The Last Day

your men will simply leave now, without further problems, I see no reason for us to acknowledge this incident. And you'll have our assurances there'll be no mention of you or this meeting in the broadcast. Agreed, Nigel?”

The general looked to Sullivan, who nodded supportively. Goene rubbed a hand roughly over his mouth, his eyes flitting about as if searching for a better alternative.

Feldman was gambling that the image-conscious Tamin had put Goene on a short leash. If the general had been given carte blanche to wield his force and was truly confident in his accusations, he'd likely have stormed the offices already, without notice.

Finally, Goene's eyes came to rest on Feldman's.

“I warn you, if WNN divulges any classified information or documents, or if there's any exposure whatsoever of sensitive government research in your broadcast, you'll answer to a higher authority than me. It will result in the immediate expulsion of all WNN personnel from Israel, and the confiscation of all WNN property in the state. Is that understood?”

Neither Feldman nor Sullivan said anything, and finally the general, with a surly scowl, signaled his men and stalked out of the room.

Back in the editing suites, Cissy and a relieved crew began emerging from their niches like woodland creatures after a storm, recovering tapes and other work-in-progress from hastily created hiding places.

A relieved Hunter pinched Bollinger's ample jowl. “Bingo! Struck another nerve, didn't we, Arnie?” he gloated, only too delighted to see the military thwarted.

But unfortunately, as Bollinger explained, the phone call to WNN's sympathetic connections at the Knesset was not reassuring. With the rise of the increasingly unstable millenarian movement, the dynamics of Israeli politics were changing. The perceived threat to public safety and security had created a vacuum in which Shaul Tamin had been successfully maneuvering. The defense minister had been quietly, steadily expanding his powers, asserting more independence, successfully usurping civil authority from the Ben-Miriam administration. Word was, WNN could well be on thin ice if this new report proved destabilizing.

Sullivan gathered the troops for a quick meeting, related the circumstances and informed them of the possible consequences should the program air as planned. The staff was unanimous in their support, with the exception of Robert Filson.

“I've got a bad feeling about all this, people,” Filson opined. “If the real issue here is rating points, consider what happens if they close us down. No future Messiah coverage means no ratings. Not to mention the extremely unpleasant consequences of dealing with the legal system in a foreign country on treason charges! I seriously recommend we delay the broadcast in order to study the situation.”

There was dead silence in the room for a moment, and then Hunter stood, held up his arm and said, “Everyone who thinks Filson is an anal-retentive chickenshit, raise their hand.”

Filson was the only one to abstain.

The crews went back to their work, continuing straight through the night, finishing up early Sunday morning. Tired but satisfied, Feldman, Hunter and Erin Cross returned to Feldman's apartment to rest fitfully and await the broadcast later that evening.

Despite her major contributions to the project, Anke, who drove in from Tel Aviv to join them, wouldn't be mentioned in the credits. Feldman, grateful though he was, didn't want to risk involving her, given the recent actions of the Israeli Defense Force.

Having viewed the report ad nauseam in editing, when the special program finally did air, Feldman and Hunter tended to judge it more from a technical standpoint and had lost some confidence in it. It could have been the lack of sleep, but it struck them as contrived and absurdly unbelievable.

They couldn't have been further from the truth.

The newscast would ultimately win WNN a Pulitzer. The heavily promoted, anxiously anticipated program would become the most watched, rewatched, listened-to, talked-about, studied, analyzed, debated, deplored and praised piece of television newscasting ever aired.

When the lengthy broadcast ended, the couples collapsed in Feldman's living room, too drained and numb to make the trek to the bedrooms. Feldman switched off the TV with his remote.

After a few moments, Hunter whispered out into the darkened room, “You know, if somebody was out to really mess up the world, he couldn't ’ve picked a better time than the millennium or a better vehicle than some pseudo-Messiah figure. Kinda makes you wonder, doesn't it? So what are we dealing with here, guys-Messiah, or Frankenstein monster?”

Maybe they were already asleep, but nobody answered.

46

Brookforest subdivision, Racine, Wisconsin Noon, Sunday, January 30, 2000

Ha! What did I tell you!” Tommy Martin taunted his sister from a far end of the couch as WNN's much- anticipated True Origins of the New Messiah TV special wound to its disturbing conclusion. “Jeza's nothing but a fraud! A hoax! Shelley, you are sooo gullible!”

“And you're the expert?” the daughter said, sneering. “Maybe if you read the Bible once in a while instead of surfing the Internet with your moron friends, you'd know better. That report doesn't prove anything. There was nothing in it that contradicted Old Testament prophecies about the Second Coming. It didn't say what Jeza is. All it told us is where she came from.”

“Tommy, have you been sneaking onto that damn Internet again instead of doing your homework?” Tom Senior wanted to know.

The boy scowled at his sister and said nothing.

Michelle Martin switched off the TV and sided with her daughter. “Shelley's right, Tommy. You can't fault the woman for where she comes from. Nobody can help how they came into this world.”

Tommy snorted. “Get real, Mom! That research center wasn't like, you know, the Garden of Eden or something. The woman didn't come from God. She's a prefab, lab job.”

Mrs. Martin frowned, not wanting to accept the logic. “I don't know, there's just something special about her. The way she looks. The way she speaks and moves and holds herself. Her power. She's so-so spellbinding. It's like she's… from another world or something!”

“I don't care if she's from Mars,” Shelley declared. “Jeza's got a heck of a lot more to offer than any other preacher I ever heard!”

“Yeah,” the son snipped. “I'd put her right up there with David Koresh and Marshall Applewhite!”

Mrs. Martin looked back and forth between her arguing offspring, confused.

The father impatiently grabbed up the remote control and switched the TV back on.

47

Ben-Gurion apartment complex, Jerusalem, Israel 2:12 A.M., Monday, January 31, 2000

He stretched out his long tanned legs and looked down the narrow track at the sand pit beyond. A crowd lined the runway. The judges stood at the end with their tape measures, awaiting him. He dug his spikes into the asphalt for a secure grip and mentally anticipated his approach.

Feldman knew this was a dream, but he couldn't get out of it. He was back in college, in the middle of an athletic competition, about to vent his youthful angst in the all-out sprint and explosive release of the long jump event.

The crowd was getting impatient. Behind him, Feldman heard Hunter's voice urging him on. “Hurry, Feldman, hurry!”