CHAPTER 15
“You want to see my projects, Cameron?” Chaim Rosenzweig said. “That would make you happy, make you feel like more of a friend?”
“It would.”
“Promise you won’t think me batty, an old eccentric as my house staff does.”
Buck followed him, realizing that regardless how Chaim appeared to the brothers and sisters in the house, he was aware of everything.
Rayford found the Tuttles an all-American couple who had lost all four of their grown sons in the Rapture. “Did we ever miss it,” Dwayne said in the Super J, streaking across the eastern U.S. “Oldest boy goes off to college, gets religion we think. Doesn’t seem to hurt him any, ’cept he starts in on the other three and before you know it, baby brother’s goin’ to church. That’s OK, but we figure it’s just little brother/big brother hero worship, know what I mean?
“Then the middle boys get invited to some church deal they probably wouldn’t have gone to if their brothers hadn’t already been Christians. They get asked to play on the church basketball team, go off to a week of camp, and come back saved. Man, I hated that word, and they used it all the time. I got saved, he got saved, she got saved, you need to be saved. I loved those boys like everything, but—”
Dwayne had gone from his rapid-fire delivery to choked up so fast Rayford hadn’t seen it coming. Now the big man spoke in a little voice, fighting the sobs. Trudy reached from the seat behind his and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“I loved those boys,” he squeaked, “and I didn’t have a bit of a problem with ’em all wantin’ to be religious, I really didn’t. Did I, Tru?”
“They loved you, Dwayne,” she drawled. “You never gave them a hard time.”
“But they gave me a hard time, see? They were never mean, but they were pushy. I told ’em it was all right with me, ’slong as they didn’t expect me to start goin’ to church with ’em. Had enough of that as a kid, never liked it, bad memories. Their type a church was better, they said. I says fine, you go on then but leave me out of it. They told me their mom’s soul was on my head. That got me mad, but how do you stay mad at your own flesh and blood when, even if they’re wrong, they’re worried about their mom’s and dad’s souls?”
Rayford shook his head. “You don’t.”
“You sure don’t. They kep’ after me. They got their stubbornness from me, after all. But I was good at it too. And I never caved. Tru almost did, didn’t ya, hon?”
“Wish I had.”
“Me too, sweetie. We wouldn’ta met Mr. Steele here till heaven, but I’d just as soon be there than here even now, all things considered. You too there, Cap?”
“Me too, Dwayne.”
“You can guess the rest. Before we ever go to church one time, the thing they told us might happen happened. They were gone. We were left. So where’d we go first?”
“Church.”
“Church! Not so stubborn now, are we? Doesn’t sound so lame to be saved now, does it? Hardly anybody left at that place, but all we needed was one who knew how a person gets saved. Mr. Steele, I’m an actor myself. Well, aircraft salesman and demonstrator, but always actin’ on the side since college. Specialize in voices.”
“Mac told me about your Aussie.”
“There, right, like ’at. He liked that, did he?”
“I don’t know that he was feeling good enough to appreciate it, but he’s sure you fooled Fortunato.”
“A deaf turtle could fool ’at boy, Rafe. You don’t mind if I call you Rafe, do ya? I like to find shortcuts so I can get more words in in a shorter time. Just kiddin’, but you don’t mind, do ya?”
“My first wife called me that. She was raptured.”
“Then maybe you’d rather I not—”
“No, it’s all right.”
“Anyway, Rafe, I’m a gregarious guy—I guess you figured. Salesman has to be. But I always put all of my theater training into it. I was known as a straightforward, opinionated guy, and people pretty much liked me. Unless they was too sophisticated. If they was, I’d use the word was where I’m s’posed to use were, like I just did there, and tweak ’em to death. So, I’m this friendly, confident, outgoing guy who—”
“Loud is the word you’re lookin’ for there, hon,” Trudy said.
Dwayne laughed as if at the first joke he’d ever heard. “OK, Tru, all right then, I’m this loud guy. But you gotta admit I was a people magnet. Only I wasn’t a church guy, OK. Well, now all of a sudden, I am. I’m saved. I’m a day late and a dollar short, but I’m learnin’ that it still counts. We’re still gonna suffer, and we’re never going to wish we hadn’t got saved earlier—don’t kid yerself—but all right, we’re saved. So, now I’m still this gregar—”
“Loud.”
“—loud guy but I got a whole new bee in my bonnet now. I’m knockin’ people over with it. Even our pastor says sometimes he wonders if I don’t turn people off rather than wooin’ ’em—that’s his term, not mine—wooin’ ’em to Jesus. I learned that lesson in sales, but I figure it’s different now. It’s not about whether I’m gonna make my quota or get my bonus or whether you can afford not to have this beautiful new airplane. People got to know, brother, that this is no sales pitch. This is your everlasting soul. Well, I get wound up.
“I always wondered what I’d do if I met up with ol’ Antichrist himself. I’ll tell you what, I’ll bet he’d either have me killed or get saved hisself, one of the two. Get it? Well, sir, I was encouraged that I didn’t lose any of my braverido or brovura—”
“Bravado,” Trudy offered.
“Right, I didn’t lose any of that when I saw his number two boy t’other day. My heart was a-pumpin’, I don’t deny, but hey, I’m gonna die anyway. I’d like to be here when Jesus comes back, but goin’ on before can’t be all bad either. The day I got saved I decided I wasn’t ever gonna be ashamed of it. It was way too late for that. I’m gonna see my boys again, and—”
As suddenly as before, big Dwayne clouded up. This time he couldn’t continue. Trudy put a hand on his heaving shoulder again, he looked apologetically at Rayford, who took over the controls, and the Super J rocketed east into the night.
“What in the world is it?” Buck asked, looking at a highly polished strip of metal.
Chaim mince-stepped over and shut the door, and Buck realized he was privy to something Rosenzweig had shared with no one else.
“Call it a hobby that has become an obsession. This is nowhere near my field, and don’t ask me where the compulsion has come from. But I am striving toward the sharpest edge ever fashioned by hand. I know the big machines with their micrometers, computers, lasers and all can reach near perfection. I’m not interested in artificially induced. I’m interested in the best I can do. My skill has outstripped my eyesight. With simple clamp-on angle-setters, I am filing blades so sharp I can’t see them with the naked eye. Not even powerful bifocals do them justice. I must look at them under much light with my magnifying glass. Believe me, this is more appealing than those creatures you and I studied under it half a year ago. Here, look.”
He handed Buck the magnifying glass and pointed him to a shiny blade, probably three feet long, clamped between two vises. “Whatever you do, Cameron, do not touch the edge. I say this with utmost gravity. You would lose a finger before you felt the edge touch your skin, let alone before you felt the pain.”
Sufficiently warned, Buck peered at the magnified edge, amazed. The line looked multiple times thinner than any razor blade he had ever seen. “Wow.”
“Here’s the interesting part, Cameron. Back away carefully, please. The material is super-hardened carbon steel. What appears flexible as a razor because it is so microscopically sharp, is rigid and strong. You know how a conventional knife dulls with use? And usually the sharper the edge, the quicker the deterioration?” Buck nodded. “Watch this.”
Rosenzweig produced from his pocket a dried date. “A snack for later,” he explained. “But this one is fuzzy, I don’t want to wash it, and I have more. So it becomes my object lesson. Notice.”
He held the date delicately between his thumb and middle finger, barely pinching one end. He slowly, ever so lightly, drew it across the edge of the blade, reaching beneath it with his other palm. The severed half dropped into his hand as if it had not been touched. “Now let me show you something else.”
Rosenzweig looked around the cluttered room and found a balled-up rag, stiff from neglect. He held the rag about eighteen inches above the blade and let it fall. Buck blinked, not believing his eyes. The rag had split without a sound and seemingly without resistance.
“You should see what it does to fruit,” Rosenzweig said, his eyes bright.
“It’s amazing, Doctor,” Buck said. “But, why?”
The old man shook his head. “Don’t ask. It’s not that I have some deep dark secret. It’s just that I don’t know myself.”
David didn’t call Fortunato. He showed up in Leon’s waiting room late that evening. “I just need a second with the commander, if possible,” he told Margaret, who was packing up her stuff after an obviously long day.
“David Hassid?” Leon barked into the intercom. “Of course! Send him right in.”
Leon stood when David appeared. “Tell me there’s progress on the tracing operation,” he said.
“Unfortunately not,” David said. “Those people must be using some technology no one else has ever heard of. We’re back to square one.”
“Sit,” Fortunato said.
“No, thanks,” David said. “I’ll just be a minute. You know I don’t make a habit of bothering you about—”
“Please! I’m all ears!”
“—about matters outside my area of responsibility.”
Fortunato’s open look froze. “Of course there are many confidential matters at my level that I would not be at liberty to—”
“I just had a suggestion, but it’s none of my business.”
“Proceed.”
“Well, the death of His Excellency’s former personal assistant recently . . .”
Fortunato squinted. “Yes?”
“That was tragic, of course . . .”
“Yes . . .”
“Well, sir, it wasn’t a secret that the woman, Miss Dunst—”
“Durham. Hattie Durham. Go on.”
“That she was pregnant and that she wasn’t happy.”
“The fact is, Hassid, that she was trying to extort money from us to keep quiet. His Excellency felt he owed her some recompense for the time they had, ah, enjoyed together, and so a generous settlement was paid. Miss Durham may have mistaken that as money intended to guarantee her silence, but it was not. You see, she was never privy to anything that would threaten international security, had no stories—true ones anyway—that could have embarrassed the potentate. So when she sought more money, she was rebuffed, and yes, it’s fair to say she was not happy.”
“Well, thank you, sir. I know you told me more than I am entitled to know, and you may rest assured I will keep your confidence. I just had a question about the whole plane crash thing, but it’s really moot now, so I’ll just thank you for your time.”
“No, please. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“It’s kind of embarrassing, because, like I say, I know it’s not my area—really none of my business. I’d really rather not pursue it, now that I think about it.”
“David, please. I want your thoughts.”
“Well, OK. I know that with someone of your ability and savvy here, nobody needs me worrying about security or public relations—”
“We should all worry about those things all the time.”
“It just seemed to me that the report of her death looked suspicious. I mean, maybe I’ve read too many mystery novels, but wasn’t it a little too convenient? Was any wreckage ever found, any bodies? Just enough of her stuff to make it look like she died?”
“David, sit down. Now I insist. That’s good thinking. The truth is that Miss Durham’s so-called fatal plane crash never happened. I put our intelligence enforcement chief on it as soon as word came in, and the fact is that Miss Durham, her amateur pilot, and the plane were quickly traced. The pilot unwisely put up a fight when our people asked to interrogate Miss Durham, and he was unfortunately killed in an exchange of gunfire. You understand that for reasons of security and morale, not all such incidents are covered in the press.”
“Of course.”
“Miss Durham is in custody.”
“Custody?”
“She’s in a comfortable but secure facility in Brussels, charged with the false report of a death. She really is no threat to the Global Community, but we’re hoping to lure her compatriots to her original hiding place. She will be released once they have been dealt with.”
“Her compatriots?”
“Former GC employees and Ben-Judah sympathizers had provided her asylum when her presence was required in New Babylon. They are much more of a threat than she is.”
“So she became bait, and it was her own fault.”
“Precisely.”
“And this trap, it was your idea?”
“Well, we work as a team here, David.”
“But it was, wasn’t it? It’s how you think. It’s the street smarts.”
Fortunato cocked his head. “We surround ourselves with good people, and when no one cares who gets the credit, much can be accomplished.”
“But luring the compatriots, that was yours.”
“I believe it may have been.”
“And did it work?”
“It may yet. No one knows of the death of the pilot. We sent word to his brother, whom we know to have been an accomplice, that he was in hiding and would not hear from him for several months.”
“Brilliant!”
Fortunato nodded as if he couldn’t argue.
“I won’t take any more of your time, Commander, and I don’t guess I’ll let this kind of stuff bother me anymore either, knowing you and your people are on top of everything.”
“Well, don’t feel bad about a good hunch there, and never hesitate to ask if something’s not clear to you. We put a lot of confidence in a person at your level and with your scope of responsibilities. Not everyone has this kind of access or information, of course, so—”
“Say no more, sir,” David said, rising. “I appreciate it more than I can say.”
Rayford had handled a huge chunk of the flying across the Atlantic, but that hadn’t slowed Dwayne’s oral output. Rayford enjoyed it, actually, though he would have appreciated getting to know Trudy as well. When it was finally time to turn the controls back to Dwayne, Rayford decided to place his call to Albie (shortened from Al B., which in turn had been shortened from Al Basrah).
Albie was the chief air traffic controller at Al Basrah, a city on the southern end of the Tigris near the Persian Gulf. He was almost totally unknown far and wide as the best black marketer in the business. Mac had introduced him to Rayford, and it had been Albie who supplied the scuba equipment for Rayford’s forage to the wreckage in the Tigris.
Albie, a devout Muslim, hated the Carpathia regime passionately and was one of few Gentile non-Christians who also steadfastly resisted Enigma Babylon One World Faith. His business was simple. To people he trusted with his life, he could provide anything for a price. That was double retail plus expenses, and if you were caught with contraband, he had never heard of you.
Dwayne was, for the moment, uncharacteristically quiet, and Trudy was dozing. Rayford dug through his bag and used his ultimate phone—Mac’s term for David’s hybrid because it could do anything from anywhere.
The number was ringing when Dwayne noticed the equipment. “Now that there is what I call a phone! Uh-huh! Yes, sir, that is a phone and a half. I’ll bet that’s got whistles and bells I’ve never even heard of and—”
Rayford held up a finger and said, “I’ll let you take a look at it in a minute.”
“I’ll be countin’ the seconds, pardner. I sure will.”
“Al Basrah tower, Albie speaking.”
“Albie, Rayford Steele. Can you talk?”
“From east at four knots. Your situation?”
“I want to meet with you about a purchase.”
“Affirmative. Sorry for negative previous endeavor. First officer?”
“Mac is recovering. I’m sure you heard about—”
“Affirmative. Hold please.” Albie covered the phone and Rayford heard him speaking in his own tongue. He came back on. “I’m alone now, Mr. Steele. I was so sorry to hear of your wife.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve also been very worried about Mac. I have heard nothing from him for a while. Of course, as captain now he doesn’t need my services as much. What can I do for you?”
“I need a weapon, concealable but powerful.”
“In other words you want it to do what it is intended to do.”
“You’re reading loud and clear, Albie.”
“Very difficult. The potentate being a pacifist—”
“Means you’re the only reliable source.”
“Very difficult.”
“But not impossible for you, right?”
“Very difficult,” Albie said.
“Expensive, in other words?”
“Now you’re reading me loud and clear.”
“If money were not an issue, does something come to mind?”
“How concealable are we talking about? You want one that’ll hide from a metal detector?”
“That’s possible?”
“Made of wood and plastic. Can fire two rounds, three tops, before it disintegrates. Limited range, of course. No kill power past twenty feet.”
“This has to do the job from thirty yards. One shot.”
“Mr. Steele, I have access to just the weapon. It is roughly the size of your hand. Heavy, thus accurate. Weight is due to firing mechanism, which is normally used in oversized high-powered rifles.”
“What kind of action?”
“Unique. It employs both fuel injection and hydraulic vacuum.”
“Sounds like an engine. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Who has? It propels a projectile at two thousand miles an hour.”
“Ammunition?”
“Forty-eight caliber, high speed—naturally, soft tip, hollow point.”
“In a handgun?”
“Mr. Steele, the air displacement caused by the spinning of the bullet alone has been known to sever human tissue from two inches away.”
“I don’t follow.”
“A man was fired at with one of these pistols from approximately thirty feet away. The shot tore through his skin and damaged subcutaneous tissue in his upper arm. Doctors later determined that there were zero traces of metal in the tissue. The damage had been done by the speed with which the air around the spinning bullet was displaced.”
“Oh, my. You know what I need to hear. Hundreds?”
“Thousands.”
“Thousand?”
“Thousands plural, my friend.”
“How many?”
“Depends on where you take delivery, whether we meet—which I prefer.”
David was frustrated. He had sprinted back to his quarters and called Rayford, whose phone went to voice mail. That phone had everything, but if Rayford chose to stay on another call rather than pick up, there was nothing David could do about it.
He dialed again. Still nothing.
“I didn’t intend to listen in there, Cap, but that sounds like quite a piece of hardware you’re orderin’. I like that you don’t care if it’s illegal. It’s not like we’re subject to the laws of the Antichrist.”
“That’s my view. You wanted to see the phone?”
“Yeah, thanks. Take over here, will ya?”
Dwayne turned the phone over and over, hefting it in his palm. “Heavy sucker. Probably does everything but cook your breakfast, am I right?”
“It’ll even do that, unless you want scrambled.”
“Ha! Tru, d’you hear that?! Oh!” He put his hand over his mouth when he saw his wife was sleeping. Then he whispered. “Is this one of them that’ll send or receive from anywhere, all that?”
Rayford nodded. “Best part is it’s secure. It uses four different channels a second, so it’s untraceable, untappable. Lots of goodies.”
“You keep it in your bag?” Dwayne said.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Dwayne switched it off and reached behind Rayford to set it in his flight bag. On second thought, he pulled it back out and turned the main power toggle off as well to save the battery.
“I’ll take ’er now,” Dwayne said, resuming control of the plane. “And if I’m not bein’ too much of a nosy Nellie, can you tell me what you’re gonna use such a powerful handgun for?”
Rayford thought a moment. He’d made it a practice to be open with fellow believers, even about Tribulation Force matters. He might not reveal the location of the safe house or tell someone’s phony ID name, just so the hearer wouldn’t have to suffer for something he didn’t need to know. But the gun was personal, which stabbed at Rayford because he knew well where the big money was coming from. At the moment he couldn’t imagine following through with his plan.
“The Global Community may be pacifistic and weaponless by law,” he said. “But we lost a pilot to gunfire, and almost every one of us has been shot at, at least once, and a few hit. Buck and Tsion were shot at—Buck was hit—escaping Israel through Egypt. Buck was shot at helping Hattie escape a GC facility in Colorado. Our newest member and I were shot at recently. And you know what happened to Mac and Abdullah.”
“I hear you, bro. You’ll get no argument from me. Sounds like it would be pretty expensive to issue one of those babies to everybody though.”
“I’ll personally test it first,” Rayford said.
“Good idea. ’Course, the two you just mentioned would never be able to carry weapons in their jobs. You’d almost have to plant theirs on board.”
“We did that when I was captain of Global Community One. Had a couple of pistols secured in the cargo hold. Would have been awful hard to get to, but they were a last resort. Of course, now they’re gone forever.”
“By the way, Rafe,” Dwayne said, pointing to the horizon, “that would be what we in the aviation trade refer to as the sun. Our ETA is forty minutes. Customs in Le Havre is pretty much by the book, if you haven’t been there. You got the British visa stamp?”
Rayford nodded.
“Did I ask you who you are today and why I ferried you across the channel from England?”
Rayford pulled out his passport and flipped it open. “Thomas Agee. Import/export. And you are?”
Dwayne smiled and affected a dead-on British accent. He handed Rayford two United States of Britain passports. “At your service, sir.”
Rayford read aloud, “Ian Hill. And the wife’s . . . Elva. Nice to meet you both.”
David wasn’t getting a busy signal anymore. He carefully redialed to be certain he hadn’t erred. The number was right. Either Rayford could not hear the ring, or the phone had been shut off. David called Tsion and woke him. Someone was going to have to contact that plane on an open frequency. And fast.