She had gone through all of her elementary and secondary school years with the same 52 friends. Some had stayed after graduation to continue their family business or work in the local small industries. But like those of her graduation class who had also left this small town to attend college, she had known even then she would not return.
Her aspirations had taken her away from the life her parents had led in this wholesome small-town community. True, it had offered opportunities in farming and small-scale manufacturing, work that had provided sufficiently for her family, but she had never seen a future for herself in small-town America.
In the last fifteen years she had regularly written and called home to speak with her mother and father but had felt a growing gulf between their life experiences and her own. Looking around her apartment, she thought of the love her parents shared for each other and for her. My life’s full of exciting and challenging events, but where’s the love? I can’t share my feelings with Mom and Dad because they’re too removed from my world of secret and dangerous events. This room certainly defines me: full of things, but empty of the shared love Mom and Dad have.
She picked up the photograph taken in Iraq the year before. She was standing between two Kurdish officers with whom she had worked. Some badly needed military supplies in the form of heavy automatic weapons had been delivered the day before this picture had been taken, and the Kurds were clearly happy with the advantage they had acquired.
Maxine studied her own face in the photo. She was smiling subtly. She knew her eyes were focused not on the cell-phone camera, but on the person holding it. She had asked her U.S. military partner, Tom Carson, to snap the picture with her cell phone, and she was smiling at him in the same way he was smiling at her.
They had both been assigned to this mission as a team and had been in the combat zone for two months. The badly needed heavy weapons had just been airlifted into their complex of small buildings in an elevated outpost that overlooked roads and oil wells northwest of the Tigris. The new weapons gave the Kurdish fighters the ability to strike ISIS positions they could see, but previously could not reach with their small arms. The night before this picture had been taken, Maxine had bedded down in a small, secure stone hut set aside for her. Late that night, the new automatic weapons began a steady barrage against key ISIS positions near one of the oil fields.
Startled by the gunfire Maxine had run to the door, just as Tom Carson ran toward her from his tent. “Phillips, get back into your quarters. ISIS may return fire and you should be under cover.”
She had looked at Carson and asked, “Tom, could you stay here with me. We’ll both be safe from return fire.”
He slowly approached her and they stood, facing one another in the doorway. Illuminated by muzzle flashes and distant flares, they embraced with heated passion. Tearing off each other’s clothes, they made love as gunfire masked their sounds. It was passionate and aggressive, heightened by the background of gunfire and the violence of war.
The following morning, the results of the previous night’s attack by the Kurdish fighters were apparent. The ISIS positions near the oil field were in ruins and no fighters were visible. ISIS had apparently retreated as a result of this single attack. This photograph was taken as part of the celebration in their small compound. Unfortunately, ISIS had not retreated completely, but had sent a single sniper into the nearby hills to inflict a vengeful blow against those who had aided the Kurds.
Two hours later, while Maxine and Tom were inspecting the emplacement of the new weapons, Maxine heard a sharp pop followed by a distant rifle report. She turned to ask Tom where the shot had come from and found him slumped against the side of the revetment, a bullet hole in his forehead.
She was still haunted by this mental picture. The young soldier with whom she had made love the night before, was killed next to her by a sniper. That sniper must have had my image in his scope as he was deciding who to kill. Why had Tom been his choice rather than I? These thoughts had continued to haunt Maxine since that terrible day. Except for her tearful disclosure to Oliver in the National Cemetery, she had not been able to speak to anyone about it since. She had been afraid to get close to others for fear of losing them, and now here she was again alone in her small apartment.
Maxine picked up Oliver’s gift and removed the ribbon and wrapping paper. Above the small box she found a note. Folded inside the note was a wallet-sized copy of the selfie she had made of the two of them in Jerusalem. She smiled through her tears at the image of that bit of playfulness, in the very shadow of the danger both knew they faced.
Opening the letter she read,
“Max, this small token can, in no way, reflect my feelings for you. You have been much more than a colleague in our hunt for the ‘Father Abraham’ conspirators. You have been a companion who lifted me up from my darkest moments and kept me focused on this hunt. You saved my life and then tended my wounds. I hope we can continue to work together from time to time, but I know you will now be on assignment in many distant parts of the world. When you wear this pendant, think of our adventures together.
Please keep out of harm in your new work,
Love,
Oliver.”
Maxine opened the small box and lifted out the pendant, examining the triangle of red, blue, and green stones. Placing it around her neck in front of the mirror near the front door of her apartment, she stood for a moment looking at her reflection. Here was the image of a woman of age thirty-three, looking very feminine in her evening dress and necklace. Her tears made her look even more feminine and certainly more vulnerable than the warrior she aspired to be in her new assignment with the CIA.
The following morning, alone in his I&A office, Oliver tried to reflect on all that had happened, and contemplate what these events revealed about human nature. He sat looking out his window at the Washington, D. C., traffic, as it moved slowly along Nebraska. The past three weeks had been both tragic and exhausting. However, realizing what could have happened had he not seen the subtle patterns, and had not Max been at his side, he felt relieved and glad the ordeal was finally over. He studied the story board, but was unable to make a start on his paper. His mind kept returning to Max. He knew she now had the position she really wanted.
Last night at her apartment she had backed away at the moment they should have embraced. He had seen her in her most vulnerable moments, but also knew she could be very strong-willed, covering up her inner feelings. Oliver realized Maxine was still afraid of forming a close relationship with him. He had fallen in love with her, but was not sure how she felt about him, and now he was losing her to the new CIA assignment. His heart ached as much as his wounded left shoulder.
He stood and again attempted to concentrate on the story board he had moved from the conference room into his office. It almost completely covered the wall containing his library of theology books. He added photographs in order to better reflect on the underlying reasons for this religious attack on science. In this way he hoped to best organize his paper on why such attacks arise, and how they might be prevented.
Below the title, Three, he arranged photographs of Fermilab’s Wilson Hall, CERN’s Building 40, and The Dark Sector lab in Antarctica. Centered below this line of three photos were the words, Father Abraham, under which was written, The Foundation of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Here Oliver placed a picture of the Foundation stone. An arrow containing the words, faith, hope, love, pointed to one side of this image. There he placed photos of David, Elizabeth, and Khalil. Below these three he also attached an old photograph he had found in his apartment of Alice Newbury, dressed in cap and gown at her high school graduation. On either side of her, looking as proud as she, were her father and her Godfather.
Studying this picture for a long time, Oliver contemplated his role now that Peter was gone, When Alice marries, I will probably be asked to take Peter’s role in the ceremony by presenting her hand to the groom. Before that event, she may need emotional sup
port as she approaches this major commitment in her life. He began to think of the many ways this young lady he had known from birth would continue to need his love and support even as an adult. His life as a bachelor had in no way prepared him for such a responsibility; he had only been looking after his own needs.
Oliver began to realize that the family tie runs both ways, just as it does with his students, who from time to time express their love and appreciation for him. His own emotional needs had also been met as he had cared for Alice. This mutual love and respect is what had always tied them together. He now fully realized he was a part of her family and would always remain so.
Below these images of Peter’s “family” was an arrow pointing down to the words, The Theory of Everything, and then, New Insight. Here Oliver inserted some images of Peter’s toy model taken at the lakeside cottage, including a triangle of three marbles: red, green, and blue, remarkably similar to the pendant he had given Maxine the evening before. He had also drawn two opposing arrows, one showing red, green, and blue, the other showing magenta, cyan, and yellow. Under this he had written, The Strongest Force in the Universe.
On the opposite side of the story board was an arrow labeled, pride, envy, hatred, pointing away from the image of the Foundation Stone. Here Oliver clustered the images he was able to obtain from intelligence files: Benton Spencer, Forrest, and the Smith brothers; Joshua, Joel, and Enoch; and Ibrahim with silhouettes for the unknown ISIS agents.
Extending downward from these images was an arrow pointing to the words, Mark of the Beast, followed by, The End of Days, and finally, I am become death, the destroyer of worlds. Beneath these words Oliver had placed a second pair of opposing arrows to match the matter, antimatter arrows on the opposite side of the board. Within the first of these arrows, he had written, The Four Horses, and in the opposed arrow, Oliver and Max. Next to this last arrow, centered at the bottom of his story board he placed a full-sized print of the selfie Max had snapped in Jerusalem. Again he felt that ache in his heart. She had become so close to him over the past two weeks, but then chose to push away.
Putting these thoughts of her aside for the moment, he began to scan the story board, pondering what forces held together these three key conspirators who had almost succeeded in vaporizing Temple Mount in Jerusalem, and triggering a holy war. Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how many tears have bathed your walls; how much blood has stained your streets?
He knew Benton Spencer had chosen to carry out his destructive mission believing he was following the will of God, when, in fact, he had used scripture to create, of himself, a false prophet. Yes, world conflict is, in many cases, driven by religious fervor; but I now realize that only through the quest for goodness within a religious belief can mankind learn to live together in peace.
His own bitterness toward organized religion had slowly dissolved as Oliver had experienced the events of the past days that had carried him to the far corners of the earth. He reflected on the morality of mankind and his own return to his Christian beliefs, and how faith, as well as knowledge, had led him through the series of dramatic and dangerous events of the past two weeks.
His eyes now returned to the image of the free spirited Oliver and Maxine in Jerusalem. Oliver stood before the story board, his thoughts again fixed on this picture and of the two of them, and slowly shook his head. Just as Alice had become a part of his life through their emotional ties, so had Max. He spoke to the picture. “Damn! Like Professor Higgins in My Fair Lady, ‘I’ve grown accustomed to her face.’”
He was still staring at her picture when she suddenly appeared wearing her work-out clothes, the gold pendant hanging around her neck.
“Max, I thought you had gone to Langley. Why are you here in these academic halls of drudgery?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’ve turned down the offer and am staying here as your partner.”
“You’re kiddi…” was all Oliver was able to say in response before Maxine grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, causing a sharp pain to run down his left arm, and planted a warm, passionate kiss on his astonished lips.
She then turned and headed out of his office saying, “Now I’m off to my martial arts class where I’m going to throw my instructor on his ass.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The author wishes to thank several people for their help in the review of the early draft, and the final manuscript of this book. They include Eloise and George MacKay, Dr. Jack McGuire, Jan Kiser, and Gerald Marin. The author is grateful for the changes and additions suggested by Dr. Christina Clark, Dr. Jonathan McIntyre, and especially Dr. Gretchen Sutherland, for her thorough editing and suggested improvements. Without this help, the final manuscript would not have come together. Finally, the author wishes to thank his Sister-in-law, Lynn Ryan, and his wife, Sheila Oelfke, for the hours they spent reading and re-reading the manuscript, providing a thorough, final check of grammar and style.
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