Three (24 page)

“Individual civilizations
have always been built on common goals and mutual respect.  Now that our world
is becoming a single civilization, we have to follow suit as one community.  Only
through a quest to replace evil with goodness, hatred with love, can mankind
find peace.”

“You’re preaching to the
choir, Oliver.  Remember, I’m a member of the Society of Friends.  Nevertheless,
I would like to read this summer’s paper when you have finished it.”

“Better yet, Max, you can be
my proof reader and editor.”

“Oh dear, another work
assignment!”

As a
dessert of Italian ices was served, Oliver reached into his jacket pocket and
pulled out his gift and handed it to Maxine.  “Max, congratulations on your new
appointment.  Bob Clark has done nothing but praise you since our return, and I
agree, you are a top field agent.”

“Thank you, Oliver.  Your
friendship’s my true prize.”  Tears welled up in her eyes.  She held the gift
with both hands like a most prized possession, but did not open it. 

When they had finished their
desserts, Oliver escorted Maxine past the waiters, each of whom bowed warmly to
her.  Again Maxine was surprised by the attention.  “Don’t you have to pay the
bill?”

“I paid it earlier today.”

“Did you leave a tip?”

“Why do women always ask that
question?”

“How many women do you treat
with this kind of charm!”

“You’re the only one, Max.”

The two drove back to Falls
Church by way of Langley, where Maxine would begin the work she had missed
during the past year at I&A.  They spoke very little on the trip, each lost
in thought, savoring the intimate evening of fine food and drink and thinking
of the days ahead.

Oliver parked and walked with
Maxine to her apartment.  She stopped at her door and turned to Oliver. Tears
glistened in her eyes.  “Thank you, Oliver, for a wonderful evening, and this
gift.”  She was still holding the unopened present.

“Max, I will miss you.”

The two stood face-to-face
for an extended moment until Maxine placed her hand gently on Oliver’s chest,
then turned to unlock her door.  “Goodnight, Oliver,” was all she could say as
her voice began to break.

Maxine entered her small
apartment and turned on the lamp near her desk.  Laying Oliver’s unopened gift
on the desk, she stood wiping the tears from her eyes and slowly examined the
room.  Here were the things that defined Maxine Phillips: a computer
work-station, her academic texts and reference books in a small bookcase, pictures
of her in combat gear posing next to Kurdish officers, and, finally, her
diplomas and marksmanship awards. 

Reaching into the back of an
upper shelf of the bookcase she removed a small framed photograph and stood
examining it, feeling tears well up.  The photo had been taken when she was a
high school student in a small town in southwestern Missouri where she had
grown up.  She was standing next to her father and mother in front of their small
home, built in the thirties like so many others in the neighborhood. 

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
support 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.