Feldman and company were not yet permitted to follow. At halberd point, the guards insisted that all the media turn over any videotape, photographic film, notes or other records made during the “unauthorized, criminal break-in of the Bibliotheca Secreta.”
Despite his concern, Feldman had to grin as Hunter, aided by the distraction of the other loudly protesting news-people, hastily slid a tape out of his knapsack, pulled out the back of the unsuspecting Cissy's gown and deposited it deftly in her underalls. Yelping in surprise, Cissy quickly recognized the ruse and suppressed the reflex to slug her partner. As she shrugged off the jolt of cold plastic, Hunter surrendered two blank tapes to a suspicious guard.
Finishing their search, the guardsmen released the group. Feldman, Hunter and an indignant Cissy joined Cardinal Litti and the Messiah on the landing pad next to the idling helicopter. While the remaining news crews captured the send-off, Feldman and Hunter helped their companions up and into the passenger compartment. First the Messiah, then the ever-faithful Cardinal Litti, and finally Cissy, displaying a notably unflattering shape as she bent to duck through the hatchway.
As the helicopter rose slowly from the compound, Feldman observed an appreciably different complexion in the swelling crowd outside the walls below. While there were still isolated pockets of protesters pushing and shoving, the majority seemed to be solidly supportive of the prophetess now. As the aircraft whirled up into the blue Roman sky, Jeza's followers waved her off with wild cheering and banners that read “Jeza Is God,” “Jeza Rules” and “Rapture Me!”
85
The skies over Rome, Italy 3:14 P.M., Sunday, March 19, 2000
Aboard the helicopter shuttling back to the Rome airport, Feldman couldn't take his eyes off the incredible young woman who had just, once again, single-handedly upset the global equilibrium.
But Jeza never returned his gaze.
Feldman's mind was in constant churn, arranging and rearranging his perspectives on the events of the day. It was not difficult to imagine Jeza the Daughter of God. She possessed such an imposing presence; an inner control and strength unlike anything Feldman had ever known. And those invasive eyes. They lent an air of infinite wisdom to her noble face.
And yet, there was that one nagging question that continued to trouble him. How did those bizarre, artificial devices she carried within her head factor into all this? He simply could not shake off his uncomfortableness. There was something too unsettling, too ungodly about them to fit properly into this whole divinity scenario.
On the return flight to Egypt, Feldman could not rest. He sat by himself in the passenger compartment of the jetliner, Jeza having vacated her seat immediately after takeoff to retire to her room. Before she'd left, Feldman had tried, unsuccessfully, to engage her in conversation, but she'd avoided him pointedly, appearing very tired and withdrawn.
Several rows away, Litti was sitting quietly, reading. Hunter was stretched out across three seats, snoring. Cissy, however, was still in Rome. She'd stayed on temporarily to work with WNN Europe in rushing together a report on the Secret Archives expedition. As Cissy had said her good-byes at the airport and turned to leave, contraband video in hand, Hunter had patted her on the backside and advised her to keep his precious tape in a safe place. This time she did not resist the compulsion to punch him hard in the gut. If not admiring Hunter's style, Feldman had to appreciate the resourcefulness. He could only hope that some of the other media were also able to salvage their archival treasures.
As the captain sounded the bell for his passengers to return to their seats for the descent into Cairo, Feldman anticipated another opportunity to sit with the Messiah. But when Jeza left her cabin to take a window berth near the back of the plane, Feldman found himself upstaged. The good cardinal proved too tenacious a suitor, grabbing the coveted aisle seat first.
And then, after arriving in Cairo, Litti continued to shadow the quiet, pensive woman, even insisting on accompanying her for their final helicopter commute to Feldman's car. Feldman assumed the possessive cardinal would insist on tagging along to Jeza's drop-off point, too. But thankfully, the Messiah broke her long silence and commanded that no one but Jon Feldman could accompany her further. Extremely reluctant to be separated from his Savior, Litti had to receive repeated assurances from Jeza that he would soon see her again. Feldman also placated the anxious cardinal by providing him with accommodations at a downtown hotel as a guest of WNN.
It was late when, at last, in his car on the way to deliver Jeza to her desert retreat, Feldman finally had the Messiah to himself. Not quite sure how to broach the subject on his mind, he drove for a good while along the dry dirt roadway, incubating his thoughts in silence.
Suddenly finding himself closer to their destination than he realized, Feldman slowed the Rover a bit to regain some time. He stole a sideways glance at his little passenger. Her face was turned away from him toward the full moon rising outside her window. Her ivory hands rested quietly in her lap.
“Jeza?” Feldman finally broke the stillness. “Jeza, why did you choose
She neither turned toward him nor responded.
“Why me?”
“Because I know your heart,” she answered after a long pause.
“Do you also know my mind?”
No reply.
“Do you also know I'm uncertain about you? That I have problems accepting who you say you are?”
Again there was a long pause. “That does not matter,” she decided, still facing away from him. “God's plan is set forth and His will shall be.”
“What about
“That you are in God's plan was not of your design nor mine. I chose you because I recognized you.”
“You recognized me?”
“From the moment I first saw you at the Mount of the Beatitudes.”
“You mean you recognized me from television?”
“No. When I saw you it was for the very first time. And I recognized you.”
Feldman was confused. Having arrived at Jeza's release point, he stopped the car.
“I don't understand,” he said.
The Messiah, still facing away, did not respond. Feldman shut off the motor and leaned forward in his seat to get a glimpse of her face.
He was stunned to see her crying. Eyes wide open, staring off toward the desert, a deep melancholy etched in her brow, her cheeks glistening with tears.
“Jeza, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you with that stupid comment about not accepting who-”
She turned her large, dazzling eyes upon him once more, and in the soft moonlight she looked all the world to him like a lost, lonely child. Or perhaps an angel.
“I know,” she responded softly. “You have not.”
Feldman had never before experienced such a concentration of complex emotions like those that surged within him at this moment-empathy, protectiveness, desperation, yearning, emptiness, fear.
Love.
Before he was even aware of it, Jeza had slipped from the car and he realized he was about to lose her once again to the wilderness.
“No, wait!” he cried, fumbling himself out the door. Rushing to her side, he grasped her by her slender arms and pulled her toward him. She averted her face in an anguished grimace. Withstanding the tremendous temptation to embrace her, Feldman instead gently dried her tears with his handkerchief, took her hand in his and walked slowly with her up the winding hillside path.
She seemed very distant now, staring straight ahead mechanically, totally oblivious to the confusion of the man beside her. The closer they drew to the top of the slope, the more anxious he became, his eyes glued to her,
