the Lord doesn’t want his saints to suffer through the seven years of tribulation, so up we go. Mr. Lambert Sable here and I are flying all the folks who want to go to Jerusalem to meet the Lord personally on Monday.”
“So, what becomes of the people who are left behind?”
Pastor Bob stopped smiling and put both hands flat on the table as if he were going to push himself up. “Bible prophecies couldn’t be clearer about that, ma’am—Daniel, Joel, Zechariah, Malachi, John the Revelator. And you need to hear it because it involves you and your people. After the Christians are gone, the Jews will come together at last and build the Third Temple right where the Dome of the Rock is in Jerusalem.
“This will infuriate the Muslims, who surround Israel on all four sides. The demolition of that Dome and the rebuilding of the Temple will ignite the greatest war the world has ever seen. Millions of Muslims will converge on Jerusalem, slaughtering every Jew they can find until the city is nothing but a cup of Jewish blood. It’ll make the Holocaust pale by comparison.
“Only then, when his own crucifixion at the hands of the Jews is avenged, will Jesus Christ make his final appearance in glory.”
After a difficult silence, the reporter turned to Sable. “So…you’re buying this? And you’ve actually willed all of your property to…um…”
“I call it the Left-Behind Foundation,” Sable answered. “It’s to fund the evangelizing of all the people left in the world after the Rapture.”
“So there is some hope for us?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. Many people will be saved during the Tribulation; I want my assets to go into helping them.” Sable was eager.
“But it’d be oh, so much better for you not to have to face the Tribulation, dear lady. You need to come with us, Olive. You really do,” Pastor Bob said, reaching across the table for her hands. She drew back.
The Pastor beamed at her and looked at his watch. “You’ve got about eighty hours to change your mind.” Then he saw the waiter approaching and dropped his napkin in his lap. “And here comes my venison with rosemary potatoes.”
Near the White Tower, Ramla, Israel, 2330h
“And certainly We created man of the essence of clay… Then We made the seed a clot… Then We made the clot a lump of flesh.”
The green robes of the circle of brothers had long since dimmed into undifferentiated black. The only light came from a pale lamp the white-robed Sheikh used to read by, and the other three witnesses sat, all in white, at the remaining compass points. The sword lay on its tapestry on the ground before the Sheikh, who chanted from the book propped on his lap, stopping after every phrase, aching for breath.
“As for those who led the way, the first muhajirun… God is pleased with them… He has planted for them gardens streaming with running waters, where they shall have eternal life… This is the height of exaltation.”
A barefoot young initiate, all in black, stood in the center of the circle. The Sheikh paused while the initiate cupped his hands in a fountain. He washed his hands, face, and feet, breathed in the water and washed his mouth. Then the circle of men arose to begin the night prayer.
As the prayers closed, the initiate remained on his knees, hands spread before him as if holding an offering of incense or cupping the light from the Tower. The Sheikh continued:
“We caused to grow gardens of palms and vines for you… And a tree that grows out of Mount Sinai that sheds oil.”
One of the witnesses stood and opened a vial of olive oil, then slowly poured the oil over the head of the young man, who looked up at the sky, at the faint golden light reflected on the remains of the Tower, and shook his rich, wet, black hair. “You are anointed as the Black Stone is anointed, the cornerstone which fell from the garden of Heaven.”
“We made a covenant with Adam, but he forgot it, and We found him lacking in faith. And when We said to the angels: ‘Bow down before Adam,’ they all bowed themselves down except the Shaitan, who refused.
“ ‘Adam,’ We said, ‘The Shaitan is an enemy to you…Let him not turn you out of Paradise and plunge you into affliction…
“But the Shaitan whispered to him, saying: ‘Shall I show you the Tree of Immortal Life and an everlasting kingdom?’ …
“The man and his wife ate of its fruit, so that they saw their nakedness and covered themselves with leaves of the Garden. Thus did Adam disobey his Lord and go astray…
“Whoever you are, death will overtake you, though you are in lofty towers…”
The Sheikh stopped for breath. He leaned back and closed his eyes, his head surrounded with the stalks of white star flowers. It was not a large garden, but a very old one, set with low walls and flagstones, watched over by the medieval ruin of the White Tower and hemmed in by an olive grove. A single lemon tree near the fountain was about to bloom; the hot night had allowed a limp breeze with a trace of lemon flower.
The Sheikh sat up, rubbed his eyes, and continued: “Then his Lord had mercy on him; He forgave him and rightly guided him…
“Go hence,” he said, “and may your offspring be enemies to each other.”
Panting, the old man leaned forward and picked up the scimitar. The fiery lightning ran the length of the blade. He elevated the sword in both hands and went on reading:
“This is the Verse of the Sword—When the sacred months are over, slay the idolaters wherever you find them. Hold them, besiege them, lie in ambush everywhere for them. If they repent and take to prayer and alms, let them go. God is forgiving and merciful…
“How can there be a covenant between idolaters and God and His Apostle, except those with whom you made an agreement at the sacred mosque? So as long as they are true to you, be true to them; surely God loves those who carefully do their duty… God will not call you to account for what is futile in your oaths, but He will call you to account for your deliberate oaths.”
The initiate bowed to the Sheikh, took up the sword in its tapestry, and then returned it to the Sheikh’s outstretched hands.
“The sword is the symbol of the covenant you make on this gathering day to do your duty. Do you accept?”
The young man nodded, and the three witnesses stood and approached him. They unfolded a long white robe and dressed him in it and put a white turban on his head. The old man then laid over the robe an ancient green stole and said in a stern voice, “We invest you with the khirqa, the robe God gave Adam in the Garden of Eden. Wear it so you may find the sweetness of faith. We bind your head with the royal turban. Wear it as a crown in token of your throne and kingdom. Its virtue will accompany you to your grave.”
Then the Sheikh set down the sword and toiled to his feet with the help of two brothers at his side. He took the initiate by his right hand. “This is the bayat, the taking of hands—whosoever gives his allegiance to this band of brothers gives it to God Himself. The Prophet established this order when he allowed his most trusted followers, the first muhajirun, to take his hand and commit themselves to infinite loyalty to God and His Messenger. It is the link in the chain that connects you to the light of the Prophet, peace be upon him. It connects you to the chain of all the prophets, Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, and Jesus.”
He enfolded the young man in his arms, touching him with the hem of his own robe, saying, “Those who are keepers of their covenants and who keep a guard on their prayers—these are they who are the heirs, who shall inherit the Paradise.”
“You are the true Son of the Eagle,” he whispered in his ear. “May you be the last.”
Chapter 2
Friday, October 8, 2027
Interrogation Room, Shin Bet Headquarters, Queen Helena Street, Jerusalem, 0030h
Jules Halevy sat