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