The Remnant:
On the Brink of Armageddon
Book 10 of the Left Behind Series
WE WERE with the group that had the leaders, Costas Pappas
explained.
The pastor and his wife.
The Mikloses.
Old man Kronos.
His cousin is
still with us.
You know who all these people are? We know everything, Chloe
said.
But how can you know so much and still survive? Marcel told us the plan
the night it happened, Mrs.
Pappas said.
The girl was supposed to have been
seen by people in the underground who knew her, but it was just a rumor.
Everything seemed to add up.
Help from the Tribulation Force, a military man, an
operative from America, on his way back from the operation in Israel.
But how
did you learn what had happened? What did you do when Mr.
Miklos and Mr. Kronos
did not check back in? We went looking, Costas said, his lips quivering.
Chloe had thought him a bumbling lookout, then an angry young man.
But he had to
be brave, she decided, to live as he did.
This softness touched her.
We knew
the plan.
We never found the stones at the side of the road.
They had either
been run over or brushed away.
But those animals left that car right where it
stopped, not .
far from there, in plain sight.
But surely they were watching
it, Hannah said, lying in wait for you.
We were sure of that, the boy said.
We drove past quickly, trying to appear as if we were not even looking.
But we
know K's car.
It was just a few meters off the road the lights gone dim, the
engine off, a door open.
We were desperate to search it, to find out what
happened, but we didn't want to be stupid.
And so .
We waited.
We
had to.
There was no way to know when they would tire of waiting for
someone to come, but after a few days, we could not stand not knowing anymore.
Kronos's cousin lent us a four-wheel-drive truck, and from topography maps we
plotted a way to get to the car from the fields rather than the road.
We did it
after midnight, slowly making our way from tiny trails through thick woods to
the open, rocky plain.
Cousin Kronos drove, and two others and I walked ahead in
dark clothes to be sure no one saw or heard.
It had to be three in the morning
before we had brought the truck as close as we dared.
We could not see Kronos's
car yet, but we knew where it was.
When we crawled over a rise where we There
is no longer money for streetlights, and the battery in the car had long since
died.
There was no moon and we didn't dare use our flashlights, so nothing
illuminated the car.
If the GC were waiting to ambush us, they would not have
thought of our coming the hard way, especially that far.
We were almost upon the
car when we finally saw it in the darkness.
We listened and watched and even
fanned out to see if we could hear any GC.
Then we felt in the car and found the
bodies.
Maybe we were foolish, but we dared shine our lights, just seconds at a
time, our bodies hiding most of the light.
Costas quivered at the memory and
broke down.
He struggled to be understood.
All three of them, he managed.
Shot.
Marcel in the face.
Back of his head gone.
We had to work to pull him
from under the dashboard.
K took one in the neck from behind.
Probably cut his
spinal cord.
Laslos in the forehead.
No sign of the
American? Costas shook
his head.
We dragged the bodies, one by one, all the way back to the truck.
They stank and were stiff.
It was awful.
My friend, who was studying criminology
before all of this, determined that whoever shot them was probably in the car
with them.
We also found Marcel's bag, one we had given him.
It was under
Laslos's body, covered with his blood.
It still had a change of clothes and food
in it.
We do not know what happened to the American.
Chloe told him and his
mother what Steve Plank had reported, that the GC boasted the successful thwart
of an escape attempt.
'There was an impostor for the girl and for our man.
Something went wrong and all this resulted.
The American is alive? Mrs. P.
said.
Chloe nodded.
Being held somewhere.
They're probably trying to break him
for information, but he's well trained.
We're more worried he will get himself
killed for not cooperating.
You must think the GC is stupid, Costas said.
Sorry? Chloe said.
You come here disguised as GC and you think they will just
take you to him.
It's risky, we know.
It's suicide, Costas said.
What
would you do, son? Chloe said, realizing that if Costas was younger than she,
it wasn't by much.
He shrugged.
'`The same, I suppose, but I can't imagine it
working.
we have a man inside the palace in New Babylon, or we wouldn't dream
of trying this, Chloe said.
She began to outline the preparations and Mac's
plans.
Ah, excuse me, Hannah said.
A minute, please? Chloe glanced at her,
then followed Hannah to a corner.
Chloe, do they need to know this? axle can
trust them! They're Co-op.
But what if they are caught and forced to talk?
Don't burden them with all this.
Think of what they've been through, Hannah.
They'll never cave.
Well, if they do, it's more than just your funeral, you
knows.
They returned to Mrs.
Pappas and her son.
This works? Costas said.
The GC falls for this? Not for
long, Chloe admitted, sneaking a peek at Hannah.
But with the right setup on
the main database in New Babylon, we have bluffed ourselves into some remarkable
places.
We just met you, Mrs.
Pappas said.
And we will bury you soon.
We
are people of faith, Hannah said, dropping her accent.
And we know you are
too.
We must also be people of action.
We know the odds and we accept them.
We
don't know what else to do.
Would you leave a comrade to a certain
death? Costas was still emotional.
He shrugged.
I don't know.
I don't see that you
have a choice, but you have a better chance going in with artillery than with
disguises.
I just can't see it working.
But we don't know where our man is!
Chloe said.
How do we find that out without infiltrating? What about your man
in Colorado? He seems to know so much.
He can tell us only what he overhears.
If he asks for more details than seem appropriate, he'll soon be found out too.
How does he get along in the GC without the mark? Chloe explained Steve's new
identity and facial reconstruction, aware of Hannah's loud sigh and slight
shaking of her head.
His forehead is plastic.
The mark of loyalty would have to
be applied under that, and no one can stand looking at him with his skull
exposed.
Please, Hannah said under her breath.
I want to
come with you when you go for your man, Costas said.
Can't allow it, Chloe said.
We have our
papers, our uniforms, and we're covered, for now, on the computer.
It would take
days to do the same for you.
I could get a GC uniform, and you could cover for
me.
I No, Chloe said.
We appreciate it, but it's not going to happen.
We
have a plan, and we will follow it, succeed or fail.
You need more firepower? We do.
It would have looked suspicious, bringing in heavy weapons that are not
GC issue.
Mr. McCullum is trying to get something, either from our man's plane
or his car.
Where is the car? According to Plank, Sebastian's captors also
have his car, which he talked his way into at the airport.
And they wouldn't
have searched it for weapons? We don't know and we haven't heard.
Costas
motioned the women to follow him to a corner where a large wood trunk was buried
under piles of blankets.
It was full of Uzis.
Don't ask, he said.
His mother
provided a large laundry bag into which Costas placed three cloth-wrapped
weapons and several clips of ammunition.
Now, you'd better go.
George
Sebastian had been told that you never hear the shot that kills you, but how
could that ever be proved? He fought to remain composed, not wanting to give his
captors the satisfaction of even tensing before the death blast.
He held his
breath way past what he believed were his final ten seconds, and then could not
contain a shiver as he exhaled.
All right, the leader said, get him
presentable, and fast.
Food and water first, then the shower.
And do something
about this lip.
Think of a story for that.
We didn't do it.
George opened his eyes and blinked.
You're still in trouble,
California, but none of us is getting fried because of you.
I'm taking the cuffs
off, but you've got two weapons aimed at you, and all we need is a reason.
When
his hands were free, George rubbed them together, making Plato flinch.
George
was tempted to scare him with a feigned swing or even a shout.
Do something
about his wrists, the leader told Elena.
Let's go, we've got to move.
They
shoved George up the stairs and gave him two sandwiches stuffed with what tasted
like summer sausage.
The bread slices were nearly two inches thick and dry.
He
had to press them hard together over the meat to fit them into his mouth.
His
split lip stretched and bled as he chewed.
He sucked eagerly from a bottle of
warm, stale water.
George wanted to sit back and take a few deep breaths, but
this was clearly not supposed to be a leisurely lunch.
He gagged and coughed,
but he made sure to force down all the food.
His best chance to escape or do
some damage would be when he was unbound and they were moving him.
He didn't
want to invest the mental energy guessing what it was all about, but he felt
relieved to be alive and to have accomplished his one objective so far silence.
When he finished, George quickly scooped bread crumbs from the table and pushed
them into his mouth.
He chased them with the last few drops of water, tipping
the bottle all the way up.
Elena snatched it from him and pointed toward a tiny
room where he would just barely fit into a shower.
Clothes there, she said,
pointing to the floor.
You probably can't fit through the window anyway, but
someone will be outside and armed.
She left and shut the door, and though he
knew she and probably the others could hear what he was doing, he looked under a
cot and found only dust.
He yanked open three drawers of a spindly wooden
dresser.
Empty.
There was nothing else in the room except a window he guessed
faced west.
He pulled back a paperlike shade, and Socrates leveled his weapon at
him.
Get going! Elena called from outside the door.
He shed his clothes and
edged into the shower.
He turned on the left faucet first and was blasted with
icy water.
He stepped back out and reached in, trying the other.
Also cold.
He
turned both on and let them run a minute.
He tried angling the showerhead away
In.
m him, but it was rusted into place.
The tap water is not drinkable! he
heard from Out side.
He wanted to ask if there was soap or a towel, blur he
would not speak.
Gritting his teeth, George forced himself under the spray.
His
body jerked and shook, b t but r he let the frigid water flood him from his
short hair to his whole body.
He vigorously rubbed everywhere for as long as he
could stand it, and just as he was turning off the water, he heard the room door
shut.
He peeked out.
Where his clothes had been lay a pile of clean stuff, f f,
clearly belonging to Plato, his supposed look-alike.
Great.
He doesn't appear
nearly as tall.
A single hand towel lay on the bed.
George made it work and
threw on the clothes.
A nondescript undershirt protected him from a prickly
brown sweater.
Military-issue underwear was tight.
Gray wool socks started to
warm him, and khaki pants with a canvas belt were tight around the middle and
rode three inches above his ankles.
The GC-issue boots were snug but okay.
George pushed the door open, and Elena motioned that he should
follow her back to the table where he had eaten.
Plato stood watching, weapon in
hand, but George wondered how valued the girl was.
He could have had her in a
headlock before the others noticed, and he could have killed her before they
fired.
She awkwardly dabbed at his lip with ointment and assaged his hands and
wrists.
He studied her face for my sign of weakness.
The blood he had seen on
her when he thought she was his underground contact was obviously not her own.
She was a killer.
Elena pressed a bulge over his eyebrow that smarted, but
George would not recoil.
If he couldn't stand a little pain, how would he fight
his way out of this? It seemed incongruous that she could find ice in that
place, but she wrapped some in a cloth and held it against his swollen forehead.
She did the same to a knot on the back of his head.
Why couldn't she have spared
a cube or two for his drinking water? The food, whatever it was, lay heavy and
troubling in his stomach, but he also felt a surge of energy from it.
Part of
him wanted to do some damage, to show these yokels what an American captive was
capable of.
Oh, he could do more than clam up.
He had already broken one guard's
knee, if he had to guess.
And all during her administering to his wounds, George
had sat close enough to Elena to have blinded her with a twofingered shot to the
eyes, broken her jaw with a punch to the chin, or crushed her to death by
flipping the table onto her and dropping his whole body atop it.
Little would
have been gained, of course; as he would have been shot.
He fantasized about
ignoring her and charging Plato, disarming him, butting him.
with the weapon,
shooting Elena, and taking his chances with the two camped outside.
That had
better odds, but still not good ones.
They were making him presentable and
moving him.
Why? Someone above them must have wanted to try eliciting
information.
And they wanted to be sure he was being treated right.
George was
apparently as close as they had come to anyone connected with the Judahites, and
that was why he was still alive.
He relished the idea of performing for GC
brass.
His silence would infuriate them.
Better, from his perspective-the higher
up you went, the less prepared they were for creative escape attempts.
At some
point these people would realize he was not going to help them.
There would be
no information volunteered or beat from him.
Finally, at long last, he would be
expendable.
They would either use him as an object lesson, claiming he had
ratted out the enemy, or they would execute him.
Or both.
George's goal formed
slowly in his mind.
He wanted to stay alert, to be aware of every nuance.
He
wanted to know when the GC finally lost patience and realized he was a hopeless,
lost cause.
Because when they had finally had enough and his end had come, he
wanted to be sure to take one or two with him into eternity.
He knew from their
marks they wouldn't be going where he was.
But they'd get to their destination
sooner than they thought.
George had to fight a smile as they led him to a Jeep.
He was cuffed again, but not until after he had been fitted with a large pair of
gloves.
How thoughtful, he decided.
Protect my tender wrists.
wait to see how
New Babylon spins Petra, Hannah said.
How can anyone remain an
unbeliever now? Who knows when Daddy and Abdullah will be able to leave? Chloe
said.
For all we know, Tsion will want to stay there, if they have the
technology to let him continue cyberteaching around the world.
I have to think
the GC will kill anybody who leaves.
Mac told Chloe and Hannah that squadron
headquarters in Ptolemais was expecting him, but that he wanted to downplay
everything.
How so? Chloe said.
Sounds like your way has been paved.
Yeah,
but if I go in there, buttons shining, it's like I'm on display, tryin' to
impress.
I could give off the smell of a rat without even trying.
Plus, if that
headquarters is anything like the rest of this place, I'm gonna look suspicious
if I don't start rippin' on anybody who's supposed to be in charge.
Tell us
about it, Hannah said.
I hated working at the palace, but the organization and
decorum made this place look sick.
If I was really a senior commander, I'd be pushin' paper to New Babylon for a week about this place.
I had hoped to just
rush in there, get what I needed, and get going.
I wasn't even going to ask 'em
for any support, 'cause I oughtn't need it.
Now I'm of a mind not to even show
up.
what? Myself, I mean.
Us, then? One of you.
I'll go, Hannah said.
Now' wait a minute, Chloe said.
I rankly, I'm leaning toward Chloe myself,
Hannah.
I don't expect any suspicion, but if worse came to worst and they
checked your iris or your handprint, you know you're on file in the palace.
As
a dead woman.
well, yeah, but then how would you explain an Indian lady havin'
the exact ID marks of a dead Native American? As long as it's not that you
don't think I can pull it off.
You kiddin' ? Half the time I look at you and
forget who you are.
But Chang has entered Chloe's readings under her new name,
so even if they got feisty and made a member of my executive staff prove her
identity, she'd sail through.
what do you want me to do, Mac? Chloe said.. I
want you to be bored.
Bored? And irritated.
You got grunt duty.
While the
fat-cat boss you came with and his other personnel are takin' a nap at a nice
place where is none of anybody's business-you got assigned to go get the info he
needs.
Any red tape, any holdup at all, and you're ticked off.
Can you work that
up? what do you think? Your approach is that this is bottom-end stuff just
give me the info and let me be on my way.
Make sure the hostage takers know
we're comet so they don't get spooked, but they'd better have their man ready.
The boss is none too pleased that they haven't gleaned anything from him yet, so
make way for somebody who knows what he's doing.
Gotcha.
That flyboy friend
of Abdullah's believes if everything goes well, we can take Sebastian in cuffs,
of course right back to his own plane and fly out of here tonight.
Does local
have any idea you're planning to take the prisoner?
No, and by the time they find out, we oughta be out of here.
Not going to be easy, Hannah said.
Even if they buy everything up to where we
visit him.
It never is, Indira, Mac said, smiling.
The key, though, is not
trying to convince them of anything.
You sting somebody by getting them to come
your way.
Follow? Not sure.
For instance, if I hinted to you that Rayford or Tsion wanted you to do something you didn't want to do, like head straight back
to Chicago right now, your first reaction would be negative.
You wouldn't want
to do it, you'd refuse, and I'd say, okay then, I can't tell you the rest of it.
You'd say what's that, and I'd say, no, you made your decision so you don't need
to know.
Now I don't know for sure about you, but if I was in your shoes, I'd be
all over me trying to find out what the whole story was and whether I made the
right decision.
You bet I would, and I'd wear you down too.
You know I would.
You probably would.
But see, you'd be comin' my way then.
It wouldn't be me
trying to convince you of something.
It would be you trying to drag it out of
me.
I tell you whatever I need to, to get you to do what I wanted in the first
place, and you don't realize until later, when you realize I manipulated you,
that you were stung and it seemed like your idea.
Other words, Hannah said,
you're going to somehow make these people beg you to take Sebastian off their
hands.
You got it.
And they're going to think you're doing them a favor.
Exactly.
This I've got to see.
You will.
And where am I while Chloe's
doing her thing at headquarters? waiting in the Jeep, eyes and ears open.
The
impression is, yeah, there are two of you, but it takes only one to pick up
directions for the boss.
And where will you be? Chloe said.
On the phone to
Chang and then to the kid at the airport.
I want that Rooster Tail gassed up and
ready to go.
You going to tell him we'll have a prisoner with us? I'll play
that by ear.
If we don't find a weapon in George's car, I've got one for him and
one for me anyway.
You've got your side arms.
Think we'll need them? At
least for show.
There's nothing suspicious about a superior officer bringing
armed staff with him on a visit like this.
Chang hurried as casually as he
could to his quarters during his afternoon break and flew across his key board, trying to track his sister.
She was better at this than
he expected.
He wished only that she had let him in on it so he could have
helped pave the way.
Maybe if she arrived somewhere and discovered he had pre
cleared her for transport on assignment, she would know he was watching.
Peacekeeper Chow was already in the system.
Apparently he had gotten out of
Chicago and found himself a ride to Long Grove, Illinois.
Chang was glad his
sister had avoided Kankakee and the old Glenview Naval Air Station.
Though
short-staffed like everywhere else, they had been burned by Judah-ites for the
last time and were impossible to hoodwink.
But Chang had never before seen
anything on his system that mentioned even an airstrip in Long Grove.
He finally
found an executive runway that had recently been reopened for limited commercial
routes.
With his break time running out, Chang contacted the tower there as a
high-ranking official in the GC aviation administration, requesting routine
confirmation of a Peacekeeper from international sector 30 catching a ride on a
commercial cargo plane bound for Pawleys Island, South Carolina.
Chang
couldn't wait for the response and hurried back to his desk.
There it became
clear that Suhail Akbar himself was interrogating the first pilot to return from
Petra.
Chang could only assume that the second was also bound for Suhail's
private conference room.
With a few keystrokes, he activated the bug in that
office to record, and later he would download it from the central system.
Chloe
appreciated that Hannah seemed sensitive enough to leave her to her thoughts on
the drive back in to Ptolemais.
You're okay with my doing this, right Makes
perfect sense, Hannah said.
If I was going to get checked, this would be the
place.
Chloe tried to slow her pulse by breathing deeply and trying to doze.
It
didn't work, but she knew her life depended on what Mac referred to as her
ability to play bored.
Irritated was all right, if it came to that.
But bored
would play truest.
Squadron headquarters was on the top three floors of a
four-story building with an abandoned first floor that appeared to have been
some sort of business.
One of the men Chloe and Hannah had encountered on the
street sat in the dark near the elevator at ground level, smoking and reading by
the sliver of light from the street.
He stood when he saw her and saluted.
Elevator's broke, ma'am, he said.
You want the stairs there behind you.
As
you were.
This your assignment? Yes, ma'am.
Somebody's got to tell people or
they'd wait all day for that thing.
No one thought of a sign? Yeah, but the
commanding officer wants the personal touch.
She nodded.
He's the one I'm
here to see.
Could you tell him that Fr n- The young man held up both hands.
I have
no way to tell him, ma'am.
There's a receptionist up there.
Thought you people
were understaffed.
He shrugged.
Doing what I'm told, ma'am.
The stairs led to
a dingy, tiled room with about half the fluorescent lights working.
No one was
at the receptionist's desk, but another Peacekeeper began to rise from the end
of a tired couch.
Chloe stopped him with a wave.
What's your role here, son? GC Morale Monitor, ma'am.
And telling people the receptionist is not here.
I
can see that.
Well, telling them she will be right back.
How soon is `right
back'? He looked at his watch.
Supposed to have been ten minutes ago, so
should be any minute now.
Couldn't you just as easily inform Commander Stefanich that Ms.
Irene is here from Senior Commander Johnson's staff? Well,
I could, ma'am, but I was instructed to- Just do it.
I'll take the heat.
Yes, ma'am.
Ms.
who from what? Never mind, I'll find him, Chloe said,
reaching for the door.
Oh, I can't let you do that, ma'am.
Now, please.
I'm
sorry I forgot your information.
Is your hand on your gun, Monitor? she said.
No, ma'am, well, yes, ma'am, it is, but not on purpose.
I Read my name
badge, son, and get that memorized.
Now all you have to know is Senior Commander
Johnson.
Got it.
One moment.
Chloe shook her head.
It was a wonder the GC
accomplished anything.
The door had barely shut when it opened again and the
Morale Monitor gestured her in with a nod.
He pointed to a glassed-in office in
a corner of the floor where the commander sat at his desk, a female underling
stationed outside.
I have to get through her too? Chloe said.
Yes, ma'am.
That is the commander's secretary.
Most of the other desks were empty, and the
lights here were intermittent too.
It seemed all this commander had were enough
people to keep him buffered.
Chloe strode toward the older woman in uniform.
The woman smiled expectantly, but Chloe swept past her.
Irene,
Johnson's staff, to see Stefanich.
The woman had no time even to protest.
Nelson Stef anich looked startled and began to rise.
Hi, sorry, sir, but Senior
Commander Johnson doesn't have time for me to work my way through all your
layers.
You have some information for him? of course, but- Chloe whipped out
her leather bifold and produced her GC ID card.
What do you need? well, I'd
like to visit with Commander Johnson.
Stefanich sounded eastern European, she
guessed Polish.
He sends his regrets.
The GC brass would like this handled with
dispatch, and we understood you were prepared to- Sit down, Ms.
Irene,
please.
I really- Please, I insist.
Chloe sat.
I had hoped to bring your
commander up to speed on the ones we chose for this assignment.
We are very
proud of their- Excuse me, sir, but we understand zero information has been
extracted from the rebel operative.
That's just a matter of time.
He is highly
trained military, and we have been patient to this point.
Might I suggest that
if your assignees were at the level you say they are, Commander Johnson would
not have had to come all this way? Perhaps.
But I am happy with what they have
accomplished thus far and plan to recommend them for- Do whatever you like,
sir, but please send me back to my boss with what he needs to make contact.
Stefanich made a shove of pulling a file from his desk drawer, but he did not
hand it to Chloe.
Are you not aware of what happened today? This prisoner
became immediately less valuable with the success of the attack.
I understood
the results of that are not conclusive.
If they were, wouldn't it be broadcast
internationally? There were technical difficulties.
You will learn that
millions of traitors are dead, including their leadership.
We still don't know
where their headquarters are, Chloe said, or how much of the leadership might
be left.
We have them narrowed to the Carpathian States.
Even the rebel would
not refute that.
Sir, are you refusing a senior commander access to your
prisoner? No, I'm Because if you are, I will be the first to fall under his
displeasure.
But you will be next.
She rose.
I'm already late, but showing up
empty-handed, well, I don't mind telling you, that is going to fall on you.
Here you are, he said, offering the file.
Chloe was moving toward the door.
You can put in for commendations for the locals you hired, but you won't be in
a position to award them if- Here, no, please, he said, smiling
apologetically.
Chloe stopped and looked at him with suspicion.
A folder? I
don't want a folder.
All I need to give the commander are directions to the
prisoner.
That's what this is! Now, here! Chloe stood with her hand on the
doorknob, shaking her head.
And your people expect us.
Of
course!