Tim LaHaye & Jerry Jenkins - Left Behind Series 7 - The Indwelling

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The Indwelling:
The Beast Takes Possession
Book 7 of the Left Behind Series
TIM LAHAYE & JERRY B. JENKINS
PROLOGUE
From Assassins
BUCK had ducked under a scaffold at the sound of the gun.
A tidal wave of humanity swept past him on both sides, and he saw glee on some
faces. Converts from the Wailing Wall who had seen Carpathia murder their
heroes? By the time Buck looked to the stage, the potentates were leaping off, the
drapery was flying into the distance, and Chaim appeared catatonic, his head rigid.
Carpathia lay on the platform, blood running from his eyes, nose, and mouth, and-it
appeared to Buck-from the top of his head. His lapel mike was still hot, and because
Buck was directly under a speaker tower, he heard Nicolae's liquid, guttural
murmur, “But I thought ... I thought... I did everything you asked.”
Fortunato draped his stocky body over Carpathia's chest, reached beneath him, and
cradled him. Sitting on the stage, he rocked his potentate, wailing.
“Don't die, Excellency!” Fortunato bawled. “We need you! The world needs you! I
need you!”
Monday of Gala Week
LEAH Rose prided herself on thinking under pressure.
She'd been chief administrative nurse in a large hospital for a decade and had also
been one of few believers there the last three and a half years. She had survived by
her wits and eluded Global Community Peacekeeping Forces until finally having to
flee and join the Tribulation Force.
But on the Monday of the week that would see the assassinations of the two
witnesses and the Antichrist, Leah had no clue what to do. In disguise and under her
alias, Donna Clendenon, she believed she had fooled authorities at the Belgium
Facility for Female Rehabilitation (BFFR, or Buffer). She had passed herself off as
Hattie Durham's aunt.
A squinting guard, whose nameplate read CROIX and whose accent was
unmistakably French, asked, “And what makes you think your niece is incarcerated
here?”
“You think I'd come all the way from California if I had any doubt?” Leah said.
“Everybody knows Hattie is here, and I know her alias: Mae Willie.”
The guard cocked his head. “And your message can be delivered only in person?”
“A death in the family.”
“I'm sorry.”
Leah pursed her lips, aware of her artificially protruding teeth. I'll bet, she thought.
Croix stood and riffled through pages on his clipboard. “Buffer is a maximum
security facility without standard visiting privileges. Ms. Durham has been
separated from the prison population. I would have to get clearance for you to see
her. I could give her the message myself.”
“All I want is five minutes,” Leah said.
“You can imagine how short staffed we are.”
Leah didn't respond. Millions had disappeared in the Rapture. Half the remaining
population had died since.
Everybody was short staffed. Merely existing anymore was a full-time job. Croix
asked her to wait in a holding area, but he did not tell her she would see no
personnel, no inmates, or even any other visitors for more than two hours. A glass
cubicle, where it appeared a clerical person had once sat, was empty. No one was
there whom Leah could ask how long this might take, and when she rose to look for
someone else, she found she was locked in. Were they onto her? Was she now a
prisoner too? Just before Leah resorted to banging on the door and screaming for
help, Croix returned. Without apology, and-she noticed-avoiding eye contact, he
said, “My superiors are considering your request and will call your hotel
tomorrow.”
Leah fought a smile. As if I want you to know where I'm staying.
“How about I call you?” Leah said.
“Suit yourself,” Croix said with a shrug. “Merci.”
Then, as if catching himself: “Thank you.”
Relieved to be outside, Leah drove around to be sure she wasn't being followed.
With puzzling instructions from Rayford not to call him until Friday, she phoned
Buck and brought him up to date. “I don't know whether to bolt or play it out,” she
said.
That night in her hotel room, Leah felt a loneliness only slightly less acute than
when she had first been left behind. She thanked God for the Tribulation Force and
how they had welcomed her. All but Rayford, of course.
She couldn't figure him. Here was a brilliant, accomplished man with clear
leadership skills, someone she had admired until the day she moved into the safe
house.
They hadn't clicked, but everyone else seemed frustrated with him too.
In the morning Leah showered and dressed and found something to eat, planning to
see Hattie as soon as she had permission. She was going to call Buffer from her
untraceable cell phone, but she got caught up watching on television as Carpathia
taunted Moishe and Eli before the eyes of the world.
She sat, mouth agape, as Carpathia murdered the two witnesses with a powerful
handgun. Leah remembered when TV cameras would have been averted in the face
of such violence. Then came the earthquake that left a tenth of Jerusalem in rubble.
The GC global network showed quake scenes interspersed with footage of the silent
witnesses badgered by the smirking Carpathia before their ignominious ends.
The slow-motion pictures were broadcast over and over, and repulsed as she was,
Leah could not turn away.
She had known this was coming; they all had-any students of Tsion Ben-Judah. But
to see it played out shocked and saddened her, and Leah's eyes swam. She knew
how it was to turn out, too, that they would be resurrected and that Carpathia would
get his. Leah prayed for her new friends, some of whom were in Jerusalem. But she
didn't want to sit there blubbering when she had work to do too. Things would get a
lot worse than this, and Leah needed the training of performing under pressure to
prepare herself and to convince herself she was up to it.
The phone at Buffer rang and rang, and Leah was at least warmed to know that the
world government suffered just like the rank and file with the loss of half the
population. Finally a woman picked up, but Leah couldn't get her even to
acknowledge an employee named Croix.
“A French guard?” Leah tried.
“Ah, I know who you mean. Hold on.”
Finally a man picked up. “Who are you holding for, please?” he said, in a hurry.
“Guard Croix,” she said, “about six feet—”
“Croix!” the man hollered. “Phone!”
But he never came to the phone. Leah finally hung up and drove to the prison,
leaving her phone in the car for safety.
At long last Croix ushered her into yet another private room. This one had a large
window that Leah thought might be a two-way mirror. Again she feared her cover
might have already been blown.
“I thought you were going to call,” the guard said, pointing to a chair, ubiquitous
clipboard in hand.
“I tried,” she said. “This place is poorly run.”
“Understaffed,” he said.
“Can we get on with it?” Leah said. “I need to see my niece.”
“No.”
“No?”
Croix stared at her, apparently unwilling to repeat himself.
“I'm listening,” she said.
“I'm not at liberty to—”
“Don't give me that,” Leah said. “If I can't see her, I can't see her, but I have the
right to know she's healthy, that she's alive.”
“She is both.”
“Then why can't I see her?”
Croix pressed his lips together. “She's been transferred, ma'am.”
“Since yesterday?”
“I'm not at liberty to—”
“How long has she been gone? Where is she?”
He shook his head. “I'm telling you what I was told. If you'd like to get a message
to—”
“I want to see her. I want to know she's all right.”
“To the best of my knowledge, she's fi—”
“The best of your knowledge! Have you an inkling how limited your knowledge
is?”
“Insulting me will not—”
“I don't mean to insult you, sir! I'm merely asking to sir my niece and—”
“That's enough, Officer Croix,” came a female voice from behind the glass. “You
may go.”
Croix left without a word or a look. Leah detected an Asian accent in the woman.
She stood and stepped to the mirror. “So, what's next, ma'am? Am I to leave too, or
will I get some word about my niece?”
Silence.
“Have I now become a prisoner too? Guilt by relation?”
Leah felt conspicuous and wondered whether anyone was behind the glass after all.
Finally she marched to the door but was not surprised to find herself locked in
again. “Terrific,” she said, heading back toward the mirror. “What are the magic
words that get me out of here? C'mon, lady! I know you're back there!”
“You will be free to go when we say you are free to go.”
The same woman. Leah pictured her older, matronly, and clearly Asian. She raised
her palms in surrender and plopped into a chair. She started and looked up when she
heard a buzz in the door latch. “You may go.”
Leah shot a double take at the mirror. “I may?”
“She who hesitates ...”
“Oh, I'm going,” she said, rising. “Could I at least see you on my way out? Please? I
just want to know—”
“You're trying my patience, Mrs. Clendenon. You have received all the information
you will get here.”
Leah stopped with her hand on the doorknob, shaking her head, hoping to weasel
something from the disembodied voice.
“Go, ma'am!” the woman said. “While you have the option.”
Leah had given her best. She wasn't willing to go to prison for this caper. For
another effort, maybe, another assignment. She would sacrifice her freedom for Dr.
Ben-Judah. But for Hattie? Hattie's own doctor had died treating her, and she
seemed barely grateful.
Leah moved briskly through the echoing corridors. She heard a door behind her and,
hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman, turned quickly. A small, trim, pale, dark-
haired woman in uniform turned and headed the other way. Could that have been
her? Leah headed for the main entrance but turned at the last instant and stepped
behind a bank of phones. At least it looked like a bank of phones. She wanted to
pretend to be talking on one while anyone who might follow her rushed out the
door, but every phone was in shambles, wires hanging.
She was about to abandon her plan when she heard quick footsteps and saw a young
Asian woman hurry out the front door, car keys jangling. Leah was convinced this
was the same woman who had ducked away when she turned around. Now Leah
was following her.
She hesitated inside the glass doors, watching as the woman trotted to the visitor
parking lot and scanned the area. Apparently frustrated, she turned and walked
slowly back toward the entrance. Leah nonchalantly exited, hoping to get a straight-
on look at the woman. If she could get her to speak, she would know whether she
had been the one behind the glass.
An employee of the GC and she's worse at this than I am, Leah thought, as the
woman noticed her, appeared startled, then fought to act normal. As they neared one
another, Leah asked where a washroom was, but the woman tugged her tiny
uniform cap tighter onto her head and turned away to cough as she passed, not
hearing or pretending not to.
Leah pulled out of the unattended lot and waited at a stop sign a quarter mile away,
where she could see the prison entrance in her rearview mirror. The woman hurried
out and hopped into a compact four-door. Determined to lose her, Leah raced off
and got lost trying to find her hotel via side streets.
She called Rayford again and again. No way this could wait until Friday. When he
didn't answer she worried that his phone might have fallen into the wrong hands.
She left a cryptic message: "Our bird has flown the cage. Now what?”
She drove into the country, convinced no one was following her, and found her way
back to the hotel at dusk.
She had been in her room less than half an hour when the phone rang.
“This is Donna,” she said.
“You have a visitor,” the clerk said. “May I send her back?”
“No! Who is it?”
“'A friend is all she'll say.”
“I'll come there,” Leah said.
She stuffed her belongings into a bag and slipped out to her car. She tried to peer
into the lobby through the plate glass, but she couldn't see who was there. As she
started the car, someone drove behind her and stopped.
Leah was pinned in. She locked her doors as the driver emerged from the other
vehicle.
As Leah's eyes adjusted to the light, she could see it was the same car the woman
had driven from the prison.
A knock made her jump. The woman, still in uniform, signaled her to lower her
window. Leah lowered it an inch, her heart thudding.
“I need to make a show of this,” the woman whispered. “Play your part.”
My part? “What do you want?” Leah said.
“Come with me.”
“Not on your life! Unless you want your car in pieces, get it out of my way.”
The woman leaned forward. “Excellent. Now step out and let me cuff you and—”
“Are you out of your mind? I have no intention of—”
“Perhaps you cannot see my forehead in the darkness,” the woman said. “But trust
me—”
“Why should I—?”
And then Leah saw it. The woman had the mark. She was a believer.
The woman pointed to the lock as she removed handcuffs from a holster on her belt.
Leah unlocked the door.
“How did you find me?” she said.
“Checked your alias at several hotels. Didn't take long.”
“Alias?” Leah said as she alighted and turned so the woman could cuff her.
“I'm Ming Toy,” she said, leading Leah to the backseat of her car. “A believer
comes all the way to Brussels to see Hattie Durham and uses her own name? I don't
think so.”
“I'm supposed to be her aunt,” Leah said as Ming pulled out of the parking lot.
“Well, that worked on everybody else,” she said. “But they didn't see what I saw.
So, who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Would you mind if I double-checked your mark, Miss Toy?”
“Mrs. I'm a widow.”
“Me too.”
“But call me Ming.”
“I'll tell you what you can call me as soon as I can check your mark.”
“In a minute.”
Ming pulled into a GC Peacekeeping station. “I need an interrogation room,” she
barked at the man behind the desk, still holding tight to Leah's left biceps.
“Commander,” the man said with a nod, sliding a key across the counter. “Last door
on the left.”
“Private, no viewing, no bugs.”
“That's the secure one, ma'am.”
Ming locked the door, angled the lamp shade toward them, and released Leah from
her cuffs. “Check me out,” she said, sitting and cocking her head.
Leah gently held the back of Ming's head, knowing already that anyone who would
let her do that had to be genuine. She licked her thumb and ran it firmly across the
mark on Ming's forehead. Leah slumped into a chair across from Ming and reached
for both her hands. “I can't wait to get to know you,” she said.
“Likewise,” Ming said. “Let's pray first.”
Leah couldn't keep from welling up as this brand-new friend thanked God for their
propitious meeting and asked that he allow them to somehow work together.
“First I'll tell you where Hattie Durham is,” Ming said. “Then we'll trade stories,
and I'll take you back to your hotel, tell my associates that you check out as Hattie's
aunt, and let them think that you believe Hattie was transferred but that you don't
know where.”
“She wasn't transferred?”
Ming shook her head.
“Is she alive?”
“Temporarily.”
“Healthy?”
“Healthier than when we got her. In fact, she's in quite good shape. Strong enough
to assassinate a potentate.”
Leah furrowed her brow and shook her head. “I'm not following you.”
“They let her go.”
“Why?”
“All she talked about was killing Carpathia. Finally they told her that as it was clear
she had lost his baby, she was no longer a threat and was free to go, with a tidy
settlement for her trouble. Roughly one hundred thousand Nicks in cash.”
Leah shook her head. “They don't consider her a threat? She wants to kill him for
real.”
“They know that,” Ming said. “In my opinion, they think she's dumber than she
looks.”
“Sometimes she is,” Leah said.
“But not dumb enough to lead them straight to the rest of the Tribulation Force,”
Ming said. “The simplistic plan is that they follow her to the Gala in Jerusalem and
to some sort of a rendezvous with one of you Judahites.”
“I love that title. I'm a believer first, but also proudly a Judah-ite.”
“Me too,” Ming said. “And I'll bet you know Ben-Judah personally.”
“I do.”
“Wow.”
“But, Ming, the GC is wrong about Hattie. She's crazy enough to go and try to kill
Nicolae, but she has no interest in contacting any of us.”
“You might be surprised.”
“How so?”
“She didn't go to Jerusalem like they hoped. We've tracked her to North America. I
think she's onto the GC and wants to get back to safety as soon as she can.”
“That's worse!” Leah said. “She'll lead them to the safe house.”
“Maybe that's why God sent you here,” Ming said.
“I didn't know what I was going to do to protect you people. Whom was I supposed
to tell? You're the answer to my prayer.”
“But what can I do? I'll never be able to catch her before she gets there.”
“You can at least warn them, right?”
Leah nodded. “My phone's in my bag in my car.”
“And my phones are all traceable.”
They traded stories on the way back. Ming was twenty-two years old, a native of
China. Her husband of two months had been killed a few minutes after the
disappearances when the commuter train he was on crashed when the brakeman and
several controllers vanished. She had joined the GC in a paroxysm of patriotism
shortly after the treaty was signed between the United Nations and Israel. She had
been assigned to the reconstruction administration in what used to be the
Philippines, but there she had become a believer through the letters of her brother at
home, now seventeen. “Chang's friends had led him to faith,” she said. “He has not
yet told my parents, who are very old school and very pro-Carpathia, especially my
father. I worry about Chang.”
Ming had applied for work in the peacekeeping forces, hoping for just this sort of
opportunity to aid fellow believers. “1 don't know how much longer I can remain
inside undercover.”
“How did you get to a position of authority over so many guards?”
“It's not so big a deal as it sounds. The population decimation didn't hurt.”
“C'mon! You're in management.”
"Well, in all humility, a stratospheric IQ doesn't hurt.”
"That and wrestling,” she added, seeming to fight a smile.
“Two out of three falls.”
“You're not serious.”
“They know Greco-Roman. I know martial arts.”
Ming pulled into the hotel parking lot. “Call your friends right away,” she said.
“And stay away from Buffer. I'll cover for you.”
“Thank God for you, Ming,” Leah said, again overcome. They traded phone
numbers. “The day will come when you need a safe place too. Keep in touch.” They
embraced, and Leah hurried to get her bag and get back into her room.
There was no answer at the safe house, and Leah worried it had already been
compromised. Had it already been overrun? And what of her new friends? She tried
Rayford's number, then the safe house, again and again.
Unable to reach anyone, Leah knew she had a better chance of helping the Trib
Force in North America than from a Brussels hotel room. She found a flight and
headed home that very night. All the way back she tried the safe house phone, to no
avail.
ONE
BUCK braced himself with his elbow crooked around a scaffolding pole. Thousands
of panicked people fleeing the scene had, like him, started and involuntarily turned
away from the deafening gunshot. It had come from perhaps a hundred feet to
Buck's right and was so loud he would not have been surprised if even those at the
back of the throng of some two million had heard it plainly.
He was no expert, but to Buck it had sounded like a high-powered rifle. The only
weapon smaller that had emitted such a report was the ugly handgun Carpathia had
used to destroy the skulls of Moishe and Eli three days before. Actually, the sounds
were eerily similar.
Had Carpathia's own weapon been fired? Might someone on his own staff have
targeted him? The lectern had shattered loudly as well, like a tree branch split by
lightning. And that gigantic backdrop sailing into the distance . . .
Buck wanted to bolt with the rest of the crowd, but he worried about Chaim. Had he
been hit? And where was Jacov? Just ten minutes before, Jacov had waited below
stage left where Buck could see him. No way Chaim's friend and aide would
abandon him during a crisis.
As people stampeded by, some went under the scaffold, most went around it, and
some jostled both Buck and the support poles, making the structure sway. Buck he-
Id tight and looked to where giant speakers three stories up leaned this way and that,
threatening their flimsy plywood supports.
Buck could choose his poison: step into the surging crowd and risk being trampled
or step up a few feet on the angled crossbar. He stepped up and immediately felt the
fluidity of the structure. It bounced and seemed to want to spin as Buck looked
toward the platform over the tops of a thousand streaking heads. He had heard
Carpathia's lament and Fortunato's keening, but suddenly the sound-at least in the
speakers above him-went dead.
Buck glanced up just in time to see a ten-foot-square speaker box tumble from the
top. “Look out!” he shrieked to the crowd, but no one heard or noticed. He looked
up again to be sure he was out of the way. The box snapped its umbilicals like
string, which redirected its path some fifteen feet away from the tower. Buck
watched in horror as a woman was crushed beneath it and several other men and
women were staggered. A man tried to drag the victim from beneath the speaker,
but the crowd behind him never slowed. Suddenly the running mass became a
cauldron of humanity, trampling each other in their desperation to get free of the
carnage.
摘要：

TheIndwelling:TheBeastTakesPossessionBook7oftheLeftBehindSeriesTIMLAHAYE&JERRYB.JENKINSPROLOGUEFromAssassinsBUCKhadduckedunderascaffoldatthesoundofthegun.Atidalwaveofhumanitysweptpasthimonbothsides,andhesawgleeo somefaces.ConvertsfromtheWailingWallwhohadseenCarpathiamurderthei heroes?BythetimeBuck...

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