Out on the field grounds, resident troops were assembling and lining up in submission to new superior officers. Freshly arriving military teams and vehicles were pouring into the base in a flurry of activity.
“I can't believe it's over,” Hunter breathed.
“Something tells me it's not,” Feldman answered.
Directly in front of the reporters, a commanding officer, whizzing by in a jeep, spied Feldman and yelled to his driver, who slammed on the brakes and reversed back up to the doorway. The officer barked an order in Hebrew to a platoon and the two newsmen were instantly surrounded.
“God!” Hunter moaned. “Not again!”
But this time, instead of a cell, the two men were taken to the base infirmary where they were given fluids, a hot shower and hot breakfast. Their injuries dressed, they were administered antibiotics, supplied fresh clothing, and quickly ushered before the desk of the commanding officer who'd discovered them.
Upon seeing his visitors, the officer dropped his paperwork, barked an order into an intercom, stood and extended a hand to both men. They declined the civility.
“What the hell's going on?” Hunter demanded. “You've got no right to hold us here.”
“We're American citizens,” Feldman added.
The officer, his hand still outstretched in rejected greeting, nodded his head understandingly, and motioned them to chairs.
“You're not under arrest,” the commander told them, taking his seat again. “You're merely being held in temporary protective custody pending a cad I've just placed. I expect a response any moment now.”
Calming somewhat, Feldman asked, “Do you mind telling us what's happening?”
“I don't have all the details,” the officer informed them, “there's a lot of confusion right now. But I will tell you everything I know.”
The two newsmen accepted their chairs and the commander continued. “As I'm sure you're aware, the whole city has been at war for much of the last twenty-four hours. Thousands have been killed. The heaviest fighting has been around Hadassah, where the hospital was under a three-way siege ad night. It began when General Goene's men attacked yesterday morning.
Feldman's jaw tightened with the recollection. Hunter's hands curled into fists.
“Commander Lazzlo's troops were able to hold Goene off throughout the day, with help from pro-Jeza resistance forces outside the hospital. Then, about eight-thirty last evening, the anti-Jeza forces responsible for the Megiddo massacre broke through our defenses on the outskirts of northern Jerusalem and advanced on the hospital. They began attacking
“Goene brought in reinforcements, but refused to shell or bomb the hospital. We know now that he was after the Leveque neurochips and didn't want to risk destroying them. So the whole engagement settled into a long, running battle throughout the night. About four A M. WNN telecast a special news report with the information you'd smuggled out of Hadassah.”
Feldman and Hunter both raised fists of triumph with the news that Lazzlo's damning evidence got through.
“But apparently,” the officer resumed his explanation, “the Ben-Miriam administration had been directly notified much earlier by your network and had called an emergency session of the Knesset in the middle of the night. Based on the evidence of Commander Lazzlo's internal documents, the IDF was placed under direct order of the Knesset and warrants were issued for the arrest of the entire IDF high command, including Tamin and Goene. When the arrest orders came down, Goene abandoned his troops and fled, and his forces were then pulled back from the hospital.
“That left an opening for the anti-Jeza forces, which stormed a wing of the hospital and broke through. Soon after that, however, the anti-Jeza forces suddenly called off their attack, presumably reacting to your network's report. Lazzlo and his regiment are still barricaded in the hospital and Prime Minister Ben-Miriam is attempting to negotiate with them right now.”
“Where are Tamin and Goene?” Hunter wanted to know.
“We're not sure. Tamin left his estate even before the warrant was issued, warned by some of his cronies, no doubt. He was reportedly picked up by Goene in an IDF helicopter, destination unknown. Right now there's no further word on either of them.”
Hunter nodded his head. “So that's why we're in protective custody. You think we're still in danger from Tamin and Goene?”
“Partly,” the officer acknowledged. “Prime Minister Ben-Miriam diverted my troops here to secure this base. My orders were to ensure your safety and to notify the administration as soon as you were able to-”
He was interrupted by a voice speaking in Hebrew over the intercom. Looking up, the commander announced, “Gentlemen, this is the call I've been expecting. It's for you, Mr. Feldman. Prime Minister Eziah Ben-Miriam wishes to speak with you personally.”
The officer rotated the phone in front of Feldman and punched a flashing button. The reporter lifted the receiver.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Mr. Feldman,” the prime minister greeted him. “I'm greatly relieved to know you and your associate, Mr. Hunter, are safe and well. We've been very concerned about you.”
“We appreciate your efforts on our behalf, sir. You no doubt saved our lives.”
“Unfortunately,” Ben-Miriam noted soberly, “we were too late to save many good men and women who've been needlessly lost in this senseless fighting. And that's why I want to speak with you. The State of Israel needs your assistance one last time to bring an end to this unnecessary bloodshed.”
Feldman took a deep, apprehensive breath and answered Hunter's inquisitive look with a frown. “What is it you need, Prime Minister?”
“Mr. Feldman, we are, at this very moment, attempting to negotiate a peaceful settlement to the Hadassah standoff. Commander Lazzlo will not surrender to our troops and we fear a bad outcome. The commander refuses to deal through anyone but you and Mr. Hunter. You're the only individuals he trusts. I know you've both been through an ordeal, but we simply have no other recourse, it appears.”
114
The skies over Jerusalem, Israel 9:55 A.M., Sunday, April 23, 2000
What do you think Lazzlo wants?” a restless Hunter asked, as he inspected his military-issue camera on the helicopter ride back to the hospital. “A taped statement before falling on his sword?”
“Maybe he just wants us to monitor the surrender to ensure the safety of his troops,” Feldman hesitantly replied, avoiding the supernatural subject neither man chose to address.
Passing over a division of Israeli military encircling the hospital, the helicopter touched down on the roof and the newsmen were quickly taken back to Lazzlo's basement bunker, positioned strategically near the morgue facility. Lazzlo was waiting outside the door in the hallway, leaning against a wall, his arms crossed, looking as exhausted as his visitors. He dismissed his guards so that he could be alone with the reporters.
“I'm deeply grateful that you came, gentlemen,” Lazzlo began, his face dark and downcast. “Especially given what you went through after your last visit.”
“Is Cardinal Litti safe and well?” Feldman asked with concern.
“Yes. He's resting comfortably now. Last night was rather hard on him, too, I'm afraid.”
“I'm sorry for the loss of your crew in the helicopter crash,” Feldman offered. “They were brave soldiers, both of them.”
“Yes.” Lazzlo paused with a look of deepening sadness. “You did not know, of course, but Corporal Illa Lyman was my daughter. My only child.”
Feldman looked over at Hunter, whose face was a grim mask. “You have our deepest sympathies, sir,” he managed to say through a constricted throat. “She saved our lives. If it weren't for her and her pilot, we would
