"Tim LaHaye & Jerry Jenkins - Left Behind Series 5 - Apollyon" - читать интересную книгу автора (LaHaye Tim)

Rayford looked at Mac with admiration. “You're not as dumb as you look, old-
timer.”
Mac pulled a phone from his pocket. “Know his number?”
“Your phone scrambled? If I get detected talking to Ken Ritz on either of our
phones•”
“You are dumber than you look if you think I'd risk that. I know the purchasing guy,
remember?” Mac showed Rayford the phone, a generic model that had been
doctored by David Hassid.
Rayford dialed Chloe's phone. “Daddy!” she exulted. “Are you here?”


Buck considered it a privilege to pray with the Israeli committee before he and Ken
and Tsion headed back to find Chloe. He threw his arm around Tsion. “Are you as
tired as I am?”
“Exhausted. I only hope the Lord will allow me to sleep tonight. I am ready to share
his message with these dear members of the family, and all that is left before that is
to talk with Eli and Moishe. You will go with me, will you not?”
“I wouldn't miss it.”
“Me either,” Ken said.
But the news from Chloe changed Ken's plans. “Daddy called,” she whispered. “He
needs a ride home tomorrow.”
After she explained Rayford's situation, Ken decided to get the Gulfstream out of
the Jerusalem Airport and into Ben Gurion that night. Buck was nearly despondent,
wanting to talk to Rayford personally. “At least he can hear the truth about Amanda
from the horse's mouth,” he said.
An hour later Jacov drove as they delivered Ken to the airport. “We will see you
back here Friday,” Tsion said, embracing him.
Chloe fell asleep on Buck's shoulder during the after-dark ride to the Temple
Mount. As they left the car, the spectacular new temple gleamed on the horizon. “I
do not even want to see the new structure,” Tsion said. “It is an abomination.”
“I can't wait to meet the witnesses,” Chloe said.
“You may not actually meet them,” Tsion cautioned. “These are heavenly beings
with their own agenda. They may communicate with us; they may not. We approach
them with great caution.”
Buck felt the usual tingle to the soles of his feet. “You know the stories, hon.”
Chloe nodded. “I'm not saying I'm not scared.”
The three slowed as they approached the typical crowd that gathered thirty feet from
the wrought-iron fence, behind which the witnesses stood, sat, or spoke. Usually
they spoke. No one had seen them sleep, and none dared get closer. Threats on the
lives of the two witnesses had ended in the ugly deaths of would-be assassins.
Buck's excitement masked his fatigue. He worried about Chloe but would not deny
her this privilege. At the edge of the crowd of about forty, Buck was able to see past
the fence to where Eli sat, Indian style, his back to the stone wall of a small building
beyond the fence. His long hair and beard wafted softly in the breeze, but he was
unmoving, unblinking, his leathery skin and burlap-like garb appearing to meld.
Moishe stood two feet from the fence, silent, unmoving, staring at the crowd.
Occasionally someone shouted. “Speak! Say something!” But that made others back
away, obviously fearing the violent reactions they had heard of. Moishe's feet were
spread, his arms loose at his sides. Earlier in the day Buck had monitored on his
computer a long monologue from Moishe. Sometimes the two traded off speaking,