Terminal Justice Read online

  David and millions of others had seen pictures from Ethiopia on their television sets. But the images always seemed too far away to be true. Now David lay on a bed in a hotel in the capital of that country, and soon he would stand in the filth of abject poverty. He wondered if he was up to it. With that last thought still floating in his mind and compelled by jet lag, he dozed off to sleep.

  He awoke to a banging on his door. At first he felt groggy and displaced. His mind struggled to place him in his own bed in his own home, but reason reminded him that home was thousands of miles away. The knocking on the door resumed and was accompanied by a muffled voice. “David, are you in there?”

  “Yeah,” he shouted, rubbing his eyes. “Just a second.” Taking a few deep breaths to help wake him, David rose from the bed and went to the door.

  “I thought you had died or something,” Kristen said. “I must have been knocking for five minutes.”

  “I fell asleep,” David replied groggily. “I must have really been under.”

  “It’s the altitude,” Kristen said with a grin. “People who aren’t used to it tend to get sleepy.”

  “So that’s what was wrong with my congregation,” he said with a smile. “And I thought it was my sermons.” Kristen laughed. “But maybe it is similar after all,” David continued. “One has to do with thin air, and the other with hot air.”

  “I came by,” she said, “to see if you wanted to go down to the restaurant with me and sample some native cuisine.”

  “Does native cuisine include hamburger and fries?”

  “I sure hope so,” she replied. “You’ll join me?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Across the eastern border of Ethiopia, past the dry Ogaden desert, in the Benadir region of Somalia lay the coastal city of Marka. The small city had been Roger’s home for eight hot days. He, along with Mohammed Aden, had been staying in a small hotel near the warehouse district of the port city. Actually, Aden had made arrangements for the room. Roger crept in the room that night and only left it under the cover of darkness. It was his intent to remain invisible. This was one of Mahli’s towns, and Mahli would have people on the lookout for the unusual—such as a white American.

  “Find anything?” Roger asked Aden when the latter stepped into the hot hotel room.

  “This is not easy, my friend,” Aden said exasperated. “I can ask no questions of the people here for fear of alerting Mahli; I cannot simply walk up to the warehouse and peek in a window without being shot. And I am not trained for electronic surveillance.”

  “I’ll take that as a no then,” Roger said bluntly.

  “I have had no more luck during the day than you have had at night,” Aden replied. “But we know the information we received is right because of the number of guards and the weapons they carry. We are, at least, in the right place.”

  “Most likely, we’re in one of the right places. Mahli probably has dozens of places like this scattered across Somalia. We just have to wait. Get some rest; we’ll be going out again tonight. Maybe tonight we will be lucky.”

  Aden groaned.

  The hotel restaurant served a fair dinner for a country in the midst of famine. The food was far from the well-prepared and tasty delights on which the hotel had once prided itself. Now it was content to serve sandwiches and thin soup—a meager meal in the West, a banquet for the rural people of Ethiopia and a half-dozen other nations in East Africa.

  “Sorry there were no burgers,” Kristen said, “but I suppose we should still be thankful.”

  “Amen to that,” David said. “Besides, the food is less important than the company.”

  “Why thank you, Gentleman David. You are most kind.”

  “I aims to please, ma’am,” David said jovially. “Does it seem like we’re in Africa to you? I find it all a little hard to believe.”

  “We’re here all right. But I know what you mean. It seems as though we could walk outside and see the San Diego skyline with all its lights.”

  “Let’s do that.”

  “Go back to San Diego?”

  “No. Let’s go outside.”

  The night air had cooled as the sun set over the mountainous horizon and gave way to the flood of darkness. Scattered shards of starlight hung from the canopy of space like tiny ornaments on a gigantic Christmas tree. The moon, three-quarters full, was already high in the sky. A warm current of wind flowed leisurely along the street, moving bits of dust and dirt along its path. Cars, some in extreme disrepair, passed along the paved road in front of the hotel. David and Kristen meandered along the walk a few yards until they found a wrought-iron bench set back from the walkway and street. They sat and gazed at the ebb and flow of the city. Bicyclists rode along the street, dodging parked cars and pedestrians.

  “It’s hard to believe that we are in the middle of a famine,” David said. “It looks almost like any other city.”

  “Cities are the last to feel the squeeze of famine,” Kristen said. “Besides, we’re in the highlands. The worst hunger is in the lower, hotter elevations.”

  “It’s amazing to think that the same moon that shines on our prosperity in the United States shines on their poverty here,” he said dolefully. “We are at the threshold of the twenty-first century and still struggling with such things. One would think we would be beyond such problems by now. But then I guess it’s to be expected.”

  “Expected? Famine and poverty? Death and disease?” Kristen was astonished. “I don’t think we should ever assume that such things are natural. It’s unnatural in every sense. You surprise me, David. I never would have pegged you for a fatalist.”

  “I’m not,” David said with a disarming grin. “You misunderstand me. I’m not defending the presence of poverty. I’m saying that it’s not surprising. Look,” he said, turning on the bench to face her, “humankind has achieved many things in the course of its history. We have put men on the moon and probes on Mars. We have developed machines like CAT and MRI scanners that look right into the human body. Doctors can even replace the heart and the liver. But with all of those advances, we still need police on our streets and locks on our doors. In fact, as time goes on, we become more violent and self-centered. There’s a theological concept that explains why.”

  “You’re talking about sin nature.”

  “Yes. Sin nature is defined differently by various scholars, but at its core is the idea that every person has a tendency to sin—to do wrong. That’s not to say that we lack control of our lives or that we are doomed to give in to the evil that is resident in everyone; that is only to say that everyone commits sin. That’s the real problem. That’s the disease; everything else is symptomatic of the problem.”

  Kristen thought for a moment. “I’ve heard sin nature spoken of in church all my life, but I’ve never applied the idea to things like world hunger. It seems too simplistic.”

  “Simple answers are often right,” David said, affecting a professorial tone. “My point is this: People have a tendency to act in their own self-interest, even if it means that others may suffer in the process. This remains true, unless something changes that tendency.”

  “Not everyone is evil?”

  “Not in the sense that every child born will turn into some kind of monster. But everyone does view the world through his set of personal needs. That’s why the real culprit in famine is not weather, strong contributing factor as that is, but people involved in power struggles and civil war. That’s why prejudice exists even after ten thousand years of history have taught us how wrong and futile bigotry is.”

  “But there are also people who sacrificially give of themselves to help others. People like Mother Teresa and, well, even A.J.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” David said, “and I wouldn’t hesitate to add you or Peter or all the people who are working hard to save lives right now. Please understand, sin nature doesn’t mean that everyone is as depraved as they can be, only that everyone must deal with the inclination to
sin.”

  “What’s the solution?” Kristen asked pointedly. “Will there always be hunger and crime?”

  “The blunt answer is yes. There will always be crime and hunger, and with that the opportunity to make a difference. From the Christian point of view, the world will continue as it is until Christ comes again. That’s when the whole system changes. Until then, we must continue to fight the good fight. You see, not only is everyone affected by sin nature, but there is in every person the image of God. We all know the difference between right and wrong, and God has given us the opportunity to choose between the two. That’s why we are faced with the paradox of a world that can produce both Gandhi and Hitler; men like A.J. and men like the one who killed Judith Rhodes. Same world, same people, different results. All based on choice.”

  Kristen turned and looked at David. “I’ve been a believer for a long time, David, and my church has always been important to me, but I’ve always struggled with the presence of evil and suffering in the world. Every day I go to work, and even though I am safe and comfortable in my office, I’m keenly aware of the people who live on the edge of disaster. On Sundays I go to church and try to make sense of it all.”

  “I wish I could give you pat answers to those kinds of questions, but there aren’t any. There has always been pain and suffering; theologians and philosophers have argued over their source and meaning for centuries.”

  “It’s good to have someone to talk to about it.” Kristen returned her gaze to the moon. “Do you know how some businesses often have a statement of purpose?”

  “Yes. Many churches have them.”

  “My favorite Bible verse is such a statement. Let’s see if I can still quote it. It’s from the gospel of Luke and it goes something like this: ‘The Spirit of the LORD is upon Me, because He has anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed; to preach the acceptable year of the LORD.’ I find my motivation in that verse. It’s good knowing that God cares.”

  David sat in silence, enjoying the night, the company, and the conversation. A few minutes later he said, “May I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why haven’t you ever married?” David asked, then quickly followed the question with, “I don’t mean to pry. If I’m being too personal …”

  “No,” Kristen interrupted. “Not at all. The answer is simple: No one has ever asked me.” David furrowed his brow. “You look puzzled. Surely it makes sense to you.”

  “Unless I’ve missed something, like your being an ax murderer or something, then it makes no sense at all.”

  “Look, David,” Kristen said firmly, “I don’t kid myself. Men aren’t interested in flawed women. I see them look at me from time to time. They look at my face, then they look at my feet and turn away. Guys just aren’t interested in dating a cripple.”

  David laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I’ve never thought of you as a cripple. Here we sit in the capital of Ethiopia talking about world events. In a day or two we will be walking in a famine area. I think you’re being unfair to yourself.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, actually I don’t. Anyone who would dismiss you as undesirable because one leg isn’t a perfect match with the other is the cripple, not you. You have been blessed not to be shackled to such shallow people. Any man—any decent man—would be interested in you.”

  “Does that include you?” Kristen asked pointedly. David hesitated, took a deep breath, which he exhaled noisily, and then looked back at the moon. “See what I mean,” Kristen said coldly. She started to rise.

  David reached for her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t go. You don’t understand. I know how my reaction must seem to you. Trust me, it has nothing to do with you; it has everything to do with me.” Kristen leaned back on the bench again. David bowed his head and spoke quietly. “I was caught off guard. I’m not very good at this. I didn’t date much in school. I married young, and she left me abruptly. I’m gun-shy.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of relationships, I suppose.” David turned in his seat to face Kristen. “I don’t quite know how to feel. Being left by one’s wife is difficult for any man, but for a preacher it’s worse. It brings up all kinds of sticky questions. Today people marry and divorce freely, but for pastors a failed marriage is the ultimate failure, at least in the eyes of many.”

  “Why? You’re human too.”

  “True, but knowing that doesn’t take away the ghosts of failure that haunt my mind. The truth is, Kristen, I find myself extremely attracted to you, and I don’t know what to do or think about it. You fear rejection because of a birth defect, I fear rejection because … well, because I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle another dose of it.”

  They sat in silence. Cars passed them noisily, pedestrians walked along conversing in Arabic, Orominga, or Amharic, and the moon rose steadily in the sky; neither noticed, each lost in thought and uncertain what to say or do in the awkward situation. David felt ashamed and confused, and he could sense that Kristen felt undesirable and unwanted.

  “What do we do now?” Kristen asked, her eyes fixed on the moon. “Do we sit frozen in our own worlds?”

  David turned his eyes from the moon to Kristen and took a long look at her. Her eyes glistened with restrained tears, her red hair swayed gently in the breeze, the streetlight and moonlight reflected off her smooth and tender skin. She was lovely, captivating, Helen of Troy setting on an iron bench in Ethiopia. David felt himself being drawn to her. His skin tingled and his stomach seemed to turn over. His mind raced and his emotions churned. He didn’t know how he felt about her, but he knew he wanted to touch her. Slowly he raised his hand and touched her cheek. A tear rolled down to meet the slightly trembling hand that so mildly and cautiously stroked her skin. She drew in a ragged breath as he slowly, almost imperceptibly leaned forward and closed his eyes, not knowing what to expect. Would she pull away? Would she think him forward and slap him?

  He waited a single moment, a moment that seemed ages long. Then something soft, moist, and tender touched his lips. He could sense her, smell her skin and hair. Her lips welcomed his in a gentle yet hungry fashion. Those lips received his kiss and returned it in kind. The embrace was slow and easy and communicated more than mere thought; it communicated a flood of emotion.

  When their kiss ended, the two looked at each other. He stroked her hair in long easy caresses.

  “We may be breaking the law, you know,” said Kristen. “This is a largely Muslim country. Such … personal interaction … may be offensive.”

  “It was worth the risk,” David said softly.

  “What does this mean?”

  “I have no idea, but I’ll remember it forever.” The two returned their attention to the rising moon.

  A tall, silent woman stood in the doorway to the hotel lobby watching the young couple in the evening light. After seeing them kiss, Sheila Womack stepped back into the hotel.

  “Good news,” A.J. said as he hung up the phone. “Eileen tells me that Roger has made contact again and that they’ve finally located Mahli in the port city of Marka. It took days, but Roger came through.”

  “And the bad news?” Sheila asked as she sat on the edge of the hotel bed.

  “You know me so well, don’t you?” A.J. replied somberly. “The bad news is what we expected: Mahli never travels alone. In fact, he’s constantly surrounded by his men. Heavily armed men, I might add.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Patience. Roger will maintain his observation until he finds a way to get to Mahli or finds some other way of settling the score. I can assure you of one thing, Sheila, Dr. Rhodes’s death will not go unpunished, nor will the pain and agony of the good Somali people. Mahli will pay in some way. He will pay
a very expensive price.”

  Sheila nodded in silent agreement then said, “There’s something else you should know. David and Kristen are … becoming close.”

  “Great!” A.J. uttered exuberantly. “They both need a little companionship. It should make them happy and all the more useful to us. It’s about time Kristen took an interest in men.”

  “He concerns me,” Sheila said seriously. “He picks up on things.”

  “David? You worry over nothing. It’s true that David is as bright as they come, but he’s a team player. He knows the importance of our work, and he won’t let anything interfere with it.”

  “If he knew it all, he wouldn’t approve.”

  “But,” A.J. said forcefully, “he won’t know it all. He’s not the kind to join us in our … extra efforts, so he must never know of our other activities. I’m not going to tell him. I know you’re not going to tell him, and neither is anyone else. We all have too much to lose, and there are too many people who stand to gain.” He walked over to the bed where Sheila was seated and kissed her forehead. “Stop worrying that gorgeous head of yours. You have bigger fish to fry.”