Escape to Petra

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Escape to Petra; Story #9 of "Angels at the End of Time"
Topic Started: Dec 15 2007, 11:47 AM (324 Views)
kgreen20	Dec 15 2007, 11:47 AM Post #1
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	What would Tess, Monica, Andrew, and Gloria do, if they found themselves during the end-times scenario prophesied in the Bible, prior to Jesus' coming? What kinds of assignments would they receive? How would they handle their assignments? This alternate-universe series is my attempt to answer that question, to surmise how the angels would handle the events of the Rapture and the Tribulation. The first story in this ongoing series was written by Robin Day and myself. The rest, I am writing on my own. In story #9 of my end-times series, it is the middle of the Tribulation. A Satanically-indwelt Antonio Puccini is determined to force the Jews to end their sacrifices and to worship him. They must flee Jerusalem for the ancient rock city of Petra. Can the angels persuade two estranged men to forego their quarrel and help the Jerusalem residents to escape the Antichrist? Yours truly, Kathy G.



kgreen20	Dec 15 2007, 11:55 AM Post #2
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	PROLOGUE David Weizmann paced back and forth in his living room, shaking his head. His shoes made soft thuds on the carpet. The lamps glowed softly throughout the room; since it was night, David had closed the blinds and drawn the curtains. His heater softly hummed in the background, emitting its warmth throughout the living room. Rain softly drummed on the windowsill near his lamp. Benjamin, his cousin, perched on the couch, watching him. “What’s wrong?” Ben asked, for the sixth time. “Ever since the angels left, you’ve been preoccupied.” David turned to Ben. “I have,” he said. “God has called me to have a role in getting the residents of Jerusalem away before it’s too late, and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do. Very soon, Puccini is going to desecrate the temple, and then we’ve all got to flee to Petra. If it were up to me, our people would be doomed—I can’t do a thing to save them.” He sighed. “We will be anyway, if God doesn’t remove the cold weather and this rain. Our people can't flee in wet conditions and frigid temperatures.” Ben rose to his feet. "Surely the weather will turn warm and dry soon." He cleared his throat. “Maybe you can’t save our people. But what about our cousin?” David turned on him, fists clenched. “Don’t you ever mention his name again!” he roared. “I don’t even want to think about Jacob! I hate that man—I never want to see his face again!” Ben approached him. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “I know you don’t,” he said softly. “But Jacob is the prime minister now, and has been since before the Rapture. And he’s going to have to help the people evacuate. Don’t you think it’s time—?” David pushed Ben’s hand off his shoulder. Suppressing the urge to shout at Ben again, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Ben,” he said. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. But it infuriates me to even think about Jacob. Also…having no nicotine makes me irritable.” He bit his lower lip, and Ben chuckled, an understanding smile crossing his face. David had made the decision, quite recently, to quit smoking; Andrew, the Angel of Death, had given him some nicotine patches. “I don’t even want to consider the idea, Ben, so don’t ask me again. You go to him if you want—I’m not.” Ben shook his head. “Have you forgotten I’m a wanted man?” he reminded David. “If I show up at the Knesset, I’ll be arrested. Even if I wore my disguise, I’d still be at risk of discovery—too many people have seen me in it now.” “Well, let one of the angels approach him, then, because I’m not!” David retorted. Without another word, he left the room. Unknown to him, four angels watched David as he switched on the overhead light in the kitchen, then poured a glass of milk. “Benjamin is right,” Tess commented. “Unless Prime Minister Jacob Barak gets involved, the evacuation will not go smoothly and many lives will be lost. And David is the only one, now, who can go to his office or his home to persuade him.” Glowering at David, she put her hands on her hips. With a sigh, Monica watched David for a long moment. He put the carton of milk back into the fridge, then plopped onto a straight-backed pine chair next to the kitchen table, holding his glass. A combination of deep sadness for David and a sense of urgency for Jerusalem welled up in the angel’s heart. David, she knew, had only a short time to get together with Jacob. The fate of the Jerusalem residents, if not all of Israel, hung in the balance. She couldn’t bear to see him allow it to slip by. “He’s got to hurry,” she said. “The lives of Jews depend on his decision. But his feud with Jacob could ruin everything.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes. Her pearl earrings swung as she shook her head. “Baby, God allows no one to ruin His plans. But He does give people the chance to choose whether they will cooperate with His plan for His people, or interfere,” Tess said. Gloria nodded agreement. “God works through people,” she said. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “And God can also change the weather.” “We will be praying for that,” Tess assured her. David Weizmann and Jacob Barak had been bitter enemies for several years, since before the Rapture, prior to Jacob’s election as prime minister. A quarrel had severed their friendship. Since then, there had been no contact between the two cousins. “We don’t have much time,” Tess said. “We have to work fast, to reconcile the two so they can cooperate with the Father’s plan, instead of interfering with it and bringing on the deaths of thousands. God is going to send us reinforcements for this assignment.” “Who?” Gloria gazed quizzically at the supervisor angel, head tilted. “You’ll discover for yourself, soon,” Andrew assured her. Draining his near-empty glass, David set it in the sink; it made a loud clink. He gazed out the window at the velvety-black sky for a moment, and at the raindrops pounding the window. So cloudy and cold. And so wet! he thought, before he trudged back to the living room to rejoin his other cousin. “I need to put on a nicotine patch,” he said out loud. “The lack of a cigarette is wearing me down, making me edgy. And my grief for my sister isn't helping me any.” He sighed. "At least my house survived the earthquake intact. If only Deborah had been here, she would have survived, too!" He groaned, then trudged out of the kitchen. END OF PROLOGUE



kgreen20	Dec 15 2007, 12:03 PM Post #3
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 1 The next day, David, wearing a thick brown coat and a woolen plaid muffler, pulled up in front of the hotel where his friends, the Dalys and the Whittakers, were staying. I ought to invite them to stay with me once more, he thought. As they did when they first arrived. I believe I will—it will save them rent money, and it will give me some much-needed company. They haven’t stayed with me since before my sister’s death in the earthquake. Pain welled as the memory of that awful day came back to him. Reaching for the Bible he kept in his car, he ran his fingers over its soft leather cover. Then, forcing a smile on his face, he stepped out of the car; the door slammed with a thud. At least, if his friends stayed with him, he wouldn’t be so lonesome. How he missed his sister! Overhead, a dove flew, cooing softly till it disappeared into the thick gray clouds. Rain drummed his scalp, running down his face. At least the nicotine patch is helping—I don’t feel so irritable and edgy now. He wrapped his arms around his chest. I sure feel cold, though! This cold front certainly moved in without warning. So did this rainstorm! “God is with you, David,” a familiar Irish voice spoke behind him. “You are never alone.” Startled, David whirled around. To his amazement, the angel Monica stood behind him. She wore a pair of sneakers and a cap made of thick velvet trimmed with artificial fur now dripping with rainwater. A beige raincoat draped her slim body. A joyful smile spread across his face. “Monica! You’re back!” He extended his arms toward her. Monica laughed. “Yes, God has sent me back, and the other angels, too.” She hugged him. Dropping his arms to his sides, David bit his lower lip. “I think I can guess why.” Monica nodded, as sadness welled up in her eyes. A car horn honked down the street, startling both of them, then Monica turned her attention back to David. “You know part of it, but not all of it. Yes, God has sent us to do our parts in helping your people reach safety in Petra. But there is one man who has a most important role in performing that job, David, and only you have the means, now, to reach him.” She paused, as apprehension filled David’s gut. “Jacob Barak. Your cousin.” David gaped at her. He couldn’t believe what Monica was asking him to do. He, of all people, could not approach Prime Minister Jacob Barak, even if Jacob was his and Ben’s cousin! They had not been friends for years. Barak hated him, and the feeling was mutual. Jacob was the last person David ever wanted to see or speak to. He rubbed his forehead, then frowned at Monica. “Uh—that is the role God is assigning me?” he asked, his voice rising. "The ministry you told me about, last week?" The compassionate angel nodded. David threw up his arms. “Monica, listen to me. Jacob and I haven’t been on speaking terms for years,” he said. “There’s no way I could approach him now! I’m not the one to go to him and persuade him to—uh, do what?” He gazed down at his scuffed leather shoes and the lengthy shadow they cast from their sides. Monica laid a hand on his shoulder; he raised his head. “David, listen to me! You’re the only one who can. Anyone else would have to go through much protocol just to get an audience with him. As his cousin, you have ready access to him that not even a powerful dignitary can have. Nor Ben, since he’s wanted for attempted murder.” She paused. “It will be Jacob’s job to call out the Israeli Defense Forces to evacuate the people when the time comes. And he has only a very short time, now, to make his preparations.” David shoved her hand away; clenching his fists, he glared at her. “Get someone else to do it. Even if I were willing, Monica, he would not listen to me!” he snapped. “Think Jacob’s going to listen to one he hates? I know better!” He took a deep breath. “I am the last person who can speak with Jacob Barak, and I have no desire to! So I repeat: get someone else!” He glanced toward the hotel entrance. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find my friends.” Without a backward glance, he stalked toward the glass door and swung it inward. The door slowly swung shut behind him, making no sound. Minutes later, he approached the third-floor room occupied by his friend, Ryan Whittaker. He knocked three times. No one answered. A moment later, he knocked again. Still no response. They must have gone out, he thought. Strolling down the carpeted hall toward the room of Ryan’s brother-in-law, Richard Daly, he paused in front of that door. To his dismay, no one answered his knock. Richard and Ryan must have gone out together, with their families, he thought. Sighing, he leaned against the door for a long moment, gazing down at his shoes as they flattened the tufts of carpet beneath them. He then trudged toward the elevator. I’ll have to look for them. As he re-entered the spacious main lobby, a few minutes later, an Israeli Defense Forces soldier approached him, revolver swinging in its holster at his side. “Yes?” David tried to suppress his wariness. “You are David Weizmann?” The man stood ramrod-straight as he spoke, looking David in the eye. “Yes.” David nodded. “Shalom.” “And shalom to you.” The man relaxed his stance. “I am Miki, and I was sent to find you. Your friends are dining on the IDF base, in the mess hall. If you’ll come with me, I will take you to them.” David nodded. Something about this man told David he could trust him, although he was a stranger. “Very well. I will go with you.” He looked at the insignia on the soldier’s khaki uniform. “You are a private?” “Yes.” Miki nodded. “A recruit, to be exact. I just finished basic training days ago.” David smiled wanly. “Good. With the danger Israel is about to be in, you are just what we need at the moment.” He followed the soldier to his jeep and climbed in. To his relief, the recruit had pulled up the cover to keep the rain out of the seats. Out of the corner of his eye, David studied his companion as they sped down the busy street. The soldier appeared to be in his mid-twenties. His hair was light-colored, and his skin appeared bronze. Probably from all the time he spends in the sun, David decided. When there is sun, that is! He grimaced at the gray clouds overhead, then glanced at the soldier’s arm. If all that muscle’s any indication, he works out quite a bit, too. He looked down at the gun still dangling in the soldier’s holster. And woe to anyone who tries to harm him! He smiled. Fifteen minutes later, Miki drove through the entrance of the IDF base. “I request permission to bring this man in,” he told the guard on duty. “He’s with me, and his friends are waiting for him in the mess hall.” The guard waved him on. A few minutes later, Miki pulled up in front of the mess hall and climbed out. David did the same. A loud cacophony of voices assaulted David’s ears as he followed Miki through the door. Rows of long tables lined the huge room, where men and women in uniforms sat eating and chatting. Dust motes floated in the air, illuminated by bright overhead lights. “Come on. We’ll get something to eat first, then find your friends,” Miki said. As the two men stood in line, David peered intently at one of the two cooks serving the food. Could it be—? END OF CHAPTER 1



kgreen20	Dec 15 2007, 12:11 PM Post #4
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 2 Tess! he thought. It’s Tess! What is she doing, cooking meals for the IDF? Several minutes later, the two men reached the counter where Tess and one of the other cooks was serving the food. Tess, David noticed, looked grumpy; a scowl etched her face. She must be having a bad day, he thought. Out loud, he greeted her with a smile. “Hello, Tess. I didn’t expect to find you here.” Tess snorted. “Well, I am, and I can only trust that you’ll have more appreciation for my cooking than your new friend here.” She glared at the IDF recruit. “He tells me he doesn’t like my creamy broccoli pasta.” Miki chuckled, then wrinkled his nose as he gazed down at the pasta dish. “We just don’t share the same tastes, Tess. Personally, I prefer the tuna knish. You wouldn’t happen to have some of that, now, would you?” Dropping her wooden spoon on the counter with a clatter, Tess put her left hand on her hip and glared at Miki. She pressed her right palm against the counter surface. “No, I don’t, Mi—uh, Miki, and I won’t be making it for another few days. I’ll have you know I made this creamy broccoli pasta myself, and I just happen to be proud of it. And I won’t have new recruits telling me it’s not good.” She picked up the wooden spoon and waved it for emphasis. “Now, you have a choice—you can eat what we offer you, or you can go hungry!” Raising his hands in surrender, Miki then held up his tray. “Yes, ma’am,” he teased. Still glaring at him, Tess piled some pasta on a plastic dish and handed it to the recruit. Despite the turmoil in his heart, David couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched the angry angel scold the new IDF recruit. Never tell a cook you don’t like what she’s made, he thought, averting his face to hide the grin sneaking across. They all take it so personally! Even angels, it appears. Silently, he followed Miki toward through the rows of tables. To his dismay, he could not see a single place empty on any of the wooden benches. “We’re going to have a hard time finding a seat, I’m afraid,” he muttered. Miki nodded agreement. David gritted his teeth. Were they going to have to eat standing up? “David!” A shout from across the mess hall startled the Israeli. Silence descended across the vast dining area for a moment, as David scanned it for the source of the shout. To his relief, Richard Daly stood in the back, waving his right hand. The chatter resumed. This time, David led the way, rushing down the aisle toward his friends, tray against his chest. “Come join us.” Ryan rose to his feet. “We’ve saved a couple of spots for you and Miki.” Grinning his thanks, David slid onto the edge of the hard, unyielding wooden bench; Miki perched next to him. A captain sat on the other side of Ryan Daly, across the table; he glanced at Miki. “Hello, private.” “Captain.” Miki saluted, then picked up his fork. David gaped at Richard, then at Ryan. “What are you doing here?” Richard and Christina exchanged glances; Rachel took a swallow of Coke. Next to her, Kristen shrugged. “Richard’s car went out,” she said. She turned to feed the her two-year-old son who sat in a high chair beside her. Food smeared his cherubic faces and his bib. “Little Nicole’s in a carrier at my feet,” she told David. “She’s sleeping at the moment.” Kristen bent sideways to check on her. David smiled. He loved the Whittaker babies. Richard grimaced. “My car went dead on the road, and we couldn’t get it to start up again. Miki, there, stopped to help; he called a tow truck to come get our car.” Christina swallowed a piece of broccoli. “Then he offered to bring us here until the car’s fixed, since he had to return to the base; a mechanic is working on it now. So here we are.” She patted her hair. “It was so good of the guards on duty to let us in. I wasn’t at all sure they would, since we’re civilians.” David smiled. “Well, you’re in good hands, and there’s no safer place to wait than here.” He paused. “By the way, I saw—uh, my cousin yesterday. He’s doing fine.” He had suddenly remembered that the captain might know of Ben Weizmann from the wanted posters that had been displayed on television. He turned to Miki. “My cousin is a loyal Jew who became a believer in Yeshua recently.” Miki nodded his approval. Richard raised his hand. “We’ve already asked the blessing, David, but since you just got here, let’s do so again.” The assembled group bowed heads for prayer. “Lord, thank You for this meal,” Richard prayed. “Amen.” “Amen,” the others echoed. He raised his head, and resumed eating. David took a bite of the pasta; it tasted soft and creamy to him. A moment later, the IDF recruit looked from Richard to Ryan, then to the members of their families. “Your friends have been telling me a little about themselves,” he told David. Richard nodded, as he leaned his elbow on the dining table. “Yes. Until recently, I worked as an airline pilot in New York City, and Ryan was a private pilot for Antonio Puccini. During the last few years, my wife helped run a church orphanage. But we’re all in hiding now, as well as our daughter—from Puccini. Especially Ryan and Kristen and their babies. Puccini wanted to kill them and take their babies for the state, to be brainwashed.” Ryan nodded. He drained his glass, then set it down with a clink. “My wife and I both worked for Puccini,” he explained to Miki. “Kristen used to be Puccini’s secretary, and she was quite efficient.” He smiled at his wife, who blushed; he chuckled. “She’s in hiding now, as I am. She’s a wonderful mother to our two babies.” He craned his head to smile at his son, who waved his hands. “Dad-dy! Hungry!” Ryan laughed. Richard chuckled. “And I’ve got a good family, too. My wife’s a good woman, and our daughter is a good girl. A wonderful girl.” Christina and Rachel exchanged smiles. A rhinestone necklace adorned Rachel’s neck, David noticed. She always did love jewelry, he thought. Rachel smiled wryly. “I’m adopted.” She wiped her chin. “My real parents are dead.” She glanced down at her plate. “I like this pasta. I wish I could tell Tess.” Richard smiled. “Me, too. We’ll have to get Tess’ recipe. And I have a hunch she already knows you like it.” Leaning back, he furrowed his eyebrows. “We’re all going to be in hiding soon.” He coughed. “It’s been several days, now, since Puccini came back to life, indwelt by—” Glancing at the captain, he cleared his throat. “Well, all I can say is that the—uh, pivotal event can’t be much longer now.” “No, it can’t,” David agreed. “And we’ve got to get ready. We’d better pray for good travel conditions when it comes. Including good weather—we can’t have this frigid cold and rain lingering when the event occurs.” He swallowed. “We must also pray that it’ll happen on any day but a Saturday.” He glanced down at his plate of creamy broccoli pasta, ignoring the captain’s puzzled gaze. “But right now, let’s eat.” For the next several minutes, talk dwindled while the Dalys, the Whittakers, David, Miki, and the captain ate their dinners. A calmness descended on David as he munched his chunky, yet creamy food. Miki, he noticed, picked at his plate. He really does not like this pasta, David thought, amused. That’s really too bad—it’s quite delicious! At last, the captain laid down his fork and leaned back. “Our new cook is certainly worth her pay,” he commented. Richard grinned. “Tess is an excellent cook,” he agreed, between mouthfuls. He glanced at the recruit. “I’m not so sure that Miki agrees, though.” Miki made a face, then laughed. Rachel gazed at David. “Why does it matter if it’s Saturday?” She scratched her forehead. David wiped his chin, then laid his paper napkin beside the plate. “Well, Rachel, Saturday is our Sabbath, and Jews abide by strict rules of rest on that day. That’s been especially the case since the new temple was rebuilt. One of those rules is that we can only travel a short distance on the Sabbath—a little over a half-mile, to be exact. So we need a nice warm, dry day that falls on some other day of the week.” Rachel frowned, then nodded. “It’s been cold and wet for two days.” “Yes.” Christina bit her lower lip. “We must pray that it’ll warm up, fast. And that the rain will stop.” The captain frowned. For a long moment, he shook his head, biting his lower lip. At last, he set down his coffee cup; it clinked in its saucer. He gazed at Richard, then David. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t have time to ask you about it now. Right now, I’m faced with a problem and I need some help.” He paused, then turned to look at Miki. “I don’t usually come to new recruits with these kinds of issues, private, but you have already shown yourself to be an above-caliber soldier with exceptional ability to come up with solutions. Your sergeant has commended you highly to me. Therefore, I am going to ask you something.” “Yes, Captain?” Miki sat ramrod straight, gazing into the officer’s eyes. The others sat silently, motionlessly, gazing at the two. Only little Jeremy waved his plastic cup, apparently unconcerned. The officer wiped his chin. “Because of the recent events in Rome—Puccini’s death and resurrection—our prime minister’s pilots have been detained in Rome. They flew one of Barak’s officials there for the celebration and they haven’t been able to return since. At the moment, there are no substitutes who can be called on to fly Barak to a meeting he’s been ordered to attend in Rome.” Miki nodded. He said nothing, but furrowed his eyebrows as he listened. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “The meeting is scheduled for early tomorrow afternoon, so he needs a qualified pilot and first officer no later than tonight. Do you personally know of anyone who can fill in for his regular pilots?” Miki leaned back in his chair, laying his hands on the table’s surface. For a long moment, he gazed down at his half-empty plate. The others sat silently, watching him. At last, Miki raised his head. He looked at Richard, then at Ryan. “Two well-qualified pilots are sitting right here at this table,” he said, at last. Richard and Ryan froze, gaping at him. “As you know, Ryan, until recently, flew for Puccini, and Richard used to fly in America. Both men lack the certification to fly an Israeli plane, but they’ve got security clearance. So if the certification qualification can be disregarded, I can think of no better pilots to substitute for the ones who are still in Rome.” David exchanged startled glances with Richard, whose eyebrows furrowed. It surprised David that Miki would recommend two Americans. And Richard, for his part, couldn’t believe his ears. As Miki had just said, he was only authorized to fly planes based in America, not those of Israel. Besides, he had no desire to take on such a job—not even temporarily. He was willling to help pilot the evacuees to Petra, but not to become a pilot for Prime Minister Barak. “Uh, how do you know of us anyway?” Richard asked Miki. He rubbed his hair back as he spoke. Miki smiled. “I have resources,” he said simply. Richard chuckled, looking down at his own empty plate. He then gazed into the captain’s eyes. “Thanks for the recommendation, Miki, but I’d rather not.” He looked at Ryan. “Ryan and I have other plans.” END OF CHAPTER 2



kgreen20	Dec 15 2007, 09:41 PM Post #5
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 3 At that moment, an announcement sounded from the mess hall’s loudspeaker. “Richard Daly, there is a party who wishes to meet you in the mess hall entrance! Richard Daly.” Frowning, Richard half-turned his upper body, craning his neck to look at the entrance. “I don’t see anybody I know,” he muttered. Rising to his feet, he smiled at his wife. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Christina squeezed his hand in response. Richard strode toward the entrance, his shoes thudding on the concrete floor. As he stepped outside into the frigid temperatures and the downpour, wrapping his arms around his chest, a familiar face approached him, wearing a gray winter coat. “Hello, Richard,” he said. Richard gaped at him. “Andrew! It’s good to see you.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “But why did you have me paged?” “It was the only way I could get you alone. Don’t worry, I won’t keep you out here for more than a minute. I know how cold and wet it is.” The sandy brown-haired angel of death thrust his hands into his coat pockets. A hood framed his head. “God has a message for you—and for Ryan.” Richard nodded. An uneasy feeling welled up in him. He tightened his grip around his chest as he fixed his eyes on Andrew’s face. Soldiers passed them in both directions, their shoes sloshing through puddles. “Don’t turn down Miki’s recommendation,” Andrew advised him. “God wants you to accept the job—He has authorized it. The reason will become apparent later.” Richard sighed, dropping his arms to his sides. He knew from past experience that when God sent an angel to tell him to do something, it meant he had to do it. In this case, though, he didn’t like what he was being told to do. Reluctantly, the pilot nodded acquiescence. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll do it.” “Good.” Andrew patted his shoulder. “I must go now, but I’ll be back.” He vanished. Richard re-entered the mess hall and returned to his table. Wiping the raindrops off his face, he slid back into his place on the bench. For a moment, he paused, then cleared his throat. The captain leaned forward, arms on the table. “Richard, would you be willing to reconsider?” he asked. “We could really use your help in this matter. Yours, too, Ryan.” Richard grimaced, then exchanged a glance with Ryan. He sighed, then acquiesced. “We’ll do it, if Barak wants us to,” Richard said. He didn’t really want to accept the job, and he could see from the look on his brother-in-law’s face that neither did Ryan. However, if it meant thwarting Puccini’s evil plans, perhaps it would be worth it. He did want to do whatever he could to frustrate the Antichrist’s schemes, especially now that Puccini was indwelt by Satan. The captain smiled. “Thank you. I will speak to the prime minister and give you his answer. Under the circumstances, I’m sure he will approve Miki’s recommendation.” Miki nodded his approval. “I happen to know that Richard Daly is one of the best pilots there are.” Richard chuckled. “Well, Ryan is also an excellent pilot. I can vouch for that.” Christina laid a hand on his arm. “All I ask is that you be careful,” she said. Kristen nodded agreement. “I will.” Richard kissed the side of her forehead. “We both will. Don’t you worry about that.” He glanced at Kristen as he spoke. Christina turned to the captain. “Are you sure it’s safe to fly in this weather?” The captain chuckled. “Certainly it is. It’s only raining and quite cold, not stormy. Your husbands will fly on instruments if they have to.” Hours later, back in his living room, David leaned back on his couch, pondering the events of the day. Earlier, the rain had stopped and the clouds had dissipated; now the late-afternoon sunlight poured through the open window, forming a rectangle of reflected light on the carpet. He still needed the heater on, though, as the temperatures had warmed only slightly. The mattress sagged and creaked underneath him as he shifted position. Perhaps it’ll soon turn warm again, now that the rain clouds have cleared away, he thought. He grimaced. I can’t believe the prime minister authorized two Americans to fly for him, even if it is just temporary! He glared at the ceiling. I also can’t believe I forgot to invite my friends to come stay here, either. He sighed. He would just have to endure his loneliness a little longer. The captain had returned to his office to phone Prime Minister Barak; minutes later, he had returned to the mess hall to inform Richard and Ryan that Barak had given his approval, since both pilots already had security clearance. They were to fly Barak to Rome early the next morning. Right then, they had all bowed their heads, asking God for clear, warm weather. Not long afterward, the clouds had begun to break up. Shaking his head, David smiled. Will miracles never cease? Oh, well, the same God who sent the rain clouds away can also send some warm weather our way. Reaching into a nearby box on the mahogany coffee table, he pulled out a nicotine patch and stuck it on his chest. He sighed. “How I yearn for a cigarette!” “Hello, David.” A familiar Irish voice startled David; he half-turned to find Monica standing in the kitchen entrance. Smiling sheepishly, David leaned back. “Have a seat, Monica. I saw Tess today.” “I know. She’s on assignment, too.” Approaching him, she patted his arm. “Your nicotine cravings will eventually subside, David. Ask God for help, and He will give it to you.” David nodded. “Thanks. It’s very hard, I’ll tell you.” Monica nodded. “What about Gloria and Andrew?” “They’re on assignment, as well. It was Andrew who persuaded Richard to accept the job as Barak’s pilot.” Monica perched on the edge of the couch, then folded her hands in her lap. “The abomination of desolation is going to take place in just a few days. That doesn’t give any of us long to act.” David bit his lower lip. “I know.” He frowned at the heater. “It’s still cold, Monica, even though the sky is clear now. We will need warmer weather than this, to flee to Petra in.” “I know. Just keep praying for the weather conditions.” The mattress sagged under her as Monica leaned toward David. She laid a hand on his arm. “David, won’t you reconsider? Barak has got to authorize the evacuation, and you’re the only one who can freely approach him.” “Why can’t Miki’s captain suggest it to him?” David snapped. Monica’s eyes welled up with compassion. “Because God hasn’t chosen him to deliver the message. He has chosen you. Sometimes, David, people fight it when God chooses them for an important job, but He always has a good reason. You remember Moses and how he reacted when God first commissioned him.” David sighed. “Yes. I remember, from my studies of the Torah. He begged God to choose someone else to lead his people out of Egypt. Tried to give God all kinds of excuses as to why he was the wrong man for the job.” Monica nodded. “But—still…” His voice trailed off. David leaned forward, gazing down at his thighs. He groaned. The memory of that awful day—the day he and Jacob Barak had quarreled—still hurt him, haunted him! He pressed his fingertips to his eyes as the events of that day came back… “How could you?” David shouted. “Those were my books—my best ones! And you burned them!” Jacob pressed his lips into a tight line. He stood in front of his coffee table, glaring at David. “You embarrassed me in front of all those people,” he hissed. “I told you I would pay you back, and I have.” David shoved him against the paneled wall. “Listen to me!” he said. “You may have paid me back, Jacob, but you will spend the rest of your life suffering for it. Because as of now, you are no longer my cousin; I never want to see you again! I hope you die and go to—!” He broke off. “Get out!” Jacob hollered. “Get out of my house and never come back! Now!” Without a word, David hurried toward the living room door. He paused just long enough to slam it behind him… David shook his head. “We haven’t even seen each other since,” he said. “We don’t want to, either, Monica. I’m the last person he would ever listen to.” “Then ask God to help you,” Monica urged. “Ask God to open your cousin’s heart.” She paused. “You’ve got to ask Jehovah to take the hate out of your heart. Both of you. It’s poisoning you.” Shaking his head violently, he shifted his gaze to the carpeted floor. He ground the toes of his shoes against the carpet tufts, flattening them; he clenched his hands into balls, pressing them against his thighs. His fingernails dug into his palms. Inside, he was fighting a tumultuous battle. On the one hand, he didn’t want to allow his pride to result in his people’s destruction. On the other hand, the thought of even approaching—let alone pleading with—his cousin Jacob repelled him. He just knew that Barak would laugh in his face and throw him out. Feeling restless, he rose to his feet and stalked back and forth, in a straight line. For several moments, he paced thus. Monica sat quietly, watching him. At last, he pivoted to face her, and rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He sagged his shoulders. “All right,” he finally said. “I don’t want to do it, but I will.” Monica smiled her approval. “You won’t be sorry, David. God is with you.” She vanished. Sighing, David trudged toward the cell phone on his coffee table. For a long moment, he just stood there, reminiscing. Again, memories of the horrible incident that had severed their friendship rushed through David’s head…the memory of the awful day when he had discovered that Jacob had burned his treasured books…the awful shouting match that had followed in Jacob’s living room, an hour later…the door slamming as David had stalked outside, vowing never to speak to his cousin again. He picked up the cell phone and cradled it in the palm of his hand. God, help me! he prayed, as he dialed. END OF CHAPTER 3



kgreen20	Dec 15 2007, 09:49 PM Post #6
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 4 At the Knesset, the receptionist’s phone jangled. The newly-hired temporary receptionist, Gloria, picked it up. “Prime Minister Barak’s office,” she said. A pause. “Gloria? Is that you?” Gloria beamed. Leaning forward, she spoke into the receiver. “Yes! Hello, David. I’m working as your cousin’s receptionist at this time. Do you wish to speak with him?” She fingered her glasses as she spoke, then rested her left arm on the smooth surface of the desk. An overhead light illuminated every object that lay on its glossy surface. A sigh on the other end. “I don’t wish to, Gloria, but Monica has convinced me that God wants me to. If you could call Jacob to the phone, I’d be most grateful.” He paused. “I—I need to come to his office and see him. It’s an emergency, I’m afraid. The fate of our people is at stake.” Gloria nodded. “Yes, I know it is. I’ll speak with him. Hold on.” She put David on hold, then switched to Barak’s line. “What is it, Gloria?” Barak’s heavy Israeli accent reached Gloria’s ears. Gloria cradled the receiver between her ear and her shoulder. “Your cousin David is on the other line, waiting to speak to you. Shall I transfer him?” A long pause. “I’ll come in there.” The line clicked. The door behind her slammed open; Jacob Barak rushed into the room, his face beet-red, his shoes softly thudding on the thick carpet. He looked immaculate in a polyester suit, as he always did, but rage contorted his face. “Why did you even take his call?” he roared. Swiveling her leather-upholstered armchair, Gloria leaned back to gaze up at the irate prime minister. “I don’t understand, sir. He is your cousin.” “I don’t want to talk to him, though!” Jacob shouted. “I want nothing to do with the man!” Gloria rose to her feet. “You have had a quarrel with him?” she asked, gently. Jacob sighed. For a long moment, he rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, then fingered the diamond pendant pinned to his collar. It sparkled in the light emanating from the overhead bulb. “Years ago. We haven’t spoken since.” He shook his head. Gloria touched his shoulder. “He wishes to come here and speak with you. He says it’s an emergency.” “What kind of emergency?” Barak glared at her. “An emergency that could affect the fate of your people.” She dropped her hand to her side. As Gloria stood silently, her employer stared at the phone. He seethed inside. The nerve of David, to ask for a meeting with him! With all his heart, he yearned to refuse to even speak to his cousin, just to hurt him. However, what if it really was an emergency? What if David had been ordered by his employer to call the prime minister? Barak had no desire to alienate Puccini’s right-hand man, Elijah Dayan! At last, he sighed. “I’ll talk to him,” he muttered, “but I’ll take the call in my office.” He rubbed his forehead again, then shook his head. Back in his office, Barak gripped the receiver so tightly his knuckles turned white. “What is it, David?!” he asked, his voice harsh. “It is just what I told your receptionist, Jacob. I need to meet with you.” David’s voice sounded carefully neutral. “David, I’m a busy man. Don’t bother me!” Jacob snapped. As he started to hang up on his cousin, he reconsidered, the same thought occurring to him now that had persuaded him to take the call, to begin with. Elijah Dayan, he knew, had employed David for some years. As far as he knew, David still worked for him. Suppose Dayan had ordered his cousin to set up this meeting with him? He could ill afford to risk the hostility of his ex-foreign minister, now assistant to Antonio Puccini. He glanced out the window at the late-afternoon sunlight pouring into the room. With a sigh, he held the receiver back against his ear. “Very well. I don’t want to even see you, David—I will not pretend otherwise. But I will meet with you, this once. Come on by; I will wait for you.” “Thank you, Jacob. I’ll be there.” A dial tone replaced David’s voice. Jacob stepped back into the receptionist area. “Send David to my office when he arrives,” he ordered Gloria. The angel nodded acquiescence. Shaking his head, Jacob returned to his office and poured himself a glass of red wine, clutching it. The crystal glass sparkled in the sunlight as he took sips of the ruby-colored liquid inside. He looked at the thermometer. I’ll have to wear my coat going home, he thought, as I had to, coming here. Minutes later, David entered the Knesset, wrapped in his brown coat. For a long moment, he stood in the front lobby, taking deep breaths, feeling the heater’s warmth flow through his body. Please, God, he silently prayed, surely there is someone else You could have chosen for this! With a sigh, he trudged toward the elevator, shaking his head, shoes softly thudding on the thick carpet. There was no getting out if it; he would just have to go through with this order from Jehovah and take the consequences. A few minutes later, the elevator stopped on the floor his cousin worked on. The door slid open. Inching down the hallway, he entered the elegant suite where he saw Gloria perched at the receptionist’s desk. “Hello, Gloria.” He raised his hand in greeting. “I must say, I’m not really surprised to see you here.” Gloria laughed. “No, you shouldn’t be, not by now. The Father has assigned me to work under Barak.” She half-turned her body to lean toward the mahogany door behind her. “Your cousin is waiting for you.” She smiled encouragingly. With a nod of thanks, David set his jaw and marched toward that door. He knocked softly. “Come in,” a familiar voice called. Pushing the door open, David entered the luxuriously furnished room. In front of the window, Jacob Barak remained seated at his desk, eyes cold. He didn’t take them off David, as the nervous man shut the door. A half-empty wine glass stood on a round coaster on his desk; David could see the wine glass’s reflection in the desk’s glossy, polished surface. “Did Elijah Dayan send you here?” Jacob asked, bluntly. David shook his head, suppressing an amused smile. “No, Jacob, but I was sent, nevertheless. I’m sure you can guess that nothing trivial would have brought me here after all these years.” Jacob rose to his feet. His shoes made shallow dents in the carpet tufts as he circled his desk to face David. “Will, since it is important, why don’t you tell me? As I told you on the phone, I’m a busy man, and I have no time to chat.” “And neither do I.” David’s voice turned cold. “Rest assured I am not here to waste your time or my own. I’m here because the lives of Jerusalem residents are at stake.” He approached the desk to face his cousin, in turn; both men stood sideways to its front edge. The two cousins looked each other squarely in the eye. “What do you mean, at stake?” Jacob’s voice dripped scorn. David flinched. You’re not making this easy, Jacob! Out loud, he said, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Antonio Puccini is going to break the treaty he made with you, three-and-a-half years ago.” “What do you mean?!” Jacob clenched his hands while pressing his right fist against his desk. “I mean, he’s going to withdraw his offer of protection to our people. And he’s going to desecrate the new temple. When he does, our lives are going to be in mortal danger if we stay in Jerusalem, Jacob. We will have to flee, all residents of this city.” “Flee?” Jacob spat into his ash tray. “To where?” “To Petra.” David paused. “In Jordan.” Jacob snorted. “Now, what does this have to do with me?” “What does…” David’s voice trailed off, as he stared at his cousin. “You’re the prime minister, Jacob! Think about it! When Puccini desecrates the temple, the whole city will have to be evacuated, immediately; furthermore, it will have to be done in a safe, orderly fashion.” He took a step toward his cousin. “Someone needs to order the Israeli Defense Forces to conduct the evacuation, so that chaos and confusion will not break out. That someone is you, Jacob. You will need to issue the orders.” Jacob put his hands on his hips, a steely glint in his eyes. “You really believe that the man who promised our protection is going to go back on his word? Well, I do not!” Fists still clenched, he glared at David. “I take no orders or suggestions from you, and if you know what’s good for you, you will leave—now!” Rage and frustration seethed in David’s heart. This meeting was turning out just as he had feared. Not only was Barak convinced that Puccini was no real threat, he was using the meeting as a chance to hurt and humiliate his cousin. David banged his fist on the desk, causing the ash tray and the wine glass to jolt. “Are you so blind?” he shouted. “Or are you just so determined to hurt me in revenge that you’re willing to harm our people as well? The lives of the people of Jerusalem are in real danger! Puccini is going to turn his back on us, and the Arab nations are going to try to destroy us! Russia, too!” He swallowed. “I am not making this up—I have it on the highest authority!” “Get out!” Jacob grabbed David by the coat collar. “I mean it—get out, and never come back!” He shoved David toward the door; reaching around his cousin, he jerked it open with his left hand. He practically hurled David into the reception room; David banged his legs against Gloria’s desk. “Gloria, I never want this man to come here again!” Jacob ordered. “Do not take any more of his calls! If he ever calls again or comes by, refuse him!” He slammed the door. END OF CHAPTER 4



kgreen20	Dec 16 2007, 05:17 PM Post #7
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 5 Gloria rose to her feet, sadness in her eyes. Pushing her chair back, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Don’t give up,” she urged David. “God is at work in this, even though you can’t see it yet.” “Gloria’s right.” Monica appeared on the other side of the desk, a Heavenly glow pouring over her. “God has his hand on Jacob Barak, and He is quite capable of softening your cousin’s heart and changing his mind. You’ve done what God told you to do, David. Now go home and pray for Jacob.” David sighed. “All right. I will. And Gloria—” He paused. “Uh, Gloria, I’m glad you’re his receptionist. Perhaps, with you here, Jacob will eventually come around.” Gloria touched his arm and smiled. After he left, Gloria trudged toward the wall and pressed her nose against the paneling. “Please, Father, help him,” she begged. “Please get through to Jacob before it’s too late!” “Amen,” Monica softly prayed. “He will, angel babies.” Gloria and Monica whirled to find Tess and Andrew gathered around the desk. Tess smiled at the newest angel. “As you and Monica told David, God is at work in this,” she reminded Gloria. “That’s right.” Andrew leaned against the desk. His face looked serious. “God has a Plan B in motion even as we speak, and a Plan C to follow should Plan B fail.” Tess nodded agreement. “That’s right.” Sam joined them. “And a Plan D, as well. This assignment is so important and so critical that God is pulling out all the stops. It’s vitally important that Jacob Barak see the light, so he will do his part to get the people to safety. The Father is even sending in the Special Forces to help out, including myself.” “Yes.” Tess nodded. “And even now, on my instructions, a friend is getting ready to pay a visit to David—a visit that will help set Plan B in motion.” Gloria approached her, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “And if this fails, then God will set up Plan C?” “Yes.” Tess looked from one to another. “But we’re running out of time now. If Jacob does not listen to the Father very soon, many lives will be needlessly lost. We must listen carefully to the Father and do whatever He assigns us to do—when He tells us to do it.” Andrew bit his lower lip. “Yes. I don’t want to help take Home the majority of the Jerusalem residents—not now. But if we’re not successful, I will be forced to.” Sam inclined his head. “Tess and Andrew are right.” He glanced toward the door. “And now, I must go.” Gloria reached toward him. “Sam, couldn’t you speak with Jacob?” Sam chuckled and shook his head. “No, Gloria—God hasn’t assigned me to do that. That is your assignment, and that of the other caseworkers. My job will come later." His eyebrows furrowed; a stern expression etched his face. "But whether I will be able to do my job when it comes depends heavily on how successful you are.” He looked from one angel to another, then vanished. Tess, Monica, and Andrew did the same. Meanwhile, David spent the drive home praying out loud. He begged God to get through to Jacob; he asked Jehovah to help him with his own tumultuous emotions. “God, please send someone whom Jacob will listen to,” he prayed, as he into his driveway. To his amazement, he found Richard sitting on the porch steps. As soon as he stepped out of the car, the frigid air made him shiver. “Hello, David.” Richard rose to his feet. He glanced up and down the street. “Uh—could we talk inside?” "Sure.” As Richard picked up a small crate next to him, David unlocked his door and led the way in. The sun hovered just over the row of houses behind him; its golden glow caused the metal frame of his screen door to gleam. At his invitation, Richard reclined on the end of the couch, then set the crate on the coffee table with a loud thud. David crossed the room to switch on the heater; its warmth immediately permeated the room. He then took his seat at the other end of the couch; the mattress sagged beneath him as he half-turned his body to face his friend. After Richard rubbed his hair, front to back, he cleared his throat. He looked very serious. “David, this very day, I have bought some gold from a local Israeli. One Tess told me about when she was here last time. Cash has been nonexistent for the past few years. Even our debit cards will be useless very soon, as you know, so I want to be sure we have a ready supply of gold to trade with under the table.” David nodded. He could only agree. Richard glanced at the wooden crate. “I’ve brought some of it in this crate, for you. Ben’s already got a disguise, thankfully, but he’s going to need more than one if he’s to remain free till we leave.” “Yes.” David bit his lower lip. “If he gets too well known, even in his disguise, it won’t take the authorities long to figure out who he is. That’s why he couldn’t visit Jacob at the Knesset.” “No, it won’t, and he couldn’t,” Richard agreed. “If we can get him to Petra, he’ll be safe till Jesus comes back, but we’ve got to keep him hidden through the next few days.” David nodded agreement. Shadows had started to fill the living room, he noticed; he reached sideways to switch on a table lamp. Its soft glow illuminated the area in front of the couch. He fixed his eyes on the crate for a few minutes. “Leave the gold with me, and I’ll purchase a new disguise for Ben.” Pressing his fingertips under the rim of the cover, he pried the lid open. Gold coins lay in a pile, gleaming in the lamplight. “Thanks, Richard.” “You’re welcome.” Richard smiled wryly. “Actually, I can’t take the credit for this, not really. Tess paid me a visit just before I left. She suggested that Ben would need a new disguise, and gave me this idea for getting it for him.” David chuckled. "I trust you had no difficulty finding this man." Richard shook his head. He exhaled slowly. "Actually, I did, David. I took a wrong turn, trying to avoid the earthquake rubble, and found myself hopelessly lost. I would have wandered forever, trying to get my bearings, if it hadn't been for Private Miki." He paused. "He pulled up next to me in his jeep. Told me he'd lead me to my destination, and he did." David nodded. "Miki is a good man. I can see it in his eyes." "Yes." Richard leaned back, folding his hands in his lap. “Monica tells me you went to see the prime minister today. How did it go?” “Not well. Not well, at all.” David grimaced. “Did she also tell you that he’s my cousin?” “No!” Richard gaped at him. “You never told me, either!” David snorted. “Well, he is. He lived with Ben's family after the death of his parents as a toddler, so he came with the rest of us to Israel when we fled Yugoslavia. But we haven’t spoken in years, so we may as well not even be cousins. We had a terrible quarrel a long time ago, Jacob and I.” David stared at an oil painting on the opposite wall. “I wouldn’t have gone to see him today if Monica hadn’t made it plain that God wanted me to. It seems Jehovah wants him to evacuate all the Jerusalem residents when Puccini commits the abomination of desolation. But Jacob won’t even consider it—furthermore, he threw me out.” He clenched both hands into balls. “He’s convinced that Puccini is no threat.” Richard shook his head, pursing his lower lip. “That’s terrible, David. I am so sorry.” He paused. “What about Ben?” David shrugged. “He’s never had a quarrel with Ben, as far as I know.” Richard leaned forward, the soft, leather-bound mattress sagging beneath his weight. “Why don’t you send Ben to see him, then?” Richard suggested. “Since Ben is his cousin, I’m sure Jacob won’t have him arrested. Maybe he’ll have better success than you had, in persuading Barak. Once you get him that new disguise, it should be safer for him to enter the Knesset than it was before.” “Hmm.” David put a finger to chin, pondering that idea. At last, he nodded. “I’ll do that. Thanks for the suggestion, Richard.” He smiled. “Did Tess suggest that, Richard?” Chuckling, Richard nodded. “Yes, she did.” David laughed. “That Tess thinks of everything!” With a grin, Richard agreed. The two men rose to their feet. David slapped Richard on the shoulder. “Uh, Richard, I just want you to know that you and your family are welcome to stay with me until it’s time to evacuate. Ryan and his family, too.” Richard smiled. “Thanks for the offer, David. However, I don’t feel there’s going to be time to take you up on it. I’m going to be away from Jerusalem much of the day tomorrow, and I really don’t want my family leaving the hotel in my absence. I’m pretty sure Ryan feels the same way. And we’ve got to be ready to leave the city at a moment’s notice.” He touched his friend’s arm. “Thanks, anyway, though.” David nodded. “Well, I’ve got some errands to run, so I’ve got to go now. I’ll keep you informed.” “All right. We’ll be praying, my wife and Rachel and I.” Richard left, the door clicking shut behind him. A few minutes later, David sped down the road toward a shop he sometimes patronized, the crate of gold resting on the passenger side of the front seat. He had already learned that its owner would accept gold instead of a debit card with no questions asked, if the price was right. He did not want to use his debit card this time, lest it become part of a trail that would lead to the arrest and conviction of his cousin—and possibly himself. He could be arrested, as well, for aiding and abetting a criminal. He took several detours to avoid the areas that had been hit by the earthquake. He bought a black tweed suit, a black, broad-brimmed Jewish hat, a gray wig, and a matching beard from the owner, and paid for it with several gold coins. He added a gray overcoat and some matching winter accessories to the pile. He’ll look just like an Orthodox Jew when he puts these on! he thought, amused. Upon leaving the shop, he headed directly to the hotel where Ben was currently staying. On the third floor, Ben let him into his hotel room. “I can’t stay long, Ben. I’ve gotten a new disguise for you, so you can alternate between them. Some winter outfits, too.” David handed him the plastic bags. Ben nodded his thanks, then set the two shopping bags on his bed. The sun had set, so the lamps shed their soft glow throughout his room. Through the window, the sky looked velvety-black with a glitter of stars. David furrowed his eyebrows. “I also have a big favor to ask of you. Tell me, have you been in touch with Jacob since you moved to Rome?” Ben shook his head. “No more than I was in touch with you. I should have been, but I wasn’t.” He smiled ruefully. “Why do you ask?” He raised his arm above his head and leaned it against the wall. “Because Jacob needs someone to talk sense to him, and I can’t do it.” David’s voice hardened. “Jacob and I despise each other. Since you’ve had no quarrel with him, maybe he’ll listen to you.” He paused. “Would you go to his office and talk to him, Ben? Wear your new disguise, then no one’ll recognize you.” He smiled. “You’ll look just like an Orthodox Jew when you wear this, you know.” Ben chuckled. After staring down at the shiny plastic bags for a long moment, he shifted his gaze back to David. “Why do you need me to talk with Jacob?” “Because he’s going to have to order the evacuation of our people when Puccini desecrates our temple, and coordinate the move to Petra. He’ll have to use the Israeli Defense Forces to do that. I tried to talk to him, but he…” He sighed. “He just wouldn’t listen. Moreover, he threw me out.” Ben smiled wryly. “Jacob can be quite stubborn when he wants to be, as we both know. I can’t promise I’ll have any better success in persuading him.” He pulled the gray wig out of one of the bags and fingered its hair strands. “However, I’ll see what I can do.” “Thanks.” David patted his shoulder. “I must go now, so you can get ready. I’ll be praying for you, Ben. When we leave for Petra, I want you to come, too—you’ll be safer there than anywhere else. You won’t need any disguises there.” “Don’t worry. Unless God tells me to do otherwise, I’ll go. And I'll stay there till it's safe to return.” Ben smiled. “We’d better pray that God will warm the temperatures, too.” David groaned. He could only agree. After David left, Ben put on the disguise. For a long moment, with his woolen prayer shawl draped around his shoulders, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands against his face, praying that God would disguise him and give him favor with Jacob. He added a quick request that God would send warm weather to Israel. He looked in the mirror. David’s right. I do look like an Orthodox Jew! After slipping his cell phone into his coat pocket, he slipped out the door and tiptoed down the stairs toward the parking basement. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up in front of the Knesset. Light poured out of the windows from the second floor upward, softly illuminating the sidewalk below as well as his car. For a moment, he just sat there, paralyzed by fear. It lay in his gut like a heavy stone. Throughout the drive, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying. What if someone managed to recognize him, despite his disguise? It would mean prison and death for him! END OF CHAPTER 5



kgreen20	Dec 16 2007, 05:23 PM Post #8
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 6 “Don’t worry, Benjamin.” A female voice spoke behind him; half-turning to see who it was, Ben saw Monica perched in the back seat. “God is with you, and He will protect you.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes. Ben smiled. “Thank you, Monica. I’ll remember that.” He climbed out of the car and shut the door with a soft thud. With even strides, he entered the Knesset building and took the elevator to Barak’s floor. As David had, earlier, he found Gloria on the phone in the reception area. Gloria smiled up at him; leaning back in her leather-upholstered armchair, she raised a hand in greeting. The angel winked; Ben suppressed a laugh. “Excuse me, sir, but you have a visitor,” the angel said into the phone. “No, it’s not David—it’s someone else…Well, he looks like an Orthodox Jew.” She nodded, then hung up. “Hello, Benjamin,” she said, in a low voice. “Don’t worry—I won’t give you away. Just go on in—he’s expecting you. He won’t betray you either, when he knows who you are.” “Thank you,” Ben whispered. He took a deep breath, then raised a trembling gloved hand to knock on the door. “Come in!” a voice boomed from inside. Ben pushed the door open and stepped into his cousin’s office. Jacob, reclining behind his desk, stared at him, a puzzled expression etched on his face. He had removed his suit jacket and hung it on a coat rack in the corner. Ben slowly approached him, stopping by the edge of the desk facing Jacob. “You don’t recognize me, because I’m in disguise,” he whispered. “I’m your cousin, Benjamin.” He removed the hat, the wig, then the beard. Jacob rose to his feet, gaping at the man, then circled the desk to approach him. “Shalom, Ben! I haven’t seen you in years and years.” The two embraced for a long moment. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you!” he said in a low voice. His eyebrows furrowed. “I guess you know you’re taking an awful chance by coming here.” “I know. I had to, though.” Ben paused, biting his lower lip. “I guess you know I’m wanted for killing Puccini, Jacob.” He slowly exhaled, staring down at the thick carpet at his feet. “Yes, I do. What I don’t know is why.” Jacob folded his arms across his chest, leaning against his desk. Ben’s voice hardened. “He killed my wife—or rather, had her killed. I wanted revenge for her death.” He pursed his lower lip. “She was the sweetest, most wonderful woman one could ever know—her only crime was that she turned to faith in Yeshua. Puccini didn’t like that.” Jacob nodded, then sighed. “I don’t approve of what you did, Ben, but I understand why you did it.” He straightened his back and dropped his hands to his sides. “Puccini didn’t stay dead, so you can’t be charged with murder now, anyway—only with attempted murder. Rest assured I won’t turn you in. In fact, as prime minister, I’m authorized to offer you amnesty.” Ben smiled, as gratitude flooded his heart. “Thank you, Jacob.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve got some sad news I need to share with you. Are you aware that Deborah is also dead?” Jacob froze. His mouth dropped open. “What?!” Ben sighed. “She died in the earthquake, last week. David was crazy with worry for her; he tried and tried to find her, with no success. Finally, he found out where her body was. It was badly mangled; she had been crushed by the ceiling when it fell in.” Jacob winced. Clearly, he had not learned of her death. For a moment, he flattened the tufts of the carpet beneath the toe of his shoe. Ben gazed out the window at the moon rising above the line of office buildings across the street. As Jacob stood trembling, taking deep breaths, making an evident effort to come to terms with the loss, sadness welled up in Ben’s eyes. “It grieves me to see the bitterness between you and David,” he said, softly. “Especially now, when our nation is so near to entering some extremely dangerous times. Had it not been for your quarrel, you would have known of Deborah’s death when it occurred.” His voice choked. “There’s going to be many more deaths in the near future if we don’t act quickly. There are events coming that are going to demand quick action if our people is to survive. Some urgent decisions will have to be made that only you are authorized to make, to save our people.” He touched Jacob’s shoulder. “Won’t you two make it up with each other?” Jacob suppressed the urge to shove Ben’s arm off his shoulder. It’s not Ben’s fault David and I have fought, he reminded himself. Out loud, he said, “No, I can’t. Not now; not ever. As for the quick actions and the urgent decisions you speak of...I trust Antonio Puccini, Ben, and I don't believe for one minute that he would betray us, as David said.” Ben shook his head. “I do wish you wouldn’t be so stubborn, Jacob,” he said in a pleading voice. “Your pride and your stubbornness could cost the people of Jerusalem their lives. Deborah’s already dead—I don’t want others meeting the same fate if it can be avoided. You need to work with David, not fight him.” Jacob sighed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to discuss this any further. I do grieve Deborah’s death, though. I loved her, too.” He glanced at his watch. “Would you excuse me, Ben? I—I want to be alone now.” Biting his lower lip, Ben nodded. “Certainly.” He put the beard, the wig, and the hat back on. He turned toward the door, then paused. “I’ll be praying for you, Ben. For you and David.” Jacob smiled wanly, in spite of himself. “Thank you. Listen, you’re welcome to come with me on tomorrow’s flight if you want; I could use some company. You’ll be safe if you wear your disguise and stay on the plane. We’ll be leaving at 8 a.m.” Ben nodded. “I’ll think about it. Thank you for the offer. Shalom, Jacob.” He left. Jacob shut the door behind him, then slowly approached the window. For a long moment, he gazed at the city lights on the horizon. Glittering stars dotted the velvety sky; the moon hung suspended an inch over the row of office buildings. “So clear to be so cold,” he muttered. A knock on the door startled him. “Come in!” he called, whirling around. The door swung open; a black woman, wearing a thick navy-blue coat over a chef’s uniform, pushed a table on wheels into the room. “Prime Minister Barak,” she said, “my name is Tess. I’m temporarily cooking for the Israeli Defense Forces while their regular cook recovers from a bout with the flu. It’s come to my attention that you haven’t had much to eat today, so I thought I’d bring you something, now that supper’s been served at the base.” Barak smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Tess. You’re right, I’ve eaten little today, and now I’ve got a gnawing stomach.” He rubbed his belly. “But how did you come here?” Tess dropped her hands to her sides. “Two soldiers brought me here, and are waiting downstairs to take me back. One of them is a new recruit, just out of basic training, who's made friends with your cousin David." "Oh? And who is that?" Jacob raised his eyebrows. "His name is Miki." She smiled. "I must go now. Bon appetite.” With a smile, Tess backed out the door and clicked it shut. Outside the door, she paused to confer with the other angels. "Plan C comes next," she told Monica and Andrew. "Be ready to speak when the Father orders, Andrew." The angel of death acquiesced. Meanwhile, as the scents of the food wafted toward his nose, Jacob found his appetite. He set the metal tray on the small round table near the corner and took his seat there, facing the wall. For the next several minutes, Barak ate his dinner. As he finished the dessert, a male voice spoke behind him. “Hello, Jacob Barak.” END OF CHAPTER 6



kgreen20	Dec 16 2007, 07:48 PM Post #9
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 7 Whirling around, Barak saw a sandy brown-haired man standing on the other side of the desk. An unearthly glow poured off him. With a trembling hand, Jacob set his coffee cup in its saucer; it landed with a clink. Rising to his feet, he pointed his finger, gaping. “What—who—?” “I am an angel. My name is Andrew. Sent by God.” The angel stepped toward him. Hastily, Jacob wiped his chin with his napkin, then whirled to face the angel. He stood rooted to the spot. He couldn’t believe his ears—or his eyes! An angel was in the office with him? It couldn’t be! “Sent by Jehovah?” he finally whispered. “Yes. Sent by the great I Am, Himself,” Andrew said. “God has sent me with a message for you.” Jacob nodded. “What kind of message?” Andrew took another step toward Jacob. He inserted his hands into his pants pockets. “Jacob, God wants you to forgive David, and to ask his forgiveness. David and Ben are right—extremely dangerous times are coming for your nation, and you need to be united in love, not divided by hatred. You’re hurting yourself by harboring your grudge against him. And you're being hindered from taking the necessary actions to save the lives of your people.” Barak didn’t want to listen to Andrew; he wanted to shut his ears and shout at the angel to get out. But he knew he couldn’t. If this angel really was from Jehovah, then he had no choice but to listen. “I can’t,” he admitted, his voice hard. “I—I hate David! I’ve hated him ever since we had that terrible fight years ago.” “I know, Jacob. And God knows.” Andrew touched Jacob’s shoulder. “He will heal you of your hatred if you will ask Him. Just ask God do so.” For a long moment, Barak just stared at the carpeted floor. He twisted his toe around, flattening carpet tufts underneath. For a moment, he thought of asking what Andrew meant about taking necessary actions, then decided against it. He didn't want to believe that any action would be necessary; surely Puccini would live up to the treaty they had signed! He just had to. Finally, without responding or saying good-bye, Jacob marched out of the room. He was in no hurry to act on Andrew’s urging; he didn’t even want to think about it at that moment. Andrew sighed. "Plan D, Father?" he prayed. He gazed at the ceiling, then nodded. A few hours later, back at the hotel, Ben kneeled at the side of his bed, praying. It was past ten o’ clock. Bowing his head, he closed his eyes, his prayer shawl draped around his shoulders. “God,” he prayed, “I ask you to open my cousins’ hearts. Both of them. Please make Jacob aware of the seriousness of the situation.” He paused, rubbing his fingers against the silky-soft bedspread. “And please send us warm temperatures.” “He will, Benjamin.” Ben rose to his feet and turned around. Andrew and Monica stood near the door, glowing. Monica repeated what she had just said. “He will, Ben. He will make things right between your cousins, and He will send you the weather conditions you need in order to flee. But He wants to use you some more.” Ben frowned. “In what way, Monica?” Andrew spoke up. “He wants you to accept Jacob’s invitation to go to Rome with him. Richard and Ryan will be the pilots, and I will go along as well. Also, another will be accompanying us, to serve as a bodyguard for Jacob.” “Who?” Ben looked straight into Andrew’s eyes. “You will find out tomorrow.” Andrew smiled. “God wants you to spy on Puccini. The only way Jacob will listen is if you can present him with proof that Antonio is indeed going to break the treaty and desecrate your temple.” He raised his arm above his head to lean it against the doorway. “It’s a dangerous job He’s giving you, so He’s sending another angel and myself as backup.” Ben snorted. “You’re certainly right it’s dangerous! If I’m discovered there—in the city where I tried to kill Puccini—I’m history.” Andrew dropped his hands to his sides and straightened his back. “That’s why He’s sending two angels to protect you.” The angel of death laid his hand on Ben’s shoulder, a smile crossing his face. “I’m not ready to take you Home just yet, and God isn’t sending me to. He wants you to live so you can report what you learn to Jacob.” Ben sighed. “Very well. I’ll do it.” “Good.” Monica smiled. “God is watching over you; don’t forget that. Wear your new disguise, so you won’t be recognized. You won’t need your winter coat in Rome—it’s warmer there than it is here—but you will need it when you go to the airport.” The two angels vanished. The next morning, as Ben, bundled up and wearing his Orthodox Jew disguise, boarded the plane, Richard greeted him. He had on his immaculate white pilot’s uniform and his dark jacket. “I see you decided to come.” “Yes.” Ben smiled. In a low voice, he added, “God is sending me on a dangerous mission in Rome. He sent Andrew and Monica to tell me, last night.” Richard bit his lower lip, then glanced out the window at the still-golden sun rising above the buildings. “You’d better do it, then. Ryan and I are going to stay on the plane until our return to Israel, so we can avoid detection. Rest assured that we’ll be praying for you.” “Thank you.” Ben smiled gratefully. Just then, Miki stepped into the cabin, wearing his khaki outfit. A surprised expression etched Richard’s face. “Miki! What are you doing here?” Miki chuckled. “Believe it or not, I’ve been assigned as Barak’s bodyguard. It seems that the prime minister asked my commanding officer to recommend someone, and he recommended me. So here I am.” He folded his arms across his chest as he spoke. Richard turned to Ben. “Uh, this is Miki—he’s a new recruit for the Israeli Defense Forces. A recruit with impressive credentials and abilities, it appears, judging from the use his captain is putting him to,” he added, chuckling. Miki nodded, an amused smile on his face. Grinning, Richard added, "I should add that he knows his way around Jerusalem well. If any of you should ever get lost, just ask for Miki. He'll help you!" The others laughed. Miki made a face, then laughed as well. Ben nodded toward Richard. “If you gentlemen’ll excuse me, I’ve got some praying to do.” “Of course.” Richard returned to the cockpit. Miki left the cabin to go to the one Barak was staying in. Ben slumped into the nearest chair and closed his eyes. Andrew, where are you? he wondered silently. I haven’t seen you since last night. He adjusted his hat. He scanned the cabin and shrugged. He could only trust that God would send Andrew back when he was needed. Apparently, the angel wouldn’t be needed on the plane. The flight to Rome went smoothly. Ben removed his coat and gloves while the plane was en route. When it landed, he knelt on the carpeted floor to pray next to his seat. God, he prayed, let me know when you want me to carry out my mission. And as You promised me through Andrew, please send him to keep me from being detected by Puccini or anyone else. Give me a way to accomplish this spy mission. He paused. And please don’t let the abomination happen on Saturday, or we will only be able to take a short Sabbath-day journey. Please change the frigid temperatures we’ve been enduring and grant us warm, sunny weather on that day. He felt a check in his spirit when he pondered whether to leave for his spy mission immediately. He wants me to wait, I guess. A minute later, Barak left for his meeting, accompanied by Miki. Two hours passed while Ben sat hunched in a soft, cushioned armchair, head bowed, praying constantly. When Jacob finally returned, he nodded toward his cousin. Ben raised his hand in greeting. At that moment, he felt an inner prompting. It's time! Biting his lower lip, he rose to his feet and made sure the wig and beard were securely in place. He set the hat back on his head. I can only hope that my Orthodox Jew appearance will not attract unwanted attention! I want to blend in, not stand out. I wish I'd brought my other disguise! He sighed. Oh, well. I can only entrust myself to God's protection anyway. At least, I won’t need my coat here. He left the plane and entered the terminal. A few minutes later, he arrived at the parking lot; he felt his heart palpitate. He took a deep breath to calm himself. I can only trust God now. Ben exhaled deeply and squeezed his eyes shut. The nervousness he had felt, entering the Knesset where Barak worked, was nothing compared to the fear welling in his gut now. He was walking into the den of lions, he knew; if they caught him, he was as good as dead. Please, God, he silently prayed, make a way for me and protect me! Please send the angels. END OF CHAPTER 7



kgreen20	Dec 16 2007, 07:53 PM Post #10
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 8 A taxi pulled to a stop in front of him. A passenger stepped out, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt. Andrew! Ben thought, slowly exhaling and relaxing his stance. “I believe you need a ride,” Andrew said, with a chuckle. Nodding agreement, Ben climbed into the back seat. He leaned against the upholstered seat. Andrew climbed in next to him and put on his seat belt; Ben did the same. The taxi driver half-turned to face his two passengers. “Where to?” “The government building, Sam,” Andrew told him. Nodding, the chocolate-skinned Special Forces angel drove out of the parking lot onto the street. “You remember Sam," he said. Ben grinned. “I sure do! He acted as taxi driver after I tried to assassinate Puccini. It seems I’m being surrounded by angels at present.” Sam laughed. Andrew chuckled in his turn, then gazed at Ben, an amused smile on his face. “Ben,” he said, gently, “God sent an angel to shut the lions’ mouths when King Darius had Daniel thrown into their den. He will not fail to protect you now.” He pulled a gleaming pocket watch out of his jeans pocket as he spoke. Ben nodded. “No. I know you’re right. But—well, it’s all too easy to forget.” “I know.” Andrew patted his arm. “But God promised you His protection, and He never fails to keep His promises. Sam and I will keep you hidden from any eyes that might otherwise recognize you or be drawn to your Orthodox Jew garb while you’re there.” He glanced down at his watch, then inserted it into his jeans pocket. “Don’t waste any time once we get there, because you’ll need every moment.” “That’s right,” Sam told him. “Every minute counts now.” Ben acquiesced. He leaned back and closed his eyes, listening to the engine humming. A few minutes later, the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the government building. As Ben stepped onto the curb, sneakers softly thudding beneath him, a supernatural peace welled up in his heart. He didn’t know what would happen, but he felt the calm assurance that God was with him, guarding him. Ben entered the elegant lobby; to his relief, no one paid him any attention. His sneakers made almost no sound on the thick carpet. He entered a curved hall, where doors lined both sides. An elevator stood at the end of that hall. As he waited for it to come to the first floor, he silently prayed that God would lead him to the right floor and the correct door. The elevator came; to his relief, he found Andrew waiting for him inside. As soon as the elevator door slid shut, Andrew said, “You couldn’t see us, Ben, but God sent Sam and me in with you, to shield you from the sight of the people in the lobby. Just trust Him to protect you—He will.” He inserted his hands into his pockets. “I will,” Ben promised. Andrew glanced down at Ben’s own bulging pants pocket. “Is your cell phone switched off?” Ben yanked it out of his pocket. “No, it’s not! Glad you asked.” Chuckling ruefully, he pressed the button on top with his thumb, to turn it off, then shoved the cell phone back into his pocket. The two stopped speaking; Ben listened to the elevator’s soft hum. It stopped on the 10th floor, and the door slid open. “Puccini’s suite is in room 1003,” Andrew told him, as they stepped out into the carpeted hall. “Just stand outside his door and listen.” Nodding acquiescence, Ben tiptoed toward the door. He leaned against it, holding his breath. “Oh, yes.” He heard Puccini chuckle on the other side. “I have protected and shielded Israel long enough. I didn't tell Jacob Barak during our meeting, but I am finished with giving that nation special privileges. Now it is time the Jews paid the piper. If Israel wants me to continue to protect it, it will have to worship me.” “Israel and the rest of the world.” Elijah Dayan’s voice. “Rest assured, Your Worship, it will be my pleasure to promote that.” “I know it will.” Antonio’s voice sounded pleased. Ben heard a drawer click shut. “Very soon, I want you to announce on television the new economic plan the world is supposed to follow. But first—tomorrow—I have to make a little trip to Israel.” “And what are you going to do there?” A pause. “I am going to force the Israeli priests to end their sacrifices. To worship my statue, which I shall order set up there, and to worship me. At the same time, Elijah, I want you to set up another statue in Jerusalem itself, so you’re going to have to come with me.” “Consider it done, excellency.” Another pause. Puccini’s voice hardened. “I am fully prepared to execute—without trial—all Jews who refuse to comply with my new orders. The decision as to whether or not to worship me will not be an option—all Jews and all people over the world will be required to do so. Those who refuse will die.” “And how will they die?” Yet another pause. “By guillotine.” Ben had heard enough. He knew all he had needed to find out. Now it only remained to get out of the building and share the bad news with Jacob. To his horror, the door swung open. Ben slid behind it, silently praying, Please, God, blind their eyes! END OF CHAPTER 8



kgreen20	Dec 17 2007, 12:39 PM Post #11
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 9 Puccini stepped out of the door, followed by Dayan. Without looking behind him, Dayan slammed the door shut by swinging his arm behind his back. Facing ahead, the two strode down the hall, shoes softly thudding on the thick carpet; within seconds, they disappeared around the corner. Ben sagged his shoulders, sighing in relief. Thank You, God! “Come on, Ben!” Andrew appeared next to him. “Come with me, and I will get you out of here. Sam is waiting for us on the curb.” Ben and Andrew took the elevator down to the first floor and left the building; a cool breeze caressed Ben’s face as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Again, no one paid any attention to them. They re-entered the taxi and returned to the airport. Back on the plane, Ben asked to see Jacob. “I’ve got important news for him,” he told Miki. Richard and Ryan leaned against the wall, listening, arms folded, eyebrows furrowed. The recruit-turned-bodyguard nodded. “He’s in the rear cabin, going over the notes that were taken during the meeting, and conferring with his two regular pilots. After he left Puccini, he managed to track them down and bring them to the plane, to return to Israel." He pivoted. "I’ll tell him.” Miki exited the front cabin, his footfalls gradually fading as he marched down the hall. “What did you find out?” Ryan asked Ben. He rubbed his hands on his pants as he spoke. “I’ll tell you when Jacob comes up here.” Ben brushed his hair out of his eyes. Someone, he noticed, had drawn the curtains over the windows; the cabin looked dark. He could only be glad; at least, with the windows covered, there was no danger of anyone looking through the window and recognizing Ben. As he waited for Jacob, Ben shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He couldn’t wait to share what he’d overheard with Barak. With this proof, Jacob would have to act! Footfalls heralded his cousin’s approach; a moment later, Barak entered the front cabin, accompanied by Miki. The prime minister wore a gray polyester suit and a black tie over a crisp white shirt; his right hand grasped a half-empty wine glass. “Miki, here, tells me you want to see me,” he told Ben, who nodded. “It’s a matter of life and death, Jacob,” Ben told him. Nodding, the prime minister turned to Miki. “Go back to the rear cabin and wait for me there with the pilots,” he ordered. “If I need you before I return, I’ll send for you.” Acquiescing, Miki left. Silence descended over the cabin. Jacob set the wine glass on the table, then turned back to Ben. “What is it, Ben?” Ben glanced at the curtains for a moment; taking a deep breath, he turned to face Jacob. “After you returned from the meeting, I went to the government building,” he said. “God protected me so that no one recognized me. I overheard Puccini and Dayan speak in Puccini’s office. I stood outside their door, listening in.” Jacob folded his arms across his chest, furrowing his eyebrows. “And what did they say?” Ben bit his lower lip, then glanced at Richard, then Ryan. “Puccini is going to betray us,” he said. “Tomorrow, he’s going to Israel to stop the sacrifices in the temple. He’s going to set up a statue there and force people to worship it, and him. And Dayan is going to set up another one in the city itself." He paused, exhaling slowly. "He means to force our people to worship him as God, upon pain of death. Hence the statues.” His voice rose. “And you know our people will never agree to that. He means to withdraw his protection of our nation and kill us, Jacob! All of us!” Jacob’s mouth dropped open. For a long moment, he gaped at his cousin. At last, he asked, “H—how did you ever manage to get inside the government building—and get so close to Puccini and Dayan—without getting caught?!” “I told you. God protected me. He sent angels.” “That’s right.” Andrew appeared next to Ben; Sam appeared behind him. At that moment, Tess and Monica stepped into the cabin. Jacob stared at the four angels. “Tess—Andrew—it’s you!” Jacob gasped, looking from one to another. “What are you doing here?” He gaped at Monica. “And who are you?” “Don’t be afraid, Jacob. My name is Monica, and this is Andrew,” the Irish-tongued angel told him gently. “We are angels. Sent by God. Your receptionist, Gloria, is an angel, too.” Tess nodded agreement. "You should remember Monica; she helped your family escape from Yugoslavia." Jacob's mouth dropped open as he stared at the Irish-tongued angel. "That bright light was you? You got us safely past that guarded fence? The angel who stepped out of that light—it was you!” "Yes, Jacob." Monica smiled at him. "I was in Search and Rescue then, and God sent me to get you and your loved ones to safety." Footfalls caught their attention; a minute later, Miki re-entered the cabin. Jacob glared at him. “I told you to stay in the rear cabin unless I sent for you! What are you doing here?” “I’m under orders, Barak.” The recruit approached Jacob, revolver dangling from its holster. His shoes thudded softly on the carpet. “Orders from a higher authority than yours.” Jacob’s eyes narrowed. “Puccini’s orders?” He pressed his lips into a tight line. “Don’t tell me you’re a spy for Puccini!” Miki chuckled. “Of course not.” “Miki takes his orders from a far higher authority than you or even Antonio Puccini, Jacob,” Andrew told him. “He takes his orders directly from God. You see, Miki is an angel, too.” Jacob’s legs buckled; he fell limply into the nearest leather-upholstered armchair, gaping up at Miki. The mattress sagged underneath him as he tried vainly to straighten his posture. “You mean—we’re surrounded by angels?” He fixed his gaze on Miki. “Why are you here?” he asked the angel. Folding her arms across her chest, Tess answered for him. “Miki’s job is to protect your people, Jacob. You see, extremely dangerous times loom ahead for your people and your nation. God helped you and your cousins escape Communism when you were children, so you and David could have a role in saving your people now. And God has sent His warrior archangel to defend Israel from the enemies that seek to destroy it.” An unearthly light poured over Miki, as his clothes changed from a soldier’s khaki uniform to a snow-white robe. The gun and its holster disappeared from his side. Jacob pointed at him with a trembling finger. “Mi—Michael?!” “Yes.” The archangel gazed down at him, love and compassion radiating from an otherwise warlike expression etched on his bronze-colored face. “I am Michael.” Jacob couldn’t believe his ears—or his eyes! How could this IDF recruit be the warrior archangel, Michael? It couldn’t be! “Jacob Barak, God has sent me to protect not only you personally, but your people as well, through the horrors to come. But first, He has a message for you.” Michael put his hands on his hips and looked Jacob in the eye. “God wants you to know that He has a role for you in this situation, too. A role that will help save thousands of lives. But you must decide whether you will cooperate with God’s plans or resist them.” Jacob covered his eyes with his hands, taking several deep breaths. When he dropped them into his lap, he sagged his shoulders and exhaled deeply. “What—what does Jehovah want me to do?” He straightened his posture as he spoke, this time successfully. He squared his shoulders and looked the archangel in the face. Monica approached him; kneeling in front of him, she laid a hand on his knee. Her knees made soft indentations in the carpet tufts. “For starters, Jacob, God wants you to give your life over to your Messiah. To the Son of God, Jesus Christ. To Yeshua.” She paused. “He is coming in three-and-a-half years to keep the promises He made to your people during the times of the Old Testament, and He wants you to be ready. Just give Him your heart—your life.” Jacob nodded. Silently, he laid his face in his hands and prayed, Please, Yeshua, forgive me! Come into my heart and make me ready for Your Kingdom. Make me fit for whatever you want me to do, before then. Amen. He raised his head, smiling, his eyes wet. The angels beamed; Richard and Ryan did the same. Andrew slapped his shoulder. “The angels in Heaven are rejoicing over your decision, Jacob, and so are the angels here on earth!” Tess nodded agreement. “And now that you have turned your life over to God, He has a job for you. The Father wants you to get the IDF army ready to evacuate your people, and to take them to Petra. They will have to stay there till Jesus returns.” She paused. “You have only a day to do it, now, so don’t waste any time. Things will come to a head tomorrow.” She wagged her finger for emphasis. “When the abomination of desolation takes place, the people will have to leave immediately. There won’t even be time to pack their things. Or to go back into their homes in the event they forget anything.” Jacob acquiesced. “All right,” he finally said. “I’ll do it.” He frowned. “But if there’s going to be no time to pack, how can I issue an advance warning to the people without tipping off Puccini?” Andrew smiled. “God is going to send angels all through the city, to warn them to get ready for the evacuation. Not all of the people will cooperate; some will insist on staying in Jerusalem, but much of the population will agree to leave. In the meantime, your job is to prepare the Israeli Defense Forces for their assignment. Since there’s only a very little time left to do it now, Gloria is going to help you. She is very efficient. So are the Special Forces angels God is sending to assist in the preparations. All arrangements must be finished before Puccini arrives in Jerusalem, so you have only a small window of time to complete them.” Richard nodded agreement. “We certainly do. And I can vouch for what Andrew says about Gloria, Excellency. She certainly is efficient." He paused. "Gloria helped us find our daughter Rachel after the earthquake—after all our own efforts to find her had failed. She also helped us find Deborah Weizmann’s body. Rachel and Deborah were trapped in the same building by the earthquake.” Sadness welled in his eyes. “Deborah died not long after.” Rubbing his hair from front to back, he smiled at Monica. “I might add that Monica has helped us repeatedly, too.” “I know. Monica is an angel of truth. It is her specialty,” Michael said. “She is also an angel of genuine compassion.” Monica smiled her appreciation of his praise. Richard nodded agreement. He glanced at the slivers of sunlight creeping around the edges of the curtains, then pivoted to face the others. Biting his lower lip, he gazed at Michael. “Uh, Michael, forgive me, but may I ask a personal question?” The archangel nodded. “Certainly.” Richard took a deep breath. “As commanding officer—as general—of the warrior angels, it must have been a great comedown to have to take orders from a human sergeant. Or, for that matter, from a human commissioned officer. How have you dealt with it?” Michael chuckled. “Yes, it was a comedown, Richard—I will not pretend otherwise. It was indeed hard to have to take orders from humans, even though it was only for a time. My only recourse in dealing with it was to remember that God always has a good reason for whatever He tells us to do, and to pray for His strength.” He glanced at Barak, who smiled and shook his head. “All I can say is that sometimes, even we angels have lessons to learn—some of which are hard. Sometimes, we have to accept a humbling assignment to learn those lessons. Monica, here, can attest to that.” Monica nodded agreement. “Yes, I can,” she said. “I’ve been through some very difficult and humbling assignments since God promoted me from Search and Rescue to casework. Once, early in my work as a caseworker, I had to live as a homeless angel on the street. On another occasion, I went blind. And on yet another occasion, God made me black. Those are just examples.” The Irish-tongued angel smiled ruefully. “God only sends an angel on such an assignment when He has a lesson for that angel to learn. Having been the general of the Lord’s Heavenly army since Satan’s fall, 6,000 years ago, Michael needed to learn what it was like to be on the receiving end of military orders. So God sent him on assignment as an IDF recruit several weeks ago. He had to go through basic training like any recruit, and it was very hard even for him.” Michael inclined his head in acknowledgement. She paused. “Until this assignment, he only had to receive orders from God; he gave orders to all the warrior angels under him. And he is so strong, as an angel, that he can single-handedly defeat powerful demons, as he did the prince of Persia during Daniel’s time. Just recently—while Puccini lay dead after his assassination—God called him back up to Heaven so that, with the help of his warrior angels, Michael cast Satan and his demons out of Heaven forever. For the last several weeks, though, he has had to obey orders given by humans as well, and accept a temporary reduction in his physical strength and endurance.” “Yes. And as soon as the war in Heaven was finished, I had to return to my assignment down here.” Michael shifted his gaze from Monica to Jacob; leaning sideways, he rested his fingertips on the table’s smooth mahogany surface. “During this assignment—except when God recalled me to His side, to fight Satan and his hordes in the recent battle—He wanted me to rely less on my strength and more on reaching humans with the truth. As He ordered me to do for you, Jacob." Straightening his back, he folded his arms across his chest. "However, that phase of my assignment is over now. My next phase starts tomorrow, when the abomination of desolation will occur. God will send me to conduct it when the time is right.” “Thank the Lord tomorrow’s not Saturday.” Jacob sighed. He froze. “But what about the weather? If it’s as cold tomorrow as it’s been for the last few days—!” “Don’t worry.” Monica laid a hand on his arm. “God will send you warm temperatures when the time is right. In the meantime, keep praying.” Jacob nodded. The archangel vanished. Barak bit his lower lip and shook his head. What now? What happens next? What are we supposed to do next? END OF CHAPTER 9