buyout exclusive of this event for three hundred grand.”
Bollinger gasped. “You did
Sullivan waved him off. “You did fine, Jon. It's worth ten times that amount to us. The closest any competitor is going to get is the fence!”
However, for the other unfortunate media on hand today, even that second-class vantage point was unattainable. The steadily massing, elbow-to-elbow crowd was packed right up against the yellow warning barricades to within a few feet of the electrified chain link, jealously guarding their space. WNN's frustrated competitors were relegated to hovering helicopters or the rooftops of distant cars.
Behind him, Feldman noticed a rosy pallor creeping along the eastern edge of the mountain range. Dawn was only minutes away now. He took up his position on the stage just below the altar.
There were metal stairs starting at the very back of the stage, at ground level, and rising steeply in the direction of the audience. Passing through the center of the main platform, the flight extended all the way up to the elevated altar. At this time, a dozen individuals began filing up the steps toward the seating section on Feldman's level. These officiants comprised the Samaritan Leadership Council hierarchy, including a beaming Richard Fischer, who nodded airily to Feldman as he passed. The Messiah was not among them.
From loudspeakers, music began to play. Softly at first, then louder. A heavenly, glorious aria from some obscure opera Feldman had heard before but couldn't identify. While he realized this precisely timed and elaborately orchestrated performance was a contrived effort to instill awe and wonder, he nevertheless had to acknowledge its effectiveness. The entire atmosphere was charged and eminently supernatural.
Hunter assumed his primary camera position on the ground, head-on with the stage, capturing the altar in silhouette against the increasing dawn. Bollinger gave Feldman the high sign and the reporter called down over his headset, “Okay, let's go live and set the scene.”
Hardly had he begun his intro, however, than the huge halogen floodlights illuminating the hillside were abruptly switched off and the volume of the music increased. The crowd became hushed as the sun suddenly broke the jagged crest of a distant mountaintop behind the stage, casting a single, golden beam directly upon the back of the altar.
As if ascending into a tunnel of light, a small, slender figure rose steadily up the center stairway, continuing all the way to the top where it halted and stood motionless behind the altar.
Feldman held his breath.
31
Mount of the Beatitudes, Israel 6:21 A.M., Thursday, January 6, 2000
The massive audience was absolutely immobilized by the ethereal scene, and remained so for a full sixty seconds while the celestial music crescendoed to its finale.
The slender Messiah was dressed in a loose, hooded, full-length white robe, trimmed with red and purple piping. The head was bowed, the face completely shadowed by the hood in the dawning sunlight behind.
Feldman, the TV crew, and the millions of breathless spectators watched, spellbound, as the mysterious form appeared to slowly unfurl itself. The head tilted back. The slim arms rose steadily from its side, upward to the sky. The sleeves slid gracefully down to unveil thin, opalescent arms. Arms that extended to small, clenched fists which petaled open to display fine, outstretched, alabaster fingers.
And at last the hood dropped away, revealing an unearthly, radiant, alluring, upturned face of an angel. Innocent, unpretentious, childlike and beautiful. Yet purposeful and wise. The eyes were closed and the mouth opened wide, exposing straight and perfectly white teeth.
Feldman was taken aback, then charmed to realize that this transfixing, commanding display had been, in actuality, nothing more than an early morning stretch and yawn. Although, because of the contrast of sunlight and shadows, and the distance of the crowd, Feldman doubted anyone but he could tell.
While this was most certainly the same arresting face Feldman had seen in the crude Millennium Eve video, its impact on him now was entirely different There was no semblance of the pain, rage or anguish that had exuded from the dark TV monitor. Perhaps it was the inexactness of the computer enhancement, but this face had none of the intensity. It even appeared less angular now. Softened. Sweetened.
Yet, it had lost none of the otherworldliness that gave it its divinity. This was an amazing creature. The skin was so completely smooth, unblemished and literally vibrant in its pure, radiant whiteness. The face was perfect in its symmetry, with large, wide-set dark eyes rimmed with long black lashes. The jawline was chiseled, firm. The nose prominent Roman-godly. Entirely appropriate.
The only physical imperfection to mar this compelling, flawless visage was the appearance of odd red welts that were visible in small, scalped patches in the Messiah's unruly, raven hair. A very bad haircut.
But if this were indeed the face of a Messiah, God had played a cruel joke on His anointed one. This strange and surreal appearance wasn't that of a boy, but of a young woman. And when Feldman heard her speak, he was certain of it.
Looking over the crowd, the Messiah called out in a clear, engrossing, authoritative, but entirely feminine voice:
“In the Name of the Father, I come to you,” she said in perfect English, and Feldman realized the Messiah was repeating the same phrases in a variety of languages.
She repeated the process in German, Spanish, Russian, Chinese, Italian and Japanese, picking up the pace in a rhythmic chant that physically moved the crowd. Ten separate languages in all, recorded on tape, and her accent, in each instance, was perfect. Finishing one circuit, the Messiah began a new phrase, starting the rhythmic translation process all over again. She punctuated her oration with decisive movements of her arms and body.
The world received its first sermon from the new prophetess. A short speech that came to be known as the New Beatitudes:
