The Elect
Tuesday, August 13,2019 – New York
Over dinner in Decker's apartment Christopher brought Decker up to date on his trip to Israel and the events surrounding the death of Alice Bernley. Robert Milner had stayed behind in Israel to take care of the arrangements for Alice's body. Christopher explained that though there were still a few fine points to be ironed out, he was hopeful that the treaty with Israel would be signed in mid-September and would go into effect by the end of the month. Afterward Decker gave Christopher a detailed rundown of the efforts to choose a new Secretary-General. The two candidates, Kruszkegin from Northern Asia and Clark of the United States, had each tried to add to their support but without any success.
It was a very strange dance to watch. Since whoever was ultimately chosen would need the approval of every other member, neither man wanted to risk stepping on the other's toes as they climbed over the other, hoping to get to the top. Two days had passed with no change among the Security Council members, and then Ambassador Lee of China, who had thus far abstained, decided that she could not support either candidate despite her personal friendship with Kruszkegin. Acting quickly, the members who had originally nominated the ambassador from the Pacific Basin and then had substituted Kruszkegin to secure the votes of East and West Africa, again made a switch. Their new candidate was the Frenchman Albert Moore. Moore held the votes of those who had previously supported Kruszkegin and had added China, which considered the European the least objectionable candidate. India, which had originally supported Jackson Clark of the U.S., when faced with a choice between the American and the European, had decided to abstain. So as far as anyone could tell, the vote was now six to three in favor of Moore. Decker waited until after they ate before getting to the part about Moore. There was no reason to ruin Christopher's appetite.
Just then the phone rang. Decker answered and heard a familiar voice. It was Jackie Hansen from Christopher's office at the U.N. After her father's death Christopher had hired Jackie as his chief administrative assistant. The reason for the call was an unexpected request for an appointment early the next morning. Normally, Christopher got in at about 7:30, but he had planned to go in late the next day so he could catch up on some lost sleep. The circumstances of the request made him put his other plans on hold. Two of the top generals from the World Peace Organization, Lieutenant General Robert McCoid, Commanding General of the United Nations Military Observer Group in India and Pakistan (UNMOGIP), and Major General Alexander Duggan, recently assigned to WPO military headquarters in Brussels, Belgium, had arrived in New York without any advance notice and had asked to meet with Christopher as early as possible. Such a request was quite unusual, and for that very reason Christopher quickly agreed to meet them in his office at 6:45 the next morning.
Wednesday, August 14,2019
The two men were hardly noticed the next morning when they arrived to meet with Christopher, which was the way they wanted it. Jackie Hansen had arrived early to give the office the illusion of activity at the early hour; the rest of the staff would not arrive for at least an hour, and it didn't seem right to have the generals greeted by an empty office. Christopher and Jackie were both in the reception area when their visitors arrived.
As a rule generals can be very serious people but these two had something particularly sobering on their minds. They would have preferred to get right to the heart of the matter, but an issue of this magnitude had to be approached with great care.
En Kerem, Israel
Scott Rosen sat alone at his kitchen table eating his dinner. Outside, as the evening drew near, he could hear the voice of a neighbor calling her children in from their play. For a moment he thought back to his own childhood and the times he had spent playing with the children in his neighborhood. Often his grandfather, who had lived with them, would come out and throw a softball with him; or they would take a walk together through a nearby park and talk about what Scott was learning in Hebrew school, or about the weather. Sometimes his grandfather would talk about his wife. Scott had never known his grandmother and he could listen for hours to his grandfather talk about her.
The steam from Scott's chicken soup – his mother's recipe – rose before him and brought him back to the present, but as he looked around he became aware that he was not where he thought he was. This was his parents' house; the one they had owned in the United States when he was a boy. Before him the table was set for five. Near his father's place sat a large brass plate with sprigs of parsley, a small dollop of horseradish, a larger dollop of an apple mixture called charoseth, the shank bone of a lamb, and a roasted egg. Next to it was another plate stacked with matzah. The table was obviously set forpesach – the Passover. Four of the five places were set for Scott, his parents, and his grandfather. The extra place, in accordance with tradition, was set for the prophet Elijah should he choose to return from heaven and grace their table with his presence.
Scott gave his head a quick shake and when that failed to have any effect on his circumstances, he tried rubbing his eyes. "Scott, come in here and help your mother," said a woman's voice from the kitchen. It was his mother, Liana Rosen. As he heard the voice, it was as though the memory of his adult life had been but a dream. He tried to recall what he had been thinking but the memory was fading too fast. All he could latch onto were a few, small, disassociated parts. He remembered that in the dream of his future there was something about his grandfather dying and him going to Israel; about his parents coming to live in Israel and him telling the authorities that they… but the rest of that memory was gone; about his parents dying… about a war with Russia… and… Scott brushed the thoughts away as the meaningless vestiges of a daydream and ran in to help his mother in the kitchen.
"Your father and grandfather will be home soon," Scott's mother said when he came into the kitchen. "We need to hurry with the preparations for Passover." Outside the sun was setting, marking the beginning of the Passover Shabbat or Sabbath. Liana Rosen worked at the cork in the bottle of red wine. "Here," she said as she handed the bottle to Scott, "see what you can do with it." Scott gripped the bottle firmly and gave it a tug. The already-loosened cork came easily. "Wonderful! "Liana said, as she clapped her hands. "Now take it to the table but be careful not to spill any when you fill the glasses.
Scott poured the wine into the glasses for his parents and grandfather, half a glass for himself, and then very carefully he poured Elijah's cup. This was a very special wine glass, made of hand-cut leaded crystal – though this had always seemed strange to Scott because the glass was clear and he could see no lead in it. Still, it was a very special glass, taken out only for the Passover. For just an instant Scott seemed to have a memory of having broken this glass as he took it from the cupboard when he was fifteen. But that was silly: Scott was only eleven.
Behind him, Scott heard the front door open and turned to see his father and grandfather. Scott stopped what he was doing, ran over to his grandfather, and hugged him with all his might. How wonderful, he thought, to hug his grandfather again. As this thought occurred to him he remembered a part of his daydream: his grandfather had died, a thought that made him shudder. But that was all a dream. Still, he took tremendous pleasure in feeling his grandfather's arms around him again.
Soon the Passover meal or seder began and progressed through each step as directed by the tfaggadah, which serves as a sort of a Passover guide book with descriptions, recitations, and the words to songs sung at points during the meal. First was the brechat haner, or kindling of candles; then the kiddush, the first cup, which is the cup of blessing; the urchatz, which is the first of two ceremonial washings of hands; the karpas, when parsley is dipped in salt water to represent the tears that Israel shed while slaves in Egypt and the salt water of the Red Sea. Next was the yachutz, when the father takes the middle of three matzahs from a white cloth pouch called the echad (meaning unity, or one), breaks the matzah in half, places one halfback in the echad and the other half in a separate linen covering. Later, as directed by the Haggadah, the father hides the broken piece of matzah, called the Afikomen (a Greek word meaning 'I have come') somewhere at the table. The youngest member of the family then must search until he finds it. When he does, he takes the Afikomen to his father to be redeemed for a gift or money. This had always been Scott's favorite part of the seder. But Scott would have to wait until later in the dinner for that.
After the breaking of the middle piece of matzah came the maggid, the retelling of the story of Moses and the Passover, and then the ma-nishtanah, or four questions. Scott, as the youngest member of the family, in his best Hebrew, would recite four questions about the Passover, each of which was answered in turn by his father. Then came the recitation of the ten plagues which had befallen the Egyptians. This part had always been a little funny to Scott because the Haggadah directs that, as each plague is named, those at the table are to stick a finger in their wine and sprinkle a drop on their plate.
Everything was the same as it had been every other year until the family sang one of the traditional Passover songs called 'Dayenu,' which means, 'We would have been satisfied.' The song is a happy, upbeat piece sung in Hebrew, which names some of the things that God did for the people of Israel. After each verse is the chorus which consists entirely of repeating the one word, 'dayenu.' In English the words to the song would be:
If He had merely rescued us from Egypt, but had not punished the Egyptians "
Dayenu (we would have been satisfied) If He had merely punished the Egyptians, but had not destroyed their gods
Dayenu
If He had merely destroyed their gods, but had not slain their first born Dayenu.
And so the song continued, each time stating that if God had only done what was mentioned in the previous verse and not done the next additional things, the singers – representing all of Israel – would have been satisfied.
As they sang the last verse which speaks of the Temple, Scott's grandfather suddenly stopped singing and shouted, "No!" Scott looked at him confused. "It's not true," his grandfather said. "Dayenu is a lie! We only fool ourselves."
"We only fool ourselves!" agreed Scott's parents.
This was not in the Haggadah. Something was wrong. And then without a sound, immediately there was another presence at the table. A man reached across the table in front of Scott and took the Afikomen, which had not yet been hidden, from beside Scott's father's plate. The man was sitting at the place set for Elijah. Scott recognized him at once as Rabbi Saul Cohen. But this made no sense at all. Scott didn't know anyone named Saul Cohen, except… except perhaps in that strange dream. How could he be here in Scott's home and sitting in the place of Elijah and drinking from Elijah's cup, the special cup that Scott's parents kept only for the seder and from which no one was allowed to drink?
"Let us fool ourselves no longer," Cohen said.
It was nearly midnight when Scott found himself once again an adult and in his home in a suburb outside of Jerusalem. His soup was now hours cold and the only light was from a digital clock and a street light outside. He was exhausted. For a few moments he just sat there. If he had any thoughts that the events of the past few hours in his childhood home had all been a dream, they were quickly dispelled. Near him at the table, in the position that had been Elijah's place in his dream or vision, where he had seen Cohen, was a three-quarters-empty glass of wine. It was Elijah's cup; the one which had irreparably shattered into a hundred pieces when he took it from the cupboard when he was fifteen. Even in the subdued light he recognized it. Scott sat back into his chair and noticed the plate beneath his bowl sitting askew on the table before him. There was something under it. He raised the plate and found underneath it the Afikomen, hidden for him to find and redeem.
Thursday, August 15,2019 – New York
French Ambassador Albert Moore's secretary showed Christopher Goodman into the office where Moore and his chief of staff awaited his arrival. "Good morning, Mr. Ambassador," Moore said, addressing Christopher. "Please come in."
"Thank you, Mr. Ambassador," Christopher responded. "I appreciate your seeing me on such short notice. I know how busy you must be."
"Well, you said it was urgent."
"It is."
"Oh, you know my chief of staff, Mr. Poupardin?"
"Yes, we've met," answered Christopher, as he extended his hand.
"Now, to business. Your message said that this has to do with the World Peace Organization."
"Yes, sir. As you know the situation in Pakistan has become critical. Voluntary relief supplies simply aren't sufficient. And much of what is sent is not reaching those who need it the most. Hundreds are dying of starvation every day and thousands of others become candidates for starvation. Cholera is claiming thousands more. Unless the United Nations responds quickly with sufficient quantities of food and medicine and the personnel to administer their distribution, this could result in the death of millions."
As Christopher spoke, Moore and Poupardin exchanged a puzzled look. The look remained on Moore's face as he began to speak. "Let me assure you, Mr. Ambassador, that I am as concerned as you with the problems in that region. In fact, I met with the new ambassador from Pakistan on that matter just two weeks ago, along with Ambassador Gandhi. It is my sincere hope that more will be done, and soon. But," Moore continued as he wrinkled his brow still further in puzzlement, "isn't this an issue for ECOSOC and the Food and Agriculture Organization? I thought you wanted to see me about the WPO."
"The matter of supplying food to the region is, indeed, a matter for the FAO," Christopher responded, "but the unrest that results from the food shortages is an issue that concerns the WPO." Moore let Christopher continue without responding. "As the previous Chairman of the WPO, you are no doubt aware of the problems that have plagued WPO's supply lines over the last two years: thirty-six million dollars' worth of weapons and equipment lost in warehouse thefts; fourteen million dollars lost and two people killed in hijacked shipments; and another 141 million dollars' worth of equipment simply listed as 'unaccounted for.'"
Moore and Poupardin looked at each other in surprise. Moore had no idea losses had been that high. He didn't want to let on just how little he had kept track of such matters when he was Chairman of WPO, but he had to ask. "Just a question of clarification," he began. "What percentages of those losses occurred during the time that I was Chairman; and how much has been reported in the last three and a half weeks, since you've been in charge?"
"Those figures reflect the losses as of six weeks before I took over as Chairman of WPO."
"Oh," Moore responded. "I had no idea they were so high." Better to openly admit ignorance than acknowledge negligence, he concluded. Christopher's expression showed neither surprise nor anger at Moore's admission.
"So, how does the situation in Pakistan fit into this?" Moore asked, wanting to move from the issue of his negligence as quickly as possible.
"In the last twenty-four hours I have been presented with what I believe to be incontrovertible evidence that the director of the WPO, General Brooks, is personally responsible for at least ninety-five percent of the weapons and equipment missing from WPO."
Moore and his chief of staff looked at each other again. It was beginning to appear as if they had some nonverbal means of communication and that neither would speak without first checking with his counterpart. "But why would General Brooks be stealing his own weapons?" Moore's chief of staff asked.
Christopher ignored the naivete of the question. "Apparently he has been selling the weapons to insurgent groups, sometimes for cash and other times in exchange for drugs which are in turn sold for cash."
"That's a very serious charge," said Poupardin, this time without stopping to check with Moore. "I assume you have evidence to back it up."
"I would not make such a charge unless I was sure I could prove it."
Moore and Poupardin mulled this over for a moment, still without words. "Well," said Moore finally, "I suppose you'll be initiating an investigation."
"Yes. Time is of the essence, but I don't believe it's possible to carry out a full and complete investigation so long as General Brooks remains in command. That's why I came to you. I intend to ask the Security Council for approval to immediately place General Brooks on suspension, putting Lieutenant General McCoid in temporary command and granting me full authority over the agency until the matter is resolved. Before I do so, I thought that, as I have so recently taken over from you as Chairman of WPO, professional courtesy required that I first inform you of my intentions and that I make you aware of the reasons for my actions."
Moore thought fast. The look on his face said that something about Christopher's plans did not go well at all with his own. "Well, I appreciate that," he said. "Actually, it's a very good thing that you talked to me first." Suddenly Moore had become very friendly. "I'm afraid this might be the worst possible time for you to broach this subject with the Security Council."
"I don't believe that putting it off is an option," answered Christopher. "The situation on the Indian-Pakistani border requires immediate action."
"I understand your concern, but… Well, let me bring you up to date on a few things." Moore got up and walked around his desk, still sounding as though he had nothing but everyone's best interest at heart. "As you know, the selection process for a new Secretary-General has been going on for several weeks now. And I'm sure it's no surprise to you that right now the choice seems to be between myself and Ambassador Clark of the United States. At the last vote six regions voted for me, three voted for Ambassador Clark, and India abstained. The next vote is scheduled for Monday, four days from now. Nobody else knows it yet but I've gotten a firm commitment from Ambassador Fahd to support me on the next vote and we're very close to reaching an agreement with India. That will leave Ambassador Clark with only two votes; North and South America. With that kind of majority Clark will be forced to concede.
"Now, you're a reasonable man," Moore continued. "You obviously realize that if you're right about what General Brooks has been doing with WPO resources, I had nothing to do with it. But some people might not see it that way." Moore's was at least a sin of omission: he had almost entirely ignored his responsibilities when he was Chairman of the WPO and had handpicked Brooks when the previous commanding general retired. Brooks and Moore were old allies.
"They might try to blame me for Brooks' actions," Moore said. "If this comes out right now, the American is sure to try to use it to ruin my candidacy for Secretary-General." Christopher was about to interrupt but Moore held up his hand to stop him. "Now, I understand," Moore continued, "the urgency of getting to the bottom of this, but there must be some other way for you to conduct your investigation without bringing the matter to the Security Council just yet.".
"Mr. Ambassador," Christopher responded, "anything less than a direct route will cost time that I do not think we have to spare. Even if the Security Council grants my request immediately, it will take six to eight weeks to make the needed changes in personnel and to ensure that adequate equipment and supplies reach our troops on the Indian-Pakistani Border."
"Now the last thing I want to do is to prevent you from doing something you feel that you have to," Moore answered. "That's not the way I operate. And, besides, if I should be chosen as the nominee for Secretary-General, and if I am approved by the General Assembly, well, then, of course no one can be sure, but you could very possibly replace me as Primary on the Security Council." Moore wanted to point that out, just in case the possibility had escaped Christopher's attention. "The last thing I want is to cast a shadow on our future relationship. However," Moore paused, "with so much riding on this, for both of us and for the whole world, I suggest that you explore every possible option before you do anything imprudent."
Christopher's response was terse, but his voice showed no anger. "I have explored every possible option."
"And you feel this is your only course?"
"Yes."
Moore's frustration was growing harder for him to conceal. "Can you wait at least four days?" he urged.
"No, I don't believe I can."
Moore looked at his chief of staff and shook his head. "I think he's in league with the American ambassador," Poupardin interjected.
"He may be an Italian citizen now, but he was bom in America." Then Poupardin addressed Christopher directly. "Why else would you be so inflexible?"
"Gerard!" Moore said sternly, calling his chief of staff to heel.
"Please, forgive me, Mr Ambassador," Poupardin sputtered with a well-trained show of remorse.
"I, too, ask your forgiveness for Gerard's injudicious response," Moore said. "But you must realize that many in Europe may see this the same way." Moore was getting desperate. Poupardin had intentionally made the charge the way he did just so that Moore could call him down and then make essentially the same charge but seem entirely proper about it because the subject had already been broached. It was an effective ploy, and it was not the first time they had used it.
"Consider this," Moore said. "Within a week I could be Secretary-General and you could be the new Primary member representing Europe. While General Brooks' actions are reprehensible – if indeed he is guilty as you charge – his removal will have little immediate impact on the problem. You said yourself, it will take six to eight weeks to make all the changes you want to make. And, in truth, even if you make all of these changes, it will have only limited impact on the delivery of food to the starving, and that, after all, is what all of us really want. Now, if you will delay your action until after the vote, you have my word that I will apply the full influence and power of the position of Secretary-General both to speed the changes you feel are necessary for WPO, and to ensure that adequate distribution of food reaches those who need it."
Christopher considered Moore's argument. It had merit. Finally he yielded.
"Excellent!" Moore said.
"But," Christopher added, "in exchange, I want your assurance that whatever the outcome of the vote on Monday, you will help get my request approved by the Security Council."
"Of course," Moore promised.
Poupardin apologized again for his comment and Christopher was soon on his way.
"That man could be dangerous," Poupardin said as soon as Christopher was gone. "What would you have done if he had refused to wait?"
"Gerard, it is my destiny to be Secretary-General. I would have done whatever was necessary." Poupardin smiled to himself and walked around behind Moore's chair and began to massage his shoulders. "It seems the price of Robert Milner's support for my election to the Security Council may be higher than we first anticipated," Moore said. "We will have to keep a very close eye on that young man."
"Shall I call General Brooks?" Poupardin asked.
Moore took a deep breath and held it as he thought. "Yes, I suppose we should," he said as he exhaled. "Tell him he had better get his house in order, and quickly, if he wants to keep his job. But don't take too long with Brooks; we've got other things to worry about; we have to get a commitment from Ambassador Gandhi and to try to soften up South America's support for Ambassador Clark. I think we have to assume that our friend Mr. Goodman will not wait, should another vote be required."
Monday, August 19,2019
Conditions on the Indian-Pakistani border did not improve over the next four days: relief shipments were too few and too slow; the number of refugees attempting to cross the border continued to swell. To stem the tide, the Indian government increased their border guard sixfold. Reports spread of abusive treatment, torture, and summary execution of refugees who crossed into India. The government of Pakistan, in response to the Indian buildup, had significantly increased the number of its own troops along the border.
In New York this was the day the Security Council would again try to choose a new Secretary-General. It was also the end of the period which Christopher had promised to wait before requesting emergency authority over the World Peace Organization. In a corner of the anteroom outside the Security Council chamber, prior to the meeting, Christopher Goodman stood talking with Ambassador Gandhi about the situation in Pakistan. He had met with the Pakistani ambassador the previous evening, along with Saudi Ambassador Fahd, who was the Primary from the Middle East on the Security Council.
Inside the chamber, French Ambassador Albert Moore and his chief of staff, Gerard Poupardin, went over a few last-minute preparations. At the outset, four days had seemed like plenty of time to get India's vote in line. As it turned out, Ambassador Gandhi had held on for a number of specific guarantees before he agreed to support Moore.
"I just wish I felt better about Gandhi's vote," commented Poupardin. "I'm not sure we can trust him."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about the Indian," Moore responded confidently. "He knows he'll never get anyone else to agree to the kinds of guarantees I've made."
"I just saw him talking to Ambassador Goodman outside the chamber on my way in."
"Did you hear what they were talking about?"
"No, I didn't want to be too obvious."
"Well, it was probably nothing."
"Probably, but Goodman was also seen last night with Ambassador Fahd."
A disquieted look flashed across Moore's face. "Why was I not told of this before?" he asked.
"I only just heard of it myself."
Moore's mood became more pensive than concerned. "Why don't you go out there and see if you can hear what they're talking about. If you have to, just go up and join in. If they seem uncomfortable with you being there or if they change the subject, get back in here and let me know right away." Poupardin got up to leave but it was too late: the Indian ambassador and Christopher were just entering the room to take their places for the meeting.
Ambassador Lee Yun-Mai of China called the meeting to order and soon the issue of the selection of the new Secretary-General was brought to the floor. As expected, the nominees were Ambassador Jackson Clark of the United States and Ambassador Albert Moore of France. The vote was taken in the customary manner by a show of hands. Ambassador Lee called first for those supporting the nomination of Ambassador Clark. Immediately the Canadian Ambassador, representing the North American region, and the Ecuadorian Ambassador, representing the South American region raised their hands. It was just as Moore had planned; he could almost taste the victory he longed for. Then slowly, without allowing his eyes to meet the stunned gape of Moore, the Saudi slipped his hand upward. From the comer of his eye, Moore's attention was drawn by his chief of staff, Gerard Poupardin. Even across the room the single word on his lips was as clear as a shout: "Goodman," he said, under his breath.
"That son of a bitch!" Moore said, though no sound left his lips.
From Moore's left, the door to the Security Council chamber flew open and a tall blonde woman in her early forties rushed in. Undistracted, Ambassador Lee noted the count of hands: three regions supported the ambassador from the United States. Without pause she called for those supporting Ambassador Moore. What Moore saw only intensified his despondence. Including his own, only five hands were raised: Ambassadors Kruszkegin of Northern Asia and Lee of China had chosen to abstain. Unlike Ambassador Fahd, Kruszkegin looked directly at Moore while Lee counted. Filled with rage, Moore turned to face Christopher, but Christopher was not there.
Quickly Moore's eyes scanned the room for Christopher but to no avail. Moore looked back at Poupardin, his eyes asking the question of Christopher's whereabouts. Poupardin pointed. In a corner of the great room, Christopher stood talking with Jackie Hansen, who had arrived during the vote with an urgent message. Moore's rage went unnoticed or at least unacknowledged by Christopher, who was listening to Jackie and quickly scanning the contents of the message she carried. Even as he read the dispatch, he began to move resolutely toward Ambassador Lee.
Contrary to Moore's assumption, the actual reason for the shift in votes was that Ambassadors Fahd, Kruszkegin, and Lee had learned of the promises Moore had made in order to get the vote of the Indian ambassador. They felt that it was not in their interest to have a Secretary-General who was under the obligations Moore had placed himself. Lee and Kruszkegin's response was to abstain; Fahd chose instead to support the American for whom he had voted earlier. None of this would ever be known by Moore. And what was about to unfold would make him absolutely certain that the whole situation had been Christopher's doing.
Christopher finished reading the note and proceeded directly across the room to Ambassador Lee. Handing her the dispatch, he whispered something and she began reading. As she did Christopher went back to his seat and stood in order to be formally recognized. All eyes watched as she read. When she finished she struck her gavel and declared that no consensus had yet been reached, and the selection of a new Secretary-General would be postponed for two weeks. She then turned her eyes toward Christopher and said, "The chair recognizes the ambassador from Italy."
"Madam President," Christopher began, addressing Ambassador Lee, "as you have just read in the dispatch, within the last hour a contingent of approximately twenty-seven thousand Indian infantry have crossed their mutual border with Pakistan in apparent response to continued border crossings by Pakistani refugees seeking food. They appear to be headed toward the three U.N. relief camps. In response to the incursion, United Nations forces under the direction of Lieutenant General Robert McCoid have engaged the Indian forces."
The room erupted. Members of the media tried to move to get a better shot of Christopher as he spoke; several staff personnel hurried from the room. Both the ambassador from Saudi Arabia, representing the Middle East, and the ambassador from India attempted to be recognized by the chair. But Ambassador Lee refused to recognize anyone and Christopher continued. "No report of casualties is yet available, but Indian troops in the area outnumber U.N. forces by six to one. General McCoid has ordered reinforcements into the area, but their arrival is not expected for several hours and the General warns that such movement will weaken U.N. strength at other points along the border."
Christopher completed his report to the Security Council and then, exercising his right as an Alternate member, proceeded to make his request to remove General Brooks and to take emergency authority over the WPO. It probably would not have made any difference if he had made the request four days earlier. Still, these new events would make it much more complex and difficult to correct the problems.
Wednesday, August 21,2019 – Israel
Scott Rosen was not sure how he knew it, but there was no doubt in his mind that he was supposed to be here. On a grassy hill on the northern shore of the sea of Galilee near Capernaum, he sat and waited, though not at all sure of what it was he was waiting for. He had been there for nearly an hour just sitting and waiting, and now the sun was beginning to set. The terrain around him formed a natural amphitheater with acoustic qualities that allowed a person on the hillside to clearly hear someone speaking at the bottom of the hill.
According to the local tour guides, this was the spot where Jesus had taught his followers.
When Scott arrived there had been tourists walking the slopes around him but as evening set in he had briefly been left nearly alone. Now, over the last fifteen minutes, a steady flow of people, all men, had begun to fill the hillside. But these were not tourists; there were no cameras, no binoculars, no yapping tour guides. In fact, though their number grew into the hundreds, and then thousands, no one spoke at all. Each man simply found what seemed like a good place and sat down.
Over the next few minutes the trickle became a flood: now thousands arrived every minute. And still not an utterance was heard. Scott saw several people he knew. The first was Rabbi Eleazar ben David, to whom he had talked a few days earlier about Joel. Then he saw Joel – his hand and wrist in a cast, the result of their last meeting. Joel had searched Scott out from among all the men on the hill and smiled broadly when he found him. Scott returned an anxious smile, and Joel sat down nearby. Neither said anything.
At the end of an hour there were more than a hundred thousand, and still no one spoke. Soon there were no more arriving and the crowd's attention turned toward some movement at the bottom of the hill. Two men stood up and one of them began to speak. His voice was deep and rich and measured. Scott was too far away to see him clearly, but he could be heard by all. Scott recognized the voice at once. It was Saul Cohen.
Standing at Cohen's side, the other man remained silent as he looked up at the crowd and thought back to that pivotal summer day when he and his brother and father had fished these very waters two thousand years before.