Jesus will be granted: James and I will sit at the Lord's right and left hands in his kingdom.'
Cohen still struggled.
'In the Book of Revelation,' the man continued, 'I said that an angel gave me a scroll and I was told to eat it. I wrote:
I took the little scroll from the angel's hand and ate it. It tasted sweet as honey in my mouth, but when I had eaten it, my stomach turned sour. Then I was told, 'You must prophesy again about many peoples, nations, languages, and kings.'
Cohen nodded recognition. 'The words of the scroll were sweet,' the man explained, 'because in that moment I came to know that I would live longer than even Methuselah. But the scroll became sour in my stomach as I came to understand that I would have to wait longer than any other man to see the Lord again. Then I was told the reason that my life must continue: I have remained on this earth to prophesy again, this time with you, about many peoples, nations, languages, and kings.'
Knitting his brow, Cohen lapsed into an introspective state. He believed but, then again, it was almost too much to believe. 'I suppose it should have been expected,' he said finally, 'after you survived being immersed in boiling oil. And it explains the prophesies of Yeshua concerning the end of the age, when he told the disciples '… some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God come with power.' If you are John, then indeed that generation has not passed away. Still, what of Polycarp?' Cohen asked, referring to the late first and early second-century bishop of Smyrna who, according to his student Irenaeus, said John died during the reign of the Roman emperor Trajan.
'Have you not read Harnack?' the man responded, referring to the German theologian who propounded that Polycarp was referring not to John the Apostle but to another man, a church elder, also named John.
It occurred to Cohen that this might also explain one of the mysteries of the Bible that had always puzzled him. 'And is this the reason for the apparent later additions to the original text of your gospel?' he asked for confirmation.
The man nodded. 'I regret the confusion that has caused. From time to time I'd tell someone about something Jesus did or said that I had left out of my Gospel and they'd urge me to include it. It never even occurred to me that, by adding a few things I had left out of the earlier versions, I would cause so much confusion later on. Saul, I understand your reason for questioning, and yet I know that at the same time, the Spirit gives witness to you that I am who I claim to be.'
'But where have you been?' Cohen asked. 'How could you have kept your identity concealed?'
'It's easier than you might imagine,' John answered. 'I must admit, however, I've not always been as successful as I would like. There was a period of a few hundred years that no matter where I went – from China, to India, to Ethiopia – the stories would follow me.'
A thought occurred to Cohen. 'Prester John?' he asked, referring to the mysterious figure mentioned in dozens of legends and by a few more reliable sources such as Marco Polo, over a span of several hundred years and in widespread locations.
John nodded. 'Though how I ever got tied in with the legends of King Arthur, I can only guess was the result of speculation that I had the Holy Grail.
'Since then, I've been a lot more careful about concealing my identity. To avoid questions I've had to move frequently – never more than ten or fifteen years in one place. And I have always tried to find work in the Lord's service that would not draw attention. I've pastored a hundred small churches in every corner of the world. But is it so surprising that I could have gone unnoticed in a world of hundreds of millions? After all, God himself became a man and lived on the earth and went unnoticed by the world for thirty years until the time was right for him to begin his ministry. Now the time is right for me; and for you as well, my friend.'
Sahiwai, Pakistan
Decker tried to maintain an encouraging smile as he walked among several small groups of people who were sitting on logs or squatting on the ground eating their rations. It was just after six o'clock and the day's second meal – one could hardly call it dinner – was being served. It had been nearly two hours since Secretary-General Hansen's helicopter had left, four hours late, with the rest of the U.N. contingent. Decker and Christopher remained to await the second team of ambassadors who were coming to the camp to survey the conditions. Christopher had gone to his tent to take a nap shortly after Hansen left.
'Christopher, wake up; it's time for supper,' Decker called as he approached the team's small stand of greenish-gray tents. 'Come on, Christopher, rise and shine,' he said a little louder, but there was no answer. 'Christopher, are you in there?' Decker stuck his head between the two tent flaps and past the mosquito netting. Inside, Christopher sat unmoving on the floor of the tent. Sweat dripped from his face and body and a pained stare filled every feature of his face.
'Are you all right?' Decker asked, though it was obvious that he was not.
'Something is wrong,' Christopher said, finally.
'Are you sick?' Decker asked, but as soon as he said it, he realized that Christopher had never been sick; he probably wasn't capable of it.
'Something is terribly wrong.' Christopher answered.
Decker ducked inside the tent and closed the flaps behind him. 'What is it?' he asked.
'Death and life,' Christopher replied slowly. Each word seemed as if it tore an agonizing track from his lungs to his lips.
'Whose life and death?' Decker asked in the more traditional order in which those words are used.
'The death of one who sought to avoid death's grip; the life of another who sought to accept death's release.'
'Who has died?' Decker asked, wanting to cover one item at a time and seeing the second reference as both less pressing and more obscure.
'Jon Hansen,' he replied.
Decker never got around to asking about the second reference.
Chapter 21
When Leaders Fall
Wednesday, July 10, 2019 – New York
It was three days later before search parties spotted the Secretary-General's helicopter, forty-five miles off course and crumpled like tissue paper among a stand of trees southwest of Gujranwalfi, Pakistan. There were no survivors. It was the second time a Secretary-General of the United Nations had been lost in an aircraft crash, the first being Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjold in 1961, whose plane crashed in Northern Rhodesia (Zambia), killing all on board. The earlier crash, though tragic, hardly carried the impact on the world and its peoples as did the deaths of Jon Hansen and three members of the Security Council. In 1961 the position of Secretary-General, like the United Nations itself, had little if any influence on the lives of most people in the world. Now, it seemed, the world revolved around the United Nations, and its Secretary-General was at the center of it all.
Not since the assassination of the American President John Kennedy or the death of Princess Diana of England had there been such an international outpouring of emotion. At the United Nations, the General Assembly adjourned for two weeks to honor the man who had led them for nearly fifteen years through some of the most remarkable times in recorded history.
The members of Jon Hansen's staff struggled to get through each moment while attempting to carry out their duties. Few attempted to hide their tears as they spoke of him. It was not unusual to see small groups huddled closely together, weeping openly as they reminisced.
As much as anyone else, Decker Hawthorne grieved the loss of his boss and friend, but for Decker there was no time to commiserate with his colleagues. At this moment the world waited for him. As Director of Public Affairs,
