The Last Day

He turned back to Anke again. “I don't know how to explain any of this. I've never felt this way before. I want to be entirely straight with you because, unlike what you think, I do respect you. Very much. I wouldn't hurt you for the world, but of course, I know I have. And I'm truly sorry for that.

“You see, I feel as if I'm tied to you both. I miss you both. I care about you both. I worry about you both. I want to be with both of you.

“Yes,” he decided. “I love you both!”

Anke dropped her hand from his shoulder like a dead weight “This is unbelievable,” she exhaled as she stood again.

She wandered around in small circles once more, mulling it all over, while Feldman stared after her in a hopeless quandary. Finally she stopped and looked down at the despairing man. “Well, Jon, I don't know if this has occurred to you or not, but you simply can't have us both. You're just going to have to figure this one out for yourself. I've had all the insanity I can take.” She headed for the door. “I'm leaving.”

Feldman sprang to his feet and grasped her arm from behind. “Anke, please, I don't know what to say, but I've told you the truth.”

She turned around and looked up into his disturbed, gray eyes. “I know that Jon.” She was crying again. With her fingertips, she gently touched his cheek. “I'm not angry with you anymore. And, certainly, I can understand why you feel so drawn to Jeza. She's, she's so… But Jon, I just can't see it bringing you any happiness.” She took her hand away, stretched to kiss him softly on the lips, dropped down from her tiptoes and moved away.

Opening the door latch, she gazed back at him, her face an expression of resigned defeat. “You're a very special person, Jon. I love you. I always will. It was so perfect with you. But this! How do I deal with this?” The emotions came surging back. “How do I compete with a, a goddess?”

She spun and rushed out the door. Feldman started after her, calling, but she paid him no heed. Fleeing down the stairs and into her car, she was gone.

99

Meeting chambers of the IDF Command Center, UVDA Israeli military airfield, southern Negev 10:37 A.M., Saturday, April 8, 2000

An uncomfortable Intelligence Commander David Lazzlo sat next to a solemn ex-Chief of Staff General Mosha Zerim. The two men were in tense conference with fellow officers of the Israeli Joint High Command, now under the auspices of the newly appointed chief of staff, Senior General Alleza Goene.

The general had taken his good time in arriving at the unpleasant crux of this meeting. Finally putting aside other business, he sat back in his chair and folded his powerful arms across his chest.

“As you know, gentlemen,” Goene addressed his colleagues, “before taking a leave of absence, it was Defense Minister Tamin's last official act to designate me chief of staff. I would like to reemphasize that this action was not intended in any way to slight the irreproachable service of General Zerim.” He nodded casually toward the ex-chief of staff, who held his grave composure.

“The decision was simply a matter of logistics. Given the current state of conditions in Israel, the defense minister felt that my veteran, war-command experience might prove invaluable. As part of Minister Tamin's directive, General Zerim has been reassigned to command the northern divisions.”

Lazzlo stole a sideways glance at the implacable Zerim.

Goene continued, “I am making further reassignments, as well.” He turned to Lazzlo. “Commander, given our current difficulties with security breaches, you will be relinquishing your responsibilities as head of intelligence operations, effective immediately.”

There was a murmur of surprise from the other attendees in the room.

Lazzlo's face flushed red with anger. “You have no authority to remove me from command!” he barked. “Only the defense minister or the Knesset can take such actions.”

A smile of contempt formed on Goene's lips. “I am not removing you from command. But in the absence of an acting defense minister, I do have the authority to redirect your command.”

Lazzlo stopped short, his irate objections dying in his throat.

“From this point forward,” Goene ordered,” General Roth will assume responsibility over intelligence operations. And you, Commander Lazzlo, will now take charge of our defense forces in Jerusalem. As you no doubt recognize, you are being entrusted with the IDF's most sacred responsibility-to protect the Holy City and its sacred shrines from the growing factions of millenarian extremists.”

What the commander no doubt recognized was that Goene was placing him in the middle of the most impossible, incendiary situation to ever confront the Israeli Defense Force.

The general leaned forward and his eyes narrowed. “This will be a rather more challenging assignment in light of the recent Leveque diary revelations, wouldn't you say?” He paused to let his insinuation register, and then stood up, signaling an end to the meeting.

Lazzlo and Zerim left together, engrossed in conversation, marching somberly across the tarmac to the helicopters that would ferry them to their new assignments.

“They have to be on to us, David,” the general decided.

“No,” Lazzlo assured him. “If Tamin felt we were personally responsible for smuggling the diary to the Vatican, we'd be looking at a court-martial, not a mere demotion. Trust me, I was thorough about the leads I planted. They're convinced it was the work of some unknown staffer, caught up with an anti-Jeza sect.”

“Regardless.” Zerim's anxieties were not allayed. “Our plan to put an end to Tamin and his accursed Negev experiment has misfired on us. If anything, Israel is worse off than before. Although Tamin may be physically out of the picture while the Knesset investigates him, he still exerts control of the IDF through Goene-and I fear that madman more than I do Tamin.

“David, we faded in our efforts to neutralize this damnable Jeza threat. Instead of discrediting her with the Leveque diary, we only served to create more worldwide division. Now millions of fanatics are descending on Jerusalem to engage each other in the battle of Armageddon.”

“Yes, my friend,” Lazzlo reluctantly agreed. “And now it's become my responsibility to try and stop them. God is poetic in His justice, isn't He? I'm about to reap the consequences of my involvement in all of this.”

100

WNN regional headquarters, Cairo, Egypt 8:00 A.M., Monday, April 10, 2000

The office operator sent a phone call through to Feldman's desk and the newsman took it expectantly.

“Good morning, Cardinal.”

“Hello, Jon, how are you?”

“Fine.” Feldman spared him his true feelings. “I think we've got things squared away for you.”

“Excellent, bless you!” Litti sounded relieved and grateful. “What's your plan?”

“Well, I've got us a car and a dependable, professional driver. Cardinal, you're going in undercover as an Egyptian diplomat en route to the Palestinian peace talks in Hebron. Jeza will pose as your daughter. You'll wear a turban and Jeza must keep a full veil on at all times. We have papers and credentials and everything you'll need. It should work fine if you leave the talking to the driver and stick to the few Arabic phrases we'll give you. Once we make it safely across the border, we should be able to make our way to Jerusalem without a problem.”

“Okay. Excellent.”

“And one other thing…”

“Yes?”