ODESSA, UKRAINE—It was just after noon in the Black Sea port of Odessa, where the Bright Star was tied up alongside a pier. Sadim Muhmood and the nuclear technician, Andrei Kolikov, were having lunch with the captain, Kalim Kutub, in his stateroom, as was their custom. Usually their meals were pleasant enough, but this day there was tension in the room.
“You said two days maximum. Already this is three,” Sadim said to Kolikov, the man who had first approved the Ukrainian warhead when it was still half buried in its motherland’s dark soil. Sadim’s eyes revealed the anger his associates knew was always just below the surface. Now it threatened to boil over. “How much longer?”
Kolikov shrugged and replied sheepishly, “Things here do not always go as first advertised. More people had to be paid off. We rejected the first replacement part they brought because it was too old. We’ve sent them back to the original military source, and hopefully by tomorrow we can be on our way.”
“It’s too dangerous for us to stay here. There are still questions being asked about that agent’s death in April. I’ve watched the same men every day walking along the pier and asking about our ship. Khalim”—the leader turned to the Bright Star’s captain—“be sure to stress to your crew again that they are to talk to no one.”
“Yes. I will. They know the rules. They were hand-picked for this mission.”
“I know. But some of them are young and might slip up. So tell them to stay out of the bars and the brothels while we are stuck here.”
“None of them would set foot in a bar, Sadim,” Khalim objected. “But to tell them to forego their women?”
“Yes. Besides our immediate safety, which worries me, this is a holy mission, and the least they can do is keep themselves dean in this city of infidels. But I particularly want no talk, do you understand?”
“Yes, Sadim.”
“And,” Sadim added, rising to go, his lunch only half eaten, “we are leaving tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Andrei, if we have to, we’ll leave you here in Odessa for a week to find the replacement part. Do you think your good comrades from the old days would like to find you here? Then we’d have to kill you.”
Kolikov blanched. “We’re supposed to have the right part in the morning, Sadim.”
“We’d better. Our safety and success cannot be risked for such a slip-up. Get more reliable people. We have a timetable that will be met, and I will not tolerate dangerous delays like this.”
As Sadim slammed the stateroom door, the Russian, who was a professed atheist, nevertheless prayed that the proper part would show up on time.
14
Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity religion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should labor to subvert these great pillars of human happiness.... The mere politician...ought to respect and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all their connections with private and public felicity. Let it simply be asked, Where is the security for property for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert?... And let us with caution indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined education on minds... reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail, in exclusion of religious principle.
GEORGE WASHINGTON
FAREWELL ADDRESS, SEPTEMBER 19, 1796
Wednesday, November 7
Three Weeks Later
RALEIGH—“Hi, Sarah,” Mary called from the den as her daughter closed the front door and started up the front stairs. “Don’t forget the interview is on TV tonight. How was school?”
“Hi. Fine,” Sarah replied as she continued up the stairs.
“Your midterm report card came today.”
Sarah stopped. “How was it?”
“Good. Real good. But sometime I want to ask you about health.”
“Okay.” Sarah continued up the last two steps, walked down the hallway, and quietly closed the door to her room. She had been dreading this day for the past several weeks. In fact, she had been checking the mailbox for days, hoping that she would be the first to open the envelope from the school, as if that would make a difference.
Just last week her mother had asked her whether she wanted them to file a formal protest with the school board when her mandatory failing grade in health arrived. Sarah had not actually lied to her mother, but she had dodged the discussion with a series of “Mms” and “I’ll think about it.” Now she assumed her mother knew she hadn’t failed the course.
I’ll just tell her the principal intervened on behalf of those who didn’t want to use the computer, and that will be it. She’ll be happy and never ask about it again. And I can go on to the eighth session, which everyone says is incredible.
But a mixture of guilt—she had never directly lied to her parents before on a major issue—and a creeping suspicion that her mother would probe more deeply and discover the truth, persuaded her that lying would not work. That left Sarah with telling the truth, which felt even worse. She threw her backpack on the floor and fell on her bed, anger, guilt, and frustration swirling inside her.
Sarah curled up into a fetal position. Her homework remained untouched in her backpack. She dreaded going downstairs to dinner, which would be ready in an hour. For an instant she felt she should pray for guidance, but she knew it would open a door to feelings of guilt, and she slammed it shut. Instead of praying, she reflected again on how dumb her parents were for wanting to deny her this experience. And the more she thought, the more angry she became.
ATLANTA—Rebecca had arranged her schedule to get off early so she could fix dinner in time to watch the special program about the president’s family that evening.
“Blue cheese or ranch?” she asked Bruce as she stood in front of the open refrigerator door and he cut open the baked potatoes. Moments later they were seated in the dining area of her high-rise apartment, the early darkness outside presaging the coming winter.
“I wonder if they’ll use much of the tape they shot here,” she thought out loud, looking around her small but tasteful apartment.
“Probably,” Bruce smiled in reply. “I liked the shots of us at the gym. I think our friends were blown away when Leslie Sloane herself showed up to ask questions. Of course the downside is I hate for the whole nation to see what a good looking woman you are; you might get a better offer!”
“I doubt that will happen,” she replied. “But if I start getting fan mail, we can answer it together. How’s that?”
“Fair enough. Just let me be in charge of answering any letters that include pictures!”
“First we’d better see how this goes tonight...” There was a moment of silence as they each took a bite from their skinless broiled chicken. “Bruce, I want to tell you about something sort of weird that happened again at the hospital today. I left early, to get home for this program, and as I was walking out through emergency admitting there was another one of our Ob/Gyn charity mothers, almost full term, demanding to have an abortion. I guess I still feel strange whenever I see that—I know, you don’t agree,” she responded as he began to interrupt, “but the weird thing was that Harvey Thompson and Priscilla Sawyer were there again, on duty, ready to perform the abortion.”
“What’s strange about that?” Bruce asked.
“Well, I think that’s the third or fourth time this fall I’ve come across a full-term abortion—and usually in the late afternoon, now that I think about it—when the two of them have been on duty together. Just their being on duty at the same time so much is a little unusual, but these abortions happening as well. It just seems odd. I don’t know.”
“I think you’re imagining things. What could be the big deal, anyway?”
“I don’t really know. I just thought it was strange.”
“Well, abortion is abortion, and they’re doctors. Sounds perfectly normal to me.” Bruce took another b
ite of chicken.
Rebecca started to say how unnormal it sounded to her, but with the show starting in less than an hour, she decided it was no time for an argument. “Anyway, if it happens again I’ll really be curious...”
WASHINGTON—William flew into Washington late that afternoon from a three-day visit to the West Coast. On his trip he had visited several housing projects in Los Angeles damaged by yet another earthquake the previous year, rebuilt and receiving their first residents; met with the new president of Mexico to symbolize the increased trade between the two countries, as all tariffs were scheduled to be removed on January first; and toured a navy and an air force base to commend the men and women in uniform who had been largely responsible for the tenuous peace in the Pacific, as Japan, China, fresh from swallowing prosperous Hong Kong, and the two Koreas vied for economic power, and each built up its military forces in reaction to threatening remarks from the other.
Sandra Van Huyck, his foreign policy advisor, and Lanier Parks, his secretary of state, were worried that a war might break out somewhere in the Pacific rim, and William had met secretly with U.S., Japanese, South Korean, and Australian military leaders to assess the threats and their combined capacity for action, given the United States’ low level of military spending over the previous several years. One key question would be Russia’s reaction to any sort of hostility in that area, and Parks would be flying to Moscow before Thanksgiving to meet with his counterpart to discuss the possibility of a joint peacekeeping role.
Carrie had stayed in Washington while William travelled, and he gave her a warm hug and a kiss as he entered the White House from the South Lawn helicopter pad. As he turned to head for a briefing on congressional reaction to their domestic initiative of three weeks before, Carrie said quietly, “I asked Michael to expand our regular study tonight to watch the interview, since he knows your family. He may be bringing Elizabeth as well, and I thought we could all have dinner together in about two hours. Okay?”
“Sure. Fine. I’m glad he’s coming. I’ve got something I want to share with him. See you in a little while.”
That evening the Harrisons and Tates enjoyed a simple meal in the president’s private quarters. Given William’s just completed trip and Michael’s international ties, the dinner discussion revolved around the situation in the Pacific. “So, particularly if Russia helps, I think we can head off outright war, though tensions will remain high in that area for years, and our forces are really spread thin,” William concluded, as Carrie offered everyone refills of coffee.
“What about your domestic programs?” Elizabeth Tate asked. “We enjoyed your televised presentation several weeks ago—it was so refreshing!”
“Well, you two should know I’m completely at peace that we’ve done the right thing. I guess that’s the Lord working in me, maybe, thanks to your teachings on courage, trust, and truth. But Congress apparently is not real excited. There are a few exceptions of course—genuine calk to work together from both sides of the aisle—but in general we now have gridlock on gridlock. Our program scares the other side, and they still haven’t come up with an alternative. John Dempsey from our party apparently had a talk with a colleague from the other side who said they’re in disarray because we’ve challenged them to propose a serious alternative, and they’re so used to complaining that they don’t know what to put forward because they know we might actually embrace some of it. So here we sit, fast frozen, going nowhere.”
“I think it’s time for the show,” Carrie reminded them.
“All right, let’s see what Leslie Sloane does with the rest of the family,” William said, as they rose to move into the living room.
An hour later, as the credits rolled on the screen, William put down his coffee cup and turned in his chair. “Isn’t it incredible how they can take reasonably normal, imperfect people, and make them seem either all good or all bad right before our eyes? Was that news or a campaign piece?”
“It was a little strong, dear,” Carrie said, “especially about your parents. I had no idea your mother was so all-knowing. Do you think Leslie was just being nice because of what happened?”
“I don’t know, but, pardon the comparison, you’d think I could walk on water after seeing that show and hearing what they had to say about me in my earlier years. To say I’m a little embarrassed is an understatement.”
“They treated Mary and Graham kind of like misguided freaks who enjoyed the sympathy of everyone else in the family,” Michael observed.
“Yes, that’s the other thing. Here the Lord is at work in my life as never before, yet Mary is tagged as a far-out fundamentalist. What will Leslie do when she finds out that I now share Mary’s belief in God and Christ, and am humbled by it?”
“When is that day going to be?” Michael asked.
“I’m not sure. Soon, I guess. I still feel like I’m putting together the pieces of a puzzle but can’t see the whole picture, yet. I think I will, soon, though.”
“It’s good that you’re taking this time ‘in the wilderness,’ so to speak, William, to study, to learn, to pray, and to deepen your faith,” Michael said, “As we’ve already seen, that’s biblical. Most of us do well to take a period on our own, learning his will for our lives. So you’re right to do it. But at some point each of us must move out in faith. I doubt we ever know it ‘all’ before we act on God’s will for us. That, too, is part of his plan for us, to trust him and to act on our faith in his ability, not ours.”
“Well, I’m feeling better and bolder. So I guess it won’t be long, particularly since you’ve said our study course should end around Christmas. But”—and William’s mood seemed to change as he spoke— “there’s something I’ve been agonizing about, and I want to share it with the three of you, to get your input.”
“Please, go ahead,” Michael replied.
William paused and locked his hands in front of him. “Late at night, and sometimes during the day, even when I’m praying, I get this chill. It’s like an awful dread. And a voice—not someone else’s. The sound is my own, but the words come from somewhere else—tells me that God is turning his back on us, as a nation, because of all we’ve done to anger and displease him. It’s like he’s leaving us, and I’m crying out for him to stay and give us one last chance. But he’s gone...Michael, it’s so real, and as his light disappears, this utter darkness moves in, and our nation is ripped apart by hatred and violence. Then the darkness completely engulfs us. It’s happened so many times now. What do you think?”
The other three remained fixed in their chairs, observing the obvious anguish on William’s face. Finally Michael spoke.
“It’s always hard for one person to assess the thoughts of another, but I would say, regrettably, that what you’ve experienced could be the Lord speaking to you. Many of us have certainly preached for years from pulpits all across the nation that our society has been driving God from our children’s hearts and replacing his Spirit with the worst forms of humanist, and even outright evil, motivations: lust, greed, envy, hate, you name it. Now those children are parents themselves, and the process is only worse. Yes, many of us have been sounding the warning for years and years. Maybe, just maybe, and I feel a chill, too, when I say it, he has finally given up on us and turned his back on our wickedness.”
“What...what would it mean?” Carrie asked, almost in a whisper.
“Well, if we look at what he did when Israel repudiated him, the picture for us is pretty bleak. Violence, disease, division, the fall of governments. Ultimately foreign invasion and domination...”
“Why?” Carrie continued.
“The Bible is so clear. In the Old Testament, the focus appears to be on the chosen nation of Israel, and in one sense it certainly is. But over and over, as we’ve discussed, God in both Testaments is always searching individual hearts. Both the hearts of the people and the hearts of the leaders. Let’s see, I think there’s an example of God searching the heart in 1 Chronicles 28, where King Dav
id is quoted as saying,
For the Lord searches every heart and understands every motive behind the thoughts. If you seek him, he will be found by you; but if you forsake him, he will reject you forever.
“Then in the New Testament, Jesus again addresses the heart of man, asking whether it longs for the Lord or is hardened against him by the world. And Paul and John address not nations, but churches, chastising them for turning their hearts from Christ. In all these cases, this turning from God, this hardening of the heart, results in punishment. It’s that simple. It’s not like we haven’t been warned!”
“So you think William’s terrible dream could be inspired by God?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes.”
William started to speak, then stopped. He looked down, then up again at Michael. “Were there ever cases in the Bible when God’s anger was about to burst, and something happened to turn it aside? I guess I’m asking, is there anything we can do, if this vision is correct?”
“Yes, many cases. That’s the incredible thing about God. He is so patient and wants no one to be lost. Yet ultimately even his patience runs out.”
“What happened in those cases when he relented?”
“The people turned to him and accepted his ways again. They turned their hearts to him. And, by the way, there have been revivals like that in the Western world, in just the past few centuries, when great movements of God, usually kindled by laypeople, swept across entire nations, leaving behind changed hearts.”
“Yes,” William said, “I want to hear about those, too. But right now, please give us some examples from the Bible.”
“There are so many. Look at Ninevah in the short Book of Jonah. Most people think the focus of the book is on the whale, but it’s really on repentance. Jonah is sent by God to warn the people of that city to change their ways or be destroyed; the leaders and people listen to Jonah and are saved.
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