CHAPTER 10

Buck followed a strong urge to take his bag when he left the King David that night. In it was his small dictation machine, his sub-notebook computer (which would soon be replaced by the mother of all computers), his camera, that great phone, his toiletries, and two changes of clothing.

He left his key at the front desk and took a cab to the Wailing Wall, asking the cabbie if he spoke English. The driver held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart and smiled apologetically.

“How far to Galilee?” Buck said.

The cabbie took his foot off the accelerator. “You go to Galilee? Wailing Wall in Jerusalem.”

Buck waved him on. “I know. Wailing Wall now. Galilee later.”

The cabbie headed for the Wailing Wall. “Galilee now Lake Tiberius,” he said. “About 120 kilometers.”

Hardly anyone was at the Wailing Wall or even in the entire temple mount area at this time of the night. The newly rebuilt temple was illuminated magnificently and looked like something in a three-dimensional picture show. It seemed to hover on the horizon. Bruce had taught Buck that one day Carpathia would sit in that new temple and proclaim himself God. The journalist in Buck wanted to be there when that happened.

Buck did not at first see the two witnesses. A small group of sailors strolled past the wrought-iron fence at the end of the Wall where the witnesses usually stood and preached. The sailors chatted in English and one pointed. “I think that’s them, right over there,” he said. The others turned and stared. Buck followed their gaze past the fence and to a stone building. The two mysterious figures sat with their backs against it, feet tucked under them, chins resting on their knees. They were motionless, appearing to sleep. The sailors gawked and tiptoed closer. They never got within a hundred feet of the fence, apparently having heard enough stories. They weren’t going to rouse the two, the way they might do to animals at the zoo for sport. These were more than animals. These were dangerous beings who had been known to toast people who trifled with them. Buck did not want to draw attention to himself by boldly approaching the fence. He waited until the sailors got bored and moved on.

As soon as the young men were out of the area, Eli and Moishe raised their heads and looked directly at Buck. He was drawn to them. He walked directly to the fence. The witnesses rose and stood about twenty feet from Buck. “I need clarification,” Buck whispered. “Can I know more about my friend’s location?”

“He who has ears—”

“I know that,” Buck said, “but I—”

“You would dare interrupt the servants of the Most High God?” Eli said.

“Forgive me,” Buck said. He wanted to explain himself but decided to remain silent.

Moishe spoke. “You must first communicate with one who loves you.”

Buck waited for more. The witnesses stood there, silent. He held out both hands in puzzlement. He felt a vibration in his shoulder bag and realized his cell phone was buzzing. Now what was he supposed to do? If he wasn’t to interrupt the servants of the Most High God, did he dare take a call while conversing with them? He felt a fool. He moved away from the fence and grabbed the phone, clicked it open, and said, “This is Buck.”

“Buck! It’s Chloe! It’s about midnight there, right?”

“Right, Chloe, but right now I’m—”

“Buck, were you sleeping?”

“No, I’m up and I’m—”

“Buck, just tell me you’re not at the King David.”

“Well, I’m staying there, but—”

“But you’re not there right now, right?”

“No, I’m at—”

“Honey, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I just have this feeling that you should not be in that hotel tonight. In fact, I just have a premonition that you shouldn’t be in Jerusalem overnight. I don’t know about tomorrow, and I don’t know about premonitions and all that, but the feeling is so strong—”

“Chloe, I’m gonna need to call you back, OK?”

Chloe hesitated. “Well, OK, but you can’t take the time to talk to me for a moment when—”

“Chloe, I won’t stay at the King David tonight, and I won’t stay in Jerusalem overnight, OK?”

“That makes me feel better, Buck, but I’d still like to talk—”

“I’ll call you back, hon, OK?”

Buck didn’t know what he thought about this new level of what Bruce had referred to as “walking in the spirit.” The witnesses had implied he would find who he was looking for in Galilee, which didn’t really exist anymore. The Sea of Galilee was now Lake Tiberius. His dream, if he could put any stock in that, implied he should go to Egypt for some reason. Now the witnesses wanted him to use his ears to understand. He was sorry he was not “John the Revelator,” but he was going to have to ask for more information. And how had they known he had to talk to Chloe first? He had been around the two witnesses enough to know that they were never too far from the miraculous. He just wished they didn’t have to be so cryptic. He was here on a dangerous mission. If they could help him, he wanted their help.

Buck set his bag down and straddled it, trying to indicate that he was willing to stop anything else he was doing and simply listen. Moishe and Eli huddled and seemed to be whispering. They approached the fence. Buck began to move toward them, as he had done the last time he visited with Rabbi Tsion Ben-Judah, but both witnesses held up a hand and he stopped a few feet from his bag and several feet short of the fence. Suddenly the two began to shout at the top of their lungs. Buck was at first startled and backed up, tripping over his own bag. He righted himself. Eli and Moishe traded off quoting verses Buck recognized from Acts and Bruce’s teaching.

They shouted: “And it shall come to pass in the last days, says God, that I will pour out of My Spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your young men shall see visions, your old men shall dream dreams.”

Buck knew there was more to the passage, but the witnesses stopped and stared at him. Was he an old man already, having just turned thirty-two? Was he one of the old men who dreamed a dream? Did they know that? Were they telling him his dream was valid?

They continued: “And on My menservants and on My maidservants I will pour out My Spirit in those days; and they shall prophesy. I will show wonders in heaven above and signs in the earth beneath: blood and fire and vapor of smoke. The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the coming of the great and awesome day of the Lord. And it shall come to pass that whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

Buck was inspired, moved, excited to get on about his task. But where should he start? And why couldn’t the witnesses just tell him? He was surprised to realize he was no longer alone. The shouting of Scripture by the witnesses had produced another small crowd. Buck didn’t want to wait any longer. He picked up his bag and moved toward the fence. People warned him not to advance. He heard warnings in other languages, and a few in English. “You’ll regret that, son!”

Buck came within a few feet of the witnesses. No one else dared come close. He whispered, “By ‘Galilee’ I can only assume you mean Lake Tiberius,” he said. How was one supposed to tell people who seemed to have come back from Bible times that their geography was out of date? “Will I find my friend in Galilee, or on the Sea of Galilee, or where?”

“He who has ears to hear . . .”

Buck knew better than to interrupt and show his frustration. “How do I get there?” he asked.

Eli spoke softly. “It will go well with you if you return to the multitude,” he said.

Return to the multitude? Buck thought. He backed up and rejoined the crowd.

“Are you all right, son?” someone said. “Did they hurt you?” Buck shook his head.

Moishe began to preach in a loud voice: “Now after John was put in prison, Jesus came to Galilee, preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God, and saying ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.’

“And as He walked by the Sea of Galilee, He saw Simon and Andrew his brother casting a net into the sea; for they were fishermen. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Follow Me, and I will make you become fishers of men.’

“They immediately left their nets and followed Him.”

Buck wasn’t sure what to make of all that, but he sensed he had gotten all he was going to get from the witnesses that night. Though they continued to preach, and more people gathered seemingly from nowhere to listen, Buck drifted away. He lugged his bag to a short taxi line and climbed into the back of a small cab.

“Can a fella get a boat ride up the Jordan River into Lake Tiberius at this time of night?” he asked the driver.

“Well, sir, to tell you the truth, it’s a lot easier coming the other way. But, yes, there are motorized boats heading north. And some do run in the night. Of course, your touring boats are daytime affairs, but there’s always someone who will take you where you want to go for the right price, any time of the day or night.”

“I figured that,” Buck said. Not long later he was dickering with a boatman named Michael, who refused to give a last name. “In the daytime I can carry twenty tourists on this rig, and four strong young men and I pilot it by arm power, if you know what I mean.”

“Oars?”

“Yes sir, just like in the Bible. Boat’s made of wood. We cover the twin outboards with wood and burlap, and no one’s the wiser. Makes for a pretty long, tiring day. But when we have to go back upriver, we can’t do that with the oars.”

It was only Michael, the twin outboards, and Buck heading north after midnight, but Buck felt as if he had paid for twenty tourists and four oarsmen as well.

Buck began the trip standing in the bow and letting the crisp air race through his hair. He soon had to zip his leather jacket to the neck and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. Before long he was back next to Michael, who piloted the long, rustic, wood boat from just ahead of the outboard motors. Few other crafts were on the Jordan that night.

Michael shouted above the wind and the sound of the water. “So, you don’t really know who you’re looking for or exactly where they’ll be?”

They had set out from near Jericho, and Michael had told him they had more than a hundred kilometers to travel against the current. “Could take nearly three hours just to get to the mouth of Lake Tiberius,” he had added.

“I don’t know much,” Buck admitted. “I’m just counting on figuring it out when I get there.”

Michael shook his head. “Lake Tiberius is no pond. Your friend or friends could be on either shore or at either end.”

Buck nodded and sat, burying his chin in his chest to keep warm, to think, and to pray.

“Lord,” he said silently, “you’ve never spoken to me audibly, and I don’t expect you to start now, but I could sure use more direction. I don’t know if the dream was from you and I’m supposed to go through Egypt on the way back or what. I don’t know if I’m going to find Ben-Judah with some fishermen or whether I’m even on the right track by heading to the old Sea of Galilee. I’ve always enjoyed being independent and resourceful, but I confess I’m at the end of myself here. A lot of people have to be looking for Ben-Judah, and I desperately want to be the first one to find him.”

The small craft had just gone around a bend when the engines sputtered and the lights, fore and aft, went out. So much for the answer to that prayer, Buck thought.

“Trouble, Michael?”

Buck was struck by the sudden silence as the boat drifted. It seemed headed toward shore. “No trouble, Mr. Katz. Until your eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, you’re not going to be able to see that I’ve got a high-powered weapon pointed at your head. I would like you to remain seated and answer a few questions.”

Buck felt a strange calmness. This was too bizarre, too strange even for his weird life. “I mean you no harm, Michael,” he said. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

“I’m not the one who should be afraid just now, sir,” Michael said. “I have twice within the last forty-eight hours fired this weapon into the heads of people I’ve believed were enemies of God.”

Buck was nearly speechless. “One thing I can assure you of, Michael, is that I am in no way an enemy of God. Are you telling me you are a servant of his?”

“I am. The question is, Mr. Katz, are you? And if you are, how will you prove it?”

“Apparently,” Buck said, “we will need to assure each other we are on the same side.”

“The responsibility is yours. People coming up this river looking for someone I don’t want them to find wind up dead. If you’re the third to go, I’ll still sleep like a baby tonight.”

“And you justify this homicide how?” Buck said.

“Those were the wrong people looking for the wrong person. What I want from you is your real name, the name of the person you’re looking for, why you are looking for that person, and what you plan to do should you find that person.”

“But Michael, until I’m sure you are on my side, I could never risk revealing that information.”

“Even to the point where you’d be willing to die to protect your friend?”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that, but yes.”

Buck’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness. Michael had carefully pointed the craft in such a way that when the power had been cut it drifted back and gently nudged an outcropping of dirt and rock jutting from the shore.

“I am impressed with that answer,” Michael said. “But I will not hesitate to add you to the list of dead enemies if you can’t convince me you have the right motives for locating whoever it is you want to locate.”

“Test me,” Buck said. “What will convince you I’m not bluffing, but at the same time convince me that you have the same person in mind?”

“Excellent,” Michael said. “True or false: the person you are looking for is young.”

Buck responded quickly. “Compared to you, false.”

Michael continued: “The person you are looking for is female.”

“False.”

“The person you are looking for is a medical doctor.”

“False.”

“A Gentile?”

“False.”

“Uneducated?”

“False.”

“Bilingual?”

“False.”

Buck heard Michael move the huge weapon in his hands. Buck quickly added, “Bilingual doesn’t say enough. Multilingual is more like it.” Michael stepped forward and pressed the barrel of the weapon against Buck’s throat. Buck grimaced and shut his eyes. “The man you are looking for is a rabbi, Dr. Tsion Ben-Judah.” Buck did not respond. The weapon pushed harder against his neck. Michael continued: “If you are seeking to kill him, and I was his compatriot, I would kill you. If you were seeking to rescue him, and I represented his captors, I would kill you.”

“But in the latter case,” Buck managed, “you would have been lying about serving God.”

“True enough. And what would happen to me then?”

“You might kill me, but you will ultimately lose.”

“And how do we know that?”

Buck had nothing to lose. “It’s all been foretold. God wins.”

“If that’s true, and I turn out to be your brother, you can tell me your real name.” Buck hesitated. “If it turns out that I am your enemy,” Michael continued, “I’ll kill you anyway.”

Buck couldn’t argue with that. “My name is Cameron Williams. I am a friend of Dr. Ben-Judah.”

“Would you be the American he talks about?”

“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? Supernaturally.”

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 whispered 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 shoulder to shoulder, never fully comfortable. He was in good shape, but this was hard. This was not jogging or cycling or running 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 platitudes, 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.