The Last Judgment (24 page)

“Yes. I'm well aware of that.”

“I thought perhaps I could talk to you about Gilead Amahn's case. I've decided to undertake his defense—”

“You must be kidding,” Len said gloomily.

“No. I'm absolutely serious.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“You know, Len, you and everybody else I've been talking with seem to have the same reaction. But I do want to pick your brain…”

“Is it about this case? The Temple Mount? Gilead Amahn?”

“Yes—”

“Then I want to talk in person, not on the phone. You know where my place is up here?”

“Yes. I've been up there a couple of times. I think I can find my way.”

“I want you to come meet me today. I've got some time. But come alone.”

“Alone?” Will asked with confusion in his voice.

“Yes. I'd prefer that,” Len said.

Will had never heard his old professor sound quite so paranoid. Or so mysterious. After quickly finishing the phone call, he grabbed the file on Gilead Amahn, stuffed it into his briefcase, and breezed by Hilda's desk in the front lobby.

“I'm going out,” he said without turning back.

“You know when you're coming back?” Hilda called after him.

“I have no idea,” Will yelled as he walked out.

36

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N ROUTE TO
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EDGROVE
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S CABIN
, which was tucked away in the higher elevations of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Will made a quick call to his private investigator, Tiny Heftland so he could connect before he got out of roaming range.

The big private investigator picked up after only a few rings.

“Man alive, great to hear from you, counselor. Hey, real sorry about Fiona's dad. I sent some flowers and a card. I hope she got them.”

“She did,” Will replied. “I know she was touched by that.”

“Look, I was up in Canada at the time of the funeral. Heard about it thirdhand. I was doing a surveillance for a former member of the Canadian parliament. Guy's a little paranoid…thinks he's being followed. Thinks people are after him. Of course, I can't blame him too much…he got a letter laced with ricin. So, all things considered, I suppose that would make anybody's nerves go a little jingle-jangle.”

“Don't worry about it. I'm sure Fiona understands. The real reason I called, Tiny, is that I've got a new case I want to get you involved in.”

“That's sweet news to me,” the PI boomed. “What has it been, more than a year since the last time?”

“That's about right. I've been limiting my practice a little. Trying to ease back and spend more time with Fiona and Andy. And I'm doing some part-time teaching at a seminary. I replaced
Len Redgrove. You remember him? He was co-counsel with me on that International Criminal Court case in The Hague.”

“Redgrove? Oh yeah, yeah. He's that brainiac law professor. Nice guy. But, as I remember him, just a little squirrely…head in the clouds. Like he's been hanging around places where the air's too thin. The couple of times I met with him when you were preparing for that trial, he was always talking about the ‘big picture' this or the ‘big picture' that.”

“Well, as a matter of fact,” Will said, “I'm on my way to see him right now.”

“You going to use him on this case?”

“Probably not. He's getting on in years. He hasn't been doing too well since his wife's been going downhill with Alzheimer's. But I do want to bounce a couple of ideas off him. He's been a very special friend to me. Kind of a mentor.”

“Well, I mean…I didn't mean any disrespect…”

“No. That's alright. Anyway, here's the case. Hold onto your hat. I'm representing Gilead Amahn.”

“Counselor! In all the hot ones you've handled, I don't think you could have picked a hotter one,” Tiny exclaimed. “Geez, if you don't mind my saying so, everything I see on TV about that religious group really makes them look like a bunch of wackos. How are you going to defend this guy?”

“I'm working on it,” Will said. “But one of the first things we have to do is factual investigation over there in Jerusalem. About the group. About the circumstances of the bombing. We have to pick up some intelligence off the ground about the rumors that were floating around about this group and my client shortly before the incident. Tiny, are you up for some international travel?”

“Sure. Of course. And, uh, I don't mean to be indelicate, Will boy. You and I go back a long way. But there's always the issue of filthy lucre…”

“Don't worry about that,” Will replied. “The client's family paid me the retainer through an organization that's supporting the defense. Some group called the Holy Land Institute for the Word.
I'm not familiar with it. But the retainer check has already come in. Your expenses and time—at your usual rate—will be more than taken care of.”

“I know I can always count on you,” Tiny said enthusiastically.

“I'll get you some background information by e-mail tomorrow…forward a copy of the indictment. I'll give you a page or two of some of my initial impressions. And then maybe a page of bullet points about areas for your investigation there. Names. Contacts. Some things to start you off.”

Tiny signed off just in time. Will's Corvette was winding its way up the mountain passes toward the higher elevations of the Blue Ridge Mountains, where his cell-phone reception would disappear.

It was a clear, warm day, and Will had the top down and was enjoying the rush of the air through his hair and past his face.

He exited off the main highway onto a smaller road that took a steep incline up the mountain. After about two miles a small gravel road branched off at a bend. He recognized the intersection and turned onto the narrow drive that wound through the sparse trees, and finally to a small wood-shingled cabin nearly at the top of the mountain.

Will grabbed his briefcase, and as he stepped out of his car, he turned around to look at the vista of mountaintops spreading out in all directions. There was a haze hanging over the valleys below and a mild breeze blowing. As he turned toward the cabin, he spotted Redgrove's familiar Land Rover parked off to the side, so he figured he was home as he promised he would be.

After three knocks on the screen door he heard his old friend's voice calling for him to come on in.

Redgrove was pouring himself some tea. He was dressed in wrinkled khaki pants, a denim work shirt, and hiking boots. His thinning white hair was uncombed.

He finished pouring his cup of tea, put the teapot down, and then turned fully around to look at Will. Then a broad smile swept across his face, and he took a few slow steps toward Will
and extended his right hand. As the men shook hands, Redgrove moved closer and put a hand on each of Will's shoulders.

“It's good to see you, Will. It really is.”

The two sat down while Redgrove sipped his tea slowly. The older man said his wife had been having a particularly bad time of it on the day of Angus MacCameron's funeral. He had decided to stay with her rather than attend.

“So, what did you think when you got my voice mail about Gilead Amahn?” Will finally asked.

“Well,” Redgrove replied somberly, “as a matter of fact, I was sitting right here in this chair. Listening to your message as it came in over the answering machine. I chose not to pick up the phone.”

Will studied Redgrove carefully, trying to figure out his response.

“The fact is,” the older man took another sip of tea, “that day I had just come back from visiting Anne at the full-care center. You know she's been slipping really fast. But that was the first day…that very day…the first time she didn't recognize me. She looked at me with this blank look. I was a complete stranger to her.

“I can't tell you how devastating that was. I just…was having a very difficult day. And wasn't up to taking your call.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Will said reassuringly. “Don't worry about it a bit, Len.”

“But, well…there was another reason…”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn't want to pick up the phone and give you some snap response about Gilead Amahn…just off the top of my head. I had to be very careful—very cautious about what I was going to tell you.”

Will searched for some explanation in his old friend's expression.

“I'm not sure I understand…”

“You know that Bill Collingwood and his wife initially contacted me. You remember that? They came to me about Gilead's situation. Described the riot over at the Islamic Center. I referred them to you. Now I wish I'd never had that conversation…”

“Why?”

“How much do you know about this Gilead Amahn?”

“I represented him in that case. Met with him a number of times. Met with his parents. He seemed like a credible person to me.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah—Len, what are you getting at?”

“Did you ever talk to the head pastor of the church where Gilead had been working…over in West Virginia?”

“No. I didn't have any need to.”

“Well, this pastor was at a conference where I was giving a talk. Maybe five months ago. He came up to me afterward. This was just after the first news came out about the riot over there at the Islamic Center. Bill Collingwood had called over to the pastor to let him know that Gilead was in Virginia, under arrest for the incident. Did Bill ever tell you what he and the pastor talked about?”

“No, not specifically…”

“Well, the pastor told me. He got me alone after the lecture. He told me Gilead was acting strange.”

“In what way?”

“He didn't give me a lot of detail. But he did say Gilead had recently given his notice and left the church. And before that, he had taken an unexplained leave…”

“Why?”

“The pastor didn't know the specifics. But Gilead had told some members of the church that he was going into the mountains with a backpack and a sleeping bag. He was going to spend forty days and forty nights in the wilderness. Does that sound familiar?”

“Yes and no. Maybe he's an outdoors buff. Maybe he likes camping…”

“Tell me something, Will,” Len said with a serious look on his face, “how old was Gilead Amahn when he walked into the Islamic Center and began his public preaching campaign?”

Will thought for only a few seconds.

“He was thirty years old.”

“And how old was Jesus when He began His public ministry?”

Will chuckled a little and shook his head.

“That's a little far-fetched, Len, isn't it?”

“Jesus was thirty years old. Jesus went into the wilderness for forty days and forty nights. Then He appeared at the inauguration of His public preaching. Your client does the same thing. And something else…”

“What?”

“When Jesus began His preaching, where did He go? He went to His own people. To the nation of Israel. He preached in the synagogues. Where He was rejected and His life was threatened. Where does Gilead Amahn go? As a former Muslim, he goes to the largest conclave of Islamic clerics in North America. And he preaches to them. And he's not only rejected, but his life is threatened as well.”

“Look, Len, you know how much respect I have for you. You know what a huge impact you've had on my life. After my life was falling apart, my drinking problem, when Audra was murdered…I'm dealing with the death of my wife…and then I came to faith—all along you encouraged me. You and Angus MacCameron established some indispensable building blocks in my walk with the Lord. And I don't know if I ever thanked you sufficiently for that…”

“I know that, Will.” Redgrove had a sympathetic look, but his voice conveyed a sense of hidden intentions.

“I'm here because I need your wisdom. About Gilead Amahn's defense…”

“You've probably noticed,” Len noted, “that I don't teach law anymore or write on legal issues. The fact is…world events are telescoping very rapidly. I feel the leading from God to be an
observer, a recorder, and an interpreter of some of those events. I know you probably thought my comments were a bit strange at the banquet earlier this year—”

“To be honest, I did. I was confused. And I didn't really understand your point. Of course, you're a brilliant man. So I had to figure there were some things you understood that I didn't…”

“You really want to know what I think?”

“Of course, I do,” Will replied.

“Then you need to listen to me. You know I've been following the situation in the Middle East for years. Originally, just because I was doing a lot of international law teaching. But soon I saw a pattern. I saw things escalating. I know there are always wars, skirmishes, and negotiations going on over there. And at any given time there's always some problem. That's not new. But what was new was what I saw on the horizon. Something clear was beginning to emerge. It started with the Deuteronomy Fragment. A massive attack on the psyche of the Israeli people. An assault against the foundational Old Testament guarantee that the land of Israel would belong to the Jews. And then it became clear, as I continued to read and study, that the center of all of this was going to be the Temple Mount. It had to be. I don't know how much time you spend in prophetic Scripture in your Bible study…”