'Shut up!' Scott said again, this time grabbing Joel's shirt and shaking his fist in his face. Joel fell silent but the maelstrom was still in Scott's eyes. Scott dropped his fist and began to release his grip. 'Is the whole world going mad?' he asked. 'First Sol and now you!'
'But… ' Joel said again. Scott took hold of Joel's shirt with both hands now, lifting him onto his tiptoes, and brought his face within inches of his own until they were eye to eye.
'If you say one more word,' he said through his teeth, 'I swear by the Temple of HaShem that I will… ' Scott caught himself. Swearing by the temple was serious business; next to swearing by God himself, there was no more powerful and binding an oath. It was not to be made in anger or haste. Scott released his grip and pushed Joel, who stumbled back into the side of a car. 'Just get away from me until you've come to your senses.'
Joel picked himself up and looked into Scott's eyes with a sincerity that even Scott could not doubt. 'I really have seen him,' Joel insisted.
There was nothing else to do. Scott couldn't bring himself to actually hit his old friend. They had been through too much together. They had fought side by side to save Israel those fifteen years ago, there in that bunker beneath the streets of Tel Aviv. They had been heroes together. There was nothing left for Scott to do but ask the obvious question. 'Where?! Where have you seen him?' he asked, finally resigning himself to having this conversation.
'In a dream.'
For a moment Scott just stared, dumbfounded. From the beginning, Joel had known how weak that answer was going to sound but it was the only one he had, and to his mind, that was what God had given him to say. 'And he's coming to establish his kingdom,' he added finally.
Suddenly Scott's anger changed to concern. He had been wrong to be so brutal. Joel was obviously delusional. Scott had dreams from time to time that felt so real they seemed real even in the waking world. Apparently, Joel couldn't separate dream from reality. 'Joel,' he said sympathetically, 'It was just a dream.'
'But it wasn't just a dream.'
'I know, Joel,' Scott said in the most consoling tone he could muster. 'It must have seemed very real to you. But it was just a dream.'
'No, Scott. Don't you see? I've been wrong all these years. And so have you.'
The conversation was taking an unexpected turn. 'What do you mean?' Scott asked.
'We've been wrong all this time. My sister Rhoda and her rabbi have been right all along. Don't you see, Scott? Yeshua really is the Messiah!' And then just to be sure Scott fully understood what he had said, Joel used the English version of the name, 'Jesus is the Messiah!'
That was the last straw. Scott Rosen's eyes filled with rage. He didn't care whether Joel was delusional or not; this was too much. He grabbed Joel by the shoulders and shook him. 'You and that damned rabbi, you're both meshummadim!' he said, using the Hebrew word for traitors. Scott violently threw him to the ground. Joel's left wrist and forefinger snapped as he tried to break his fall. 'I don't know you!' Scott screamed. 'I never knew you! You're dead! You never existed! If you ever talk to me again, I'll kill you!'
Scott got in his van and drove off, leaving Joel to nurse his wounds.
Chapter 23
Offering
New York
Alice Bernley and Robert Milner strolled slowly past the huge wall of ivy along Raoul Wallenberg Walk, their pace giving no hint of the excitement they felt as they talked of the events of the past few weeks. 'It's all coming together; I can feel it,' Alice said. 'Even if I weren't here to see it for myself, I think that I would still feel it. Hell,' she said, after a moment, 'I could be on the moon and I'd still know.' Milner smiled. He did not doubt her supposition for a moment. He could feel it too. 'I've gotten calls and letters, e-mail and faxes from people all over the world. They can sense we're on the very brink of the New Age,' Bernley continued.
'Yes. Some of that concerns me, though. I'm afraid there are those who would like to rush its advent. We cannot allow that.'
'No one else knows about Christopher?' she asked, her voice laced with concern.
'No. At least not that I know of. If our friends on the Security Council knew, they'd try to make him Secretary-General right now.' Milner was speaking hypothetically but Bernley took him seriously.
'We can't allow that,' she said.
'No, of course not. The time simply isn't right. No, I don't think anyone else knows about Christopher. At least not yet. But many obviously do know that you and I know something.'
'Yes,' Bernley said, her mood shifting back to enthusiasm. 'I've gotten calls from people and groups I've never even heard of. All of them want to know what they should do.'
'And what do you tell them?'
'I tell them to organize, add to their number, spread the word that the arrival of the New Age is near. And to wait.'
'Good advice,' said Milner.
Ahead of them on the walk stood a tall thin man with graying hair, wearing a tailor-cut European suit. He was flanked by two very large men, both easily twice his weight. The eyes of the larger men were hidden by sunglasses, but the thin man stared directly at them. Had Milner and Bemley not been so involved in their conversation they would have noticed the men long before. Their combined swath blocked nearly the whole walk. They did not seem menacing, but they did appear determined.
'Secretary Milner?' the thin man asked.
'Yes.'
'Ms. Alice Bemley?'
'Yes.'
'I have a letter for you,' the man said as he handed an envelope to Bernley. The man had spoken only a few words, but Milner, who had traveled to every corner of the world, recognized his accent at once. Most would have guessed French, but there was more. It was rougher, more guttural than a true French accent. There were also strong traces of German. The man was obviously a native of Alsace-Lorraine, that region of France which between the years of 1870 to 1945 had traded hands between the French and Germans five times. Milner wasn't sure, but he could think of only one item of business which would bring this man of Alsace-Lorraine to this meeting in the park.
Bernley opened the envelope and began to read the letter inside. 'Bob, look!' she said, holding up the letter for him to see as she continued to read.
Milner read. It was as he had suspected, but it was important not to appear too eager. Impressions could be critical. 'Please convey our appreciation,' Milner said as soon as he was sure of the letter's content, but without reading it in its entirety. He knew Alice could be very excitable and he wanted to be the first to speak.
'You will take delivery of the package, then?' the thin man asked.
'Yes,' Milner answered calmly.
'Yes, of course we will,' Bernley said, in a much more animated tone. 'We would be delighted to… ' From the corner of her eye she caught the disturbed look on Robert Milner's face, and let her sentence trail off. She recognized it at once as the look he gave when he thought she was getting too ardent. Not that he wasn't just as excited as she; it just wasn't always prudent to show it.
'Where would you like it delivered?'
Milner thought quickly and answered with the most obvious place: 'The Lucius Trust at the U.K. Plaz… ' Milner stopped himself. It didn't make sense to ship it across the Atlantic only to ship it back for its final delivery. 'No,' he said. 'Have it delivered to the Italian Embassy in Tel Aviv.'
'We will need some assistance getting it through customs,' the man said.
'Of course,' Milner answered.
