The Rapture Series
Why Do you Believe? What Do you Believe? How Do You Believe? Who Do You Believe?
“Reason to Believe
Natszal: "Left" (5:2)
“LEFT”
THE EARTH'S LAST DAYS
TIM LAHAYE & JERRY B. JENKINS
“Well, that's true. I sure wouldn't want to be doing what you're doing.” “But I'm not wrong, Cameron. Test my information.” “How?” “I'll predict what's going to come out of the U.N. within two weeks, and if I'm right,
you start treating me with a little deference, a little respect.” Buck realized that he and Dirk had been sparring the way everyone at Princeton had during weekend pizza and beer bashes in the dorms. “Dirk, listen. That sounds
interesting, and I'm listening. But you do know, don't you, all kidding aside, that I wouldn't think any less of you even if you were way off base here?” “Well, thanks, Cam. Really. That means a lot to me. And for that little tidbit, I'm
going to give you a bonus. I'm not only going to tell you that the U.N. resolution is going to be for dollars, marks, and yen within five years, but I'm also going to tell you that the real power behind the power is an American.”
“What do you mean, the power behind the power?” “The mightiest of the secret group of international money men.” “This guy runs the group, in other words?” “He's the one who shot down sterling as one of the currencies and has dollars in
mind for the one world commodity in the end.” “I'm listening.” “Jonathan Stonagal.” Buck had hoped Dirk would name someone ludicrous so he could burst into
laughter. But he had to admit, if only to himself, that if there was anything to this, Stonagal would be a logical choice. One of the richest men in the world and long known as an American power broker, Stonagal would have to be involved if serious global finance was being discussed. Though he was already in his eighties and appeared infirm in news photos, he not only owned the biggest banks and financial institutions in the United States, but he also owned or had huge interests in the same throughout the world.
Though Dirk was a friend, Buck had felt the need to play him along a bit, to keep him eager to provide information. “Dirk, I'm going back to bed. I appreciate all this and find it very interesting. I'm going to see what comes out of this U.N. deal, and I'm also going to see if I can trace the movements of Jonathan Stonagal. If it happens the way you think, you'll be my best informant. Meanwhile, see if you can find out for me how many are in this secret group and where they meet.”
“That's easy,” Dirk had said. “There are at least ten, though more than that sometimes come to the meetings, including some heads of state.” “U.S. presidents?” “Occasionally, believe it or not.”
“That's sort of one of the popular conspiracy theories here, Dirk.”
“That doesn't mean it isn't true. And they usually meet in France. I don't know why. Some kind of private chalet or something there gives them a sense of security.” “But nothing escapes your friend of a friend of a relative of a subordinate of a
secretary, or whatever.”
“Laugh all you want, Cam. Our guy in the group, Joshua Todd-Cothran, may just not be quite as buttoned down as the rest.” “Todd-Cothran? Doesn't he run the London Exchange?” “That's the guy.” “Not buttoned-down? How could he have that position and not be? Plus, who ever
heard of a Brit who was not buttoned-down?” “It happens.” “Good night, Dirk.” Of course, it had all proven correct. The U.N. made its resolution. Buck discovered
that Jonathan Stonagal had lived in the Plaza Hotel in New York during the ten days of the confab. Mr. Todd-Cothran of London had been one of the more eloquent speakers, expressing such eagerness to see the matter through that he volunteered to carry the torch back to the prime minister regarding Great Britain moving to the mark from the pound.
Many Third World countries fought the change, but within a few years the three currencies had swept the globe. Buck had told only Steve Plank of his tip on the
U.N. meetings, but he didn't say where he'd gotten the information, and neither he nor Plank felt it worth a speculative article. “Too risky,” Steve had said. Soon they both wished they had run with it in advance. “You'd have become even more of a legend, Buck.”
Dirk and Buck had become closer than ever, and it wasn't unusual for Buck to visit
London on short notice. If Dirk had a serious lead, Buck packed and went. His trips had often turned into excursions into countries and climates that surprised him, thus he had packed the emergency gear. Now, it appeared, it was superfluous. He was stuck in Chicago after the most electrifying phenomenon in world history, trying to get to New York.
Despite the incredible capabilities of his laptop, there was still no substitute for the pocket notebook. Buck scribbled a list of things to do before setting off again: Call Ken Ritz, charter pilot Call Dad and Jeff Call Hattie Durham with news of family Call Lucinda Washington at the local hotel Call Dirk Durton
The phone awakened Rayford Steele. He had not moved for hours. It was early evening and beginning to get dark. “Hello?” he said, unable to mask the sleepy huskiness in his voice.
“Captain Steele?” It was the frantic voice of Hattie Durham.
“Yes, Hattie. Are you all right?”
“I've been trying to reach you for hours! My phone was dead for the longest time,
then everything was busy. I thought I was getting a ring on your phone, but you
never answered. I don't know anything about my mother or my sisters. What about
you?”
Rayford sat up, dizzy and disoriented. “I got a message from Chloe,” he said.
“I knew that,” she said. “You told me at O'Hare. Are your wife and son all right?”
“No?”
Rayford was silent. What else was there to say?
“Do you know anything for sure?” Hattie asked.
“I'm afraid I do,” he said. “Their bedclothes are here.”
“Oh, no! Rayford, I'm sorry! Is there anything I can do?”
“No, thanks.”
“Do you want some company?”
“No, thanks.”
“I'm scared.”
“So am I, Hattie.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Keep trying to get Chloe. Hope she can come home or I can get to her.”
“Where is she?”
“Stanford. Palo Alto,”
“My people are in California, too,” Hattie said. “They've got all kinds of trouble out
there, even worse than here.”
“I imagine it's because of the time difference,” Rayford said. “More people on the
roads, that sort of thing.”
“I'm scared to death of what's become of my family.”
“Let me know what you find out, Hattie, OK?”
“I will, but you were supposed to call me. 'Course my phone was dead, and then I
couldn't get through to you.”
“I wish I could say I tried to call you, Hattie, but I didn't. This is hard for me.”
“Let me know if you need me, Rayford. You know, just someone to talk to or be with.” “I will. And you let me know what you find out about your family.” He almost wished he hadn't added that. Losing his wife and child made him realize
what a vapid relationship he had been pursuing with a twenty-seven-year-old woman. He hardly knew her, and he certainly didn't much care what happened to her family any more than he cared when he heard about a remote tragedy on the news. He knew Hattie was not a bad person. In fact, she was nice and friendly. But that was not why he had been interested in her. It had merely been a physical attraction, something he had been smart enough or lucky enough or naive enough not to have acted upon. He felt guilty for having considered it, and now his own grief would obliterate all but the most common courtesy of simply caring for a coworker.
“There's my call waiting,” she said. “Can you hold?” “No, just go ahead and take it. I'll call you later.” “I'll call you back, Rayford.” “Well, OK.”
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