That night Mr. Stein asked Judd to tell his story. As the meeting began, Kasim walked in. He smiled at Judd.
“You thought you could avoid me, Judd? Aren’t you going to help me with the plan?”
“No,” Judd said. “I’m sorry. And I think you should—”
Kasim interrupted. “But you led me here, right? You’re helping me without even knowing it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“General Zimmerman is known for his collection of military weapons. Where does he keep them?”
General Zimmerman had given Judd and the others a tour of his home and had shown them guns dating back to the American Civil War. There were swords and shields from the Roman Empire. And, as Kasim believed, the collection upstairs also contained some of the most recent weaponry.
“Come to the front and tell your story,” Mr. Stein said. People turned and looked at Judd.
“Don’t do this,” Judd whispered to Kasim.
Judd was almost finished with his story when Kasim walked down the steps with something under his arm. He caught Judd’s attention and held out a rifle. Seconds later Kasim was out the door and gone.
Vicki wished she could help Mark and Conrad with the satellite feed, but the maze of wires and electronic equipment overwhelmed her. The kids worked frantically to link up, but nothing worked. The next satellite school transmission was hours away, and the Gala was fast approaching.
“Can’t we mail the recording to Carl?” Vicki said.
“The GC inspects all the packages,” Mark said. “We should have taken it to him.”
Conrad talked with Carl in Florida and tried different switches. “Let me put you on the speaker.”
“Isn’t this dangerous for you, Carl?” Vicki said.
“I’m off duty in a truck parked next to our main studio,” Carl said. “I’m okay as long as they don’t catch me.”
“What do we do now?” Conrad said.
“Try it again. If we can get this to work, I’ll record here and then figure out how to put it on the main feed to the stadiums.”
Tolan crawled into the room and bumped against the door. He wailed. Conrad yelled, “Get that kid out of here!”
Vicki picked Tolan up and comforted him. Lenore came and took him upstairs. Vicki knew the pressure of the uplink and the summer heat had everyone frazzled.
The satellite schools attracted record crowds of kids around the world. More were attending and seemed to buy what was being taught by the speakers. It was the perfect time to break in with their message, but Vicki worried that their plan was going to fail.
The satellite school was popular because of the topnotch celebrities and entertainment. Each broadcast featured a film star, a sports celebrity, or a musical artist who would praise the work of the Global Community. On the Friday before the GC Gala, the kids were surprised to see a stage in the shape of a dove.
“What are they going to do with that?” Shelly said.
Vicki shook her head. “Whatever it is, it’s part of the GC’s brainwashing.”
Lionel convinced Judd and the others to let him go to Teddy Kollek Stadium to observe the latest satellite presentation. Mr. Stein reluctantly agreed when Lionel promised he would stay outside and watch on the huge monitors. Lionel grabbed a stack of flyers and headed out the door.
The sun was setting orange and yellow as Lionel neared the stadium. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Sam.
“You can’t be here,” Lionel said. “The GC could recognize—” “Stop. We’re both taking a chance.”
Lionel pointed to a small, box-shaped shack outside Teddy Kollek Stadium. Around the structure were free handouts. A sign above said “Read the Latest from Tsion Ben-Judah!”
“They must think we’re stupid,” Lionel said.
A few kids in black clothes passed the shack and jeered. One grabbed a few pamphlets and tore them up. Another tried to set fire to the canopy that hung over the racks. Soon a crowd had gathered and kids chanted, “Death to Ben-Judah! Death to Ben-Judah!”
Sam frowned. “Looks like the GC’s training is working.”
A husky boy ran at the structure and hit it full force, like a linebacker tackling a running back. Boards cracked and pamphlets flew into the air. A window opened and two uniformed Peacekeepers with video equipment shooed the kids away.
While the Peacekeepers tried to repair the damage, Lionel spotted a GC motorcade. They drove straight into the stadium and onto the field near the dove-shaped stage.
The cars were greeted with a deafening roar. First out of a long, black limo was the head of GC education, Dr. Neal Damosa. He ran onstage like a rock star.
Sam tapped Lionel on the shoulder and pointed behind them, where a huge transport plane approached. Lionel shrugged and moved closer to the monitor.
“Fellow citizens of the Global Community, I welcome you in the name of peace!”
The stadium roared again as people inside and outside came to their feet. Lionel noticed there was a delay between what happened inside the stadium and what he was seeing on the monitor.
The plane passed directly over the stadium and banked left. Several objects fell out a side door. Lionel counted ten specks falling toward earth.
Damosa quieted the crowd and took control. “We come in peace, in a place of peace—Jerusalem. This city and its people were made a promise by Potentate Carpathia more than three years ago, a promise that has been kept. And so we gather on this stage and stand on this symbol of unity and peace, where in a few short days there will be a celebration like no other in the history of the world.”
Again the crowd cheered. Damosa invited young people from every continent to join them in Jerusalem. He pointed to the sky. “Watch and see the precision of the Global Community, as members of the Peacekeeping Paratroopers descend to this very stage!”
The parachutes opened, and the ten slowly fell to earth. An announcer read the names of each Peacekeeper, one from each of Nicolae Carpathia’s ten regions. Smoke trailed from the paratroopers as one by one they landed on different points of the dove. At each landing, the crowd screamed and yelled. When only one paratrooper was left, Damosa ran to a small platform in the center of the stage.
“The final member of the team will attempt to land right where I’m standing, carrying a flag with the insignia of the Global Community.”
“He’s going to try and land on that little square?” Sam said.
Lionel nodded. “These people are good.”
The announcer called the name of the last jumper, a female from the United Carpathian States. The crowd hushed as she floated over the stadium, spinning in a circle. When she fell quickly, the crowd gasped and Lionel thought she was out of control. Suddenly, she pushed the toggles she held and landed perfectly on the small X in the middle of the platform.
The crowd went wild. A searchlight flashed in the sky, and thousands of doves flew through the light. Drums beat while cameras followed the flight of the birds. A screaming electric guitar pierced the air, and the cameras focused on the stage, which was completely enveloped by fog.
“It’s that smoke and fire again!” someone next to Lionel said.
The crowd panicked. Dr. Damosa walked forward calmly. “We told you to expect something special, and here they are, live, The Four Horsemen!”
Lionel shook his head as the most popular band in the world launched into their wild and frenzied music. They had risen to fame a few months earlier with their song “Hoofbeats.” They bashed Tsion Ben-Judah, Christianity, Jesus, and anything to do with the underground church. Lionel wasn’t surprised that the Global Community embraced the group, but to link them with the satellite schools was a stroke of genius on their part.
Kids clapped, screamed, and sang along with lead singer Z-Van. He wore wraparound sunglasses and a skintight outfit that made Lionel wonder how he could possibly dance around the edge of the stage without falling off. GC security allowed kids to stream onto the infield and surround
the huge dove.
Z-Van screamed his lyrics and the audience screamed back. When the first song was over, he stood on the edge of the dove, spread his arms wide, and fell backward into the crowd. The music rose, and the singer belted out more hateful lyrics as he rode the crowd like a surfboard.
Vicki peeked into the makeshift control room. Carl was on the phone going over their connections from the room to the satellite truck again with Conrad. “What happens when you try the auto-alignment?”
“It still reads Error,” Conrad said. “I’ve tried it a million times.”
“Shut the whole system down. We’ll start over,” Carl said.
Mark flipped switches, and the monitors went dead. The kids in the other room, still watching the Four Horsemen on TV, asked what had happened. Vicki explained.
“I used to really like these guys,” Janie said. “Now I think they’re sick. I wish they knew the truth.”
Vicki asked everyone to pray. One by one, the kids asked God to do something miraculous.
Conrad motioned Vicki inside the control room. “I’m sorry about yelling at Tolan. I’m just—”
“It’s okay,” Vicki said. “You can give Lenore some free babysitting when this is over.”
Conrad smiled. “It’s a deal.”
“Powering up!” Mark said as he flipped switches throughout the room. A few moments later the band was back on the monitors. Z-Van was now wearing a horse costume. As he sang, flames shot into the air.
Shelly put a hand on Vicki’s shoulder. “Their music is bad, but you have to admit they’re kind of cute.”
Vicki shook her head. “All of their songs are just twisted lyrics from Dr. Ben-Judah’s e-mail messages. I can’t get past that.”
“Okay, I have a green light on the controller,” Conrad said. “I think the auto-alignment’s working.”
Mark turned on the camera and pointed it toward Charlie’s painting. “Carl, if this is working right you should be—”
“I’m getting something from New Babylon.”
Mark walked in front of the camera and waved. “How about now?”
“Wow!” Carl said. “I thought that was real. Great job on the painting.”
“So you have us?” Conrad said.
“Picture’s perfect. Let me get ready to record.” Carl tapped at his keyboard and his computer blipped. “Okay. Go ahead and upload the drop-in.”
Conrad searched the hard drive and inserted a different disk in the computer.
“What’s wrong?” Vicki said.
“It’s not here. When we powered down, we must have lost it.”
The noise from the concert rose as The Four Horsemen ended a song. Z-Van threw the microphone into the air and caught it behind his back. “This will be our last tune before we take a break. Then Dr. Damosa has a few words. Put your hands together and help us out on this one!” The crowd went wild as drums beat and fireworks shot from all sides of the stage.
Vicki shook her head. “This would be the perfect time to play the message.”
“You’re right,” Carl said, “and after the band finishes, you’ll be on.”
“What do you mean?” Vicki said. “We can’t find the recording.”
“Forget the recording. We’re going live!”
22
VICKI stared at the phone, then looked at Mark and Conrad. “Is he serious?”
Mark nodded. “Can you get back into your GC getup? This song won’t last long.”
“But how—”
“I’ll put your script on the monitor,” Conrad said. “You’ll be even better live than on the recording.”
Janie ran upstairs. “I’ll get the outfit for you.”
Conrad pulled up the text of Vicki’s message as Mark checked in with Carl. “How are you going to jam this onto the main GC signal?”
“I checked the wiring a few days ago and rigged the truck just for this. The guys inside think they have control, but I routed the main signal through here.”
“What if they figure it out?”
“I’ve got a tiny camera in the GC control room,” Carl said. “I’ll monitor them and switch back to the main feed if they get close.”
“Are you sure you’ll be safe?”
“They don’t know I’m here. If Vicki plays it cool and takes direction, we’ll be fine. Remember, we’ll only have four or five minutes.”
Janie returned with the clothes and Vicki changed in the downstairs bathroom. When she came out, the band finished their song and the crowd went wild. The Four Horsemen waved and hurried offstage.
“Get in position!” Conrad said.
Mark picked up the phone. “I’ll relay any directions. We don’t want the GC hearing Carl’s voice in the background.”
Vicki grabbed Janie’s arm. “Get the others and pray.”
The sound was deafening as Lionel stood outside the arena. Thousands cheered and fireworks exploded overhead. Cameras panned the stadium, showing kids screaming and waving cigarette lighters in the dark.
Finally the audience settled, and the camera focused on Dr. Damosa. Before he could speak, the picture switched to a scene in New Babylon. A girl in a suit walked in front of the camera.
“Pretty cool concert, brought to you by your friends at the Global Community Department of Education. We’ll get back to The Four Horsemen and Dr. Neal Damosa in just a moment, but first an information time-out.”
“I don’t believe it!” Lionel said.
“What’s wrong?” Sam said.
“That’s a friend of mine. Vicki. This is going to really be cool.”
Vicki felt the heat of the overhead light as she continued. What she had written for the recorded version didn’t seem appropriate now, so Vicki improvised.
“My name is Vicki B. I’m the new ambassador to youth for the Global Community. On behalf of Dr. Damosa, the Peacekeepers, Morale Monitors, and our potentate, Nicolae Carpathia, I want to thank you all for making this satellite school program a huge success.”
Carl Meninger’s hands trembled inside the satellite truck in Florida. As he listened to Vicki, he studied the control room inside the GC Communications Compound. When Carl had first switched to Vicki, several people jumped. The engineer held his hands over the console and said, “I didn’t do that. What’s going on?”
Carl heard them through a tiny speaker near his monitor. Just as Carl was about to switch back to the regular feed, someone said, “Oh, this must be one of those drop-in segments.”
“Yeah,” another said. “They’re probably feeding this from Israel.”
“I can see why they picked this girl. She’s cute.”
Vicki wanted to be calm and just read the script, but something told her to wing it. Be creative. She knew she had to connect with viewers. If they sensed she was nervous, they would tune out.
Vicki ran a hand through her hair and said, “You know, it’s a good idea to analyze the lyrics of songs. I used to listen to whatever was on the radio, and I told myself the words didn’t really matter. But as a peace-loving follower of Nicolae Carpathia, you need to understand what people are saying.
“A good place to start tonight is Z-Van’s lyrics. The latest Four Horsemen recording is ‘Praying to Air.’ I don’t know all the words, but in the chorus Z-Van sings, ‘You’re praying to air, you’re talking to sky, your mind’s full of mush, ’cause you’re willing to die … for a book.’
“What Z-Van is talking about there, of course, are the followers of Rabbi Tsion Ben-Judah. Some call them Judah-ites. Others say they’re followers of Jesus. Whatever you want to call them, you have to admit there’s a lot of them out there.
“The book Z-Van refers to is the Bible. As a matter of fact, I have one right here.”
Lionel listened closely as Vicki read different verses. Some in the stadium booed when she pulled out the Bible, but most who were outside watched and listened with their arms folded. They seemed a little skeptical, but Vicki had their interest.
“I wo
nder how they’re pulling this off,” Sam said.
“I don’t know, but this is the best thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
Carl watched Vicki and smiled. He checked the clock. Three minutes into the broadcast.
A phone rang in the GC control room. Carl turned Vicki down as he watched the engineer sit up straight in his chair. “No, sir. We thought it was coming from you. ” A long pause. “Yes, sir. Right on it, sir.”
The engineer slammed the phone down. “The feed’s not coming from them.”
“Then where—”
“I don’t know. Just figure out a way to cut this girl off. Now!”
Carl grabbed the phone. “I’m going to have to cut Vicki off. Give her thirty seconds.”
Vicki watched Mark type “30 seconds” on the screen. Vicki nodded.
“So, while many people call the followers of Ben-Judah crazy, weirdos, and even dangerous, we all have to admit that what this rabbi has been saying has come true.
“Think about that. Potentate Carpathia says we should be tolerant of other beliefs and religions. Maybe it would be helpful to talk more about what these Judahites think in our next segment.
“I’m Vicki B. Let’s get back to the fun.”
The feed switched to Teddy Kollek Stadium. The audience sat in silence until a frazzled Dr. Damosa came on the screen.
“Perfect, Vicki,” Mark said. “Carl says congratulations. Your timing’s flawless.”
“Yeah, but why did you use your real name?” Conrad said.
Vicki shrugged. “It just kind of happened. I think it sounds better than Connie Goodwill. When can I go on again?”
“Stand by,” Mark said.
Carl watched the GC control room settle. The engineer had hit every switch and turned every knob possible. Just as Vicki had finished, they hit a power switch and Carl switched back to Jerusalem.
“Leave that off,” the engineer yelled. “It must have something to do with it.”
Shaken Page 15
