The Rapture: Evil Advances / Before They Were Left Behind Read online

  “Mom, it’s Chloe. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice. How are you, sweetie? I miss you.”

  “Doing well. How’s everyone there?”

  “Good. Good.” Irene hated that Chloe had not returned any of her sentiments. Couldn’t she say it was good to hear from her mother, that she missed her too, that she wanted to hear her voice? Irene guessed that was too much to ask.

  “And how are you doing since your disappointment?” Irene said.

  “My disappointment?”

  “Your breakup with Ricky.”

  “Oh, that! Over it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “ ’Course. You know he’s married already.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Yep.”

  “That has to hurt. A little anyway. No?”

  “Nah! She can have him.”

  “Well, that’s a pretty mature response.”

  “Oh, you know me, Mom. Ms. Mature.”

  Irene asked her about studies and friends and extracurricular activities, getting banal, noncommittal responses until she wanted to scream, to demand whether Chloe ever even thought about her, cared about her at all. Irene loved this child to the depths of her soul, but it was as if Chloe were made of stone.

  Irene finally rang off with a series of wishes and expressions of love and cheerfulness, to which Chloe merely responded with courtesy. Hanging up, Irene sat on the edge of the bed and wept.

  She thought she heard Rayford on the stairs and quickly wiped her eyes. But he did not come in, so she opened her Bible and reviewed her prayer list:

  Rafe, for his salvation and that I be a loving wife to him.

  Chloe, that she come to Christ and live in purity.

  Ray Jr., that he never stray from his strong, childlike faith.

  Early the next morning Carpathia called Leon. “What do we hear from Vasile? Surely you would have told me if he had called?”

  “Of course. Nothing.”

  “What now?”

  “I would advise you to involve Jonathan,” Leon said.

  “You heard my last conversation with him, Leon. I will not crawl to him asking for his help.”

  “I will.”

  “You will?”

  “Sure. I’ll tell him what has happened up to now, tell him that even if he disagrees and finds it distasteful, now is the time to accept the lesser of two evils and do what he has to do to get Vasile out of the way.”

  Carpathia paced. “You scare his family and kill his son’s horses, and he responds in silence? What is he up to, Leon?”

  “Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he thinks he is going over your head.”

  “Over my head! Who is over my head?”

  “Stonagal.”

  “Jonathan is not over my—”

  “You know that, Nicolae. And I know that. But Jonathan does not know that yet. That’s why I should call him.”

  ELEVEN

  IRENE LOOKED forward to Sunday as she hadn’t in a long time. Sure, since she had switched to New Hope she had enjoyed church more than ever. But this was different, special. Even Raymie was eager to hear the last sermon in Pastor Billings’s series on the end of time, and much of it was above the boy’s head.

  “Let’s both plan on taking notes,” Irene told him. “Then we can talk about it later.”

  “We can tell Dad all about it,” Raymie said.

  She hesitated, nodding slowly. “We’ll need to be cautious about that. Judicious. You know what that means?”

  “I think so. Careful?”

  “Using good judgment, sound thinking, choosing our timing carefully. Something is going on in your dad’s life, Raymie. I don’t know what it is, but he’s not himself.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. His drifting from church is just a symptom. Sometimes when adults get to be your dad’s and my age, they take stock of their lives and aren’t happy.”

  “But Dad’s successful! He’s done everything he ever wanted to do. Didn’t he always want to be an airline captain?”

  “Yes, but that’s the problem. Sometimes you point your whole life at a goal you think will make you happy, and when you reach it, it doesn’t satisfy you. That’s quite a lesson, isn’t it? You see how you want to set goals that really satisfy?”

  Raymie fell silent, clearly thinking. Irene was impressed that he would admit when he didn’t understand something, and he was never quick to respond until he did.

  “You mean like if I dreamed of becoming a professional basketball player and making millions of dollars and being famous, I might not like it once I made it?”

  “You know what the Bible says about living for ourselves and being rich. . . .”

  “Yeah. Something about setting your sights on eternal stuff.”

  “Fame and fortune aren’t going to mean a thing in heaven, are they?”

  “I guess not. You know, Mom, I’ve been starting to worry more about Dad than ever.”

  “Worry how?”

  “You know, like when he’s flying. I never used to worry, because he always told me how safe airplanes are. He said that every time I hear or read about a plane crash, I should remember how many hundreds of thousands of flights were made without anything going wrong. Before I never worried about it at all. But now, not knowing if he’d go to heaven if he died, I keep hoping and praying he doesn’t crash.”

  “I worry too,” she said.

  “You do?”

  “Of course.”

  “Wouldn’t it be cool if we didn’t have to die to go to heaven? Like what Pastor Billings has been talking about. Do you think Jesus could come back before I get old?”

  “You never know,” Irene said. “We’re supposed to live as if it could be today. Nothing more has to happen before He returns.”

  “Then why doesn’t He come?”

  “Who can know the mind of God?” she said. “But He loves the world so much, maybe He’s just waiting for one more person to turn to Him.”

  “Maybe He’s waiting for Dad.”

  “Maybe He is.”

  Leon stood on the veranda at Carpathia’s estate, watching his boss meander across the property, his face toward the sky. Suddenly he stopped and raised his arms. Then he dropped to his knees.

  The head of Nicolae’s security team glanced at Leon and began to advance toward his client. Fortunato waved him off and made a gesture with his cell phone. The security man called Leon.

  “Let him be,” Fortunato said. “If he needs you, he’ll let you know.”

  “But what if I hang back and then find out I should have—?”

  “I’ll take full responsibility,” Leon said.

  “No disrespect, sir, but I don’t answer to you. I need to cover my—”

  “I said I would take full responsibility. If necessary, you may tell Dr. Carpathia that I forbade you to approach him.”

  “Very good, sir. Thank you.”

  Nicolae—trim, fit, working out daily—had felt a sudden rush of fatigue. He was trying to communicate with his spirit guide when he was driven to his knees.

  “Worship me,” came the voice he would never forget from his first encounter with the being, “and I will communicate solely with you.”

  “I am your servant,” Nicolae said, his voice weak and shaky.

  “All will go with you if you can discipline yourself to never forget that, subject.”

  “You have my word.”

  “Your path is being cleared.”

  “My path? My path to where?”

  “Your path to the fulfillment of my promise.”

  “The world and its kingdoms?”

  No response.

  Nicolae was tempted to repeat his question, but he knew from experience that the spirit had no patience and no interest in repeating the obvious. “I am ready,” he said.

  “Do not run ahead of me.”

  “Have I?”

  “Do not.”


  “If I have, it is only because—”

  “If you had, I would have told you. Events currently set in motion will result in your initial ascension. Be prepared but do not be premature.”

  “How more should I prepare? Spirit? How? Spirit? Do not depart from me! I wish only to do your bidding and accept what you have promised. Spirit? Spirit?”

  Leon took an aircraft-to-ground call from Jonathan Stonagal. “I will be in Bucharest within two hours. You tell Carpathia that I—”

  “Excuse me, Jonathan, but please do not forget that we are employees of Dr. Carpathia. You may feel free to tell him things, but I do not. I do his bidding.”

  “We work for Carpathia, Leon? We? Perhaps you’re his lackey, but I most certainly am not. Now you be sure and tell him that Gheorghe Vasile has gotten the message and wants a truce. He needs more time, and—”

  “Let me make myself perfectly clear as to where my loyalties lie, Jonathan. I am not your errand boy, nor your mouthpiece. I repeat, I do not tell Nicolae anything. If you have a message for him, come and tell him in person or call him yourself.”

  “Listen, Fortunato, you’re going to find out who has the power here, and you’re not going to like what you find. Do you think when Carpathia crashes and burns I’ll be even half interested in your services?”

  “Then I’m gambling my professional life on a different horse, sir.”

  “You sure are. Now I want a meeting with Carpathia at the airport when I arrive. And you had better call off your dogs in the meantime.”

  “My dogs?”

  “The people you have terrorizing Gheorghe and his people.”

  “Did you want me to request an audience for you with Dr. Carpathia?”

  “No! I want you and him at the airport when I arrive.”

  “May I ask you a question, Mr. Stonagal?”

  “Stop being so formal. What?”

  “Is it fair to say that you are the instigator of this meeting?”

  “Of course! Why? What’s your point?”

  “It would be true then that you wish to see Nicolae, not him you?”

  Silence.

  “Are you there, Jonathan?”

  “Would you quit being obtuse and tell me what you’re trying to say?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. It seems to me that if you are the one asking for the meeting, protocol requires you to come Nicolae’s direction, not him yours.”

  “I’ve flown halfway around the world! Now you tell him to meet me—”

  “Oh no, you don’t understand, sir. I won’t be telling him anything. He doesn’t want to talk to you. You want to talk to him. If you would like me to pass along your request to his assistant, I’ll be happy to do that. She’ll get back to you with a time that might be convenient for you to drop in on him here.”

  “What? Are you serious? The first thing I’ll do is have him fire you, you—”

  “You may expect a call from Ms. Viv Ivins then, Jonathan. Good day.”

  “Listen, Fortunato—”

  “I said good day.”

  Buck Williams’s intercom buzzed. “Yeah, Marge,” he said. Marge Potter was really his boss, Steve Plank’s, secretary, but due to a recent budget cut, she took some of his calls too.

  “Dirk Burton for you from London. I just love his accent.”

  “You know he’s Welsh.”

  “I knew it was something like that.”

  Dirk had been a classmate of Buck’s and working in the London Stock Exchange since graduation.

  “Lefty, my friend, how are you?”

  “Cameron, you really must come over here.” The usual levity was gone from Dirk’s voice.

  “What now? The Illuminati? The Bilderbergers? The Trilateral Commission? Who’s meeting now to affect the heads of state all over the world?”

  Not even a snicker. “You finished, Cameron?”

  “Yeah, sorry, Dirk. What’s up?”

  “You know I was right about Jonathan Stonagal being one of the biggest movers and shakers in the secret world of international finance.”

  “Gotta give you that one.”

  “And the head of the London Exchange, you know who . . .”

  “Joshua Todd-Cothran, right.”

  “Well, something’s brewing.”

  “Pray tell.”

  “You don’t sound serious, Cameron.”

  “I am, Dirk. Really. You know I think you’re nutty but only a little. Tell me what you’ve got.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know what I’ve got. All I know is that Stonagal is on the move, apparently on his way to Eastern Europe, and he’s going to stop here to meet with Todd-Cothran on his way back.”

  “Not unusual for a couple of big-money guys.”

  “Maybe. But when they get together, things happen.”

  “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “I can’t say any more right now. There’s not much to tell. But once I find out anything about their meeting, can I call and leave a message at the secure center?”

  “Sure.”

  “Dad,” Raymie said, “I’ve got a thing at school this week. An evening program.”

  “Oh! Sorry, bud. Do well, but I’ve got a London flight this week.”

  “Wish I could go.”

  “Me too,” Rayford said, imagining how that would cramp his style should he ever follow through with any of his designs on Hattie Durham. “You’d love England.”

  “I’ll be at the program,” Irene said.

  “See?” Rayford said. “There you go.”

  She was staring at Rayford.

  “What?” he said. “I can’t do anything about my schedule.”

  She nodded toward Raymie and whispered, “At least ask him.”

  “Ask him what?” Rayford mouthed.

  “About the program.”

  “Yeah! Raymie, what’s your part in the program?”

  “I play a tree.”

  Rayford guffawed. “A tree! What do you have to do, bark?”

  “Very funny, Dad. I’ve got lines. I’m a talking tree.”

  “Well, I really wish I could be there.”

  TWELVE

  “AFTER I PHONE this in, Nicolae, I need to tell you how far I have gone with Jonathan,” Leon said.

  “Then hurry. I can hardly wait. And I have much to tell you as well.”

  Leon checked the phone book for the number of the private school Gheorghe Vasile’s grandchildren attended.

  As he dialed, Carpathia said, “You are certain your cell phone is untraceable?”

  “Of course,” Leon said. “It is the latest in scrambled security code technology.” He held up a hand as a woman answered, announcing the name of the school. “I want you to listen carefully,” Leon said, “because I will say this only once. You may want to take a note.”

  “Excuse me? Who is this?”

  “One time,” Leon said. “A bomb has been planted in the school by members of the Romanian People’s Party. You have—”

  “This is not funny! I’m going to hang up.”

  “—exactly nine minutes to evacuate the building. I would urge you to remove the—”

  “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”

  “—students and personnel at least a quarter mile from the site. Eight minutes and forty-five seconds and counting. Good-bye.”

  Fortunato put his phone away and sat across from Nicolae. He was shaking but not from fear. Rather from excitement.

  “Leon,” Carpathia said, and Fortunato detected genuine admiration in his tone, “you are priceless.”

  “Thank you, sir. I only wish I didn’t have to prove it to you every day.”

  “I am getting the picture.”

  “You may not, however, be so pleased at how far I have pushed Jonathan.” Leon told him of their conversation.

  The younger man cackled and howled. “I love it!” he said. “Perfect! And correct! He wants to see me; I do not want to see him. Excellent. Of course, the fact of the
matter is that I do now want to see him. Vasile will crack by the end of the day, and if he does not, it will be time to strike not just his livestock but also his loved ones.”

  “I’m prepared. Now that we’ve taken the first step down this road, there’ll be no turning back.”

  “I could not have said that better myself, Leon.”

  Carpathia told Leon of his contact with the spirit world.

  “That’s wonderful, Nicolae. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

  “But worth the wait. Your Romanian People’s Party was a stroke of genius, by the way. I will come out strongly against them as soon as I am given the chance. They will, of course, deny any connection with the harassment of Vasile.”

  “Of course.”

  “Let us see how long it takes your scheme to reach the news,” Carpathia said, releasing a screen from within the wall and tuning it to a news channel. Within moments camera-mounted helicopters showed frantic teachers running children out of the school, and the type on the screen read, Romanian People’s Party bomb threat . . . Securitate link scare with Vasile family horse fire . . .

  As the men sat chortling, Fortunato grew suddenly serious. “But really,” he said, “should you not try to reach Jonathan? Surely you’re not ready to be independent of him just yet.”

  “Soon.”

  “But still.”

  “No. He will call. And by the time he does, Vasile will have caved.”

  “Look!” Fortunato said, pointing to the television.

  Running text along the bottom of the screen announced: President of the Romanian Republic Gheorghe Vasile announces a press conference for two this afternoon. Resignation rumors flying.

  As soon as technicians had swept the school and reported no explosive, every station moved to minute-by-minute coverage of the speculation over Vasile’s press conference.

  The man in line to succeed him immediately put to rest speculation about his own future. “I do not know President Vasile’s intentions,” he said. “But what he has endured in the last few hours would try any man. I have been told nothing, except not to expect to succeed him. I do not know what this means. If he were to step aside, and I pray that he does not, I would be entitled by law to be elevated to his chair, and I would pursue every legal recourse to ensure that.