CHAPTER 2
The Learjet was a six-seater. Carpathia and Fortunato, deep in conversation, ignored Rayford and Amanda as the couple passed. The Steeles ducked into the last two seats and held hands. Rayford knew global terror was entirely new to Amanda. It was new to him. On this scale, it was new to everyone. She gripped his hands so tight his fingers turned white. She was shuddering.
Carpathia turned in his seat to face them. He had that fighting-a-grin look Rayford found so maddening in light of the situation. “I know you are not certified on these little speedsters,” Carpathia said, “but you might learn something in the copilot’s chair.”
Rayford was much more worried about the plane he would be expected to fly out of Dallas, something he had never seen or even heard of. He looked at Amanda, hoping she would plead with him to stay with her, but she quickly let go of his hand and nodded. Rayford climbed toward the cockpit, which was separated from the other seats by a thin panel. He strapped himself in and looked apologetically at the pilot, who offered his hand and said, “Chico Hernandez, Captain Steele. Don’t worry, I’ve already done the preflight check, and I don’t really need any help.”
“I wouldn’t be of any help anyway,” Rayford said. “I haven’t flown anything smaller than a 707 for years.”
“Compared to what you usually fly,” Hernandez said, “this will seem like a motorbike.”
And that’s exactly what it seemed to Rayford. The Learjet screamed and whined as Hernandez carefully lined it up on the runway. They seemed to hit top ground speed in seconds and quickly lifted off, banking hard to the right and setting a course for Dallas. “What tower do you connect with?” Rayford asked.
“The tower’s empty at Glenview,” Hernandez said.
“I noticed.”
“I’ll let a few towers know I’m coming along the way. The weather people tell us we’re clear all the way, and Global Community intelligence spots no enemy aircraft between here and touchdown.”
Enemy aircraft, Rayford thought. There’s an interesting way to refer to American militia forces. He recalled not liking the militias, not understanding them, assuming them criminals. But that had been when the American government was also their enemy. Now they were allies of lame duck United States President Gerald Fitzhugh, and their enemy was Rayford’s enemy—his boss, of all things, but his enemy nonetheless. Rayford had no idea where Hernandez came from, what his background was, whether he was sympathetic and loyal to Carpathia or had been pressed into reluctant service as Rayford himself had. Rayford slipped on earphones and found the proper dials so he could communicate to the pilot without allowing for anyone else to hear. “This is your pretend first officer,” he said softly. “Do you read me?”
“Loud and clear, ‘Copilot’,” Hernandez said. And as if reading Rayford’s mind, Hernandez added, “This channel is secure.”
Rayford took that to mean that no one else, inside or outside the plane, could hear their conversation. That made sense. But why had Hernandez said that? Had he realized that Rayford wanted to talk? And how comfortable would Rayford be talking to a stranger? Just because they were fellow pilots didn’t mean he could bare his soul to this man. “I’m curious about Global Community One,” Rayford said.
“You haven’t heard?” Hernandez asked.
“Negative.”
Hernandez shot a glance behind him at Carpathia and Fortunato. Rayford chose not to turn, so as not to arouse any suspicion. Apparently, Hernandez had found Carpathia and Fortunato in earnest discussions again, because he told what he knew about Rayford’s former plane.
“I suppose the potentate would have told you himself if he had had the chance,” Hernandez said. “There’s not good news out of New York.”
“I heard that,” Rayford said. “But I hadn’t heard how widespread the damage was at the major airports.”
“Just about total destruction, I understand. We know for sure that the hangar where she was located was virtually vaporized.”
“And the pilot?”
“Earl Halliday? He was long gone by the time of the attack.”
“He’s safe then?” Rayford said. “That’s a relief! Do you know him?”
“Not personally,” Hernandez said. “But I’ve heard a lot about him in the past few weeks.”
“From Carpathia?” Rayford said.
“No. From the North American delegation to the Global Community.”
Rayford was lost, but he didn’t want to admit it. Why would the North American delegation be talking about Earl Halliday? Carpathia had asked Rayford to find someone to fly the Global Community One 777 to New York while Rayford and Amanda were taking a brief vacation in Chicago. Carpathia was to spend a few days confusing the press and the insurrectionists (President Fitzhugh and several American militia groups) by ignoring his published itinerary and being shuttled from place to place. When the militia attacked and the Global Community retaliated, Rayford had assumed that at least the timing was a surprise. He also assumed that his selection of his old friend and boss at Pan-Continental Airlines as the one to ferry the empty 777 to New York was of little consequence to Nicolae Carpathia. But apparently Carpathia and the North American delegation had known exactly whom he would choose. What was the point of that? And how did Halliday know to get out of New York in time to avoid being killed?
“Where is Halliday now?” Rayford asked.
“You’ll see him in Dallas.”
Rayford squinted, trying to make it all compute. “I will?”
“Who did you think was going to take you through the paces of the new aircraft?”
When Carpathia had told Rayford he might learn a few things by sitting in the copilot’s chair, Rayford had had no idea it would entail more than a few interesting tidbits about this quick, small jet. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “Earl Halliday knew about the new plane and is conversant enough to teach me to drive it?”
Hernandez smiled as he scanned the horizon and maneuvered the Learjet. “Earl Halliday practically built the Condor 216 himself. He helped design it. He made sure anyone who was certified on a seven-seven-seven would be able to fly it, even though it’s much bigger and a whole sight more sophisticated than Global Community One.”
Rayford felt an ironic emotion rise within him. He hated Carpathia and knew precisely who he was. But as strange as his wife’s taking offense at Carpathia’s insistence on getting her name wrong, Rayford suddenly felt left out of the loop. “I wonder why I would not have been informed of a new plane, especially if I am supposed to be its pilot,” he said.
“I can’t say for sure,” Hernandez said, “but you know the potentate tends to be very wary, very careful, and very calculating.”
Don’t I know it? Rayford thought. Conniving and scheming is more like it. “So he apparently doesn’t trust me.”
“I’m not sure he trusts anyone,” Hernandez said. “If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t either. Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Would you trust anyone if you were Carpathia?” Hernandez said.
Rayford did not respond.
“Do you feel like you just spent the devil’s money?” Chloe asked Buck as he carefully pulled the beautiful, new, earth-toned Range Rover out of the dealership and into traffic.
“I know I did,” Buck said. “And the Antichrist has never invested a better dollar for the cause of God.”
“You consider spending almost a hundred thousand dollars on a toy like this an investment in our cause?”
“Chloe,” Buck said carefully, “look at this rig. It has everything. It will go anywhere. It’s indestructible. It comes with a satellite phone. It comes with a citizen’s band radio. It comes with a fire extinguisher, a survival kit, flares, you name it. It has four-wheel drive, all-wheel drive, independent suspension, a CD player that plays those new two-inch jobs, electrical outlets, you name it.”
“But Buck, you slapped down your Global Community Weekly credit card as if it were your own. What kind of a limit do you have on that thing?”
“Most of the cards Carpathia issues like this have a quarter-of-a-million-dollar limit,” Buck said. “But those of us at senior levels have a special code built into ours. They’re unlimited.”
“Literally unlimited?”
“Didn’t you see the eyes of that sales manager when he phoned for verification?”
“All I saw,” Chloe said, “was a smile and a done deal.”
“There you go.”
“But doesn’t somebody have to approve purchases like that?”
“I report directly to Carpathia. He might want to know why I bought a Range Rover. But it should certainly be easy enough to explain, what with the loss of our apartment, our vehicles, and the need to be able to get wherever we have to go.”
Once again, Buck soon grew impatient with the traffic. This time, when he left the road and made his way through ditches, gullies, parkways, alleys, and yards, the ride was sure and, if not smooth, purposeful. That vehicle was made for this kind of driving.
“Look what else this baby has,” Buck said. “You can switch between automatic or manual transmission.”
Chloe leaned down to look at the floorboard. “What do you do with the clutch when you’re in automatic?”
“You ignore it,” Buck said. “You ever drive a stick?”
“A friend in college had a little foreign sports car with a stick shift,” she said. “I loved it.”
“You wanna drive?”
“Not on your life. At least not now. Let’s just get to the church.”
“Anything else I should know about what we’re going to encounter in Dallas?” Rayford asked Hernandez.
“You’re gonna be ferrying a lot of VIPs back to Iraq,” Hernandez said. “But that’s nothing new for you, is it?”
“Nope. I’m afraid it’s lost its luster by now.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I envy you.”
Rayford was stunned to silence. Here he was, what Bruce Barnes referred to as a tribulation saint, a believer in Christ during the most horrifying period in human history, serving Antichrist himself against his own will and certainly at the peril of his wife, his daughter, her husband, and himself. And yet he was envied.
“Don’t envy me, Captain Hernandez. Whatever you do, don’t envy me.”
As Buck neared the church, he noticed yards full of people. They stared at the sky and listened to radios and TVs that blared from inside their houses. Buck was surprised to see one lone car in the parking lot at New Hope. It belonged to Loretta, Bruce’s assistant.
“I don’t look forward to this,” Chloe said.
“I hear you,” Buck said.
They found the woman, now nearly seventy, sitting stiffly in the outer office staring at the television. Two balled-up tissues rested in her lap, and she riffled a third in her bony fingers. Her reading glasses rode low on her nose, and she peered over the top of them at the television. She did not seem to look Buck and Chloe’s way as they entered, but it soon became clear she knew they were there. From the inner office, Buck heard a computer printer producing page after page after page.
Loretta had been a southern belle in her day. Now she sat red-eyed and sniffling, fingers working that tissue as if creating some piece of art. Buck glanced up to see a helicopter view of the bombed-out Northwest Community Hospital. “People been callin’,” Loretta said. “I don’t know what to tell ’em. He couldn’t survive that, could he? Pastor Bruce, I mean. He couldn’t still be alive now, could he? Did y’all see him?”
“We didn’t see him,” Chloe said carefully, kneeling next to the old woman. “But my dad did.”
Loretta turned quickly to stare at her. “Mr. Steele saw him? And is he all right?”
Chloe shook her head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, he’s not. Bruce is gone.”
Loretta lowered her chin to her chest. Tears gathered and pooled in her half-glasses. She spoke hoarsely. “Would y’all mind turnin’ that off then, please. I was just praying I’d catch a glimpse of Pastor Bruce. But if he’s under one of those sheets, I don’t care to see that.”
Buck turned off the TV as Chloe embraced the old woman. Loretta broke down and sobbed. “That young man was like family to me, you know.”
“We know,” Chloe said, crying herself now. “He was family to us, too.”
Loretta pulled back to look at Chloe. “But he was my only family. You know my story, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am—”
“You know I lost everybody.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I mean, everybody. I lost every living relative I had. More than a hundred. I came from one of the most devout, spiritual heritages a woman could come from. I was considered a pillar of this church. I was active in everythin’, a church woman. I just never really knew the Lord.”
Chloe held her close and cried with her.
“That young man taught me everythin’,” Loretta continued. “I learned more from him in two years than I learned in more than sixty years in Sunday school and church before that. I’m not blamin’ anybody but myself. I was deaf and blind spiritually. My daddy had gone on before, but I lost Mama, all six of my brothers and sisters, all of their kids, their kids’ husbands and wives. I lost my own children and grandchildren. Everybody. If somebody had made a list of who in this church would be most likely to go to heaven when they died, I would have been at the top of the list, right up there with the pastor.”
This was as painful for Buck as it seemed for Chloe and Loretta. He would grieve in his own way and his own time, but for now he didn’t want to dwell on the tragedy. “What’re you working on in the office, ma’am?” he said.
Loretta cleared her throat. “Bruce’s stuff, of course,” she managed.
“What is it?”
“Well, you know when he got back from that big teaching trip of his in Indonesia, he had some sort of a virus or something. One of the men rushed him to the hospital so fast that he left his laptop computer here. You know he took that thing with him everywhere he went.”
“I know he did,” Chloe said.
“Well, as soon as he was settled into that hospital, he called me. He asked me to bring that laptop to him if I could. I would’ve done anythin’ for Bruce, of course. I was on my way out the door with it when the phone rang again. Bruce told me they were taking him out of the emergency room and straight to intensive care, so he wouldn’t be able to have any visitors for a while. I think he had a premonition.”
“A premonition?” Buck said.
“I think he knew he might die,” she said. “He told me to keep in touch with the hospital for when he could have visitors. He was fond of me, but I know he wanted that laptop more than he wanted to see me.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Chloe said. “He loved you like a mother.”
“I know that’s true,” Loretta said. “He told me that more than once. Anyway, he asked if I would print out everything he had on his hard drive off his computer, you know, everything except what he called program files and all that.”
“What?” Chloe asked. “His own Bible studies and sermon preparation, stuff like that?”
“I guess,” Loretta said. “He told me to make sure I had plenty of paper. I thought he meant like just a ream or something.”
“It’s taken more than that?” Buck said.
“Oh, yes sir, much more than that. I stood there feeding that machine every two hundred pages or so until I’d finished up two reams. I’m scared to death of those computers, but Bruce talked me through how to print out everything that had a file name that began with his initials. He told me if I just typed in ‘Print BB*.*’ that it should spit out everything he wanted. I sure hope I did the right thing. It’s given him more than he could ever want. I suppose I should just shut it down now.”
“You’ve got a third ream going in there?” Chloe said.
“No. I got some help from Donny.”
“The phone guy?” Buck said.
“Oh, Donny Moore is a whole lot more than just a phone guy,” Loretta said. “There’s hardly anything electronic he can’t fix or make better. He showed me how I can use those old boxes of continuous-feed computer paper in our laser printer. He just hauled a box out and fed it in one end and it comes out the other so I don’t have to keep feeding it.”
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Buck said.
“Neither did I,” Loretta said. “There’s a lot of stuff Donny knows that I don’t. He said our printer was pretty new and fancy and should be kicking out close to a page a second.”
“And you’ve been doing this how long?” Chloe said.
“Just about ever since I talked to Bruce from the hospital this morning. There was probably a five- or ten-minute break after those first two reams and before Donny helped me get that big box of paper under there.”
Buck slipped into the inner office and stood watching in amazement as the high-tech printer drew page after page from the paper box through its innards and out the other side into a stack that was threatening to topple. He straightened the stack and stared at the box. The first two reams of printed material, all single-spaced, lay neatly on Bruce’s desk. The old paper box, the likes of which Buck hadn’t seen in years, noted that it contained five thousand sheets. He guessed that it had already used 80 percent of its total. Surely, there must be some mistake. Could Bruce have produced more than five thousand pages of notes? Perhaps there was a glitch and Loretta had mistakenly printed everything, including program files, Bibles and concordances, dictionaries, and the like.
But there had been no glitch. Buck casually fanned through first one ream and then the other, looking for something other than Bruce’s own notes. Every page Buck glanced at contained personal writing from Bruce. This included his own commentary on Bible passages, sermon notes, devotional thoughts, and letters to friends and relatives and churchmen from around the globe. At first Buck felt guilty, as if he were invading Bruce’s privacy. And yet why had Bruce urged Loretta to print all this stuff? Was he afraid he might be gone? Had he wanted to leave it for their use?
Buck bent over the fast-rising stack of continuous-feed sheets. He lifted it from the bottom and allowed the pages to drop before his eyes one at a time. Again, page after page of single-spaced copy, all from Bruce. He must have written several pages a day for more than two years.
When Buck rejoined Chloe and Loretta, Loretta said again, “We might as well shut it off and throw the pages away. He’ll have no use for all that stuff now.”
Chloe had risen and now sat, looking exhausted, in a side chair. It was Buck’s turn to kneel before Loretta. He placed his hands on her shoulders and spoke earnestly. “Loretta, you can still serve the Lord by serving Bruce.” She began to protest, but he continued. “He’s gone, yes, but we can rejoice that he’s with his family again, can’t we?” Loretta pressed her lips together and nodded. Buck continued. “I need your help on a big project. There’s a gold mine in that room. From just glancing at those pages, I can see that Bruce is still with us. His knowledge, his teaching, his love and compassion, they are all there. The best we can do for this little flock that has lost its shepherd is to get those pages reproduced. I don’t know what this place will do for a pastor or a teacher, but in the meantime, people need access to what Bruce has written. Maybe they’ve heard him preach it, maybe they’ve seen it in other forms before. But this is a treasure that everyone can use.”
Chloe spoke up. “Buck, shouldn’t you try to edit it or shape it into some sort of book form first?”
“I’ll take a look at it, Chloe, but there’s a certain beauty in simply reproducing it in the form it’s in. This was Bruce off-the-cuff, in the middle of his study, writing to fellow believers, writing to friends and loved ones, writing to himself. I think Loretta ought to take all those pages to a quick-print shop and get them started. We need a thousand copies of all that stuff, printed on two sides and bound simply.”
“That’ll cost a fortune,” Loretta said.
“Don’t worry about that now,” Buck said. “I can’t think of a better investment.”
As the Learjet made its initial descent into the Dallas/Ft. Worth area, Fortunato ducked into the cockpit and knelt between Hernandez and Rayford. Each slipped the headphone off the ear closest to Carpathia’s aide. “Anybody hungry?” he said.
Rayford hadn’t even thought of food. For all he knew, the world was blowing itself to bits and no one would survive this war. The very mention of hunger, however, triggered something in him. He realized he was famished. He knew Amanda would be as well. She was a light eater, and he often had to make sure she remembered to eat.
“I could eat,” Hernandez said. “In fact, I could eat a lot.”
“Potentate Carpathia would like you to contact DFW tower and have something nice waiting for us.”
Hernandez suddenly looked panicky. “What do you think he means by ‘something nice’?”
“I’m sure you’ll arrange for something appropriate, Captain Hernandez.”
Fortunato backed out of the cockpit and Hernandez rolled his eyes at Rayford. “DFW tower, this is Global Community Three, over.”
Rayford glanced back as Fortunato took his seat. Carpathia had swung around and was in deep conversation with Amanda.
Chloe worked with Loretta in fashioning a terse, two-sentence statement that was sent out by phone to the six names at the top of the prayer chain list. Each would call others who would call others, and the news would quickly spread throughout the New Hope body. Meanwhile, Buck recorded a brief message on the answering machine that simply said: “The tragic news of Pastor Bruce’s death is true. Elder Rayford Steele saw him and believes he may have died before any explosives hit the hospital. Please do not come to the church, as there will be no meetings or services or further announcements until Sunday at the regular time.” Buck turned the ringer off on the phone and directed all calls to the answering machine, which soon began clicking every few minutes, as more and more parishioners called in for confirmation. Buck knew Sunday morning’s meeting would be packed.
Chloe agreed to follow Loretta home and make sure she was all right while Buck was calling Donny Moore. “Donny,” Buck said, “I need your advice, and I need it right away.”
“Mr. Williams, sir,” came Donny’s characteristic staccato delivery, “advice is my middle name. And as you know, I work at home, so I can come to you or you can come to me and we can talk whenever you want.”
“Donny, I’m not mobile just now, so if you could find your way clear to visiting me at the church, I’d sure appreciate it.”
“I’ll be right over, Mr. Williams, but could you tell me something first? Did Loretta have the phones off the hook there for a while?”
“Yes, I believe she did. She didn’t have answers for people who were calling about Pastor Bruce. With nothing to tell people, she just turned off the phones.”
“That’s a relief,” Donny said. “I just got her set up with a new system a few weeks ago, so I hope nothing was wrong. How is Bruce, by the way?”
“I’ll tell you all about that when you get here, Donny, OK?”
Rayford saw billowing black clouds over the Dallas/Ft. Worth commercial airport and thought of the many times he had landed big craft on those long runways. How long would it take to rebuild here? Captain Hernandez guided the Learjet to a nearby military strip, the one Rayford had visited so recently. He saw no other aircraft on the ground. Clearly, someone had moved all the planes to keep the strip from being a target.
Hernandez landed the Learjet as smoothly as a man can land a plane that small, and they immediately taxied to the end of the runway and directly into a large hangar. Rayford was surprised that, indeed, the rest of the hangar was empty, too. Hernandez shut down the engines, and they deplaned. As soon as Carpathia had room, he put back on his disguise. He whispered something to Fortunato, who asked Hernandez where they would find the food. “Hangar three,” Hernandez said. “We’re in hangar one. The plane’s in hangar four.”
The disguise proved unnecessary. There was not much space between the hangars, and the small contingent moved quickly into and out of small doors at the sides of the buildings. Hangars two and three were also empty, except for a table piled with catered lunches near the side door that led to hangar four.
They approached the tables, and Carpathia turned to Rayford. “Say good-bye to Captain Hernandez,” he said. “After he has eaten, he will be on assignment for me near the old National Security Agency building in Maryland. It is unlikely you will see him again. He flies only the small craft.”
It was all Rayford could do to keep from shrugging. What did he care? He had just met the man. Why was it so important for Carpathia to keep him updated on personnel? He had not told Rayford of Earl Halliday’s involvement in helping design a new plane. He had not told Rayford that he expected to need a new plane. He had not even sought Rayford’s input about the plane he would be flying. Rayford would never understand the man.
Rayford ate ravenously and tried to encourage Amanda to eat more than usual. She did not. As the group made its last move between hangars, Rayford heard the characteristic whine of the Learjet and realized Hernandez was already airborne. Interestingly, Fortunato disappeared soon after they entered hangar four. There, standing at attention in a neat row, were four of the ten international ambassadors who represented huge land masses and populations and reported directly to Carpathia. Rayford had no idea where they had been or how they had gotten here. All he knew was that it was his job to get them all to New Babylon for emergency meetings in light of the outbreak of World War III.
At the end of the row was Earl Halliday, standing stiffly and staring straight ahead. Carpathia shook hands with each of the four ambassadors in turn and ignored Halliday, who seemed to expect that. Rayford walked directly to Halliday and stuck out his hand. Halliday ignored it and spoke under his breath. “Get away from me, Steele, you scum!”
“Earl!”
“I mean it, Rayford. I have to bring you up to speed on this plane, but I don’t have to pretend to like it.”
Rayford backed away, feeling awkward, and joined Amanda, who had been left alone and looked out of place herself.
“Rayford, what in the world is Earl doing here?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you later. He’s not happy, I can tell you that. What was Carpathia talking to you about on the plane?”
“He wanted to know what I wanted to eat, of all things. That man!”
Two aides from New Babylon entered and greeted Carpathia with embraces. One motioned for Earl and Rayford to join him in a corner of the hangar as far from the Condor 216 as they could get. Rayford had purposely avoided staring at the monstrous aircraft. Though it sat facing the door that would open to the runway and was more than 150 feet from where they stood, still the Condor seemed to dominate the hangar. Rayford had known from a glance that here was a plane that had been in development for years, not just months. It was clearly the biggest passenger plane he had ever seen, and it was painted such a brilliant white that it seemed to disappear against the light walls in the dimly lit hangar. He could only imagine how difficult it would be to spot in the sky.
Carpathia’s aide, dressed just like Carpathia in a natty black suit, white shirt, and bloodred tie with a gold stickpin, leaned in close to Rayford and Earl and spoke earnestly. “Potentate Carpathia would like to be airborne as soon as possible. Can you give us an estimated time of departure?”
“I’ve never even seen this plane,” Rayford said, “and I have no idea—”
“Rayford,” Earl interrupted, “I’m telling you, you can fly this plane within half an hour. I know you; I know planes. So trust me.”
“Well, that’s interesting, Earl, but I won’t make any promises until I’ve been put through the paces.”
The Carpathia wannabe turned to Halliday. “Are you available to fly this plane, at least until Steele here feels he’s—”
“No sir, I am not!” Halliday said. “Just let me have Steele for thirty minutes and then let me get back to Chicago.”
Donny Moore proved more of a talker than Buck appreciated, but he decided feigning interest was a small price for the man’s expertise. “So, you’re a phone systems guy, but you sell computers—”
“On the side, right, yes sir. Just about double my income that way. Got a trunk full of catalogs, you know.”
“I’d like to see those,” Buck said.
Donny grinned. “I thought you might.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack, apparently one of each of the manufacturers he represented. He spread six out before Buck on the coffee table.
“Whoa,” Buck said, “I can see already there are going to be too many choices. Why don’t you just let me tell you what I’m looking for, and you tell me if you can deliver?”
“I can tell you right now I can deliver,” Donny said. “Last week I sold a guy thirty sub-notebooks with more power than any desktop anywhere, and—”
“Excuse me a moment, Donny,” Buck said. “Did you hear that printer quit?”
“I sure did. It just stopped now. It’s either out of paper, out of ink, or done with whatever it was doing. I sold that machine to Bruce, you know. Top of the line. Prints regular paper, continuous feed—whatever you need.”
“Let me just check on it,” Buck said. He rose and peeked into the inner office. The screen on Bruce’s laptop had already suspended itself. No warning lights on the printer told of shortages of ink or paper. Buck pushed a button on the laptop and the screen came alive. It indicated the print job was finally over. Buck guessed there were about a hundred pages left from the five-thousand-page box Loretta had run through the printer. What a treasure, Buck thought.
“When’s Bruce gonna be back here?” Buck heard Donny ask from the other room.
Rayford and Earl boarded the Condor alone. Earl held a finger to his lips and Rayford assumed he was looking for bugs. He checked the intercom system thoroughly before speaking. “You never know,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” Rayford said.
“You tell me about it, Rayford!”
“Earl, I’m much more in the dark than you are. I didn’t even know you were involved in this project. I had no idea you were working for Carpathia. You knew I was, so why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m not working for Carpathia, Rayford. I was pressed into service. I’m still a Pan-Con chief pilot at O’Hare, but when duty calls—”
“Why didn’t Carpathia tell me he was aware of you?” Rayford said. “He asked me to find somebody to fly Global Community One into New York. He didn’t know I would choose you.”
“He must have,” Earl said. “Who else would you pick? I was asked to help design this new plane, and I thought it would be fun just to test it a little bit. Then I get asked to fly the original plane to New York. Since the request came from you, I was flattered and honored. It was only when I got on the ground and realized the plane and I were targets that I got out of New York and headed back to Chicago as fast as I could. I never got there. I got word from Carpathia’s people while I was in the air that I was needed in Dallas to brief you on this plane.”
“I’m lost,” Rayford said.
“Well, I don’t know much either,” Earl said. “But it’s clear Carpathia wanted my going to New York and winding up dead to look like your decision, not his.”
“Why would he want you dead?”
“Maybe I know too much.”
“I’ve been flying him all over the place,” Rayford said. “I have to know more than you, and yet I don’t sense he’s thinking about doing me in.”
“Just watch your back, Rayford. I’ve heard enough to know this is not all what it seems to be and that this man does not have the world’s best interests at heart.”
There’s the understatement of the ages, Rayford thought.
“I don’t know how you got me into this, Rayford, but—”
“I got you into this? Earl, you have a short memory. You’re the one who encouraged me to become the pilot of Air Force One. I wasn’t looking for that job, and I certainly never dreamed it would turn into this.”
“Piloting Air Force One was a plum assignment,” Earl said, “whether you recognized that at the time or not. How was I to know what would come of it?”
“Let’s stop blaming each other and decide what we’re supposed to do now.”
“Ray, I’m gonna bring you up to speed on this plane, but then I think I’m a dead man. Would you tell my wife that—”
“Earl, what are you talking about? Why do you think you won’t make it back to Chicago?”
“I have no idea, Ray. All I know is that I was supposed to be in New York with that plane when it got obliterated. I don’t see myself as any threat to the Carpathia administration, but if they cared a whit about me, they would have gotten me out of New York before I had the idea I’d better get out of there.”
“Can’t you get yourself some sort of emergency assignment at DFW? There has to be a huge need for Pan-Con personnel over there, in light of everything.”
“Carpathia’s people have arranged a ride back to Chicago for me. I just have this feeling I’m not safe.”
“Tell them you don’t want to put them out. Tell them you’ve got plenty of work to do at DFW.”
“I’ll try. Meanwhile, let me show you this rig. And Ray, as an old friend, I want you to promise me that if anything does happen to me—”
“Nothing is going to happen to you, Earl. But of course I’ll keep in touch with your wife either way.”
Donny Moore fell silent at the tragic news. He sat staring, eyes wide, seemingly unable to form words. Buck busied himself leafing through the catalogs. He couldn’t concentrate. He knew there would be more questions. He didn’t know what to tell Donny. And he needed this man’s help.
Donny’s voice came hoarse with emotion. “What’s gonna happen to this church?”
“I know this sounds like a cliché,” Buck said, “but I believe God will provide.”
“How will God provide anybody like Pastor Bruce?”
“I know what you mean, Donny. Whoever it is won’t be another Pastor Bruce. He was unique.”
“I’m still having trouble believing it,” Donny said. “But I don’t guess anything should surprise me anymore.”
Rayford sat behind the controls of the Condor 216. “What am I supposed to do for a first officer?” he asked Earl.
“They’ve got somebody on his way over from one of the other airlines. He’ll fly with you as far as San Francisco, where McCullum will join you.”
“McCullum? He copiloted for me from New Babylon to Washington, Earl. When I went to Chicago, he was supposed to go back to Iraq.”
“I only know what I’m told, Rayford.”
“And why are we flying west to go east, as Carpathia says?”
“I have no idea what’s going on here, Rayford. I’m new to this. Maybe you know better than I do. The fact is, most of the war and devastation seems to be east of the Mississippi. Have you noticed that? It’s almost as if it was planned. This plane was designed and built here in Dallas, but not at DFW where it might have been destroyed. It’s ready for you just when you need it. As you can see it has the controls of a seven-seven-seven and yet it’s a much bigger plane. If you can fly a ’seventy-seven, you can fly this. You just need to get used to the size of it. The people you need are where you need them when you need them. Figure it out, boy. None of this seems a surprise to Carpathia, does it?”
Rayford had no idea what to say. It didn’t take long to catch on.
Halliday continued, “You’ll fly on a straight line from Dallas to San Francisco, and my guess is you won’t see any devastation from the air, and you won’t be threatened from attack heading that way either. There might be militia people somewhere out west who would like to shoot rockets at Carpathia, but there are precious few people who know he’s heading that way. You’ll stop in San Francisco just long enough to get rid of this copilot and pick up your usual one.”
Buck touched Donny’s arm, as if rousing him from sleep. Donny looked at him blankly. “Mr. Williams, this has all been hard enough even with Pastor Bruce here. I don’t know what we’re going to do now.”
“Donny,” Buck said gravely, “you have an opportunity here to do something for God, and it’s the greatest memorial tribute you could ever give to Bruce Barnes.”
“Well then, sir, whatever it is, I want to do it.”
“First, Donny, let me assure you that money is no object.”
“I don’t want any profit off something that will help the church and God and Bruce’s memory.”
“Fine. Whatever profit you build in or don’t build in is up to you. I’m just telling you that I need five of the absolute best, top-of-the-line computers, as small and compact as they can be, but with as much power and memory and speed and communications abilities as you can wire into them.”
“You’re talking my language, Mr. Williams.”
“I hope so, Donny, because I want a computer with virtually no limitations. I want to be able to take it anywhere, keep it reasonably concealed, store everything I want on it, and most of all, be able to connect with anyone anywhere without the transmission being traced. Is that doable?”
“Well, sir, I can put together something for you like those computers that scientists use in the jungle or in the desert when there’s no place to plug in or hook up to.”
“Yeah,” Buck said. “Some of our reporters use those in remote areas. What do they have, built-in satellite dishes?”
“Believe it or not, it is something like that. And I can add another feature for you, too.”
“What’s that?”
“Videoconferencing.”
“I want all of it, Donny. And I want it fast. And I need you to keep this confidential.”
Buck had thought money would be no object, but this was one expense he could not lay off on Carpathia.