Chapter 12
The news services were going crazy trying to film Oscar. Hordes of reporters staked out churches, mosques, and synagogues in the hope of catching him entering one. No matter how many places they watched, Oscar turned up at the one they had missed. They lined the roads in hope of finding him, but he drove past unnoticed. The best anyone had managed was to film him after leaving a holy site.
Of course, as soon as Oscar was gone, the reporters descended upon the last place he visited like vultures. Everyone was interviewed even if they hadn't been present. The buildings were examined from rooftop to basement for anything that could explain what was happening. No natural explanation was forthcoming. The news services were not satisfied by the supernatural explanations.
Oscar and Georgia managed to stay at hotels without interference from the press. The innkeepers tended to be individuals who had rediscovered their faith. They protected Oscar and Georgia by neglecting to mention to reporters that they were staying in the hotel. Once the couple was gone, reporters learned of their stay and descended upon the hotels. Again, everyone was interviewed.
Oscar and Georgia drove around untouched by the chaos they were leaving behind. They entered and left countries without concern of border guards, passports, or other matters that usually governed international travel. Traveling in a southern direction and with the changing of the seasons, the temperature became warmer. They started sleeping outdoors on occasion.
They entered Turkey one fine afternoon. The sun was bright, the air was warm, and an early spring was in the air. Oscar stopped the truck and turned to Georgia. Gesturing to the countryside, he said, "We've made it to Turkey."
"I wondered if we'd ever get here," Georgia said. She got out the satellite phone and started to set it up.
Watching her, Oscar said, "That's a good idea."
"I haven't told it to you yet," Georgia said glancing over at him. She didn't doubt that he knew what she was planning.
"I know, but it is still a good idea," Oscar said with a grin. He glanced out the window and said, "While you are inviting Debbie to meet us in Istanbul, I'm going to go over to that little house over there and try to arrange an invitation to dinner."
Georgia looked at the little house feeling that it was generous calling it a house; it was more of a shack than a house. Frowning, she said, "Asking them to feed us might ruin their budget."
"Don't worry about that. Leave everything to me," Oscar said with a wink. He climbed out of the truck leaving Georgia to make her call to Debbie. He paused and turned back to face her. He said, "Don't forget to call your sister. I'm sure that she'd like to hear from you."
"Okay," Georgia replied.
Oscar reached the door of the house and found an elderly couple watching him from the window. Raising a hand, he said, "Hello."
The old man, using a cane, stepped out of the house and looked at Oscar with suspicion. The small stature of Oscar reduced the man's fear of strangers sufficiently that he went outside rather than talk to him through the window. In a voice hoarse with age, he asked, "Who are you?"
"I'm Oscar Meyers."
The man looked at the truck by the road and asked, "Did it break down?"
"No," Oscar answered with a smile.
"So what are you doing here?" the old man asked looking back at Oscar.
Reaching into his pocket of his cloak, Oscar withdrew a small gold coin. The flash of light from the coin immediately drew the man's attention. It was worth more than he could expect to see for the rest of his life. Holding it out, Oscar said, "I have heard that your wife was once considered the best cook in the whole area."
"She is a good wife," the man said eyeing Oscar with suspicion. He thought it odd that the man spoke Turkish with the local accent. He asked, "Where did you hear that about her cooking?"
Oscar pointed upwards and smiled. The old man looked up at the sky and then back down at Oscar before he snorted in disbelief. Amused by the suggestion, he said, "So you came here to eat?"
"Yes. My wife will take your wife and grandson to the market to buy a lamb and the makings for a feast," Oscar said.
The old man looked at the truck for a second and then asked, "The white haired woman is your wife?"
"Yes," Oscar answered.
"You must be older than you look," he commented.
"Her hair is white because she was touched by the Gods," Oscar said knowing that if Georgia ever heard the old man's comment that he'd never have another minute of peace. She still talked about having granny hair.
"Touched by the Gods?" the old man asked suspiciously. He was a good Muslim and didn't like what he was hearing.
From inside the house, the woman screamed. She stuck her head through the window and exclaimed, "It is him! He's the one everyone is talking about!"
The old man was split between his desire to tell his wife to stop acting like a child and wanting to act like a child himself. Finally, he said, "You're that Magus."
"I'm a Druid," Oscar said knowing that they were called Magi by the people in this part of the world.
"Yes, that's what you call yourselves," the old man said nodding his head. He held out his hand for the coin and said, "I'll send the wife and grandson to the market with your wife. She'll fix a feast for you."
"Thank you," Oscar said.
"My name is Mustafa and my wife is Belma. My grandson is Gani." Only after giving the name of his grandson did he realize that Oscar had known that his grandson was living with them.
While Mustafa played host, Gani set up a small table in the garden behind the house. The young man carried chairs out of the house and set them around the table. Belma prepared a feast that was fit for a king. It was nearly sun set when they gathered around the table to eat a roast leg of lamb with rice and vegetables. It was a basic meal that was very tasty.
After dinner, the women went into the house while Oscar and Mustafa stayed outside. Mustafa said, "We talk in the town about you."
"What do they say?" Oscar asked wanting to get the opinions of masses.
"They say that the messages delivered in the mosques, churches, and synagogues apply to all of us regardless of our religion," Mustafa said.
"Really?" Oscar asked. He had been unaware of that.
"We are bound by the same Covenant as the Jews. We are bound by the same message of love as the Christians. It was delivered by Jesus, an early prophet of Allah. We are bound by the message of Mohammed. It only makes sense that we are bound by the messages of Oscar Meyers," Mustafa said. The old man held up a packet of cigarettes.
Oscar shook his head to decline them. He said, "It sounds strange to hear that."
"What is strange?" Mustafa said lighting up a cigarette. It was the first he had smoked since his son had died and left him in charge of his grandson.
"The messages of Oscar Meyers," he answered. He laughed and said, "It makes me sound like I'm somebody."
"You are somebody," Mustafa said looking at Oscar.
"There are some who would argue with you about that. I am one of them," Oscar said smiling at the old man.
"There is one true God and Mohammed was his last prophet," Mustafa said taking pleasure in the sounds of the words as they rolled off his lips. Shaking his head, he said, "I've heard that phrase my entire life. I felt that it made me better than others who ignored Jesus and those who ignored Mohammed. I could look down on the Jews and Christians because they didn't listen to Mohammed. Everyone has heard you and I'm no longer special. There is one true God and Mohammed was his last prophet is no longer a true statement."
"I'm sure that 'there is one true God and Oscar Meyers was his last prophet' just doesn't have the same impact," Oscar said with a chuckle.
Mustafa shrugged his shoulders and said, "I hate to say that it doesn't. Something important to me has been lost. I can no longer feel special."
"We are all special in how we serve the Powers that Be," Oscar said.
"Islam has been changed as a result of your conversations with Allah."
It was obvious to Oscar that Mustafa was basically a very conservative man who resisted change. The house was empty of modern goods and his manners harkened back to older times. Curious, he asked, "What do you think of that?"
The old man was quiet for a long time while considering the question. Finally, he said, "I think the world will be a better place."
Debbie peaked over the window sill at the riot outside her apartment. From her second floor window, she was able to see the riot in all its glory. She grimaced when one group started throwing bottles at the other group. The bottles originated from the side that was trying to enforce the existing status quo between Israel and the Palestinians.
The ones she felt sorry for were the poor riot control squad that was stuck in the middle trying to keep the two groups separated. Young men and women serving their mandatory time in the military suddenly found themselves facing people who might be their family, friends, or neighbors. It was ugly.
Debbie hated the protests. It wasn't that she feared getting hurt as a result of a riot breaking out near her. It wasn't that they were targeting her specifically. No one had associated her with Oscar and for that she was somewhat grateful. Riots had been breaking out all over Jerusalem as a result of the words delivered to Oscar by Yahweh. What bothered her was the fanaticism of the participants.
The most vocal and violent group of protesters was a strange collection of people. It was a collection that was splintered amongst several major philosophical issues. The fundamentalist radical Jews were the largest segment. In the past, they had taken up arms against the Palestinians and opposed all attempts to make peace. Many of them felt their God had sold them out by denying that Israel had a right to exist.
The radical Jews were joined in the protests by young upwardly mobile Jews who were normally very law-abiding. These young professionals had discovered that they might lose their property or have to purchase it a second time. The chief complaint was that they had purchased property in good faith only to find that the government was taking action to take it away from them. Based on records from the late forties, the government had declared a large number of places as confiscated property that had to be returned to the original owners or their heirs.
The majority of people supported the government's actions. They felt that if restitution was made for the property taken by the British prior to establishing Israel, then Israel would have a new found legitimacy. If they were able to make it right, other nations would have to acknowledge Israel without reservation. They felt they had God's command that Israel had to make it right. It was their part of the Covenant that had to be satisfied before Israel would legitimately exist in God's eyes.
Debbie ducked down when another convey of military vehicles pulled up outside her apartment building. Not knowing why they were there, she figured that they had learned that the riot was going to turn even more violent. From her position under the window sill, she looked up at the map and said, "Oscar, I don't know if I'm going to be able to get out of here to visit you."
The map didn't reply, but the door did with a loud clang from the knocker. The timing caused her to jump. She crawled away from the window until it was safe to stand. When she reached the door, she looked through the peep hole to find three uniformed men standing outside. Cautious, she opened the door a crack without removing the chain and, in English, asked, "What do you want?"
"Are you Debbie Meyers?" the Captain asked looking through the crack at the red head.
"Yes, I am," Debbie answered.
The Captain said, "I'm under orders to take you to the Prime Minister. I'm to tell you that you should pack a luggage with several days' worth of clothes."
"May I ask what this is about?" Debbie asked.
"You may, but I don't know enough to answer. All I know is what my orders say," the Captain answered. This was the strangest duty that he had ever been assigned. The fact that his orders came directly from the Prime Minister was just icing on the cake.
"Am I under arrest?" Debbie asked.
"No. I am to escort you to the Prime Minister. As far as I know, he wants to talk to you."
Debbie bit her lower lip while thinking about it. She closed the door and then opened it again. Looking at the Captain, she said, "You may come in."
The Captain turned to the two privates with him and said, "Guard the door."
After he entered the room, he turned to Debbie and said, "You might want to pack your luggage."
Not knowing where she was being taken, Debbie went to her closet and pulled out a couple of utility outfits; clothes that were comfortable enough to live in for several days if necessary. While she was packing, the telephone rang. It was Jennifer, Georgia's sister, calling to tell her that transportation had been arranged to take her to Turkey. A private jet was waiting at the airport to whisk her away. As a result of the call, Debbie started pulling clothes out of the suitcase to replace them with items more suitable for a vacation.
The Captain, left to his own devices in the living room, wandered around trying to learn more about the woman he was to escort. He stopped in front of a picture of three people and stared at it. He turned to stare at the map on the wall. He'd seen maps like that, but not any that were decorated with pictures of the some of the locations visited by the Druid. He turned back to the picture and stared at it.
With a sick feeling in his stomach, he walked over to the window and looked down at the riot that was still boiling in the street below. He reached for his radio and called, "I want four more people up here right now."
Debbie came out of the bedroom with her suitcase in time to overhear him call in the order for more people. She waited until the exchange between the Captain and the person with whom he was talking came to an end. The Captain put away his radio and looked at Debbie. Shaking his head, he said, "You're one of his wives, aren't you?"
"Yes," Debbie answered.
"What are you doing living in Israel?" the Captain asked. He figured the last place she would want to live would be here. If the crowd outside were to learn that she was there, they'd tear her apart.
"I'm finishing my College practicum at a research laboratory down the street," Debbie answered.
"What College?" the Captain asked hoping that his guess was wrong.
"The Druid College," Debbie answered.
The plan had been to pick her up and take her to the Prime Minister in the car. Having learned who she was, he started changing the plan on the spot. He'd have her ride to the Prime Minister's house in the armored personnel carrier. That would provide greater protection for her. He only hoped it was enough.
There was only a minor problem on leaving the apartment. Two of the neighbor women came out of their apartments and questioned Debbie to make sure that she was going with the soldiers of her own free will. Despite the Captain's best efforts, the two women wouldn't get out of the way until Debbie had told them it was okay. Leading Debbie down the stairs, he muttered, "Damned busy bodies."
The Prime Minister had aged fifty years since the words that Yahweh spoke to Oscar had echoed around the world. After taking a taste of his cognac, he turned to see Debbie enter the room. Three months ago he might have found her attractive, but that was half a lifetime ago and today he felt too old and tired. With a sigh, he said, "Four hours ago I got a call from a woman by the name of Jennifer asking that I provide an escort to the airport for you. I told her that you should make your own arrangements and hung up the telephone. Much to my surprise, one of my generals went ballistic when I told him about the call.
"Ten minutes later, another woman calls and tells me that I should make arrangements to escort you to the airport. I ask her why I should do that. She says that she is the Devil Woman and that Israel owes her a favor. I suggest that you can make your own arrangements to get to the airport. My head of security goes crazy when I tell him about the call.
"Now, this is beginning to bother me. I'm sitting at my desk wondering how two crazy women have my telephone number and call me with the sole purpose of asking me to have you escorted to the airport. I'm wondering why one of my generals is calling me an ass and my head of security is telling me that I better arrange an escort to take you to the airport or he is going to resign. It doesn't help when they tell me that both of the women who called me are Druids. One of those damned Druids is making my life miserable. I don't like Druids.
"Ten minutes hadn't even passed after the last call and I'm getting a call from the President of the United States. He doesn't ask me to arrange an escort to the airport for you; he demands that I arrange an escort for you. By this time, I'm getting irritated. I hang up on him.
"I've got riots breaking out all over the country. Six people were killed in a riot at the Wall. We had a suicide bomber blow himself up in a shopping center. It was a Jew! This country is falling apart and I've got idiots calling me to arrange for a woman to get to the airport."
Debbie stood at the door listening to the monolog wondering when he is going to get to the point. She was impressed at the efforts that were being expended so that she could spend a week with Oscar. The smile that broke out on her face did not improve the disposition of the Prime Minister.
The Prime Minister glowered at her and said, "When the President of Russia called, I asked my head of security to tell me about you. He had nothing in his files other than the fact that you entered the country back in September. Now tell me why so many people are so interested in you getting to the airport."
"You know the Druid who is making your life miserable..."
"Yes," the Prime Minister said.
"He's my husband," Debbie said with a smile.
The snifter hit the floor at the Prime Minister's feet and shattered; sending golden liquor and glass across the floor. Open mouthed, he stared at her and shook his head. Turning to a non-descript man standing in the corner of the room, he asked, "Why in hell didn't you know that?"
"Meyers is a common name. We didn't have anything to tie her to him," the man answered staring at Debbie. He couldn't believe that the wife of Oscar Meyers was living in Jerusalem and they hadn't known it. Heads were going to roll over that intelligence failure.
Looking at the man in the corner, Debbie said, "The Gods and Goddesses are protecting us. Oscar's service is too important to be allowed to fail. You can't beat them."
"I want you out of my country and I never want you to come back here again," the Prime Minister said.
Turning to look at the Prime Minister, Debbie said, "I'm going to visit Oscar in Turkey for a week. When I'm done with my visit, I'm going to return here and finish my practicum. I will visit Oscar whenever he calls and, after each visit, I will return here. He is coming here and I will be here to greet him."
"I can arrange that you'll never get back in this country."
With fire in her eyes, Debbie said, "You can try, but you will not succeed. I assure you that you will be forced out of Israel before you can prevent me from coming here."
"Now listen to me..."
"No. You listen to me," Debbie interrupted and jabbed a finger in the direction of the Prime Minister. Unable to control what was coming out of her mouth, she said, "You are fighting the combined wills of Yahweh, Jehovah, Allah, and the Druid Gods and Goddesses. If you think that your will is greater than theirs, I assure you that you will be proven wrong. The next time you go to the synagogue, I want you to think about who is asking who for help and guidance."
Stunned at the outburst, the Prime Minister took two steps backwards. Her voice had changed while delivering that little speech. He would later swear that it took an inhuman tone. It took him some time to recover. Deciding that nothing would be served by standing in her way, he said, "You said that Oscar is coming here."
"Yes."
"God help us," the Prime Minister said imagining the chaos such a visit would produce.
Debbie smiled and said, "Believe it or not, he is helping you."