“Incredible,” said Bennett, trying to take it all in. “Then what about Meshech?”
Mordechai didn’t miss a beat. “Bible scholars say Meshech is Moscow,” he replied. “Gesenius, for one, wrote that ‘Meshech was founder of the Moschi, a barbarous people, inhabiting the Moschian mountains.’ He went on to conclude that the Greek name Moschi was, in fact, the city of Moscow.”
“And Tubal?”
“Ever hear of a Russian city called Tobolsk?”
“In Siberia, right?” said Bennett.
“The heart of Russian oil country, that is right,” said Mordechai. “And do you know what river it is on?”
“No idea.”
“Tobolsk is actually a port city at the confluence of the Irtysh and Tobol rivers.”
“Tubal,” said Bennett in disbelief.
“Correct,” Mordechai confirmed.
“But wait a minute,” Bennett said suddenly. “Aren’t you actually from Tobolsk?”
“You have a good memory, young man. I was born there, yes. Fortunately, my family got out when they did. For a long time, Tobolsk was the capital of Siberia, but eventually it became a place of horror. Czar Nicholas II and his family were exiled there during the Russian Revolution, just before they were murdered. And Stalin built a gulag there in the 1930s, where he butchered some fifty thousand political prisoners. My grandfather was among them.”
“I had no idea,” said Bennett, stunned.
“It is not something I talk about. You have to understand, Jonathan, the satanic brand of Communism practiced by Moscow was not just another ism. Reagan was right. The Soviet Union was an Evil Empire. The Soviets were responsible for the deaths of a hundred million souls during the twentieth century — twenty million within their own borders. It is no wonder the Soviet flag was red. The whole history of the Kremlin is soaked in blood. For seventy years, the rulers of Russia waged war against God, against Christians, against the Jews, and — by proxy at least, through the Arab League — against Israel.
“But they lost. The Soviet Union collapsed, and Israel survived and flourished, just as the Bible predicted. More than a million Jews fled Russia for Israel during the 1990s, just as the Bible predicted. The gates of hell did not prevail against the church in Russia. Indeed, the church there is growing again, just as the Bible predicted. And now the Russian government is on the verge of a terrible judgment. ‘The one who curses you I will curse’ the Lord said to the Jewish people. ‘Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.’ A day of reckoning is coming, Jonathan. God will not be mocked. A country reaps what she sows, and the judgment of Russia is at hand.”
The cell door burst open.
The lights came on, but there was no nurse. Two armed guards unshackled McCoy, ripped the IV from her arm, and forced her to her feet. They dragged her through a long, dark hallway and down three flights of stairs before strapping her hands, feet, and neck to a pole in the center of what appeared to be a large, empty basement.
The air was dank and smelled of mold and sweat and stale cigarettes.
There were few lights, no windows, and only one door. The floor was cold concrete. What caught her attention most were the bloodstains on the floor.
When the guards finished securing her, they stepped back, and a man entered the room. His face and head were covered by a hood, like someone in the Ku Klux Klan, except that this hood was black. He walked toward her, carrying something behind his back, though she couldn’t tell what. Seconds later McCoy felt a baton smash into her stomach.
She couldn’t breathe.
Again she felt the full force of the wooden club, this time across the face. She gasped for air as blood and tears blurred her vision.
“Jesus!” she tried to cry out, but the words would not form.
Blood streamed down her face.
She gritted her teeth and braced for more. They would stop soon, she told herself. If they’d wanted her dead, they would have killed her by now. With a bullet to the forehead.
No, she told herself, these people want something.
Which meant she was too valuable to kill. They wanted information. But it didn’t matter. She would not give up her friends. She would not betray her country or her God. She didn’t care how hard they beat her. She would tell them nothing.
But the questions never came.
The interrogation never began. The beating just continued mercilessly. This man was possessed. He was shouting at her, but she couldn’t understand the words.
It wasn’t Russian. It wasn’t English or French.
The words were similar to Arabic but none that she knew.
What was it? Urdu? Farsi?
The blows rained down harder, on her face and arms, and across her chest and legs. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t as valuable as she’d thought, or hoped.
Then let them kill me, she decided.
Other believers had suffered in this country. Others had died at these hands, and hands like them. Jesus had suffered far worse. He had suffered and bled and died for her. For her sins. To set her free. To adopt her as a child into His family. To bring her into His Kingdom. Forever. How could she not be willing to suffer and bleed and die for Him?
If that’s what He asked, she would do it. With the strength He gave her. By the grace He provided. And maybe she would see Him soon, face-to-face.
“I don’t know,” said Bennett.
“What do you mean?” asked Mordechai.
“You’re really saying that five hundred years before Christ, this guy Ezekiel predicted the rise of Russia, Moscow, and Siberia when none of those places were known to him or had any historic importance at the time?”
“That is what I am saying.”
“But how can you be so sure all this stuff really refers to Russia? What if Ezekiel was writing about South America or Asia? I mean, how do we really know that over the centuries the name Meshech didn’t evolve into Moschi and then into Muskogee or something?”
Mordechai smiled. “You think Oklahoma plans to invade Israel?”
“I don’t know; I’m just saying, how can you—?”
“No, no, it is a fair question,” Mordechai conceded. “Turn over to Ezekiel 39, and read verses 1 and 2.”
Bennett flipped the page and began reading:
“From that passage, where are Rosh, Meshech, and Tubal located?” asked Mordechai.
“‘The remotest parts of the north.’ ”
“In relation to what?”
“To Israel?”
“Exactly,” said Mordechai. He turned to one of the Jackson Pollock paintings hanging on the far wall, picked up a small remote off the coffee table, pointed it at the wall, and pushed a button. A huge map of the world lowered from the ceiling, completely covering the painting. Mordechai pushed another button, and the map was lit by small spotlights hidden in the ceiling.
“Impressive,” said Bennett.