Shaken (24 page)

“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 wonder 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.”

Carl asked to be put on the schoolhouse speakerphone. He praised Vicki for her poise. “You're a natural at this. Ought to have your own show.”

“But I didn't get to what I really wanted to say.”

“You will,” Carl said. “When you come back on, you'll have the whole place in the palm of your hand. Damosa's supposed to speak for about twenty minutes and then bring the band back. Listen to what he says, and we'll cut to you before he introduces the band.”

“I'll be ready,” Vicki said.

Lionel was stunned at what the kids back home had accomplished. How they had tapped into the international satellite feed, he couldn't tell. But they had done it.

Dr. Damosa cleared his throat and gave a nervous smile. “Well, that was an interesting perspective. I'm not sure who Vicki B. is, but we'll have to have a talk with her.”

Lionel whispered to Sam, “Sounds like the GC have no idea what's up.”