CHAPTER 26
Jake felt trapped in a tie, and he reached for Linda’s hand and her calming effect. She sipped a vodka martini to relax while he gulped a virgin Bloody Mary for its tanginess.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” he said.
“Me neither, but Pierre invited me himself. He said this mission was going public, and there was no sense in asking the wives to pretend that his ship wasn’t here. So here I am.”
“You look tired.”
“The trip was rough, even in first class.”
“Pierre bought your tickets?”
“I think so. I was so excited when he told me to get ready to fly, I didn’t even think to ask.”
“I’m sure he did. The question is if he’s taking it out of my pay.”
Jake reflected that his pay over the last two missions had been five million Euro per venture, which was nothing for a man of his wealth. He had to admit that he participated for emotional reasons.
Renard approached with his wife, Marie.
“It’s been forever, Jake,” she said.
She kissed the air by his cheeks and did the same with Linda.
“That’s a lovely dress,” Marie said.
“Thank you. I like yours, too. What’s it been? Almost two years since we last saw each other?”
“At least. How was your flight?”
“Not too bad with first class, but it’s still tiring. How about you?”
“The same. But at least we’re here. So are the other wives.”
Jake scanned the room and saw Antoine Remy, Claude LaFontaine, and Henri Lanier and their spouses. The sextet had gathered around Walker and his wife along with Cahill, the solitary bachelor on senior staff, and had taken up residence near the bar.
“This tight-lipped scoundrel I married won’t speak a word about what he’s been up to, even with pictures of his latest toy ship carrying a Korean submarine all over the news.”
“Trust me, I get the same treatment from Jake.”
“Don’t these fools realize that our imaginations torment us worse than the truth?”
“I think they know but don’t care,” Linda said.
“Will you join me in a trip to the ladies room?”
The women departed.
“I thought they’d never stop,” Jake said.
“I’m thankful they did. I wanted to share an update with you.”
“Okay.”
“The admiral who was the target of the Kim’s original mission is scheduled to have a private trial. You may never hear of his fate publicly, although I will attempt to cultivate a strong enough relationship with our new clients that they’ll be willing to share the results.”
“What’s he charged with? I mean, he was just doing his job when he sank the Cheonan.”
“One could argue, as our new clients will, that he was a contributor to a war crime.”
“If they’re going that route, what defense does he have?”
“Fortunately, that’s up to attorneys, judges, and power brokers beyond my realm of influence.”
“The mighty Pierre Renard, a spectator.”
“There are some battles for which I have neither a desired outcome nor any influence.”
“It strains my imagination, but I’ll believe that you really don’t want to stick your nose into something.”
The Frenchman sipped from his wineglass.
“Forgive my blunt segue, but I fear I must stick my nose into your business. I know full well that I ordered it, but that final escort you offered to Terry turned out to be quite an impressive rampage of death and destruction. How are you dealing with it?”
“What do you mean? I was just doing my job.”
“Too well, from what I heard.”
“Henri’s just overreacting.”
“It’s not just Henri. You were out for blood. You were angry and not caring who you killed.”
“My anger has been a concern for you, me, my wife, and my crew forever. So what? Do you have a magic pill that fixes it? Your last magic pill cost me my desire to drink alcohol and put out the flames when I’m wound up.”
“You speak as if it were a bad thing.”
“Apparently, I need any crutch I can get to deal with anger.”
Jake welcomed the return of the wives.
“Come on ladies,” Renard said. “It’s time to sit around the dinner table. You’ll find this to be quite a treat. Six types of seaweed, four types of kimchi, and all the meats and fishes you could imagine served family style. You cook your own meats to your preference on the table’s central stove.”
“That sounds delightful,” Marie said.
“I think so, too,” Linda said. “But the final judgment will be the taste test. I can’t wait to try it out.”
“I married a food snob,” Jake said.
The food snob enjoyed her dinner, and the next day, Jake bid farewell to his comrades-in-arms and took her on a limousine ride to a hotel in Seoul. He then escorted her to the tourist area of the Korean Peninsula’s Demilitarized Zone.
An atmosphere of history and hope blended with harsh reality. An unused train station passing through North Korea and a neutral zone factory staffed by workers from the north and managers from the south reflected the desire for reunification. Infiltration tunnels, minefields, and army troops provided the reminder of longstanding hostility.
Unaware of the horrors he had experienced, Linda jumped at the chance to shop in a commercial zone where she could purchase North Korean goods. Jake felt twisted as she handed him candies packaged in the nation he had wounded two days earlier in a semi-private war.
His emotions toggled between hot and cold. One moment, the North were humans worthy of camaraderie. The next, they were monsters. Both perspectives had merit.
“Don’t those look good, Jake?”
His throat tightened as he choked back either tears or a scream. He couldn’t be sure.
Back on exclusive South Korean soil, he helped Linda pick out her final souvenirs.
“A postcard for my mother,” she said.
“Postcards are old school.”
“Yeah, well so is my mother.”
“Okay. Get it. Come on, people are starting to board the bus.”
To avoid attention, Jake had arranged travel with the most average tourist group he could find. On the bus, his wife leaned into him and held a private conversation.
“How has your anger been?”
He grunted.
“Well, what’s that mean?” she asked.
“Can’t you tell when I don’t want to talk?”
“You never want to talk about it.”
“Fine. I don’t see any improvement. In fact, it may be getting worse, and I don’t know a damned thing I can do about it.”
“The only answer is faith.”
“I’ve read all the books on Christian apologetics. The arguments are strong, but not provable. I can’t draw a conclusion.”
“Apologies? What?”
“Apologetics. In this context, it means the logical defense of the faith, which sounds like an oxymoron when I just said it. You can’t logically defend a faith, which probably explains why I’m going in circles.”
The last tourist boarded, and the bus reeled forward.
“You said you once knew people smarter than you who were devout Christians, even a few Catholics, right?”
“Back at the Naval Academy. There were plenty of guys who made me look stupid, and a few of them were devout. Why?”
“What did they say?”
“The same thing. You can’t prove it. You need faith.”
“Well, how do these geniuses get faith?”
Jake had to ponder the question.
“I remember one guy who put it in a way that I really didn’t consider until now. He said you had to experience it, and that the proof would come in the daily living.”