"Chaplain-" Donaldson's voice raised in obvious warning.

"The proof is right there in front of you, Colonel. You have but to open your eyes to see." Delroy held his father's Bible up before him. "I can show you chapter and verse where God made a covenant to return for his blessed chosen and reap them from this world."

"Chaplain, I don't know what you think you're trying to prove, but-"

"I'm not trying to prove anything," Delroy said. "I am trying to acknowledge the hand of God Almighty in the course of these events that have changed the face of the world in the last hour and a half."

"Sergeant," Donaldson said "Sir."

"Arrest that man."

"Yes, sir." The sergeant started forward.

Delroy slapped the Bible against the young Marine's chest, trapping his assault rifle there. "Don't you dare," the chaplain advised. The Marine halted.

"God put me here today," Delroy said, staring into the young man's eyes, "to bear witness to what has truly happened because there are none so blind as those who will not see." He looked over the sergeant's shoulder at Donaldson. "I want you to listen to me, Colonel. Things are going to get much worse than you see now. The Antichrist will rise up now that the Rapture has taken place. He will rise up and fill the world with lies and treachery for seven years, and the souls of men will be tried as they have never been tried before."

In an obviously practiced move, Donaldson drew the M9 pistol from the holster at his hip. The satety clicked ott as the barrel centered on Delroy's face. "Chaplain," the Marine colonel said in a cold voice, "you'll shut your mouth now or I'll put a bullet through your face."

Delroy stared death squarely in the eye and never blinked. He'd been in contact with it before. Each time he'd felt that always-present fear that he wouldn't come back home alive, that he would be crippled for life. But now, staring down the muzzle of the M9, he felt calm and relaxed.

"Thirty-one percent of our crew is missing," Delroy said. "More of them went missing in Turkey, and the survivors are stranded with the very armies they went in to save. Our world is hovering on the brink of a nuclear war between the United States and Russia. And you threaten to kill me?" The chaplain couldn't help it; he laughed, and the sound rolled through the C&C areas. "Have you ever read Revelation, Colonel? Do you even know what's in store for the world now that this has happened?"

Donaldson held the pistol rock steady.

"Threatening to kill me doesn't scare me," Delroy went on. "I was left behind after the Rapture. The only way to my salvation now is through God's love and mercy. And if I can't have those, dying now will be a lot simpler than struggling to live through the dark days that are coming."

Cursing again, Donaldson shoved the sergeant away with his free hand and stood with the M9 held in a Weaver stance. "Disobeying a direct order from a commanding officer during a time that might be construed as wartime can get you executed on the spot."

Delroy gazed at the man, understanding more about what drove him. "You're afraid."

A nervous tic started in Donaldson's left eye. "Shut up," he snarled.

"You've been through battles and wars." Delroy discovered he couldn't shut up. The truth seemed to course in his veins. "But all of that hasn't prepared you for something like this."

"Shut. Up." A slight tremble shook the M9 in Donaldson's grip.

"You feel it, don't you, Colonel?" Delroy asked. "You know that I'm telling you the truth. You know."

Donaldson's hand shook more, and his knuckle whitened over the trigger.

"Colonel Donaldson! "The voice whip-cracked through the C&C.

Without turning, Delroy knew Captain Mark Falkirk had stepped out of the Combat Information Center only a short distance away.

The CIC held all the computers and information systems the ship's captain needed to run operations aboard Wasp while she was active on a mission.

"Holster that sidearm, Colonel Donaldson," Falkirk ordered.

"Operations aboard my ship are going to go by my orders."

With obvious reluctance, Donaldson holstered his weapon. Beads of perspiration covered his pale face. "This man is spouting nonsense, Captain Falkirk. And he's inciting unrest and demoralizing the crew." Delroy glanced at Falkirk.

The captain was in his early thirties, one of the youngest men to have been appointed to that rank, and the youngest to command Wasp. He had a slender build but carried an air of readiness and moved with the fluid grace of a trained athlete. His eyes and hair were dark, complementing the easygoing nature he maintained unless he was irritated or on task.

"Sergeant," Donaldson went on, "take the chaplain into custody and escort him down to the brig."

"Belay that order," Falkirk commanded before the sergeant could get under way. Four Navy security men filed into the hallway, flanking their commander.

"Captain," Donaldson objected.

"My ship, Colonel," Falkirk replied, "and she'll run the way I have her run." He paused. "Are we clear?"

Donaldson clearly didn't like the idea, but he said, "Yes." Falkirk's eyes flashed. "My ready room, gentlemen. Now."

United States of America Fort Benning, Georgia Local Time 2:41 A.M.

"Mrs. Gander?"

Megan lifted her head from her arms, startled to find that she had gone to sleep. She'd been sitting uncomfortably at the small conference table in the interview room at MP headquarters and trying very quietly not to go out of her mind with worry. She automatically checked the time, afraid that she had slept past dawn and that Chris would be waking up in the emergency child-care services. When she saw the time, she relaxed a little and prayed that Joey had picked up Chris and they were both now at home.

The MPs had taken her cell phone from her when they'd taken her into custody. She didn't know if Joey had gotten to his younger brother, and she didn't know if Joey was aware that she'd been taken by the MPs. The MPs hadn't called her forced detention an arrest, only that she had been detained for questioning.

The man who stood on the other side of the table was dressed in a fresh Army uniform and wore a lieutenant's bars. He was blond and pale, much too serious for his age, which Megan didn't put much over his mid-twenties. He carried an imitation leather briefcase.

"I'm Megan Gander," Megan said. "Who are you?"

"Lieutenant Doug Benbow, ma'am." He offered his hand.

Megan took his hand and shook briefly. "Are you an MP, Lieutenant Benbow?"

"No, ma'am. I'm with the military justice system. I've been assigned to be your legal representative."

"My attorney?" Megan struggled against the fatigue that filled her mind. "Why would I need an attorney?"

"We can talk about that." Benbow touched the back of the chair across the table from her. "May I sit?"

"Of course." Megan leaned back in her chair and tried to gather her errant thoughts. She was fatigued. Her thoughts swam like fat koi in a deep pond, not quite reaching the surface.

Benbow sat, placing his briefcase on the table, then flipping it open. He took out a tape recorder. "Would you mind if I record our conversation?"

"Why are you recording our conversation?"

The question caused the young lieutenant to hesitate. "I'll be taking notes, of course, but I much prefer to work from a recording. That way I get every word, and I don't miss the nuances a person may use as he or she explains himself or herself." He took out a lined yellow legal pad.

Fear crept in on Megan and the chill in the room seemed like it deepened by the second. "I don't understand."

Benbow clicked the tape recorder on. "I just need to go over tonight's events, Mrs. Gander."

"I've already told the MPs what happened. This doesn't make any sense. "

Reaching into an inside jacket pocket, Benbow took out a mechanical pencil and clicked the plunger to expose the lead. "I need to know about the boy, Mrs. Gander."

"Gerry?"

Benbow flipped through pages of notes. His eyes scanned the material rapidly. "Gerry Fletcher. Yes, that's right, Mrs. Gander. You were his counselor?"

Were? Icy jaws seemed to clamp on to Megan's thoughts. "I am Gerry's counselor." Those were clothes I saw at the bottom of that building. Empty clothes. Gerry fell, but he didn't hit. Thank You, God, he didn't hit.

"How long were you-have you been-Gerry Fletcher s counselor?"

"About a year." Megan thought furiously, trying to catch up with whatever the young lieutenant was doing.

"Fourteen months?" Benbow's pencil hung expectantly over a clean sheet in the legal pad.

"I'd have to check my notes if you want a definite answer." Megan didn't know why she couldn't remember.

"I have checked your records regarding Gerry," Benbow said. "You've been seeing him for fourteen months."

"You've seen my records regarding Gerry's case?"

Benbow sat up straighter, if that was possible, and regarded her. "I haven't looked through the boy's file, Mrs. Gander. Only your appointments. I found that you first saw Gerry on December 27 two years ago."

The first meeting had been after Christmas. Megan remembered that clearly now. "That sounds right."

"And Gerry has been in your care since that time?" "Yes."

Benbow scribbled notes and nodded in satisfaction. "During your visits with Gerry, you also came into contact with Private Boyd Fletcher."

Megan nodded.

"Please respond verbally, Mrs. Gander. I may ask that the tapes be admitted in court as evidence."

"Court?" Megan couldn't believe what the lieutenant was saying. "Who's talking about court?"

"The provost marshal's office," Benbow answered.

"Frank Marion is talking about taking me to court?" Unable to sit any longer, Megan stood. Her chair screeched as it shot back. As soon as she stood, she felt light-headed. The scratches along her arm that Gerry had left during his panic before he had slipped from her hand stung.

"I've not spoken with Provost Marshal Marion yet," Benbow replied. "I hope to speak with him in the morning regarding the other extenuating circumstances that have occurred here on base tonight. I don't know how you can be held accountable for Gerry Fletcher s disappearance.

"I'm not."

Benbow nodded politely. "Yes, ma'am. That's why I'm here: to help prove that you were not responsible for what happened to Gerry Fletcher."

"What has happened to him?"

"We don't know, ma'am. The MPs have scoured that building and they've found no sign of the boy."

"He disappeared." Megan forced the words out. "I had him. Then he fell. He just ... just never hit the ground."

Benbow pushed out his breath easily. "You're sure you had the boy, Mrs. Gander?"

Megan faced the lieutenant and folded her arms. "Of course I'm sure.

"And he was hanging over the building?"

"Yes."

"It's just that-" Benbow hesitated-"I know that things up on that rooftop had to have been confusing. You got called out of bed in the middle of the night after a hectic day, already worried about one of your children who hadn't yet come home, and learned that your husband is engaged in action along the Turkish border before you got up on that rooftop with Gerry."

"What are you trying to say?" Megan demanded.

"I'm trying to suggest that perhaps you weren't at your best, Mrs. Gander. That's all."

"That maybe I wasn't holding that boy? That I imagined all of that?"

Benbow hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Without wanting to be offensive in anyway, I guess that's what I'm trying to suggest."

"Lieutenant, this is crazy. A waste of your time and mine. There were at least a dozen people who saw Gerry disappear. The MPs had spotlights on Gerry and me. Haven't you talked to them?"

"As a matter of fact, Mrs. Gander, I have talked to most of them. Every man I've talked to has told me that he wasn't sure if you had the boy or not. No one got a good look."

"That's impossible."

"As I said, Mrs. Gander, I know things had to be happening very fast and were probably intensely confusing up on that rooftop."

Megan forced herself to be calm when all she wanted to do was scream. Everything that had gone on tonight, from Joey not showing up at home, to Goose being involved in unexpected action, to the whole situation with Gerry Fletcher, had been overload on her already strained emotions. "And if I didn't have Gerry, what was I holding? What fell from that building?"

"The boy's clothing." Benbow sat quietly. His pencil sat poised over the legal pad. "I've verified that the clothing found at the base of that residence building was the same clothing the boy wore when he entered the hospital."

"They're saying I dropped Gerry's clothes over the side of the building?"

Benbow nodded.

Frustration and fright filled Megan. Before she could stop the emotions, some of them boiled over. "Speak up, Lieutenant. The tape recorder only records verbal responses."

"Yes," Benbow said. His tone was totally neutral and he appeared to take no offense. "That's what they're saying." "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know."

Tears filled Megan's eyes. "I want out of here. Do you hear me?" The lieutenant frowned uncomfortably.

"I've been here for nearly an hour," Megan said. "Up until the last fifteen minutes, I've been asked over and over where Gerry Fletcher is. I've been asked straight out, and I've had MPs who thought they were very clever try to get me to admit I know where Gerry is."

"Mrs. Gander-"

Megan hurried on, cutting the lieutenant off. "I want to get my baby out of child care, and I want to go home so I can pray for my husband and those Rangers over there in Turkey. I want to know my oldest son is all right. I am a good mother and I'm a good wife, and that's what I should be doing. And despite whatever stories you've been listening to and however you may feel, I am a good counselor." Her voice was thick with emotion. "I did my best to save Gerry Fletcher's life tonight, and I don't know what happened to him."