“It's all we have at the moment, Jon.”
“And why the hell aren't they letting us in for the speech? All the other media will be there.”
“They claim space is at a premium and that all secured camera sites have already been allocated.”
“That's bullshit!” Feldman vented. “Goene's screwing with us.”
“I presume you've heard that there's been a major uprising at the internment camps in Afula?”
“No.”
“The militant Guardians of God revolted and broke out. They attacked an arms depot outside Megiddo where they captured a large cache of weapons. And now they're advancing on the second internment camp of the Messianic Guardians. At this time there are about a hundred thousand well-armed vigilantes. The U.N. and Israelis have both sent forces to try to stop them.”
“My God, the armies of Gog and Magog!” Feldman breathed.
“It appears so, doesn't it?” Sullivan concurred. “So you can see, the administration has larger problems at the moment than finding us seats for tomorrow. But we'll continue pressing the issue.”
Signing off, Feldman swallowed the hard dose of reality and switched on the TV to view developments on the revolt He consoled himself with the knowledge that, at least, Jeza and Litti would now have a means of escape.
At four o'clock, Feldman finally received a call from the cardinal. There was considerable commotion in the background.
“Things are quite tense in here, Jon,” the clergyman shouted into a bad connection. “I've had trouble getting a call out to you, the Gogs keep cutting the lines. I presume you've heard that the speech is on?”
Feldman affirmed.
“Well, the Messiah is in seclusion, meditating, and everyone is convinced tomorrow is the Last Day. People have already staked out their spots in the courtyard and are staging vigils throughout the entire Old City. It's elbow to elbow all the way to the platform. Oh, by the way, they've set up a helicopter pad.”
“Right,” Feldman confirmed. “They've promised us a chopper. It'll be there prior to the speech, and if at any time you and Jeza appear to be in danger, the Israelis have instructions to evacuate you immediately. Regardless, they're going to pull the two of you out as soon as the speech is over. You'll be flown to Cairo, and then, hopefully, to Switzerland.”
“Good, Jon. I've asked Jeza if she'd consider leaving the city after her assembly-I didn't tell her what we had in mind, exactly-and she simply said that it wouldn't be necessary. That's not a no, is it?”
“Not from my perspective,” Feldman concluded.
“What about you and Breck?”
“Well, so far we've got our visas, but the IDF isn't allowing us into the Old City yet. We're still hoping to get a berth inside the courtyard or on a rooftop somewhere to video the speech. Nothing's definite, but it doesn't look like we'll be joining you on stage or for the evacuation.”
“Will you be meeting us in Cairo, then?” the nervous cardinal asked.
“I'm not sure, Alphonse. If we can get down there quick enough, yes. But we don't want to delay your departure. We don't see Cairo as exactly a safe haven, either. But in any event, we'll be joining up with you at the earliest possible time.”
Feldman was pleasantly surprised to hear the clergyman speaking positively about the future. Perhaps even Litti was straying from his doomsday bent. “Try to get some sleep tonight, Alphonse,” he urged, “you'll want to be fresh for tomorrow.”
“It will be difficult with the all-night ceremonies that are planned, but I'll try. You do the same. I'll call you tomorrow morning if possible. If not, best of luck to you. And God bless you for your efforts. We'll see each other soon, I'm certain.”
“It's been a pleasure, Your Eminence,” Feldman felt a tightening sensation in his throat. “Please be very careful tomorrow. I'm not real comfortable with some of the Israeli military behind the evacuation, so stay on your toes.”
Four hours later, WNN team one rolled up to the mountain villa in an RV, shy one member. Erin Cross, Feldman was told by a pleased Cissy, was feeling ill and wouldn't be joining them.
A short time thereafter, Feldman received a strange phone call. The voice on the other end was hauntingly familiar.
“Hello, Mr. Feldman. I'm with the Israeli Defense Force.”
“How did you get my number here?” Feldman asked, alarmed and annoyed.
“Oh, I've known of your whereabouts from the time you arrived Saturday night,” the caller responded, non- threateningly. “But don't be concerned, you're in no trouble. You're completely safe.”
“Do I know you?” Feldman inquired. “I know your voice.”
“Well, it's been a while since we've spoken, Mr. Feldman. Last time, I believe you were in a hurry to leave Israel.”
Feldman made the connection. He immediately softened his tone. “I never had a chance to thank you, sir. You did us a great service. We're all very appreciative.”
“No thanks necessary,” the voice assured him. “And now I'd like to perform yet another service for you. I've made provisions to get you inside the Old City for tomorrow's affair.”
“Outstanding!”
“Well, not entirely. The location I've been able to set up for you isn't the best. It's a little removed from the stage, but it will give you an unobstructed view. With a telephoto lens, you and your videographer, Mr. Hunter, should be able to make do.
“Unfortunately, I can only make arrangements for the two of you. You both will need to meet representatives of the IDF near the Dung Gate by twelve-thirty tomorrow afternoon. Look for a Corporal Illa Lyman. She will provide you and Mr. Hunter with the necessary papers and escort you to your designated position. Once there, please do not leave your area under any circumstances until after the speech is concluded.”
Feldman was scribbling this information in his notebook. “I'm very indebted to you, sir. Now, please, can you tell me your name, and why you've taken these risks to help us?”
“You'll pardon me, but I would prefer to maintain my low profile for the time being.” He hung up.
“Who was that?” Hunter wanted to know, looking up from the TV.
Feldman grinned. “Oh, just some more divine intervention, I would say.”
107
Mount of the Ascension, Jerusalem, Israel 6:03 A.M., Friday, April 21, 2000
Feldman had slept fitfully and wasn't spared his typical allocation of strange dreams, the last of which awakened him.
A soft, gloomy light infiltrated the living room where he lay on the floor, on his bedroll in a corner. The only one yet stirring, he slipped on his pants and tiptoed through a minefield of sleeping bodies out onto the balcony. In all directions, the surrounding countryside was coated with pilgrims as far as the eye could see. He thought to himself that this must have been what it looked like to the pharaoh as the Israelites gathered for their exodus to the promised land. He prayed that history wasn't repeating itself.
Because no more people would be admitted into the Wailing Wall commons, which was already filled well beyond capacity, enormous-screen TVs had been set up in several strategic places outside the Old City where mass viewing of Jeza's speech would be possible. Large speakers sat at intervals atop the huge walls, facing out to every point of the compass. If not able to see her, at least the multitudes would be able to hear this much anticipated address to the world-Jeza's first direct speech to the general public since; her initial appearance at the Mount of the Beatitudes.
It didn't look to be a pretty day. Although the sun had broken, it was overcast and there was a strong breeze
