The Black Alchemists
Page 14
"The last thing a man does is die," David McCarter mused. "We'll be lucky if any of us carry out our final act as well as Keio did."
"Have you seen to the cremation?" Yakov Katzenelenbogen inquired quietly.
"Already done," Brognola replied. "The ashes will be sent to his family in Japan after we've had a chance to pay our last respects to a brave and big-hearted warrior."
"And a good friend," Encizo added softly.
"I have a request, Hal," Katz began. "Is it possible to erect a monument to Keio at Arlington Cemetery?"
"A monument?" The Fed frowned. "Yakov, you realize something like that could jeopardize our security."
"Just a small headstone," Katz insisted. "There's no need to put his name on it. All of us will know who it is for. That's what matters."
"That can be arranged," Brognola said, nodding.
"A one-word inscription would be nice," McCarter commented.
"One word?" Brognola inquired.
"Samurai."
"How right you are, David," Manning agreed.
"You want 'samurai' inscribed on a headstone at Arlington Cemetery?" The Fed sighed. "Hell, I'll see what I can do."
Calvin James had remained silent. Although he too had been touched by the death of Keio Ohara, he did not feel he had a right to intrude on the sorrow felt by the others. They had served with Ohara for three years. James was still a newcomer.
The black warrior regretted this status. More than ever, he wanted to remain with Phoenix Force. James had done well with the team. For the first time he really belonged. Even his work with SWAT could not compare to Phoenix Force.
"Okay, Calvin," Brognola began. "You were sort of drafted for this mission. If you want to return to the San Francisco Police Department, we'll understand, but we could sure use you here. Especially now."
"Hal speaks for all of us," Katz added. "We want you to remain with Phoenix Force." James felt a rush of blood suffuse his face. The surface of his eyes prickled and his throat tightened momentarily.
"I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing," James replied tightly. A smile radiated, starting at the corners of his mouth, and spread across his face.
"I surely can't."
The Gar Wilson Forum
The phrase "mindless act of terrorism" is seen and heard so much these days that we stand in danger of accepting it as commonplace rather than seeing it for what it is — a danger signal warning us of a disturbing and potentially deadly aspect of our world.
Whether they are exploding bombs in crowded department stores at Christmastime — as the IRA did in London during Christmas 1983, killing six innocent people, wounding many more and leaving permanent emotional scars on the psyches of countless families — or throwing grenades into crowded Jerusalem streets, terrorists demonstrate a lack of any sense of humanity or compassion for their fellow man. They are capable of functioning only as mindless and remorseless terror machines.
Terrorists are like termites chewing away at the very foundations of our society. Many are the well-educated products of upper-middle-class families. Yet their politics are obscure. With the SAS, GSG-9 and the Mossad, I had the opportunity to interrogate many extremists. Regardless of their political affiliations, their goals were irrational and unrealistic. Their only consistency, then as now, lay in their unanimous choice of a method for social and political change — violence.
Ours is evolving as a world that lives in fear. A world where the innocent are the unsuspecting prey of the irrational. A world where children become the sport of conscienceless bloodletters. A terrorist does not care about the value of human life or individual freedom. That is what makes a terrorist the most dangerous and loathsome beast in the jungle.