“While I make arrangements for your visit,” Lazzlo said, “perhaps you'd care to see the Catholic cardinal?”
“Litti?” Feldman's face lightened slightly. “Yes, please.”
Awaiting Feldman and Hunter in a room in another wing was a reasonably composed Cardinal Alphonse Litti. Feldman felt a surge of warmth in seeing him again.
Looking tired, but maintaining control, the cardinal hugged Feldman like a long-lost sibling. Despite the pain, Feldman accepted the embrace without complaint.
“Jon, thank God! It's so good to see your face. But you're hurt.”
“It looks a lot worse than it really is, Alphonse,” Feldman replied. “It's good to see you again, too.”
Litti repeated the ceremony with Hunter, who affectionately patted the cardinal's back.
“Things have turned out quite differently than any of us would have anticipated, haven't they, my friends?” Litti said as he offered chairs to his visitors, holding his precarious emotions in check. “Quite frankly, I just never thought God would allow this to happen to Her.”
“I know, Alphonse,” Feldman responded, admiring the clergyman's brave front. “It just doesn't seem possible that she's gone.”
They were all three quiet for a moment, pursuing their independent memories.
“Of course.” Litti sighed. “She knew this was to be, all along.”
Feldman looked at him.
“She prophesied this many times,” he continued. “Only I misunderstood. I saw things from an entirely incorrect perspective, the way
Hunter reacted to this, breaking a long silence. “It certainly looked to me like she was aware of what was coming. It was as if she knew that gun was waiting for her and just walked right into it.”
“Yes,” Litti agreed. “And of course in retrospect it's all very clear. She never intimated a joyful ending to her journey.”
Feldman dropped his head and his voice. “Alphonse, was she-was it-quick?”
The cardinal clasped Feldman's good hand in both of his and squeezed it gently. His face took on the cast of a man at peace with his vision of God. In a hushed voice he said, “It was very quick. She was dying as She fell into our arms. She lay there quietly, so incredibly beautiful. So brave, and so noble.”
Litti shut his eyes and tilted his head heavenward in spiritual transport. “She simply closed Her eyes and the life left Her. I could actually feel it. As if a great weight were lifted from Her. There was a trace of a smile on Her lips, I thought, and She was gone.”
He paused for a long period and then opened his eyes. They were tearful.
Feldman's jaw was taut, his eyes seeing into the past. “And then the Israelis came to your aid?”
Litti nodded. “The Israelis were wonderful. They came right up and took Her from me and rushed us both into the helicopter and flew us directly here. The Messiah was in the emergency room in a matter of minutes. But of course it was too late.”
“Alphonse?” Feldman had one more thing he must know. “Right before the end, as she stood there, she whispered something. Do you recall what her last words were?”
The cardinal looked thoughtful. “I can't say, Jon. In fact, I don't actually recall Her saying anything after She left the podium.”
Feldman nodded, disappointed. “Where is she now, Alphonse?”
“She's still here, Jon. They have Her in a separate vault in the morgue. There's some question as to the release of the body and who holds claim. They're attempting to contact Mrs. Leveque, I understand. I was afraid they'd try to conduct an autopsy. Fortunately, Jewish law makes that very difficult, although in murder investigations they generally can receive permission from the rabbinical court. But I have no intention of allowing such a desecration. I've demanded temporary custody through tomorrow morning.”
Feldman knitted his brow. “Why tomorrow morning, Cardinal?”
Litti stared at Feldman as if the newsman were from another planet. “Jon!” he chided. “Tomorrow morning, Jeza will be restored to us. It's Easter Sunday. The Resurrection! You must have faith!”
Feldman squinted hard at the clergyman and nodded again. Lazzlo appeared at the door. Standing, Feldman bent toward the cardinal and compassionately gripped his arm. “Alphonse, I'd like to pay my respects to Jeza now. Would you please excuse us for a short while?”
Litti looked searchingly into his friend's eyes. “When you see Her, you will know. You must believe, Jon. You must believe!”
As they left, Feldman turned to Hunter and they exchanged sighs.
Proceeding at a respectfully slow pace, Commander Lazzlo led Hunter and the struggling Feldman along a corridor to a service elevator guarded by armed security personnel. Lazzlo pressed the last button for the lowest level of the hospital.
As they descended, Feldman stared at the officer, a concern rising in his mind. “I presume the plan was to retrieve the neurochips under the guise of an autopsy?”
“Yes.”
Feldman swallowed hard and asked, “Has that been completed yet?”
“No,” Lazzlo answered. “I've defied Tamin and Goene and blocked the postmortem, which is why we have little time left. They consider me in mutiny. An armored division is on its way as we speak.”
Exiting the elevator past a row of guards, traveling through several corridors past still more guards, they turned into a large morgue filled with columns of small metal doors along two facing walls.
Feldman felt ill at ease and his palms began to sweat. They advanced through this room into another corridor that ended in a single, large metal door, very much resembling the entranceway to a bank vault.
Lazzlo paused in front. “Would you care to be alone with her for a few minutes, Mr. Feldman?” he offered graciously.
Feldman looked to Hunter, who nodded solemnly, barely able to meet his friend's gaze.
Lazzlo pulled open the large door and Feldman hesitated, then entered. A cold wall of air met his face, and felt refreshing under the circumstances. The door closed behind him and Feldman needed a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim, indirect lighting.
The room was completely bare save for a lone table at its center and security cameras in opposing corners of the ceiling. The table was completely covered in white drape, under which was the unmistakable form of a small female. A dark stain showed conspicuously above the breast area.
Feldman approached slowly, with the heaviest of hearts. He halted next to the still form and bowed his head in prayer. After a minute, he summoned his courage and nervously, tenderly drew back the sheet.
It was too much for him and the tears flowed freely from his unblinking eyes. He found her every bit as noble and precious as she had been in the full bloom of life. Yet the luster was gone. Her porcelain skin no longer glowed, but now manifested the eternal grandeur of white marble.
He stared at her for the longest time, his mind churning with images and memories. He realized he was overstaying his visit, but he couldn't tear himself away, knowing this would be the last time he would ever be with her again. He ran his hands through her soft hair and then gently replaced the drape.
Lazzlo and Hunter patiently awaited the reporter as he emerged from the room. Feldman had composed himself, but he could tell from the men's expressions that his face bore the evidence of his experience. He was not embarrassed.
Lazzlo gestured to Hunter, “I've already asked Mr. Hunter if he cared to view the remains, and he has declined. Perhaps you'd allow me a few more moments of your time, Mr. Feldman?”
“I also have more questions to ask you,” Feldman replied, solemnly.
“Of course.”
“First, I want to know why you bothered to warn us about Goene's raid on WNN back in January.”
Lazzlo stared at the floor. “While you may find this hard to accept, Mr. Feldman, I was truly attempting to help you. Let me just say that I, and another within the IDF high command, were becoming increasingly concerned about the devastating effects Tamin's Negev experiment was having on our country. Our world!
“We could not oppose Tamin directly. He is a powerful man with many influential friends. We had to work
