“You’re kidding. Do they teach that in rainmaker school?”
“If such a school existed, it would be required training.”
They slid into the back of the limo, and it accelerated.
“That went so fast, I didn’t get to ask her about the prisoners.”
“I am privy to much of their fate,” Renard said. “The Chinese survivors have been granted prisoner of war status. With the world looking on, they shall receive pristine treatment. Chinese medical teams have already been allowed access to them.”
“What about the Malaysians?”
“They remain under guard aboard an anchored freighter.”
“What’s going to happen to them? The world thinks they’re dead and that the Razak was lost at sea.”
“I don’t know. It’s a matter for Navarro to navigate.”
“You’re not concerned?”
“I planned this endeavor knowing full well that they may all be returned to Malaysia and reveal that their submarine was stolen. But what do I care? The Wraith is mine, I’m customizing it to my liking, and I’m not giving it back.”
As the chain link fence surrounding the private airport came into sight, Jake saw two Lear jets standing by on the tarmac.
“I guess we won’t see each for a while.”
“You’re always welcome to visit,” Renard said. “It doesn’t have to be just when we’re reshaping national boundaries.”
“I need to get back to my family, first. Then I’ll think about vacations.”
“Understandable.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll say what’s coming next for us and when?”
Renard smiled at the floor and laughed through his nose.
“Have I ever?”
When the plane approached the Oakland County International Airport, Jake saw his blue Ford Fusion in the parking lot. The thought of his wife made him happier than he’d been in weeks.
After a smooth landing and a walk to the curb, he saw his wife driving the car. She parked, stepped out, and beamed with a wide smile as she ran to him.
Her embrace was like hugging a jackhammer. Bouncing with excitement, she slammed her head into his jaw, and he bit his tongue.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, honey!”
“No, it’s okay. Let’s go home.”
He drove, and as her excitement waned, he sensed her melancholy.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was scared. All that war going on in China.”
“It was the Philippines,” Jake said, “although the Chinese were a big part of it. I’ve been reading about it. It looks like it was some intense combat.”
She fell silent, and the gloom cloud drifted over her. He knew that she wanted to ask if he’d been involved, but she couldn’t. Having to hold her concerns to herself grated her nerves, and she had learned over years of marriage to express herself through generalities.
“I get scared when you go to work.”
“I know.”
“I’m trying to start a conversation. You’re supposed to say more than ‘I know’.”
“I know.”
“Erub!”
“No swearing in Jesus’s language.”
Marriage to a Chaldean woman had taught him to recognize Aramaic swear words.
“Since when did you care about Jesus?”
“Well, I don’t any more than when I left. But if you want to talk about something, I had an interesting conversation with Henri.”
Her voice lightened.
“Go on.”
“I had time one day and figured I’d ask him about his take on philosophy. You know, as part of my studies. He’s pretty well versed in a few schools of thought.”
“So, what’d he say?”
“He said that the primary duty of an adult is to be a contributing member of society while providing for one’s dependents. Once that’s taken care of, the next responsibility is seeking the truth about our fate in the universe.”
“I agree. I like Henri.”
“Me too.”
Jake turned a corner and crossed into Farmington Hills, his home town.
“He also said that avoiding such truth-seeking, whether by choice or force, is a failure as a human being.”
“He’s right. You never did any of that until you started talking to Bishop Francis back before he was a bishop. Since then you’ve been doing a good job.”
“Thanks.”
“Have you learned anything?”
He reflected upon the terror he had felt inside the Wraith and how it reminded him of his mortality. He started to understand that hopes of omnipotence were a fool’s folly and that truth resided outside the limits of his personal power.
“Yeah, honey,” he said. “You know how I’ve been reading about the evidence for intelligent design?”
“Yes.”
“The evidence will never be perfect, but it’s compelling.”
“Really? So you believe in God?”
“I didn’t say that. But I’m going to pursue the trail of evidence to its end for an intelligent creator. At the moment, though, I’m tending to favor the evidence for it more so than the evidence against.”
“You’re wishy-washy.”
“No, I’m just working the process.”
“Is that all you learned?”
“No. There’s one thing I’m sure of.”
He turned the car into his subdivision.
“Go on.”
“Even though I somehow manage to get through every challenge I face, I’m only human. I’m not God, and no matter how many times I try to play God, I keep screwing it up.”
“I’m glad you see that honey!”
“I do. And if there’s a higher power helping me come home alive to you, I want to know what it is.”
About the Author
After graduating from the Naval Academy in 1991, John R. Monteith served on a nuclear ballistic missile submarine and then as a top-rated instructor of combat tactics at the U.S. Naval Submarine School. He now works as an engineer in the Detroit area. He writes the award-winning Rogue Submarine series.