The Last Day

“Well,” the minister said after a moment's pause, “let us see how well your investigative talents have served you today.” He stood, smoothed his suit jacket and walked around to the front of the desk, perching himself lightly on the edge, facing the mud-caked reporters.

“I have but a few quick questions of you relevant to the security of the State of Israel,” he stated matter-of- factly. “If you will address these issues completely and honestly, I'll have your injuries attended to and see to your immediate release. You do look in pain.” He sounded genuinely concerned.

Hunter stood a little straighter and folded his arms.

“Now,” Tamin demanded, “I'd first like to know what you both were doing at Hadassah Hospital.”

“Visiting a sick friend?” Hunter responded.

Goene pushed his chair back from his desk. “You are not in the safety of your newsroom now, my smart-ass friend!” he growled, but Tamin held up a palm to the general and Goene restrained himself.

“I'll ask you once more,” the minister said calmly. “Why were you at Hadassah?”

“You see,” Hunter began again, and Feldman elbowed him in the side, to no avail, “I was thinkin’ about gettin’ myself a circumcision so's I'd have something to remember Goene by-”

Goene's face turned red with rage and he signaled a guard, who immediately struck Hunter in the base of the spine with the butt of his gun. The videographer went down hard, and when Feldman attempted to assist him, his guard grabbed him by his injured arm and forced him upright.

Feldman shouted at Goene with loathing, “You cowardly son of a bitch!”

“Your turn.” Goene pointed to Feldman, and Feldman's guard raised his rifle, threateningly.

From between clenched teeth, Hunter spared his friend. “We went to view Jeza's remains.”

“Hunter, no!” Feldman hissed.

“We've got nothing to gain from hiding the truth,” Hunter groaned. “Just tell them!”

Goene relaxed a bit in his chair and Tamin nodded his head with satisfaction, staring down at Hunter with a distant, detached expression.

“Did Commander Lazzlo invite you?” the minister asked.

“Yes,” Feldman answered, reluctantly taking over.

“And the flew you in by helicopter early this morning? Tamin did not look at Feldman, but continued to state at the crumpled Hunter with the blank, uninterested face of a bureaucrat.

“Yes.”

“Did you view the remains?”

“Yes”

“And at that time, had the body been autopsied?”

“No”

“How do you know?”

“Because, as I said, I viewed the body.”

“That is not definitive,” Tamin declared flatly.

“And I viewed an enhanced PET scan of her.”

This seemed to have Tamin's full attention. He turned to Feldman with a trace of emotion creeping into his voice. “That's a preliminary to an autopsy. Then a postmortem was performed!”

“No. They halted the process after the scan.”

Tamin looked shrewdly at the newsman. “They halted the process? Why?”

“Because they discovered from the scan that there were no microchips in her brain after all.”

Goene leaped to his feet, enraged “You lie!” He motioned again to the guard and Feldman went down with an excruciating below to his lower back. His entire body was racked as if a jolt of electricity had passed through it.

From somewhere beyond the periphery of his agony, Feldman could hear Hunter swearing profusely. Tamin chastised Goene. “That's enough, General, I'll handle this in my own fashion first.”

As the waves of pain subsided, Feldman detected some-one's presence nearby. It was Tamin, kneeing down close to his face.

“Mr. Feldman, I apologize about that. I don't believe the general thinks you're being completely honest with me.”

Grimacing, Feldman spit back, “I'm just telling you that I saw nothing unusual in the scan. I'm no physician!”

“Of course. So you say you saw the internal images of her brain, and there were no indications of any microcircuitry or writing?”

“That's right,” Feldman exhaled, gingerly testing his limbs, which felt numb and tingly.

“How do you know the microchips weren't already removed or that you weren't viewing the brain of some other body?”

Feldman pulled himself up on the elbow and glowered at the minister with restrained hatred. “Because the scan was comprehensive. It was seamless. It covered the entire body from all sides and angles in three dimensions. And it showed every internal organ, taking us inside the body, layer by layer, to view everything at whatever magnification we chose. Without questions, it was Jeza's body I saw.”

But how can you be certain the chips weren't already removed?”

“I got a close-up view of the face and skull. At the very least, I would have seen incisions. She was completely normal. No incisions, no chips. Nothing!”

Tamin rose to his feet, reflecting on this, and walked back to lean against the desk again.

“He's lying!” Goene cried. “They're in collusion with Lazzlo. I'm certain it was Lazzlo who tipped them off about the January raid. And most certainly it was Lazzlo who leaked the diary to the Vatican. He's been conspiring against us all along, playing both sides of the street. And now the traitor has the chips, and these bastards are in on it with him!”

As if armed with a new thought, Tamin walked back to stand over the two prostrate men.

“Did Commander Lazzlo give you anything that you took with you from the hospital?”

“No,” Feldman lied.

Tamin bent toward Feldman, his hands on his knees. “Think carefully,” he cautioned Feldman. “Did anyone give you a package of any kind? An envelope? A magazine? Anything?”

“Nothing!” Feldman asserted.

“Do you know the whereabouts of the microchips?”

“I'm telling you,” Feldman protested, “there are no microchips!”

Tamin straightened once more and turned away toward the door. “Yes. And I suppose Jeza's ability to speak a hundred different languages and her vast wealth of knowledge are simply manifestations of her divinity? Correct?”

Feldman said nothing.

Goene moved to Tamin's side. “We're checking out the other casualties from the crash and the helicopter itself right now.”

The minister nodded. “Very good, General. The prisoners are yours. If they're concealing the chips, I want them found. Do whatever is necessary.”

Tamin left and Goene turned toward his prisoners with an expression of absolute supremacy. He grinned sinisterly as he addressed his guards. “Take them below. Strip them completely and have every square millimeter of their clothing unraveled thread by thread. Take apart their shoes, their watches, everything. Search their bodies. Every crevice, every orifice. I want them under constant guard. Feed them emetics and run their vomit through a sieve. Give them laxatives and check every bowel movement to the last particle for the next twelve hours. Whether or not you find the chips by dawn tomorrow, take them into the courtyard and shoot them as spies. Then incinerate their corpses. And I expect complete discretion!”

Goene walked over, dropped to a squatting position and leaned low above the two broken, disbelieving men. His mouth spread wide in a brutish sneer. “In the final analysis, gentlemen, I should think that the sword is, in fact, mightier than the pen. Wouldn't you agree?”