The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins Page B

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.”

    Buck Williams followed an excited crowd to an old pay phone that was miraculously working. He wanted to see how many personal calls he could make. He reached Ken Ritz’s voice mail first.
    “This is Ritz’s Charter Service. Here’s the deal in light of the crisis: I’ve got Learjets at both Palwaukee and Waukegan, but I’ve lost my other flyer. I can get to either airport, but right now they’re not lettin’ anyone into any of the major strips. Can’t get into Milwaukee, O’Hare, Kennedy, Logan, National, Dulles, Dallas, Atlanta. I can get into some of the smaller, outlying airports, but it’s a seller’s market. Sorry to be so opportunistic, but I’m asking two dollars a mile, cash up front. If I can find someone who wants to come back from where you’re goin’, I might be able to give you a little discount. I’m checkin’ messages tonight and will take off first thing in the morning. Longest trip with guaranteed cash gets me. If your stop is on the way, I’ll try to squeeze you in. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”
    That was a laugh. How would Ken Ritz get hold of Buck? With his cell phone unreliable, the only thing he could think of was to leave his New York voice-mail number. “Mr. Ritz, my name is Buck Williams, and I need to get as close to New York City as you can get me. I’ll pay the full fare you’re asking in traveler’s checks, redeemable in whatever currency you want.” Sometimes that was attractive to private contractors because they kept up with the differences in currency and could make a little margin on the exchange. “I’m at O’Hare and will try to find a place to stay in the suburbs. Just to save you time, let me just pick somewhere between here and Waukegan. If I get a new number in the meantime, I’ll call it in. Meanwhile, you may leave a message for me at the following New York number.”
    Buck was still unable to get through to his office directly, but his voice-mail number worked. He retrieved his new messages, mostly from coworkers checking on him and lamenting the loss of mutual friends. Then there was the welcome message from Marge Potter, who was a genius to think of leaving it there for him. “Buck, if you get this, call your father in Tucson. He and your brother are together, and I hate to tell you here, but they’re having trouble reaching Jeff’s wife and the kids. They should have news by the time you call. Your father was most grateful to hear that you were all right.”
    Buck’s voice mail also noted that he still had a saved message. That was the one from Dirk Burton that had spurred his trip in the first place. He would need to listen to it again when he had time. Meanwhile, he left a message for Marge that if she had time and an open line, she needed to let Dirk know Buck’s flight never made it to Heathrow. Of course, Dirk would know that by now, but he needed to know Buck wasn’t among the missing and that he would get there in due time.
    Buck hung up and dialed his father. The line was busy, but it was not the