The Last Day (36 page)

“My son,” Litti responded in his thick Italian accent, “I fear if I delay, I shall be unable to make today's opening at the hall; the crowds are impossible.”

The news reporter was even more excited to have stumbled across a cardinal who would actually be in privileged attendance. “I tell you what, Monsignor,” he said, lowering his camera, “if you'll give us an interview and you don't mind riding in our truck here, we'll drive you down and make sure you get there on time.”

Litti grinned broadly. Yes, his faith in his Messiah was well founded.

71

Salt Lake City Airport, Utah 10:17
A.M
., Sunday, March 5, 2000

T
he jet carrying Feldman, Hunter, Cissy and their special envoy landed at Salt Lake City Airport right on schedule. It had been an uneventful flight, with Jeza spending the entire cross-country journey in her room. Sleeping, Feldman hoped, since she apparently got none last night. He was concerned about her state of mind after her troubling display in the Rose Garden.

His worries were quickly alleviated, however, once she took her seat for the landing. She was herself again, looking fresh and calm once more. She even afforded Feldman a quick smile.

Safely on the ground, the jet taxied to a service facility somewhat removed from the terminal. Here, Secret Service representatives transferred the four passengers quickly and stealthily to a waiting helicopter for their last, short leg.

As they approached the huge Mormon Tabernacle Hall, Hunter called out to the others in amazement at the staggering sea of people far below them. “Would you look at the crowd!” he exclaimed. “There must be millions of millenarians down there!”

Jeza remained completely uninterested. Indeed, she'd made it eminently clear that she wanted no more of the display she'd been previously subjected to. Before leaving Washington, Jeza had requested that there be no reception, no greeters, no visitors and no media to interrupt her meditation prior to her address. Feldman had placed a quick call to the disappointed Mormons to ensure this.

Made comfortable in a private suite in the upper levels of the great hall, Jeza appeared relaxed and composed.

“Why don't you lie here on the sofa and rest for a while, Jeza,” Feldman suggested to her. “I'll slip outside to make sure all the arrangements are in order for your address, and I'll be back soon.”

She smiled gratefully, nodded, and sat quietly on the edge of the couch.

Leaving Jeza's suite, Feldman checked in with the Secret Service agents stationed outside to ensure she would not be disturbed. He then signaled a nearby Mormon aide and asked where he might have a discreet look at the Grand Auditorium. The aide led him to a mezzanine and into one of many private, glassed condominium suites overlooking the huge assembly. In addition to a panoramic eagle's-eye view, the condo offered plush seating, a large-screen TV monitor and nonalcoholic wet bar. About thirty of the “beautiful people” were here munching hors d'oeuvres, enjoying boisterous conversation and laughter.

Stretching out in front of Feldman, the huge hall was set up like a rock concert, with elevated speaker's platform and lectern at one end, elliptically encircled by steeply rising stadium seating and fronted by a special celebrity section on the main floor. Just below the speaker's stage was a row of tables. Seated at the tables would be the VIP religious dignitaries who would be paneling a question and answer session after the address.

From his Mormon aide, Feldman learned that the expected attendance would include 64,891 clerics, priests, ministers, pastors, imams, rabbis and assorted other clergypersons of every stripe. Left unmentioned was the fact that there would also be many not-of-the-cloth VIPs, as well as invalids, the terminally ill and others who had bought, conned or cajoled their way into this celebrated appearance. A good number of attendees were decked out in formal wear and lavish jewelry, attired as if this were some great social event. The excitement virtually crackled in the air, like the anticipation before the entrance of a nominee at a national political convention.

Feldman's guide interrupted his sightseeing to inform him that it was time to return to Jeza's suite in preparation for her imminent introduction.

On the floor of the hall, there was some grumbling regarding the nature of the selection process for the VIP panel. Many attendees resented the fact that the Mormons were occupying three of the precious twelve seat. There was also considerable irritation that a Catholic cardinal, His Eminence Antonio di Concerci, who was not even in attendance at the first convocation, had also been seated on the panel.

The only Catholic cardinal who was present previously, Alphonse Litti, enjoyed a preferred position in the front row directly behind the VIP table, right next to another curial cardinal, Silvio Santorini. Many voiced their suspicions about some sort of Vatican intrigue.

In truth, Vatican influence had played both a direct and indirect role in the seating arrangements. Directly for di Concerci and Santorini, for whom the Vatican had applied considerable pressure and funding. Indirectly for Litti, whom the lower-echelon Mormon organizers had mistakenly included in the prime seating, assuming he was part of the Vatican package. Neither di Concerci nor Santorini was aware of the confusion until Litti had already been issued his seat.

The makeup of the final, controversial panel ultimately comprised three Mormons, an evangelical, two millenarians—including a representative of the Messianic Guardians of God—a Hindu, a Jewish rabbi, a Buddhist, a Muslim, a Presbyterian and Cardinal di Concerci.

As the appointed hour drew near, however, all differences were put aside and the attention of the audience focused entirely upon the staging area.

The main lights of the massive hall dimmed and two lone, concentrated, bluish white spotlights arose from different locations on the high rafters. One illuminated the podium, the other fixed on a solitary tunnel behind the stage.

From the giant bells of the clock tower atop the hall, the sounds of high noon came tolling down. As the final reverberations died out, the crowd began an enthusiastic allegro of excitement. Two figures, one tall, one slight, emerged from the tunnel and, together, began ascending the ramp at the rear of the stage.

The one spotlight followed them with its beam as the audience rose to its feet. When the two figures arrived on the stage, they paused. The audience gathered a collective breath, and then there was a discharge of thunderous applause, loud praise and cheering.

Feldman remained behind in the dark while the Messiah and spotlight broke away together to advance to the podium. As Jeza reached her position at the lectern, the volume of the crowd increased and the two spotlights converged to concentrate an intense, white aura of light about her. She stood there, alone and silent. Her alabaster hands were clasped relaxedly in front of her; her face cast downward, in shadow.

The waves of adulation rolled over her, uninterrupted, for a full five minutes. But not all shared the enthusiasm. Two somber-faced cardinals remained seated and silent through the entire welcoming.

The roar continued. In the dark periphery, Feldman took his place on the right side of the stage in a chair placed there for his use.

Immobile throughout this enthusiastic reception, Jeza waited patiently until an absolute silence had at last been attained. Finally satisfied, she lifted her head to take in the assembly. She studied it, solemnly, carefully for a time. Then, drawing in her breath as if gathering her resolve, she called out over the masses in a clear, ringing, angelic voice:

“In the name of the Father, I come to you. In the name of Truth, I come to you. In the name of Revelation, I come to you!”

She paused and the audience inched forward in its seats.

“I come to you with the Newest Testament in the fulfillment of God's will. A Testament which calls to each man, woman and child, alone and apart from all others. A Testament wherein you will receive the New Light—a light which shall lead you from the darkness.

“I speak to the spiritual leaders of the world; to those who would preach the way of the Lord to others.

“I say to you, look to the words of Christ as is written in Matthew six, verses five through eight:

“ ‘Again when you pray, you shall not be like the hypocrites, who love to pray in churches and synagogues and in public in order that they might be seen; but when you pray, go into your room and close your door. Pray to the Father in secrecy and the Father who sees in secrecy shall hear you.

“ ‘And in praying, do not imitate the words of others; be not like them. For your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.’ “

Having quoted this scripture, Jeza dropped her head again and deliberated for another long moment. Then her small white hands tightly gripped the edge of the lectern, she stood upright, leveled her magnificent gaze once more at the audience, and her voice assumed a more portentous tone.

“Amen, amen, I say to you: How shall you lead others when you yourselves are lost?”

The words echoed out across the sea of intent faces.

“The New Light is upon you. You, the shepherds to whom God has entrusted His sheep. So have you led them far astray. You, who profess to tend your flocks, yet care less for its souls than the value of its fleece.

“You, who preach loudly of the Bible, yet turn not to the Word of God, but turn the Word of God to you. You, who recast the Lord's meaning to your own end; to manipulate; to create guilt and shame; to solicit money and favor; to launch strife and conflict and war, and turn brother against brother.”

Jeza had undergone an amazing physical transformation. Her face was seared with emotion. The jaw muscles were taut, the noble brow furrowed, the eyes damning. Her voice was a piercing cry, unsettling in its self-righteous anger. With each stabbing slash of her accusatory finger, the unfortunate, randomly targeted section of audience recoiled and cowered.

“You, who seek not truth, but justification. You, who speak one way, yet live another. You, who pursue not life hereafter, but worldly reward.

“The time of Revelation is at hand. To each of you who hears my words, I say, behold and obey this, the true will of God:

“Go forth from this place, back to your churches and to your synagogues and to your temples and say unto your congregations as I say to you now: let all who would heed the Word of God disperse and worship no more together. For only when you are free of artifice, and only in the privacy of your own heart will God reveal to you His true meaning and personal message.

“Let all who would follow the New Way of the Lord look to the written Word of God and to that alone for counsel and guidance. Trust not in the opinion of others, nor in the teachings of the world religions, for they are corrupted and cannot know God's plan for you.

“To each child born is a separate way to everlasting life. And to each child born is a holy knowledge to find the way. Look not to your neighbor for your answer. Look inside your heart. For alone must you labor to clear the obstacles in your path.

“You, who call yourselves spiritual leaders, hear the message of the Lord that you may know His will and obey His command:

“From this day forward, speak no more of God's way, for you know it not. Let the tongues of the clergy be stilled. Let the voices of the theologians be silenced. Dispense with your hierarchies and bureaucracies. Recall your missionaries and close down your seminaries. Preach no more to any man, but return instead to the world as penitents, seeking not the righteousness of others, but the sanctity of your own souls.

“Let not another day pass before you have accomplished all these things. For in your arrogance and hypocrisy have you angered the Lord!” (Apotheosis 24:7–32)

Finished, Jeza held motionless at the podium. The assembly, shocked beyond measure, sat numb and silent. Stung, humiliated, deeply flustered.

Situated well back and high up in the stands, the Right Reverend Solomon T. Brady, D.D., was visibly shaken. The house lights abruptly came up and slowly the crowd reacted. The woman seated to Brady's right, a Protestant deaconess, was whispering to him, but the Reverend did not respond.

“Tell me she didn't say we should dissolve our churches? Is that what she really said?” Receiving no answer, she turned to her other side and repeated the plea.

From his seat so close to the stage behind the presiding panel, Alphonse Cardinal Litti gazed up at his Messiah, tears flowing freely down his fleshy cheeks. Several seats to the right of the cardinal, an inspired Rabbi Mordachai Hirschberg, aging leader of the ultra-Orthodox Jewish sect of Hasidic Lubavitchers, inhaled deeply as if to thank his God for having let him live long enough to witness the coming of the true Messiah. Nearby, First Reverend Richard Peter Fischer was flushed and sweating, grabbing at his right arm where a creeping sensation of numbness had developed. And Jon Feldman had risen from his chair, eyeing the distance between Jeza and the exit tunnel.

At the VIP table fronting the stage, eleven of the twelve panelists had scrapped their culled list of questions and were searching about desperately for a resolution to this unexpected dilemma.

Calm and collected in the midst of the confusion, Antonio Cardinal di Concerci had maintained a hard, unwavering scrutiny of the young prophetess. He, for one, was not about to let this appalling display go unchallenged. The prefect realized someone had to seize control of the deteriorating assembly. He addressed the microphone before him with a question that arrested the rising bedlam.

“And by what authority do you assert to us the will of God?” he asked loudly in his imperious, aristocratic voice. To ensure that he'd been heard by all, as the noise quelled he repeated himself. “By what authority do you assert to us the will of God? What credentials do you present to us?”

Jeza, who had been as immobile as a graven image, now looked down in sovereign composure at her challenger.