The Last Day (6 page)

“We have post-launch radar intercept,” Senior General Alleza Goene interjected. “The missile was probably remote-launched from an attack bomber. And it's too soon to know if there's any bomb residue. Besides, the devastation was so complete; any evidence may have disintegrated. Hell, almost the entire site was vaporized!” A veteran and hero of the ‘67 War, Goene was a large, powerful, intimidating man of fifty-seven. He was red-faced and visibly impatient with the conservative bent of this group.

Lazzlo appeared uncomfortable with this evaluation. “How do we explain the large quantities of raw iron ore debris, then?” he questioned. Having spent most of the day at the ruins supervising the investigation, he was steadfast in his opposition to a retaliatory strike. “Granted it sounds unbelievable, but we can't rule out the possibility of a meteorite impact, as evidence suggests. We're in a period of meteor shower activity!”

“There are just too many damned convenient coincidences,” Goene retorted. “For months, Syria and Iran have been making formal inquiries about the nature of the facility. Even the U.S. has suspicions of our purposes there. And the odds of such a perfectly timed and targeted impact, striking absolutely dead center of the installation during the final phases of activities is beyond calculation! Then there's the trajectory of this ‘meteorite’ —entirely too flat and sustained to have been unpowered, as you claim.”

“Goene is right on all but one account,” Roth concluded. “We were attacked not by missile, but by a super cannon, such as Iraq was developing before Desert Storm. The Jordanians, we presume, discovered what was happening at the center and then, under cover of a meteor shower, propelled an iron ore projectile from a hidden super cannon to destroy it. A cannon would explain the lack of a self-propulsion system. And the Jordanians would have the implausible but defensible argument that we suffered a meteorite hit.”

“All very convincing, gentlemen,” David Lazzlo countered, “except that this projectile is estimated to have weighed over a quarter of a ton at impact. What possible technology exists to hurl an unpowered object of that size over thirty kilometers at such a trajectory?”

“A technology no more incredible than what
we
had created and what we
lost
at the laboratory!” an angry Goene snapped back with a forceful logic that shut Lazzlo down completely.

Allowing a moment for claws to retract, presiding General Zerim rendered his judgment. “Reluctantly, I must agree with Ben and Alleza. The meteorite theory is simply not credible. Like it or not, we must support the position of Defense Minister Tamin. The official IDF line, and our preliminary determination, is mat this was an unprovoked attack. We'll continue investigations and determine the source, at which time we'll inflict an appropriate counter-strike. Our forces will stay on full alert until further notice.”

11

Israeli Negev Research Institute ruins, Negev Desert, southern Israel 9:46
A.M
., Sunday, December 26,1999

W
ith Bollinger's blessings, Feldman and Hunter had returned to the desert the next morning to meet their Japanese eyewitnesses. Outside the perimeter lines of the laboratory ruins, there was nothing more to see in the daylight than had been apparent earlier. Most of the millenarians were gone, but the Israeli military were as entrenched and unyielding as ever. The rival media were also on the scene now.

The morning papers added nothing to what Feldman and Hunter had already known, either. As before, the official word of the Israeli Defense Force was that a hostile missile strike had taken place and that no one as yet had claimed responsibility.

“And that damned defense minister, Shaul Tamin, will never hold a press conference when it comes to Israeli security matters,” Hunter complained aloud to Feldman. Watching the Japanese scientists driving up, the cameraman tossed his newspaper in the back seat and swung out of the Rover to meet them. “We need more than a rehash for our follow-up story. Let's see what our scientist friends here can show us.”

Joined by all four astronomers this time, the reporters formed a hasty caravan and, before the other news teams were on to them, motored out into the desert heading due east.

In less than fifteen minutes, the Japanese identified the ravine where they claimed to have discovered the survivor. True to their account, there were discarded bandage wrappers and gauze, trampled brush, tire and cart tracks and footprints in the gravelly sand. But no sign of the survivor or the Bedouins.

Another hour's sweeping search of the vicinity turned up only a few bands of pilgrims and about twenty more kilograms of what the astronomers claimed were meteorite fragments.

“The couple that picked up the survivor are probably headed toward the main highway, and Jerusalem,” Hunter conjectured, and alerted the Japanese that they were breaking off the search.

Still unsure that their evidence had convinced Feldman and Hunter, the scientists were anxious. “Now you go on TV and tell truth?” the older man pleaded once more.

“You've been very helpful,” Feldman told them all. “We'll give it serious consideration.”

The astronomers thanked both men profusely and headed off to search for more fragments.

After they left, Hunter suggested, “How about we return to the ruins and set up our camera in the same spot as before to cut our follow-up?”

“Fine,” Feldman agreed, “only I don't know exactly how we should handle this. You don't buy into the meteorite crap, do you?”

“Hell no, but I think it's a godsend of a follow-up. The Jesus freaks are gonna have a field day with the news.”

Feldman was not convinced. “I got real problems with that, Breck. That's
National Inquirer
level stuff. If we come out with this meteorite garbage we're just legitimizing the Apocalypse cults. We might as well blow Gideon's trumpet.”

“It's not like we're creating the story here, Jon,” Hunter reasoned. “Those astrologers aren't millenarians, man, they're
professionals!
And eyewitnesses, no less. Bollinger checked them out. We're only reporting their expert opinion!”

“Astronomers,” Feldman corrected him, although he found the slip of tongue interesting. “I don't know, Breck, we really need to be responsible here.”

Hunter shook his head. “Okay, look. Let's go ahead and tape two cuts, including a meteor version. Then when we get back, we'll have these meteor samples we found checked. If they test out as fresh, we go with the story. Or at least let Bollinger rule on it. Fair enough? Hell, what if it does check out? We might be preventing a war here!”

Feldman shrugged. “God, I hate to take what amounts to the only hard news we've covered in three months and turn it into tabloid journalism.” He rose from his seat in the Rover, stretched and looked out at the smoke still emanating from the smoldering ruins. “I want to know what was going on over there. I want to find that survivor.”

12

Dyan IDF military base, Jerusalem, Israel 10:00
A.M
., Sunday, December 26,1999

A
lone in his private office, General Goene's somber mood was interrupted by a knock at the door. An adjutant entered to announce that WNN was telecasting a new development in the Negev Institute story. Swearing, Goene dismissed the assistant with an irritated wave and snatched up his remote control.

Materializing on his TV was a handsome, dark-haired, clean-shaven young man. He was standing in front of the main gate of the shattered Negev installation, a large black rock in his hand, thick smoke twisting up into the sky behind him.

“… substantiated reports from two independent authorities,” the man was saying, and photos of a Tel Aviv University geologist and an Oriental-looking scientist appeared in boxes at the corners of the screen. “The reputed attack on this Israeli research center yesterday may actually have been caused by a natural phenomenon, the impact of a large meteorite.”

The general glowered as the special report cut to taped interviews with the two authorities, who documented their claims with more large specimens of blackened ore.

“In their search for these meteorite fragments,” the reporter continued, “the team of astronomers also came across what they believe to be the only person to survive the disaster. A young female in her early twenties, short in height, slight build, dark hair, suffering from multiple injuries and possibly in a state of shock. She was last seen early yesterday morning near the explosion site, in the care of a Bedouin couple.”

Cursing loudly, Goene smashed the remote control to his desk and grabbed for the phone. “Get me Lazzlo!” he shouted into the receiver, staring at the next news story without seeing it.

A minute later, the voice of Intelligence Commander David Lazzlo came over the speakerphone.

Goene disregarded Lazzlo's greeting. “I presume you caught the TV broadcast?” the general fumed. “They've gotten on to your meteor bullshit, and now they're talking about a survivor. A shell-shocked woman. God knows what information she'll spill! Where are we on a body count? If there is a survivor, I want to know who the hell she is and I want her found.
Now,
Goddammit!”

13

WNN news bureau, Jerusalem, Israel 9:17
A.M
., Monday, December 27,1999

Y
ou struck a nerve, guys!” Bollinger congratulated Hunter and Feldman at the staff meeting. “The IDF is all hot over your meteorite story! And the survivor thing? Denying it so hard it's gotta be true!”

They'd never seen the bureau chief this enthused.

“We just got an official cable from the defense minister, Shaul Tamin himself,” Bollinger gloated, “personally demanding an immediate retraction. Tamin's releasing official government figures showing that the odds of a celestial object striking their facility are over six billion to one. He's threatening reprisals against Jordan. And Jordan's accusing the Israelis of self-sabotage as a ploy to derail the peace talks.”

“Is there any word from U.S. intelligence on the cause of the explosion?” Cissy asked.

“Nothing,” Bollinger replied. “So far, the allies can't come up with a better explanation than the meteorite. No one's claimed responsibility. Even the Hezbollah and Hamas plead innocent, for once.”

“I thought you might like to know”—Feldman offered up another tidbit—”I got a fax from Dr. Omato and his colleagues complaining that the IDF is attempting to revoke their visas.”

“I'll call our contacts in the Knesset and see what I can do,” Bollinger offered, frowning. “But the good news is,” and the bureau chief resumed his beaming, “WNN viewership is soaring. Our ratings are through the roof and we're getting additional funds and personnel to expand our investigations.”

While gratified by the turn of events, Feldman nevertheless couldn't overlook the global effects the meteorite story was having. Increasingly, predictions of a Second Coming were receiving worldwide attention and, for many people, a significant credibility boost. Millennial fervor was intensifying.

But there was yet another, more subtle change occurring in the collective millenarian psyche. The carefree attitudes once commonly held for the corning New Year had transmuted into a more sobering realization. Suddenly, the promise/curse of the new millennium was more tangible. And now, each night in Jerusalem, there were more and larger rallies, lasting later around blazing bonfires, stoked by equally fiery sermons. For the millenarians, the Last Day was rapidly approaching. And the world was watching.

14

National Ministry of the Universal Kingdom, Dallas, Texas 10:30
P.M.
Wednesday, December 29,1999

T
he Right Reverend Solomon T. Brady, D.D., a short, thick-set, red-faced man with a perfect white pompadour, was furious at WNN. He loathed the sensationalistic media attention freely bestowed on the ludicrous millenarians while his legitimate ministry had to pay thousands of dollars per minute for its vital broadcast time.

More to the point, he was peeved at the increasing allure the millennialists were exerting on his own flock. Brady fully recognized that his evangelistic followers were vulnerable to this type of apocalyptic appeal. But, while his own message may have traded somewhat on the fears of a Second Coming, he wasn't so opportunistic or obvious as to exploit the issue simply because the millennium was at hand.

Nor so shortsighted. While these millennialists might be having their day in the sun now, nightfall was rapidly approaching. Reverend Brady's lost sheep would quickly return to the fold come New Year's Day, more loyal and giving than ever. Finally, they'd comprehend what he'd been insistently preaching all along: that the Cataclysm would occur at a time no mortal man could foretell. Just as Christ had stated.

Meanwhile, however, the Right Reverend had to endure the most difficult period of his ministry. His congregation, which had once numbered just shy of eight hundred thousand, had contracted substantially of late. Today's news was worse. Reverend Brady knew this in advance, looking up from his broad mahogany desk to find his chief accounting officer standing before him, shifting annoyingly from one foot to the other. The accountant had arrived in Brady's office as inconspicuously as an undertaker, to reluctantly present a report of the Universal Kingdom's latest contribution figures.

Reverend Brady impatiently flipped to the last pages to discover that receipts were off yet another seven percent from last week's depressing five-point decline. He angrily rejected the document back across his desk, sending a twenty-nine-dollar 1998 Universal Kingdom commemorative ashtray to its ruin on the marble floor. Without a word, Brady turned to scowl out his window at the bustling campus far below.

15

Mount of the Ascension, Jerusalem, Israel 5:30
P.M.,
Friday, December 31,1999

T
he Mount of the Ascension was the highest elevation in Jerusalem, its summit rising about four hundred meters above the city. Also known as Mount of Olives, at its base lay the sacred Garden of Gethsemane, where Christ last meditated prior to His arrest and Crucifixion. Between Gethsemane and the Golden Gate of the city was the deep and narrow Cedron Valley, a large Jewish cemetery.