The voice was seething. “I’m not interested in your troubles, Mr. Bennett. I’ve got troubles of my own. I will call you in precisely twenty-four hours. Either you’ve wired the fifty million, are standing with your wife at the airport in Bangkok of your own free will, and have thus earned the chance to save the world, or the deal is off. You’ll have just sentenced fifty million people to die. And you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. It’s your choice, Mr. Bennett. Choose wisely.”
The line suddenly went dead.
Bennett’s heart was racing. He had no doubt whoever he’d been speaking with was deadly serious. He wiped his brow, took a swig of water, and prayed the plan had worked as it was supposed to.
He stepped into his tent and quickly dialed a phone number in Europe that cross-linked him via secure fiber optic cables into the Communications Center at Site R, the Pentagon’s top secret war room in the Catoctin Mountains near the border between Maryland and Pennsylvania. Once in, he got a stutter tone. He then punched in the nine-digit code that immediately patched him through to a colonel working directly for Defense Secretary Burt Trainor.
“Mr. Bennett, we’ve been waiting for your call,” the colonel said.
“Did it work?” Bennett asked immediately. “Could you trace it?”
“Hold on, sir,” the colonel said. “I should know in a moment.”
Bennett paced his tent.
He knew it was a huge risk. But he was sure he’d done the right thing. A few minutes after President Oaks had hung up from his phone call with Bennett, a senior aide to the secretary of defense had followed up the president’s call to arrange the details of their extraction from Jordan. With mushroom clouds rising over four American cities, Bennett hadn’t hesitated to tell the aide what had happened. After all, if he was agreeing to advise the commander in chief, he could do no less than be fully candid with those around him.
The colonel had been instantly intrigued. He’d offered to trace every call that came into Bennett’s satellite phone. Until then, Bennett had thought all satphone calls were untraceable. Apparently that wasn’t exactly true. Bennett hadn’t the foggiest idea of all the technology involved. All he knew was what the colonel told him to do: as soon as contact was reestablished with the mystery caller, Bennett was supposed to dial into the military’s top secret command post and await further instructions.
Bennett stopped pacing.
He was still on hold, but he knew he had to start packing his and Erin’s things as quickly as possible, for it was clear now that one way or the other, they’d be leaving soon. He pulled their two large suitcases out from under the army cots they had been using and began loading them with clothes and their toiletries. Then he gathered their Bibles, journals, iPods, and chargers and packed them in his large leather briefcase.
Next he powered up his laptop, pointed his antenna toward the southern sky, and connected to the Internet via satellite. A moment later, he was downloading e-mails for the first time in several weeks—319 and counting.
Bennett scrolled through the list. There were at least a dozen from his mom, but none of them were within the last few days. None of them would help him find her. All of them, therefore, would have to wait. Two e-mails were from Chuck Murray, President MacPherson’s former press secretary. Bennett scanned them quickly. Murray was working on a book about the administration and was trying to track him down to confirm various details, as well as to catch up. All that was no doubt irrelevant, he realized. He wondered if Murray had even survived the attacks and said a prayer for his safety, and his soul, just in case.
An e-mail from Dmitri Galishnikov now caught Bennett’s eye. The Medexco gazillionaire wanted to know where in the world Jon and Erin were, and when could they come to Jerusalem and have dinner with him. Bennett made a mental note to give Galishnikov a call on the flight back to the States. They hadn’t seen each other or spoken since January. It was time to reconnect.
The Russian Jewish petroleum engineer had become one of Bennett’s dearest friends since his days on Wall Street. But the blunt truth was that Galishnikov was a man on his way to hell unless something changed radically, and soon. He was rich. He was powerful. He had everything he wanted. But he hadn’t nearly everything he needed. He needed Yeshua HaMashiach, Jesus the Messiah.
Bennett had been heading to hell as well. But now, by God’s grace, he had found a personal relationship with Jesus. More than a million Israelis had found Him too, and had planted more than ten thousand messianic Jewish congregations just since the firestorm. Why couldn’t Dmitri find that hope and forgiveness and a peace that defied understanding through Yeshua as well?
Bennett immediately thought of the words of Jesus in Matthew chapter 16: “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?”
Not many on the planet had gained the whole world faster than Dmitri Galishnikov. But his soul was in danger. He was running out of time. And Bennett’s heart suddenly cried out in prayer for him and his beautiful family. He prayed that the Lord would have mercy on them. He prayed the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob would pour out His love on them and open their eyes that they might see and understand and fall in love with Yeshua the way Bennett himself had done. Yes, it had cost him dearly. Yes, it might cost him more. But what a treasure he had gained, and what a treasure now awaited the Galishnikovs.
As Bennett opened his eyes, he noticed an e-mail from Natasha Barak. The subject line read, “GOOD NEWS!” Still on hold with Site R, he clicked on the message and read it quickly.
“Jon, Erin — hey, it’s me. Hope you’re well! I’m praying for you every day. Several times a day. Wish I knew where you were. Would love to call you. Miss you both terribly. But I have good news! Remember my cousin? Miriam Gozol. VP at Medexco. We stayed at her house in Tiberias when we were hunting for the Copper Scroll treasures. Last night, she prayed with me! She became a follower of Yeshua! She’s had so many questions. We’ve been studying the Bible together. The Lord has given me answers right from His Word. It’s been so exciting. Please call me. I hope you get this. I want to thank you for blessing me and my family. I can never repay you! Love in Yeshua, Natasha.”
Bennett felt a lump form in his throat. Erin had been praying so much for Natasha Barak and e-mailing her regularly, though never disclosing where she and Jon were. He couldn’t wait to read this to her. He couldn’t wait for Erin to see just how much her young disciple was growing.
But he was startled when the SecDef’s top aide suddenly came back on the line.
“Mr. Bennett, we have some news. Some good. Some not so good.”
“Cut to the chase, Colonel,” Bennett pressed. “Did we get him or not?”
37
“Secretary James?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Crystal Palace. Please hold for POTUS.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
There was a long pause, then a hiss of static; then the president turned off the mute button on the speakerphone on the conference table in front of him.
“Lee, that you?” he asked with a sense of urgency.
“Yes, sir,” the Homeland Security secretary said. “How can I help you, sir?”