “I can’t believe it. Well, why don’t you go with him, Dad? Why don’t we all go? Bad enough we won’t all make it to the end of the Tribulation anyway, why don’t we throw caution to the wind? Why don’t we make sure Kenny is an orphan without even a grandfather?”

“Kenny!” the baby said. “Grandpa!”

Rayford slapped his thighs and opened his arms, and Kenny slid off Chloe’s lap and ran to him. Rayford lifted him over his head, making him squeal, then sat him on his lap. “The fact is, I have a different trip in mind for me.”