“They’re trying to do the right thing,” Chris explained, trying not to let her get under his skin.
“The right thing won’t get done by sitting here.”
“You’re welcome to come more often — see what it is we do here.”
“I expected better from you,” she said. “Not this.”
Chris narrowed his eyes at her. “You didn’t come all the way out here just to insult my congregation, did you?”
“Motorcycle bomb in Pakistan,” she began, “shooting in Iraq, car bomb in Syria, IED in Afghanistan, suicide bombing in India, ambush in Somalia — take your pick. In case you’ve forgotten, the terrorists are still at war with us.”
“But you didn’t come all the way out here to tell me that.”
“Of course not.”
Chris understood. “You can’t give me details until I agree to sign on the dotted line.”
“Same old, same old.”
“Why me? Why now?”
“Uncle Sam is cutting back on personnel, and too many missions have spread us too thin.”
“So why me?” he persisted.
“You know Syria better than most, your Arabic is native-like, you have a knack for solving problems like no one I’ve ever seen, and you shoot like the Devil. Your skills at demolitions are second to none. I’d have to recruit at least two men to come close to doing what you do, but I can only recruit one.”
Chris still found it difficult to become excited about her proposal. “I don’t know.”
“Most of all, I need someone I can trust, and you’re at the top of my list. I’ve got bad vibes about this mission, and I want to make it home. Not in a body bag.”
So it’s Syria again.
Years ago, Chris would’ve been thrilled at the prospect of the kind of mission she implied, but he enjoyed the peace of not having to wade through the cesspools of the world, chasing its refuse. He was helping people where he was. And he was safe. “I’d like to help you, Hannah. I really would. But you want me to leave my calling here without knowing more than you just told me. It’s wanting a lot.”
Her face appeared calm, but behind her eyes, her mind seemed engaged in an internal debate about what to say next. Then the internal debate stopped. “After you left Iraq, Professor Mordet was transferred to a prison, and a few weeks later, he escaped.”
“If you didn’t have my full attention before, you have it now.”
“Mordet is now head of Syria’s cyber warfare unit, and we think he’s planning a major attack against the US. He has outsmarted a lot of people, but he didn’t outsmart you. You’re the best person I know to stop him.”
“I’d like to help, but you’re asking me to quit my job here—”
“You don’t have to quit preaching. Just take a three-week vacation. Think about it.” She handed him a sheet of La Quinta Inn stationery with her room number handwritten on it. “This is where I’m staying. I’ll be checking out tomorrow morning. Meet me in the lobby at 0700 with your bags ready to go. I have an extra ticket for you to fly with me to Langley, where you’ll be briefed on the details.”
Chris touched his prosthetic ear. He wasn’t angry about what Mordet had done to him, but he was still angry about what Mordet had done to Young.
“I need you, Chris.” There was a sincerity in her words that pulled at his heart strings. Hannah wasn’t the type who needed protecting, but Mordet was the type who needed stopping, and he might never forgive himself if he let something bad happen to her.
He took the paper and put it in his pocket.
Hannah turned and cruised to the door — her body erect, leading with her breasts, a Venus de Milo with swinging arms. Her hips swayed to and fro in a hypnotic rhythm. Then she was gone.
4
Chris stood there, silent for a while. He heard someone nearby speak but didn’t catch the words.
“You okay?” the head minister, John Luther, asked, placing a hand on Chris’s forearm.
Chris groaned. “I don’t know.”
Pastor Luther waited quietly. He was a good listener, and Chris wished he could listen as well as Pastor Luther. He wished he could do a lot of things as well as Pastor Luther. People commented on Chris’s big heart, but next to Pastor Luther, Chris felt like his heart was twenty-two sizes too small.
“Uncle Sam wants me back,” Chris said quietly.
“It must be important.”
Chris tried to think critically about the situation. “Or maybe it’s just a wild hawg hunt.”
“How can you know?” Pastor Luther asked calmly.
“I can’t know until after I accept the mission.”
“And then if you find out it’s an important mission?”
“I don’t know.”
Pastor Luther nodded.
After Chris left the Navy, he’d returned to Harvard to finish his degree and completed his internship under Pastor Luther, who’d invited him to return to work for him after graduation. “In the eleven months I’ve been your assistant pastor, I’ve really felt at home with the congregation,” Chris said.
“You’ve brought a lot of new members to our fold and found some of our lost sheep. You have talents that I don’t have. Is she asking you to quit?”
“She’s asking me to take a three-week vacation.”
“You two were friends?” Pastor Luther asked.
“Colleagues,” Chris replied. “And friends.” The admission came out shy, almost embarrassed.
“I see.”
“I don’t want to go,” Chris said, “but something terrible might happen if I stay.”
“I don’t want you to go, either.”
“But if the Lord wants me to go, and I don’t go, I’m concerned about the consequences,” Chris said. “Not just for myself but for others. Since Hannah walked through that door, my whole world turned upside down. My old job and this job seem in conflict. She’s a colleague and a friend, but there were moments when I wished we could put the world on pause and see if we could be something more.”
“God hears you.”
“But right now, I’m afraid I can’t hear Him. Why would the Lord bring me all the way here to this peaceful place — just to send me back to war? Why would I walk away from Hannah just so she could walk back in? I want guidance, but I’m afraid that I only want to hear the guidance that I want to hear.” While Pastor Luther seemed to have a hotline to God, Chris experienced both good and bad reception days.
“Where does your friend live?” Pastor Luther asked.
“Virginia.”
“It must be important for her to come way out here to Dallas.”
“She said it’s a matter of national security.”
“This was the Lord’s church before you and I arrived. And it’ll be the Lord’s church long after you and I are gone. I’ll be happy to cover for you until you return.”
“Will you pray for me while I’m away?” Chris asked.
“Certainly.”
“I’ve never been too afraid about physical death, but I am afraid of spiritual death.”
“I just have one favor to ask of you,” Pastor Luther said.
“Sure.”
“When you go back to the kind of work you used to do, old habits will return — it’s inevitable. Much of that can be forgiven. I don’t like killing, but I understand that’s what a soldier must do for his country, and I won’t tell you how to do that part of your job. But I saw how she looked at you and how you looked at her. If you fall into serious transgression, I can’t support you. And if you want my recommendation to preach elsewhere, I won’t be able to give it.”
“I understand,” Chris said. “You told me the same before I started work here. I agreed with you then, and I agree with you now.”