The Last Day (68 page)

Upon seeing his visitors, the officer dropped his paperwork, barked an order into an intercom, stood and extended a hand to both men. They declined the civility.

“What the hell's going on?” Hunter demanded. “You've got no right to hold us here.”

“We're American citizens,” Feldman added.

The officer, his hand still outstretched in rejected greeting, nodded his head understandingly, and motioned them to chairs.

“You're not under arrest,” the commander told them, taking his seat again. “You're merely being held in temporary protective custody pending a cad I've just placed. I expect a response any moment now.”

Calming somewhat, Feldman asked, “Do you mind telling us what's happening?”

“I don't have all the details,” the officer informed them, “there's a lot of confusion right now. But I will tell you everything I know.”

The two newsmen accepted their chairs and the commander continued. “As I'm sure you're aware, the whole city has been at war for much of the last twenty-four hours. Thousands have been killed. The heaviest fighting has been around Hadassah, where the hospital was under a three-way siege ad night. It began when General Goene's men attacked yesterday morning.

Feldman's jaw tightened with the recollection. Hunter's hands curled into fists.

“Commander Lazzlo's troops were able to hold Goene off throughout the day, with help from pro-Jeza resistance forces outside the hospital. Then, about eight-thirty last evening, the anti-Jeza forces responsible for the Megiddo massacre broke through our defenses on the outskirts of northern Jerusalem and advanced on the hospital. They began attacking
everybody,
indiscriminately. In the darkness, it was hellish confusion.

“Goene brought in reinforcements, but refused to shell or bomb the hospital. We know now that he was after the Leveque neurochips and didn't want to risk destroying them. So the whole engagement settled into a long, running battle throughout the night. About four
A M.
WNN telecast a special news report with the information you'd smuggled out of Hadassah.”

Feldman and Hunter both raised fists of triumph with the news that Lazzlo's damning evidence got through.

“But apparently,” the officer resumed his explanation, “the Ben-Miriam administration had been directly notified much earlier by your network and had called an emergency session of the Knesset in the middle of the night. Based on the evidence of Commander Lazzlo's internal documents, the IDF was placed under direct order of the Knesset and warrants were issued for the arrest of the entire IDF high command, including Tamin and Goene. When the arrest orders came down, Goene abandoned his troops and fled, and his forces were then pulled back from the hospital.

“That left an opening for the anti-Jeza forces, which stormed a wing of the hospital and broke through. Soon after that, however, the anti-Jeza forces suddenly called off their attack, presumably reacting to your network's report. Lazzlo and his regiment are still barricaded in the hospital and Prime Minister Ben-Miriam is attempting to negotiate with them right now.”

“Where are Tamin and Goene?” Hunter wanted to know.

“We're not sure. Tamin left his estate even before the warrant was issued, warned by some of his cronies, no doubt. He was reportedly picked up by Goene in an IDF helicopter, destination unknown. Right now there's no further word on either of them.”

Hunter nodded his head. “So that's why we're in protective custody. You think we're still in danger from Tamin and Goene?”

“Partly,” the officer acknowledged. “Prime Minister Ben-Miriam diverted my troops here to secure this base. My orders were to ensure your safety and to notify the administration as soon as you were able to—”

He was interrupted by a voice speaking in Hebrew over the intercom. Looking up, the commander announced, “Gentlemen, this is the call I've been expecting. It's for you, Mr. Feldman. Prime Minister Eziah Ben-Miriam wishes to speak with you personally.”

The officer rotated the phone in front of Feldman and punched a flashing button. The reporter lifted the receiver.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Mr. Feldman,” the prime minister greeted him. “I'm greatly relieved to know you and your associate, Mr. Hunter, are safe and well. We've been very concerned about you.”

“We appreciate your efforts on our behalf, sir. You no doubt saved our lives.”

“Unfortunately,” Ben-Miriam noted soberly, “we were too late to save many good men and women who've been needlessly lost in this senseless fighting. And that's why I want to speak with you. The State of Israel needs your assistance one last time to bring an end to this unnecessary bloodshed.”

Feldman took a deep, apprehensive breath and answered Hunter's inquisitive look with a frown. “What is it you need, Prime Minister?”

“Mr. Feldman, we are, at this very moment, attempting to negotiate a peaceful settlement to the Hadassah standoff. Commander Lazzlo will not surrender to our troops and we fear a bad outcome. The commander refuses to deal through anyone but you and Mr. Hunter. You're the only individuals he trusts. I know you've both been through an ordeal, but we simply have no other recourse, it appears.”

114

The skies over Jerusalem, Israel 9:55
A.M.
, Sunday, April 23, 2000

W
hat do you think Lazzlo wants?” a restless Hunter asked, as he inspected his military-issue camera on the helicopter ride back to the hospital. “A taped statement before falling on his sword?”

“Maybe he just wants us to monitor the surrender to ensure the safety of his troops,” Feldman hesitantly replied, avoiding the supernatural subject neither man chose to address.

Passing over a division of Israeli military encircling the hospital, the helicopter touched down on the roof and the newsmen were quickly taken back to Lazzlo's basement bunker, positioned strategically near the morgue facility. Lazzlo was waiting outside the door in the hallway, leaning against a wall, his arms crossed, looking as exhausted as his visitors. He dismissed his guards so that he could be alone with the reporters.

“I'm deeply grateful that you came, gentlemen,” Lazzlo began, his face dark and downcast. “Especially given what you went through after your last visit.”

“Is Cardinal Litti safe and well?” Feldman asked with concern.

“Yes. He's resting comfortably now. Last night was rather hard on him, too, I'm afraid.”

“I'm sorry for the loss of your crew in the helicopter crash,” Feldman offered. “They were brave soldiers, both of them.”

“Yes.” Lazzlo paused with a look of deepening sadness. “You did not know, of course, but Corporal Illa Lyman was my daughter. My only child.”

Feldman looked over at Hunter, whose face was a grim mask. “You have our deepest sympathies, sir,” he managed to say through a constricted throat. “She saved our lives. If it weren't for her and her pilot, we would never have gotten that vital information out to the Knesset.”

“Unfortunately,” Lazzlo recovered his composure, “the lives of many good people have been lost on ad sides.”

“That's very true, Commander.” Feldman found his opening. “And now, don't you think it's time, at last, to close the book on all this senseless tragedy?”

“Yes,” Lazzlo agreed. “That's the reason why I asked you here again. There's one thing more I need you to document before I'm finished. After which, I'm prepared to—to surrender.”

There was a spiritless look about the commander that made Feldman uncomfortable.

“Please, come with me,” Lazzlo directed, and led them once more to the vault room. He stopped, instructed the sentries to stand aside, and then motioned Feldman and Hunter through the large metal door, which was standing ajar.

Peering into the dimness of the vault, his heart palpitating, Feldman was not entirely surprised to find the room empty. Jeza's body was gone. There was nothing inside but the table upon which she had lain and the sheets that had covered her.

Feeling short of breath, Feldman stepped back out of the room and searched the commander's face carefully with his eyes. “Where is she?” he asked in an uncertain voice.

“I don't know,” Lazzlo replied softly. “We've checked the hospital, thoroughly. She's not here.”

“Did anyone witness her Resurrection?” Hunter asked. “Or actually see her alive?”

“No,” Lazzlo admitted. “No one was present when it happened, and no one's actually seen Her. This time, unfortunately, I haven't any conclusive evidence. But I do have something rather interesting to show you.” He pointed up to the corners of the ceiling where two security cameras watched with unblinking eyes.

Feldman's eyebrows arched with aroused interest.

They returned to Lazzlo's office where two video monitors were set up.

“I have for you the two separate views from each of the security cameras in the room,” Lazzlo explained and started both tapes. Two pictures of a draped female form dissolved up in surreal black and white—the same image from opposite angles, one on each monitor.

“You'll notice,” Lazzlo pointed to the lower left corner of the two screens, “each tape has a date and time code so that you can tell exactly when events occur.”

The date and time showed “4.23.00, 3:17:24.”

Lazzlo then advanced both tapes together and the time jumped rapidly ahead. He slowed the speed to normal at 5:14:30, advising, “Now, watch closely.”

At exactly 5:14:54, there was a brilliant flash in the room, blinding the cameras and creating a lasting white-out on the screen. Meanwhile, the time clock ticked slowly onward. Finally, at 5:15:46, the camera lenses cleared and a normal picture resumed. Only the image had changed. The sheets on the table were thrown back, the door was ajar, Jeza was gone.

“Is there any audio with this?” Feldman inquired.

“No,” Lazzlo replied. “These are standard security cameras.”

Lazzlo replayed the tapes, slowing the motion to further emphasize the last frame before the image was obliterated by the light “From this angle,” he pointed to one monitor, “you can see the door. You'll note that it appears secured. The flash of light begins
while the door is still closed!”

The reporters were well aware of this point.

When the tape had played through again, Feldman shot a questioning look at his partner.

Hunter frowned, shaking his head numbly, “Well, it can't have been a power surge; the time clocks function continually throughout the entire sequence. The disturbance, whatever it was, had to have been some sort of intense light.”

Both Feldman and Hunter fed quiet.

Finally, Feldman broke the silence. “When did you first notice her missing, Commander?”

“Not until about twenty minutes past the hour,” Lazzlo told him. “A wing of the hospital had been breached by the anti-Jeza factions, and we poured all our spare man-power into it, eventually turning them back. I had to pull our guards from the morgue and surrounding halls and evacuate Cardinal Litti to the east wing.

“When my soldiers returned, Jeza's body was gone and the room was just as you saw it. We touched nothing and the guards were immediately reposted in front of the door.”

“Wait a minute!” Hunter interrupted. “If the hospital was penetrated, isn't it possible someone got in here and stole the body?”

“I can't say that it's not possible,” Lazzlo admitted. “But to my knowledge, no one got through our defenses. Even assuming we were penetrated, they would have had to pass our lines one more time to escape. A difficult enough feat without the burden of carrying a body with them. And then, there's still the matter of the disturbance of light in the security tapes.”

“If somebody did get in,” Feldman suggested, “maybe he was able to open the door to Jeza's room an undetectable amount, insert a bright light—”

“Yes, there are other explanations,” Lazzlo broke in, looking at Feldman as if there weren't. “Regardless, I ask that you and your associate document all the evidence you find here before others that come after me destroy or distort the truth, intentionally or otherwise. You have credibility with the public. They'll trust whatever data you collect. I also want you to take possession of the two security tapes.”

“Of course,” Feldman agreed.

While Lazzlo collected the tapes and Hunter took video of the morgue vault, Feldman stepped away into his own space, retracing the events of the past few days. He could not come to grips with the circumstances. Shaking his head, engulfed in the confusion of things profoundly unfathomable, be finally tabled his thoughts and returned to the situation at hand.

“Commander,” he said, accepting the tapes from Lazzlo, “what can we do to assist you in your negotiations with the government?”

Lazzlo regarded Feldman with a rueful smile of resignation. “There's nothing more you can do for me now, my friend. My fate's already decided. I must face the consequences of my actions.” He sighed heavily. “It no longer matters. I was too late to ask for the Messiah's absolution. The authorities can do what they wish with my mortal body, it's a higher authority that concerns me.”

“I guess you know that Tamin and Goene have disappeared?” Feldman mentioned.

“They haven't disappeared,” Lazzlo stated matter-of-factly. “The administration just doesn't know where to look for them.”

“And you do?” Hunter stopped his videotaping and walked over to Lazzlo.

“I have a very good idea. Goene and Tamin have likely headed to the southern Negev. Goene knows that territory extremely well and he has access to military caches of vehicles and supplies stockpiled in the desert. They'll abandon their helicopter and try a land escape into Egypt tonight, after which they'll have no difficulty smuggling themselves to France or Spain.”

“Goddammit,” Hunter barked, slamming the desk with his palm, his face red with insistence. “I'm not about to let those two bastards get away scot-free! I want you to show me on a map exactly where they are, Commander.”

“No way!”
Feldman objected immediately. “It's ad over for us, Breck. It's up to the Israelis now.”

“It may be over for you, pal, but it sure as hell ain't over for me!” He locked adamant eyes on his partner. “I'm trading the commander's info to the Israelis for a seat on the bus. I'm gonna be there when they bring those sons of bitches down!”