Soul Reader Series: Book1: Touch Enabled

by Dante Lupinetti

  “Joseph,” said Pastor Jones, “ask him what unholy or unclean thing he’s got going on in his life.”

  “Pastor Williams, are you involved in an unholy activity?” asked Zeke.

  “Yes,” said Pastor Williams.

  “Pastor, what is it?”

  “Porn,” replied Pastor Williams. “I’m addicted to porn.”

  “How long?” asked Zeke.

  “About two years,” replied Pastor Williams. Zeke pulled his hand away.

  Pastor Williams, somewhat dazed, looked at Zeke, Pastor Jones, and Rodger and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know what you just admitted to?” asked Zeke.

  “I’m not sure. Tell me.”

  “You just admitted to being addicted to porn,” said Zeke.

  “Oh no. This will ruin my ministry,” Pastor Williams said in fear and remorse as he realized the full extent of his sin.

  “Ron,” said Pastor Jones, “Let me pray with you.” When the two finished praying, Pastor Jones told Pastor Williams, “This doesn’t have to become public if you agree to get some help. I think you should tell your elders about this, but that’s it. I would be glad to go with you to your next elder’s meeting and share our experience and the bad news.”

  “But,” said Pastor Williams, “can’t I just get some counseling and leave it at that?”

  “Ron,” replied Pastor Jones. “Porn addiction is not something that anyone should have, non-Christian or Christian alike. But, a man of the cloth is held to a different standard. I think we should at least tell the elders.”

  Pastor Jones, Zeke, and his dad laid their hands on Pastor Williams and prayed for him and his deliverance from the addiction and his restoration.

  Zeke’s dad spoke up. “Actually, the reason I asked you guys to come here today was to help us discern the validity of Joseph’s gift. Is it from the Lord? Should he be exercising it? You’ve both been through seminary and in the ministry for several years. What do you guys think?”

  “Well,” said Pastor Williams, “gifts of this nature are a continuous debate in Christian circles. But the Pentecostal denominations believe that these gifts are relevant today. The question for me is whether it is from a demonic spirit or the Holy Spirit. It’s clear to me that after this experience, this is from the Holy Spirit. It is in keeping with the way the Holy Spirit works.”

  “I know we don’t typically agree, but I would tend to agree with my brother in this instance,” said Pastor Jones. “This gift seems to be both discerning and prophetic in nature. It could be the gift of knowledge. It’s the degree to which the gift is discerning that intrigues me. The ability to see into another’s inner spiritual condition is supernatural and alarming, to say the least, as I’m sure Ron has just experienced. Why God has given this ability to Joseph, I don’t know. I can only surmise that He plans to use this gift for something.”

  “Men,” said Pastor Jones, “let’s lay hands on Joseph and pray over him that God would use this gift to accomplish His purposes and that Joseph would be a good steward of the gift that the Lord has given him.”

  After the men finished praying over Zeke, they returned to their cars. They said their goodbyes and drove off. The ride home was very quiet.

  Finally, Zeke spoke, “Thanks, Dad. That’s exactly what I needed. I feel like I’ve just been commissioned.”

  “My pleasure, son, and, yes, you have.”

  Zeke felt as if he had just come out of a meeting with the Oracle. Only he could understand the full extent of his commissioning, and even now, he did not understand it. But, in time, he would come to know it.

  When they got home, Aunt Becky was the first to speak up. “Joseph, how did it go? Are you any clearer now on your purpose?”

  “Yes,” said Zeke. “Things are making more sense to me now.”

  Aunt Becky picked up her Bible and turned to the Book of Esther in the Old Testament.

  “I think this book has a message for you,” said Aunt Becky. “Just as Esther had been made queen and placed in King Ahasuerus’s palace for such a time as this. I believe you have been given this divine gift ‘for such a time as this.’”

  “Thanks, Aunt Becky,” said Zeke. “I’ll read Esther.”

  “That’s good, sweetheart,” said his mom. “And ask that FBI girl out. I like her.”

  “I get the impression that you’ve all been collaborating about this all week,” replied Zeke.

  “We’re not as old and senile as you might think,” said Aunt Becky. “I got together with your mom and dad, filled them in on what I knew, and then we brainstormed on how we could help. When you decided to come home for a visit, we were ready.”

  “I’m impressed and thankful,” said Zeke. Zeke’s cell phone vibrated. It was Abby. “Speak of the devil. It’s the FBI girl.” Zeke answered.

  “Hi, Zeke,” greeted Abby. “I’ve got good news. They want to see you.”

  “The CIA?” asked Zeke.

  “Shhh,” replied Abby. “You’re gonna need to start keeping this really quiet. When you refer to them, don’t say their name. Just call them ‘the Agency.’ That’s how I will refer to them from now on when talking to you. When talking about the FBI, I will always say, the FBI so as not confuse you.”

  “OK,” said Zeke.

  “So, the Agency wants to see you tomorrow afternoon at one pm. Can you get back here in time?”

  “Oh, I’m back in Nebraska visiting my folks, but I think I can go back to DC now. So, yes I can make it.”

  “Go to the main headquarters in Langley. I’ll text you the address. Ask for Agent Johnson.”

  “OK,” said Zeke. “Will you be there?”

  “No,” said Abby, “but I’ll call you afterward.”

  “Thanks, Abby. Talk to you soon,” said Zeke.

  “Folks, I’ve got to get back to DC. I’m going to try to get a red-eye back to National.”

  “So soon?” asked his mom. “I’m really starting to dislike this new place you’re working.

  “Mom, it’s my job. I’ve got to get back. Anyway, I’ll be home for Christmas.”

  “Don’t worry, son. Your mom will be OK. Now, let’s just have dinner, a relaxing evening, and I’ll take you to the airport in the morning,” said Zeke’s dad.

  “Sounds good to me,” said Zeke as he wrestled with Cucho.

  Zeke made arrangements for a 7:00 am flight from Lincoln Airport to Reagan National. After another home-cooked meal and a relaxing evening, Zeke said goodbye to his mom and Aunt Becky and the family retired for the night. Aunt Becky stayed the night.

  The alarm went off at 5:00 am. Zeke and his dad drove to the airport with frost on the car and ground. He wouldn’t see that for another month in DC. The two said their goodbyes at the airport. Zeke left home feeling as if it didn’t matter what happened in DC or New York. His real home was Lincoln, Nebraska.

  As Zeke made his way through the security at the airport, he noticed a couple of people staring at him.

  “I know you,” one man said. “I saw you on the Jack Cong show.”

  “Yep, that was me,” said Zeke.

  “Where you headed?” asked the man.

  “DC,” replied Zeke.

  “Those crooks,” said the man. “You show ’em what for, son.”

  “You got it,” said Zeke.

  Within two and a half hours, Zeke was deboarding at Reagan National. He grabbed his carry-on luggage and walked toward baggage claim and then exited to hail a cab.

  “Where to?” asked the cabbie.

  “Silver Spring,” replied Zeke, and he gave his home address.

  When Zeke arrived at his home in Silver Spring, he showered and put on a suit for the interview. He decided that it probably would not be good to go on an interview on an empty stomach, so he fixed himself a late breakfast.

  When he finished, he went out to his car, put in the address that Abby texted him into Waze and followed it which took him to I-495 West towards Frederick, Maryland and then
past Potomac, Maryland into Virginia to the George Washington Memorial Parkway. The drive was very relaxing, actually a scenic route. Trees lined both sides of the parkway with their red, green, orange, and yellow leaves of fall. Stone overpasses partially hidden by the trees created a Harry Potter like feel as if he were travelling to a mysterious mansion. Or maybe it was just his anticipation of visiting this clandestine government facility which had been the subject of so many novels and movies.

  Gradually, the trees opened up and he saw the Potomac River on the left. Cyclers appeared on the trails paralleling the river. He saw a guy rowing a canoe down the Potomac while a 747 airliner flew overhead along the path of the river. This was a side of DC that Zeke had not seen before. For a moment, he forgot that he was heading to the most clandestine agency in the country. And, he had yet to learn that he’d just been exposed to one of the survival secrets of life in Washington, DC, taking the time to enjoy the scenery in the midst of the chaos.

  Zeke proceeded until he saw the CIA exit which he took. When he arrived at the guard station, Zeke told them that he was there for an interview. They asked him for his social security number and ran a quick check on it before letting him in and directing him to the visitor lot. After parking his car, Zeke proceeded to the main entrance. The windows of the building appeared to be tinted green. He figured it was to keep out the sunlight. Zeke passed through security on his way into the building. He told them that he was there for an interview with Agent Thomas Johnson, who security called.

  “Mr. Johnson, we have a visitor to see you,” said security. While waiting, Zeke noticed the CIA emblem and a verse from the Bible engraved in the floor. “And ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make ye free.” John 8:32.

  When Agent Johnson arrived in the lobby, he greeted Zeke. “Hi, Zeke. My name is Agent Thomas Johnson. Abby Sorensen has told me a lot about you. Abby interviewed extensively with us a couple of years ago. I regret that she did not come on board. She and the FBI were a better fit, I guess. They’ve got that squeaky-clean image, and they’re a lot less covert than we are. Some people think that because we represent the American people, we are squeaky clean in everything we do. Reality is that we require our recruits to be squeaky clean before we corrupt them. That’s a joke, son. Well, kinda. We often work with some unsavory characters. That’s why we did not dismiss you out of hand when we heard about your past. A criminal record is an immediate disqualifier in most cases. But, first, Zeke, let me ask you, why do you want to work for the CIA?”

  Zeke looked over at the verse engraved in the floor and pointed to it. “That’s why.”

  “Good answer,” said Agent Johnson. “Director Dulles would have applauded you. That engraving was put there by Allen Dulles, the fifth director of the CIA appointed by President Eisenhower. Follow me. I reserved a conference room where we can talk.”

  They walked up a flight of stairs and proceeded through a winding hallway of offices.

  “This is the vault. Some people call it a SCIF or a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility. I have the combination to it.” Zeke looked confused. “Not exactly your typical office setting,” commented Agent Johnson. “Everything is done on purpose for security. From the green tint on the windows to prevent outside electromagnetic monitoring to the combination locks on our office vaults to winding hallways that choke off radio transmissions. Secrecy is paramount.”

  Agent Johnson entered the combination and opened the vault. They took a seat.

  “So, Zeke,” said Agent Johnson. Talk to me. Tell me about yourself, including your arrest for that bomb scare when you were fourteen. Oh, by the way, I should mention that this interview is being recorded.”

  “OK. I plan on telling you everything,” said Zeke.

  “This is not our normal procedure, but you’re not a normal candidate,” said the agent. “But that’s what we like to hear. You keep that mindset and you will do well here.”

  Zeke recounted his life to the agent as if he were his closest confidant. He told him all about the bomb scare and the deaths of the two teachers. He told him his real name. He told him of his time in the service and his time in college. Then, he told him about his time in DC and in New York and the revelation of his special gift.

  “Several other agents and I have watched your interviews. That’s why we’re interested in you. You could be a great asset to the agency. Tell me, Zeke, do you think this gift is for real?”

  “I don’t know why I have it. It’s not something I ever wanted. But it is real, and I’m starting to believe that God could use it to do good.”

  “Well, you’ll have a chance to demonstrate it later in the process. I’ll take this conversation back to all involved parties, and we’ll discuss. Meanwhile, I want you to go about your daily business, but go online and update your SF-86 clearance forms to include all the information about the bomb scare and anything else you think we should know, especially drug usage. Make sure you include any incident in which your name has been entered on a police blotter. We will take it from there. Abby told me that the FBI suspended your current clearance. Don’t worry about that. I understand that the security clearance attorney filed a motion to dismiss the application, and that the FBI agreed. That means you get a do-over. When you submit the updated SF-86, it will be processed as a new application. Give me a call when you’ve done that. I must warn you. We are going to put you through an extensive background check, full-scope polygraph, and psychological suitability evaluation. We look at your whole life and your lifestyle. As part of your evaluation, we’re going to send you to a facility out in California where there are some researchers we use from time to time who will analyze and classify your ability. You’ll be out there three to five days. I’ll let you know when I’ve made the arrangements.”

  Agent Johnson stood up and shook Zeke’s hand. “Good luck, Zeke. I hope to see you working for the CIA.” Both men left the room and the agent escorted Zeke back to the lobby.

  “Thanks for taking the time to meet with me,” said Zeke before exiting the lobby. Zeke drove off the 256-acre compound wondering what it would be like to work for an organization so cloaked in secrecy. He found his way to the George Washington Memorial Parkway and drove towards I-495. Again, he noticed various cyclers on paths paralleling the main road. Such an idyllic setting amidst such chaos.

  Zeke hurried home and began updating his SF-86 just like Agent Johnson told him taking care not to withhold any pertinent information. He was not sure what the future might hold, but he didn’t want to blow what he thought was a second chance.

  Later that evening he got a call from Abby Sorensen. “Zeke, how did it go? Did you have the interview with Agent Johnson? Zeke, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I investigated you first, remember? Other than the bomb scare incident, you look pretty clean to me, and you were fourteen when that happened, unless there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

  “No,” replied Zeke. “That’s the only thing.”

  “So then, relax and just wait.”

  “Oh, I do need to call him and tell him that I’ve finished the update,” said Zeke.

  “Yeah, do that,” said Abby, “and keep me posted.”

  “Abby,” said Zeke. “Would you…”

  “Would I what?” asked Abby.

  “Never mind. It was just an unfinished thought,” said Zeke.

  “Well, Zeke, when you finish your thought, call me back,” said Abby. “Have a good day at the station tomorrow, and don’t let them know what’s going on.”

  “Not a chance,” said Zeke.

  After talking with Abby, Zeke called Agent Johnson. “Agent Johnson, this is Zeke Jackson. I hope I’m not calling too late.”

  “No, you’re fine, Zeke.”

  “I wanted to let you know that I updated my SF-86.”

  “Wow. You got right on that. That’s great, Zeke. I’ll start the ball rolling from our end. An agent will be assigned to investigate you. When your SF-86 che
cks out, then we’ll call you in for the poly. Then, if you pass the poly, we’ll send you out to California for an eval, and after that we’ll ask you for a demonstration of your ability. Meanwhile, sit tight and stay out of trouble.”

  “You got it,” replied Zeke.

  “Talk to you soon,” replied Agent Johnson.

  Zeke felt exhausted. It reminded of the tiredness he felt back in college during a serious bout of meningitis. He slept well that night.

  The next morning, when he arrived at the station, Zeke skipped up the long set of white stone steps leading to the arched entrance. Once inside, he was greeted by Julie.

  “Well, you’re sure in a good mood this morning. Saw you coming up the steps. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Just got some clarity on some things,” said Zeke. “How about lunch today?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so,” replied Julie.

  Zeke took the stairs up to the second floor and stopped by the coffee room before checking in with Harvey. Ellie from social media saw him and alerted him to a breaking story gaining traction on social media.

  “Zeke, there’s another demonstration planned for late this morning at the White House and the word on the street is that it’s going to be more than a demonstration this time.”

  “What are they demonstrating against?” asked Zeke.

  “Oh, you know, the usual: sexism, racism, poverty, destruction of the environment, affordable health care, a living wage. Hey, the sun is shining in old DC. That either means it’s spring and the tourists are here, or it’s a good day for a protest. Gotta get it in before the weather turns cold.”

  “Well,” said Zeke. “I better see what Harvey wants me to do.”

  “Zeke,” shouts Harvey. “Get in here. Sorry about your aunt. I had a favorite aunt, too. Hey, no hard feelings, I hope, about some of that stuff I said before you left. Sometimes, I can be very callous. It’s an occupational hazard. You ready to go back to work?”

  “Yeah, why not,” said Zeke.

  Harvey glanced at him with a brief questioning stare, before proceeding to give him his assignment.