Nicolae: The Rise Of The Antichrist (19 page)

“Probably.”

“One last test, if you don’t mind.”

“I seem to have no choice.”

“True. Quickly list for me six prophecies of Messiah that were fulfilled in Jesus Christ, according to the witnesses who preach at the Wailing Wall.”

Buck breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled. “Michael, you are my brother in Christ. All the prophecies of the Messiah were fulfilled in Jesus Christ. I can tell you six that have to do with your culture alone. He would be a descendant of Abraham, a descendant of Isaac, a descendant of Jacob, from the tribe of Judah, heir to the throne of David, and born in Bethlehem.”

The weapon rattled as Michael lay it on the deck and reached to embrace Buck. He squeezed him with a huge bear hug and was laughing and weeping. “And who told you where you might find Tsion?”

“Moishe and Eli.”

“They are my mentors,” Michael said. “I am one who became a believer under their preaching and that of Tsion.”

“And have you murdered others looking for Dr. Ben-Judah?”

“I do not consider it murder. Their bodies will be buoyed up and burned by the salt when they reach the Dead Sea. Better their bodies than his.”

“Are you, then, an evangelist?”

“In the manner of Paul the apostle, according to Dr. Ben-Judah. He says there are 144,000 of us around the world, all with the same assignment that Moishe and Eli have: to preach Christ as the only everlasting Son of the Father.”

“Would you believe you were an almost instant answer to prayer?” Buck said.

“That would not surprise me in the least,” Michael said. “You must realize that you are the same.”

Buck was spent. He was glad Michael had to go back to the outboards and busy himself with the boat. Buck turned his face away and wept. God was so good. Michael left him alone with his thoughts for a while, but then called out with good news. “You know, we’re not going all the way to Lake Tiberius.”

“We’re not?” Buck said, moving back toward Michael.

“You’re doing what you’re supposed to do by heading toward Galilee,” Michael said.

“About halfway between Jericho and Lake Tiberius we will put ashore on the east side of the river. We will hike about five kilometers inland to where my compatriots and I have hidden Dr. Ben-Judah.”

“How are you able to elude the zealots?”

“An escape plan has been in place since the first time Dr. Ben-Judah spoke at Kollek Stadium. For many months we thought the guarding of his family was unnecessary. It was him the zealots wanted. At the first sign of a threat or an attack, we sent to Tsion’s office a car so small it appeared only the driver could fit in it. Tsion lay on the floor of the backseat, curled into a ball and covered with a blanket. He was raced to this very boat, and I took him upriver.”

“And these stories about his driver having been in on the slaughter of his family?”

Michael shook his head. “That man was exonerated in a most decisive way, would you not agree?”

“Was he also a believer?”

“Sadly, no. But he was loyal and sympathetic. We believed it was only a matter of time. We were wrong. Dr. Ben-Judah is not aware of the loss of his driver, by the way.”

“He, of course, knows about his family?”

“Yes, and you can imagine how awful that is for him. When we loaded him into the boat he remained in that fetal position, covered by the blanket. In a way, that was good. It allowed us to keep him in hiding until we got him to the drop-off point. I could hear his loud sobbing over the sound of the boat throughout the entire voyage. I can still hear it.”

“Only God can console him,” Buck said.

“I pray so,” Michael said. “I confess, the consolation period has not yet begun. He has not been able to speak. He cries and cries.”

“What are your plans for him?” Buck said.

“He must leave the country. His life is worthless here. His enemies far outnumber us.

He will not be safe anywhere, but at least outside Israel he has a chance.”

“And where will you and your friends take him?”

“Me and my friends!?”

“Who, then?”

“You, my friend!”

“Me?” Buck said.

“God spoke through the two witnesses. He assured us a deliverer would come. He would know the rabbi. He would know the witnesses. He would know the messianic prophecies. And most of all, he would know the Lord’s Christ. That, my friend, is you.”

Buck nearly buckled. He had felt God’s protection. He had felt the excitement of serving him. But he had never felt so directly and specifically a servant of his. He was humbled to the point of shame. He felt suddenly unworthy, undisciplined, inconsistent.

He had been so blessed, and what had he done with his newfound faith? He had tried to be obedient, and he had tried to tell others. But surely he was unworthy to be used in such a way. “What do you expect me to do with Tsion?”

“We don’t know. We assumed you would smuggle him out of the country.”

“That will not be easy.”

“Face it, Mr. Williams, it was not easy for you to find the rabbi, was it? You very nearly got yourself killed.”

“Did you think you were going to have to kill me?”

“I was merely hopeful that I would not. The odds were against your being the agent of delivery, but I was praying.”

“Is there an airport anywhere near that can handle a Learjet?”

“There is a strip west of Jericho near Al Birah.”

“That’s back downriver, right?”

“Yes, which is an easier trip, of course. But you know that is the airport that serves Jerusalem. Most flights in and out of Israel start or end at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, but there is also a lot of air traffic near Jerusalem.”

“The rabbi has to be one of the most recognizable people in Israel,” Buck said. “How in the world will I get him through customs?”

Michael smiled in the darkness. “How else? Super-naturally.”

Buck asked for a blanket, which Michael produced from a compartment near the back. Buck wrapped it around his shoulders and pulled it up over his head. “How much farther?” he asked.

“About another twenty minutes,” Michael said.

“I need to tell you something you may find strange,” Buck said.

“Something stranger than tonight?”

Buck chuckled. “I don’t suppose. It’s just that I may have been warned in a dream to leave through Egypt rather than Israel.”

“You may have?”

“I’m not used to this kind of communication from God, so I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t argue with a dream that seemed to come from God,” Michael said.

“But does it make sense?”

“It makes more sense than trying to smuggle a target of the zealots out of here through an international airport.”

“But Cairo has been destroyed. Where are flights in and out of there being rerouted to?”

“Alexandria,” Michael said. “But still, you have to get out of Israel somehow.”

“Find me a small strip somewhere, and we can avoid customs and go from there.”

“What then do you do about going through Egypt?”

“I don’t know what to make of it. Maybe the dream simply meant I should take other than a usual route.”

“One thing is certain,” Michael said. “This will have to be done after dark. If not tonight, then tomorrow night.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do it tonight if the skies opened and God pointed in my face.”

Michael smiled. “My friend, if I had gone through what you’ve gone through and seen prayer answered the way you have, I would not be challenging God to do something so simple.”

“Let’s just say then that I am praying God will let me wait one more day. I have to be in touch with my pilot, and we’re all going to have to work together at determining the best spot from which to head back to the United States.”

“There is one thing you should know,” Michael said.

“Just one?”

“No, but something very important. I believe Dr. Ben-Judah will be reluctant to flee.”

“What choice does he have?”

“That’s just it. He may not want a choice. With his wife and children gone, he may see no reason to go on, let alone to live.”

“Nonsense! The world needs him! We must keep his ministry alive.”

“You don’t need to convince me, Mr. Williams. I’m just telling you, you may have a selling job to get him to flee to the United States. I believe, however, that he will likely be safer there than anywhere, if he can be safe anyplace.”

“Your boots will stay driest if you stand in the bow and leap out when you hear the bottom scraping the sand,” Michael said. He had turned east and raced toward the shore.

In what seemed to Buck the last instant, Michael cut the engines and raised them from the water. He nimbly jogged up next to Buck and peeled his eyes, bracing himself. “Fling your bag as far as you can, jump with me, and make sure you outrun the boat!”

The boat slid along the bottom, and Buck followed orders. But when he leaped, he fell sideways and rolled. The boat barely missed him. He sat up, covered with wet sand.

“Help me, please!” Michael said. He had grabbed the boat and was tugging it onto land. Once they had secured it, Buck brushed himself off, happily found his boots were fairly dry, and began following his new friend. Buck had only his bag. Michael had only his weapon. But he also knew where he was going.

“I must ask you to be very silent now,” Michael whis-

pered as they pushed their way through underbrush. “We are secluded, but we take no chances.”

Buck had forgotten how long five kilometers could be. The ground was uneven and moist. The overgrowth slapped him in the face. He switched his bag from shoul-der to shoulder, never fully comfortable. He was in good shape, but this was hard. This was not jogging or cycling DC tunning on a treadmill. This was working your way through sandy shoreline to who knew where?

He dreaded seeing Dr. Ben-Judah. He wanted to be Reunited with his friend and brother in Christ, but what does one say to one who has lost his family? No plati-tudes, no words would make it better. The man had paid one of the steepest prices anyone could pay, and nothing short of heaven could make it better.

Half an hour later, panting and sore, he and Michael came within sight of the hideout.

Michael put a finger to his lips and bent low. He held aside a bundle of dried twigs, and they advanced. Twenty yards farther, in a grove of trees, was an opening to an underground shelter invisible to anyone who hadn’t come there on purpose.

BUCK
was struck that there were no real beds and no pillows in the hideout. So this is what the witnesses meant when they quoted that verse about having nowhere to lay his head, Buck thought.

Three other gaunt and desperate-looking young men, who could have been Michael’s brothers, huddled in the dugout, where there was barely room to stand. Buck noticed a clear view at ground level to the path behind him. That explained why Michael had not had to declare himself or give any signal to approach.

He was introduced all around, but only Michael, of the four, understood English.

Buck squinted, looking for Tsion. He could hear him, but he could not see him. Finally, a dim, electric lantern was illuminated. There, sitting in the corner, his back to the wall, was one of the first and surely the most famous of what would become the 144,000

witnesses prophesied of in the Bible.

He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. He wore a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark dress pants that rode high on his shins and left a gap between the cuffs and the top of his socks. He wore no shoes.

How young Tsion appeared! Buck knew him to be a youthful middle age anyway, but sitting there rocking and crying he appeared young as a child. He neither looked up nor acknowledged Buck.

Buck whispered that he would like a moment alone with Tsion. Michael and the others climbed through the opening and stood idly in the underbrush, weapons at the ready. Buck crouched next to Dr. Ben-Judah.

“Tsion,” Buck said, “God loves you.” The words had surprised even Buck. Could it possibly seem to Tsion that God loved him now? And what kind of a platitude was that?

Was it now his place to speak for God?

“What do you know for sure?” Buck asked, wondering himself what in the world he was talking about. Tsion’s reply, in his barely understandable Israeli accent, squeaked from a constricted throat: “I know that my Redeemer lives.”

“What else do you know?” Buck said, listening as much as speaking.

“I know that He who has begun a good work in me will be faithful to complete it.”

Praise God! Buck thought. Buck slumped to the ground and sat next to Ben-Judah, his back against the wall. He had come to rescue this man, to minister to him. Now he had been ministered to. Only God could provide such assurance and confidence at a time of such grief.

“Your wife and your children were believers-”

“Today they see God,” Tsion finished for him.

Buck had worried, Buck had wondered: Would Tsion Ben-Judah be so devastated at his inequitable loss that his faith would be shaken? Would he be so fragile that it would be impossible for him to go on? He would grieve, make no mistake. He would mourn.

But not as the heathen, who have no hope.

“Cameron, my friend,” Tsion managed, “did you bring your Bible?”

“Not in book form, sir. I have the entire Scripture on my computer.”

“I have lost more than my family, Buck.”

“Sir?”

“My library. My sacred books. All burned. All gone. The only things I love more in this life were my family.”

“You brought nothing from your office?”

“I threw on a ridiculous disguise, the long locks of the Orthodox. Even a phony beard.

I carried nothing, so as not to look like a resident scholar.”

“Could not someone forward the books from your office?”

“Not without endangering their life. I am the chief suspect in the murder of my family.”

“That’s nonsense!”

“We both know that, my friend, but a man’s perception soon becomes his reality.

Anyway, where could someone send my things without leading my enemies to me?”

Buck dug into his bag and produced his laptop. “I’m not sure how much battery life is left,” he said. He turned on the back-lit screen.