The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (204 page)

“I asked to talk to
you,
Ray. Remember?”

“Yeah, so?”

“I wanted to know what you thought
you
were doing with Bo.”

“What’s the mystery, T? I got him to give me the information I needed. I didn’t aid or abet him.”

“Like I did.”

“Like you did.”

“That’s what you call what I did.”

“What do you call it, T? You guys working together against me, behind my back, what?”

T shook his head sadly. “Yeah, Ray. I’m in concert with a kid two sandwiches short of a picnic so I can turn the tables on my Christian brother.”

“That’s what it looks like. What am I supposed to think?”

T stood and walked to the window. Rayford couldn’t make any of it make sense.

“What you’re supposed to think, Ray, is that Bo Hanson is not likely long for this world. He’s going to die and go to hell just like his buddy Ernie did the other day. He’s the enemy, sure, but he’s not one of those we treat like scum to make sure they don’t find out who we really are. He already knows who we are, bro. We’re the guys who follow Ben-Judah and believe in Jesus. We don’t buy and sell guys like Bo, Rayford. We don’t play them, lie to them, cheat them, steal from them, blackmail them. We love them. We plead with them.

“Bo is dumb enough to have given you what you needed without making him think his ship had come in and then sinking it for him. I’m not saying I have the answers, Ray. I don’t know how we could have got the information another way, but what you did sure didn’t feel loving and Christian to me. I’d rather you
had
bought the information. Let
him
be the bad guy. You were as bad as he was.

“Well, I said more than I planned. You play this one however you want, but keep me out of it from now on.”

Buck half expected Chaim Rosenzweig to be in his wheelchair, but the old man was everything he had remembered. Small, wiry, aged more perhaps, wild white hair. A beatific smile. He opened his arms for an embrace. “Cameron! Cameron, my friend! How are you? Good to see you! A sight for old, tired eyes! What brings you to Israel?”

“You do, friend,” Buck said as Chaim led him by the arm to the parlor. “We’re all worried about you.”

“Ach!” Chaim said, waving him off. “Tsion is worried he won’t convert me before the horses trample me.”

“Should he be? May I take back the news of your conversion?”

“You never know, Cameron. But you need not ask, am I right? You who can see the horses can also see each other’s marks. So, tell me. Does mine show?”

The way he said
mine
made Buck’s heart leap, and he leaned forward only to see nothing. “We
can
see each other’s, you know,” Buck said.

“And the mighty men on the lion horses too, I know.”

“You don’t believe it.”

“Would you if you were I, Cameron?”

“Oh, Dr. Rosenzweig, I
was
you. Don’t you realize that? I was a journalist, a pragmatist, a realist. I could not be convinced until I
would
be convinced.”

Chaim’s eyes danced, and Buck was reminded how the man enjoyed a good debate. “So I am unwilling, that is my problem?”

“Perhaps.”

“And yet that makes no sense, does it? Why should I be unwilling? I
want
it to be true! What a story! An answer to this madness, relief from the cruelty. Ah, Cameron, I am closer than you think.”

“That’s what you said last time. I fear you will wait too long.”

“My house staff, they are all believers now, you know. Jacov, his wife, her mother, Stefan. Jonas, too, but we lost him. You heard?”

Buck nodded. “Sad.”

Chaim had suddenly lost his humor. “You see, Cameron, these are the things I don’t understand. If God is personal like you say, cares about his children, and is all-powerful, is there not a better way? Why the judgments, the plagues, the destruction, the death? Tsion says we had our chance. So now it’s no more Mr. Nice Guy? There is a cruelty about it all that hides the love I am supposed to see.”

Buck leaned forward. “Tsion also says that even allowing seven years of obvious tribulation is more than we deserve from God. We did not believe because we could not see it. Well, now there is no doubt. We’re seeing, and yet people still resist and rebel.”

Chaim fell silent, then clapped his palms to his knees. “Well,” he said at last, “don’t worry about me. I confess I am feeling my age. I am fearful, frightened, homebound, you know. I cannot bring myself to venture out. Carpathia, in whom I believed as I would my own son, has proven fraudulent.”

Buck wanted to probe but dared not. Any decision had to be Rosenzweig’s idea, not a plant from Buck or anyone else.

“I am studying. I am praying that Tsion is wrong, that the plagues and the torments do not keep getting worse. And I keep busy.”

“How?”

“Projects.”

“Your science and reading?”

“And more.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, you are such the journalist today. All right, I’ll tell you. My staff thinks me mad. Maybe I am. I have a wheelchair. You want to see it?”

“You need a wheelchair?”

“Not yet, but the day will come. The torment from the locust weakened me. I have blood counts and other test results that show me at high risk for stroke.”

“You’re healthy as a hor—as a mule.”

Rosenzweig sat back and laughed. “Very good. No one wants to be healthy as a horse anymore. But I am not. I am high risk and I want to be ready.”

“It sounds defeatist, Doctor. The right diet and exercise . . . fresh air.”

“I knew you would get to that. I like to be prepared.”

“How else are you preparing?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What are you working on? In your utility room?”

“Who told you about that?”

“No one who knew anything. Jacov merely mentioned that you spend a lot of time on projects in there.”

“Yes.”

“What is it? What are you doing?”

“Projects.”

“I never knew you to be handy that way.”

“There is a lot you don’t know about me, Cameron.”

“May I consider you a dear friend, sir?”

“I wish you would. But do dear friends refer to each other so formally?”

“It’s difficult for me to call you Chaim.”

“Call me what you wish, but you are my dear friend and so I am happy to call myself yours.”

“Then I want to know more about you. If there is a lot about you I don’t know, I don’t feel like a friend.”

Chaim pulled a drape back and peered out. “No smoke today. It will come again though. Tsion teaches that the horsemen will not leave us until a third of mankind is dead. Can you imagine that world, Cameron?”

“That will leave only half the population since the disappearances.”

“Truly we are facing the end of civilization. It may not be what Tsion thinks it is, but it’s something.”

Buck said nothing. Chaim had ignored his salvos, but perhaps if he did not press . . .

Rayford hung his head. “T,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse and weak, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You knew what to say to Bo. You played him like a—”

Rayford held up a hand. “Please, T. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You seemed to enjoy it.”

Rayford wished he could disappear. “God forgive me, I did enjoy it. What’s the matter with me? It’s like I’ve lost my mind. At the house I fly off the handle. Leah, the newcomer I told you about, she’s brought out the worst in me—now, no, I can’t put that on her either. I’ve been awful to her. I don’t understand myself anymore.”

“If you ever understood yourself you were way ahead of me. But don’t be too hard on yourself, bro. You’ve got a modicum of stress in your life.”

“We all do, T. Even Bo. You know, not just tonight, but never ever have I seen Bo as anything but a scoundrel.”

“He
is
a scoundrel, Ray. But he’s also—”

“I know. That’s what I’m saying. The day I met him he was putting down believers, and I’ve had a thing about him since. I want him put in his place and I was glad for the chance to do it. Some saint, huh?”

T didn’t counter. Rayford got the point.

“What do I do now, chase him down and start being Christlike to him?”

T shook his head and shrugged. “Got me. I’d sooner think your best approach is to disappear from his life. He’s going to suspect any radical change.”

“I should at least apologize.”

“Not unless you’re ready to prove it by paying him for the information he thought you were buying.”

“Now he’s the good guy and I’m the bad guy?”

“I’ll never say Bo’s the good guy, Ray. As for you being the bad guy, I didn’t say it. You did.”

Rayford sat slumped for several minutes while T busied himself with paperwork. “You’re a good friend,” Rayford said finally. “To be honest with me, I mean. Not a lot of guys would care enough.”

T moved to the front of the desk and sat on it. “I like to think you’d do the same for me.”

“Like you need it.”

“Why not? I didn’t expect you’d need it either.”

“Well, anyway. Thanks.”

T punched him on the shoulder. “So what’s the deal with the Tuttles? You gonna get to fly a Super J?”

“Think I can handle it?”

“All the stuff you’ve flown? They say if you can drive a Gulfstream—the big one—this is like a fast version of that. Sort of a Porsche to a Chevy.”

“I’ll drive like a teenager.”

“You can’t wait.”

David was at first warmed, then alarmed, when he received a personal e-mail early the next evening from Tsion Ben-Judah. After assuring David he wished to meet him sometime before the Glorious Appearing, Tsion came to his point.

So I am here focusing and letting Captain Steele and his daughter put together the co-op, Buck Williams his magazine and the occasional furtive mission, and so forth. But, Mr. Hassid, we have a problem. I let Captain Steele run off on his mission to track down Hattie Durham (I know you have been kept abreast) without asking him what he had found out about Carpathia’s knowledge of her whereabouts.

No one but the uncaring public believes she went down in a plane. That the GC allowed that patent falsehood to be circulated tells me it somehow plays into their hands. My fear, of course, is that they now feel free to track her down and kill her, for in the mind of the public she is already dead. Her only advantage in pretending to be dead is to somehow embarrass or even endanger Carpathia.

All that to say this: I had been under the impression that none of your clandestine work there had turned up anything about knowledge of her whereabouts on Carpathia’s part. I cannot help thinking Rayford would have been more prudent to wait on searching for Hattie until he knew for sure he would not be walking into a GC trap.