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