CHAPTER 8
Meanwhile, at the prison camp, Theodor and Rafael sat cross-legged against a corrugated tin wall, their boots making soft impressions in the hard-packed dirt floor. They bowed their heads, silently praying. They had been locked in the cell over an hour before, after a lengthy interrogation by the Iranian commandant. Beads of perspiration rolled down their faces; Theodor wiped his own face with the palm of his hand.
At last, he raised his head. “Rafael, are you aware we’ve been here for a long time?” Theodor asked.
Rafael shifted position. “Over an hour-and-a-half, to be exact, since we entered this prison camp. The commandant interrogated us for half-an-hour before locking us up in this cell. It feels like a long time, doesn’t it?” Theodor made a face, then nodded agreement.
Slouching against the wall, the Hispanic angel glanced up at the barred window next to the ceiling, then drew out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his face. Sunlight poured through the window, creating alternating bars of sunlight and shadow on the dirt floor. He then loaned the handkerchief to Theodor, who used it to wipe his.
“Thank you, Rafael.” He handed it back.
The jingling of keys caught his attention; as Theodor lifted his head, the metal door swung open. A guard stepped in, a steely glint in his hard eyes. Theodor swallowed hard—he and Rafael had met this guard when they’d arrived. The man had shoved him, then Rafael, viciously into the cell after their interrogation.
That guard is cruel—I can see it in his eyes, he thought. He would kill us in a minute if he thought he had to.
“Are you aware that you’re going to be turned over to the Russians tomorrow?” the Arab guard asked. “You have information they want, and you will give it to them.”
Theodor and Rafael exchanged glances. “And why would the Russians want any information from us, Ahmad?” Theodor asked.
A smirk slowly spread across the Iranian guard’s face as he leaned against the doorframe. “Because, private, the Russians are going to help my people destroy yours. They’re going to help us invade and destroy your nation. They’re going to wipe out every Jew who lives in the land that should be ours.” He paused, scanning the two P.O.W.’s faces. “Neither of you can stop them—or us! Nor can you save yourselves from the death that will be yours, when they’re finished with you.” He slowly moved his finger across his throat to emphasize his point.
Theodor said nothing. He fixed his eyes on the guard’s, bringing his knees up to his chest. With a satisfied grin, the guard left, locking the door.
Misery welled up in Theodor’s gut. He sat slumped against the wall, khaki-clad legs folded upwards in front of his chest. He knew the guard was not bluffing. If the Russians were indeed planning to invade his country, then they would go to any lengths necessary to get the intelligence they wanted. They would torture him if they thought they had to, and they would have to! They also intended to kill him and Rafael, the guard had said—once again, Theodor had no reason to doubt him.
The question was, wasn’t he supposed to survive till the end? If he was, indeed, a member of the 144,000 Jewish evangelists as he had been led to believe, he wasn’t supposed to die! He gazed down at his feet, lips turned downward, breaths quick and shallow. Could I have been mistaken? he wondered.
“Theodor.”
The private said nothing. He stared down at the dirt floor, forcing himself to take deep breaths.
“Theodor. Look at me.”
Slowly, he raised his head. As he turned to look at Rafael, he gasped. An unearthly light poured off the Hispanic soldier’s body.
“What—what’s going on?” His jaw dropped.
“Don’t be afraid.” Rafael straightened his back. “I’m an angel, sent by God. God sent me to stay with you through this time.”
Relaxing, Theodor nodded. “I thank Him for sending you.” He scratched his ear.
Rafael shifted position to face the soldier directly. “Theodor, what Ahmad told you is true.” He paused. “The Arab nations have teamed up to invade your country, and the Russians are going to help them. The Eastern European nations that used to be controlled by the Soviet Union are going to help the Russians. What Ahmed doesn’t know is that the Russians are going to double-cross their allies first.”
“Double-cross?” Theodor stared at the angel.
Rafael nodded. “Russia has always had territorial ambitions,” he said. “Those ambitions were muted after the fall of Communism, but they never completely died out. Their current prime minister has been determined to take over the Middle East ever since he was elected.”
“They want the land bridge, don’t they??” Theodor asked softly.
Rafael nodded. “Yes. He wants control of the land bridge, so he can control the oil and have the means to invade Europe and Africa. Now that Israel has, at long last, discovered its own oil reserves, he’s eager to take it as well as the oil belonging to the Arabs. He will invade Africa, too, including Egypt.”
Theodor swallowed hard. He inclined his head in full understanding of what Rafael had said. For a moment, the month when several oil wells had been dug, two years before, flashed through his mind. That discovery had brought unprecedented wealth and prosperity to Israel since. He blinked his eyes to refocus on the current situation. “What is going to happen to Israel?”
Rafael leaned against the wall. “Well, Russia will try to wipe out your people. Your nation has become most prosperous since the Rapture—in large part, because of your newly-found oil—and Russia wants to gain control of that wealth. But God is going to destroy its army, totally; when the time comes, He’s going to inflict much destruction on the nation of Russia as well." He paused. "In other words, Theodor, God is going to supernaturally deliver your nation and your people from the Russians, and from their Arab and Eastern European allies. That will not happen for many months yet, however.”
Theodor relaxed. “Thank You, Jehovah,” he prayed, looking up at the metal ceiling. He turned his gaze back toward Rafael. “What will happen then?”
Rafael bit his lower lip; sadness welled up in his eyes. “The world is entering a terrible time, Theodor. But I think you already know that.” He paused. “The war has started out with conventional fighting, but it’s going to become nuclear in matter of months. And it won't stop with the destruction of Russia and its allies but will last three-and-a-half years, until Jesus returns." He swallowed. "China will get in on the fighting, and it will lead a huge, 20,000,000-man army toward Israel. It will inflict much nuclear damage in the process.”
Taking a deep breath, Theodor nodded. “Armageddon.”
“Yes. And the war will kill millions of people and inflict terrible damage on the world’s ecology. And of course, you know about the mark of the beast and the terrible slaughter that mark will cause, once it goes into effect. Mankind will come very close to being wiped out.” Theodor winced.
Rafael touched his arm. “Don’t despair, though—God will not allow the war or the mark’s enforcement to wipe out mankind. It will come very close, though, as I said. But just before that happens, He will send His Son back to earth to save it from being destroyed. Yeshua will start His new Kingdom when He does. It will last a thousand years.”
Theodor beamed. “I’m glad to hear that.” He reached upward to wipe a bead of sweat off his cheek.
“Me, too.” Rafael smiled back. “Theodor, God has a personal message for you.” He leaned forward. “He wants you to know that you were not mistaken—you are, indeed, a member of the 144,000 Jews He has called to evangelize the world. He will keep you alive until His Son returns, and He will prosper your ministry. Your father’s action to have you drafted will not stop that. In fact, God is working on your father now, to open his eyes to the truth. He has sent other angels to do that.”
Theodor sighed. “That is good news!”
“Yes.” Rafael grinned, then turned serious. “That doesn’t mean you will have it easy, though. You won’t die, but you will go through tough times during the next three-and-a-half years. You may lose your father during that time—as you know, Puccini is planning to force the whole world to accept his mark. Your father may be forced to die for Jesus if he accepts Him. But the Father will preserve you, Theodor, and He will use you to bring many to Christ. He has already used you to do so, and He will continue to.”
Theodor smiled gratefully. “Thank You, God, for Rafael,” he prayed. “You did hear my prayer for angels, and I praise You for it!” He paused to scratch his right ear again. “As You have sent an angel to strengthen and encourage me, please send other angels to rescue us both. In Yeshua’s name, amen.”
“Amen,” Rafael repeated.
While the two sat chatting in their cell, Monica arrived at the gate of the prison camp in an army jeep. Her clipboard lay on the seat next to her. Before she could do anything, Tess appeared in the seat next to her.
"Don't try to speak to the guard," she ordered. "He will think you're a woman and try to shoot you on sight. The Arab Moslems have absolutely no regard for women, as you know." She glared at the guard pacing back and forth in front of the gate. The convertible had become invisible to human eyes, Monica noticed.
Monica acquiesced. "What should I do?"
Tess nodded toward the building behind the fence. "Just go into the building in your invisible angelic form and follow the Father's orders."
Monica incliined her head. "All right."
Tess disappeared. Monica turned the jeep and drove behind a distant abandoned building. She would have to obey the Father's orders, she knew. As she pulled to a stop, she leaned back against the upholstered seat and gazed up at the cloudless sky.
“Please, Father, tell me what to do now,” she prayed. As she received her orders, she smiled gratefully. “Thank You.”
In the next instant, she found herself in a narrow, dimly-lit metal corridor. She had left her clipboard behind in the jeep. She had her instructions from God; she had only to wait for a particular guard to pass by. Monica was determined to get through to that Iranian guard. If she failed, innocent lives would be lost in the rescue of Theodor Agnon. She could not let that happen.
Approaching footfalls signaled his approach. Monica raised her eyes toward the ceiling and propped her fingers together. “Please, Father,” she prayed, “give me the words for him.”
END OF CHAPTER 8