Pieces of Light

by Julie Cave

  He had glossed over a few things there, Strauss thought, as he listened to the deputy director's silence.

  "I suggested using stun grenades to disorient the suspect," said Strauss, "thereby rendering him unable to send the signal to the primary explosive. We have body heat readings from the house and we know where he is located. We also have snipers positioned to take him out."

  "I see. What's the problem, then?" Wakefield asked.

  "The agent-in-charge does not want to mount an assault," explained Strauss. "He has decided to continue with negotiations."

  "That seems reasonable, if that's what he thinks," snapped Wakefield. "Again, what's the problem?"

  "He has sent a civilian into the house to negotiate on the FBI's behalf," said Strauss.

  The silence that followed was priceless. Strauss could almost imagine the expression on Wakefield's face.

  "He did what?" the deputy director eventually managed to choke out. "Put him on this minute. I want to talk to him."

  Time for an outright lie. "Well, the thing is, he's not here."

  "What do you mean, not there? Isn't he in charge?"

  "Well, yes, but I'm not sure where's he gone. He seems to have a lot of faith in the civilian."

  "Where is this civilian now? In the house itself?"

  "Yes. She is unarmed and ill-equipped to deal with this situation," said Strauss. A few more half lies, but what did it matter? "In my view, sir, we have just added another hostage to the situation."

  Then Wakefield asked a question that Strauss had been hoping for: "Does the media know about this?"

  "No, sir. They've been cordoned off at the end of the street, for their own safety. However, they'll be all over this story if something goes wrong."

  "You don't need to tell me," grumbled Wakefield. "This is disastrous!"

  "Sir, my men have lost confidence in the leadership of the agent in charge," continued Strauss. "They can no longer be sure that his decisions are sound and are reluctant to take orders from him."

  "This situation needs to be dealt with quickly," said Wakefield. "Do you think you can send an assault team in and achieve a positive outcome?"

  This was Wakefield's way of saying: Can you sort this out without anyone finding out?

  "Yes, sir. I believe the use of stun grenades will be sufficient to take down the suspect," said Strauss. "We will have backup from the snipers."

  There was more silence from Wakefield. He was not a stupid man — the idea of storming a property with a bomb was highly risky. He had to weigh up the risks of potentially detonating a large bomb with the risk of the media finding out that a civilian had been sent into negotiations.

  "All right," he said at last. "I'm giving you the order to mount an assault on the building. I want minimum injury and loss of life, Captain. Minimal damage to property. Get in and out as quickly as you can."

  "Yes, sir!" said Strauss, giving Carroll the thumbs-up.

  Dinah didn't know it, but the biggest threat to her life now lay in the hands of Strauss and Carroll, who began to prepare their teams to assault the house.

  * * * *

  Senator Winters should have gone home but thought that if he attempted to leave his office he would be chased all the way by the media.

  He sent Trixie and all other staff members home. Before she left, she looked at him with some sympathy and said, "You probably should call a press conference."

  Winters knew that but he needed to get his strategy right first. Campaign finance violations were enough to sully a political career, but not finish it. He would probably be investigated by the Senate Ethics Committee and could even face a reprimand. His biggest concern was whether his broader corruption would be discovered.

  If Cartwright had indeed disappeared, then this was probably a good thing for the senator. The last thing he needed was Cartwright blabbing on CNN how he'd paid Winters to achieve a certain outcome in the Supreme Court. Justice Maxwell Pryor would certainly not open his mouth about it; he stood to lose just as much as Winters if the truth was discovered.

  Winters slammed his fist on the desk. Under the rules of engagement, he knew he needed to get rid of Cartwright and that brat Connor Eastleigh. He couldn't abide knowing that two enemies who could at any time ruin his career and send him to jail were free.

  He poured himself some bourbon. He couldn't believe he'd been so trusting. He had always been a man who'd ruthlessly eliminated enemies and the competition like their lives were worth nothing more than an annoying mosquito. He tied up loose ends and left nothing to chance.

  He could see now that he'd been played by Cartwright. The man had capitalized on Winters' greed and hatred of Christianity to perjure himself. Winters had played right into his hand. In hindsight, he could see now what Cartwright had done.

  Why pay money to a senator for the outcome of a trial in the Supreme Court that wouldn't end up there for years? It didn't make any sense; Winters could see that now. But his greed had blinded him. It had been a great opportunity to set the senator up and then make him take the fall.

  Winters cursed his own stupidity. Cartwright probably didn't care about the lawsuit at all — he just wanted to get rid of Winters. Why? mused Winters. What will he achieve if he gets rid of me? He drank the bourbon in one gulp, just as a knock at his door sounded. "I thought I told you to go home!" he yelled, thinking it was Trixie.

  Instead, two dour-looking officials opened the door: a woman with a severe black haircut and a man with a permanent frown.

  "We're Clarke and Mowbray from the Federal Election Commission," the man said. "We're here to talk to you about some alleged campaign finance violations."

  Winters sat down at his desk and decided he would run with ignorance. "I've only just discovered these violations myself," he told them, adopting a grim tone. "I assure you, I will ensure my treasurer will be held accountable."

  The man, whose name Winters assumed was Clarke, frowned deeper. "I believe this to be your signature, sir?" he said, holding up a document.

  Winters compressed his lips. It was indeed his signature, accepting payment via a wiring company for the money from Cartwright to be accepted.

  "I suppose so," he admitted. "But I didn't know where the money was coming from. My treasurer explained that it was legitimate."

  Clarke and Mowbray spent the best part of an agonizing hour, producing documents left and right inculpating Winters. It didn't take long for him to realize that his ignorance defense probably wouldn't fly. So he simply answered questions with sentences as short as he could make them, being as obtusely unhelpful as possible.

  Clarke and Mowbray departed with the stern warning that he would be referred to the Senate Ethics Committee based on the information they had obtained.

  Once the door closed behind them, Winters' smile dropped from his face. He had work to do. He had to eliminate the threat of a corruption investigation, which most certainly would ruin his career.

  The sound of an e-mail being received in his inbox momentarily distracted him. However, it gained his full attention when he saw that it was from Cartwright.

  Resign by Monday.

  A simple message, but one that made Winters' heart almost stop beating. Stunned, he stared at it, willing it to change. Finally, he typed a reply. Why?

  Cartwright was quick. We have evidence of your corruption. We'd rather you resign quietly than be indicted and sent to prison.

  Winters frowned, and again typed: Why?

  It took a little longer this time.

  We don't want an investigation any more than you do. We prefer to remain anonymous. However, we have much less to lose than you in the event of an investigation. Therefore, we encourage you to take this opportunity to end it quietly.

  Winters pondered this with another shot of bourbon. Finally, he typed: Who is "we"?

  And why do you have it in for me? he asked silently. What was their agenda?

  Does it matter? You have your choice. We hope you make the right de
cision.

  Winters cursed loudly. He had to find Cartwright and eliminate him, one way or the other. It would be an impossible task to achieve by Monday. He was sure Cartwright was no longer in the United States.

  He had worked so long and so hard to get to this position of power, and he only had one more step to take to the ultimate job — the White House. It was all about to be undone by one man with whom he'd had a handful of conversations.

  Winters didn't once blame his own greed or hatred for the position he was in; it was squarely the fault of others. So he spent the next hour venting his anger in his office.

  Cartwright was right. He didn't really have a choice — if he left his fate in the hands of a corruption investigation, he would not only lose his job, he would also lose his reputation and be sent to jail.

  At least if he resigned quietly now he could dedicate his life to hunting down Cartwright and Connor, and ensuring that they could never implicate him. Then he could find some other way of influencing Washington. You didn't need to be a senator to have enormous power in D.C.

  Winters began the slow, painful task of realizing that by Monday, he would no longer be a United States senator.

  Chapter 19

  Michael," said Dinah. She desperately searched for the right words, wishing Andy or Sandra could have been next to her advising her on what to say. "I'm really sorry to hear about your experiences, both at the hands of your father and by the church. That was terribly unfair."

  Michael shrugged. "Well, it made things pretty clear to me. I no longer believe in God. The church seems to me to be irrelevant, mired down in rituals and regulations. I'm just glad I discovered that early in life."

  "Well, you're not the only one," said Dinah, thinking about a book she'd read recently. "Did you know that two-thirds of young people who were brought up in the Church are walking away because they begin to doubt the Bible?"

  He made a snort of contempt. "What a surprise. Why bother teaching what the Bible says when none of them bother following it anyway?"

  "Fair point," conceded Dinah. "The problem is that young people, who are by no means stupid, are continually being taught about evolution, the big bang, and the age of the earth at school, which contradicts what the Church teaches on Sunday. Yet when they ask their pastor or elder or teacher about the discrepancy, they are unable to defend their faith or uphold the Bible as true. As a result, kids become disillusioned and doubtful that anything the Bible says can be trusted, and begin to drift away from the Church."

  "Sounds about right to me," commented Michael. "I should have guessed you were a Christian."

  "Well, I think one of the reasons the Church didn't protect you and your family is because the teaching of the Bible wasn't being followed," explained Dinah. "I'm not a Bible expert, but I try to read it every day. For example, I know that Titus says in chapter two that men are to be self-controlled, sound in faith and love. The same passage tells all men and women in church to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives. Further, it commands the leaders of the church to rebuke those who don't follow this teaching."

  "What's your point?" Michael demanded.

  "I think your church failed to rebuke your father for failing to show self-control," suggested Dinah. "Venting one's anger and frustration on women and children is, at a basic level, a complete lack of self-control. Furthermore, he was clearly violating the law of the land. However, the leaders of the church didn't rebuke him. And Jesus quite clearly tells us we have to care for the poor and the oppressed."

  "No arguments from me there," said Michael.

  "Well, I just wanted to say that it's not supposed to be that way," continued Dinah. She felt like a blind woman, trying to feel her way through a completely foreign environment. "The Bible is God's inerrant Word. When we start to treat it as any less, the consequences are great. The consequences include men continuing to beat their wives and children, or young people walking away from the Church because they start to doubt whether the Bible is true. The Church ought to stand on the authority of the Bible without compromise."

  There was silence for several minutes.

  "I guess what I'm encouraging you to think about is that you had a bad experience in church, but that not every church is like that and it certainly shouldn't be. It would be a terrible shame if you decided all of Christianity is the same. It's not; we're not."

  "Actually, I don't agree," said Michael. "One of the things I do know about Christianity is that some of the major Christian seminaries and professors in this country have publicly said that they teach the Bible is not inerrant. Many reject biblical truthfulness altogether, and have started reinterpreting the Bible. Isn't that true? So why should I believe anything a Christian says or anything the Bible says? You can't just pick and choose the bits of the Bible you like and say that those are from God, and completely ignore other parts."

  Dinah thought about that quickly. "I totally agree," she said. "I think you need to have an all or nothing approach. I believe the entire Bible is God's Word, and therefore inerrant. That's not a blind belief, though: there are reasons I believe it to be true. One is that recently discovered biblical texts, such as the Dead Sea Scrolls, show that the Bible today is virtually the same as when it was written thousands of years ago. The scrolls were written more than a century before Christ's birth, meaning that many of the prophecies contained therein about Jesus had to be written before He was born. There are over 60 prophecies in the Old Testament written specifically about Jesus — and all of them came true! Even ones over which He would have no control, such as the place of His birth and the actions of other people on the day of His death. The Dead Sea Scrolls show that the Bible was copied very accurately from generation to generation, and so there aren't any copyist errors, but also that it was written prior to Christ's birth. Therefore, we can claim that the Bible is ultimately trustworthy and accurate."

  Michael raised his eyebrows. "Does it matter, though? You might believe that the Bible is true, but you might not live that way."

  "Sure," agreed Dinah. "But don't make the mistake of assuming Christians ought to be perfect. We're prone to sin and mistakes, like any other human being."

  Michael got up to check the windows and doors again. When he returned he said, "Tell me, Dinah, why do you care?"

  "Outside of this particular situation?" Dinah said with a wry smile. "Because there is no neutral position. God tells us plainly that we're either for Him or against Him: in James chapter 4 verse 4, it says that anyone who is a friend of the world is an enemy of God. It also states in Romans 8:7 that the mind set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God's law; indeed, it cannot. You are either on God's team or you are not. There is no sitting on the fence. I care that you are an enemy of God."

  "Gee, thanks," said Michael, rolling his eyes.

  "Michael ... you've just said you are happy to die in this house on this day," said Dinah gently. "Yet you have no concept of what happens after death. So yeah, I care."

  Michael laughed bitterly. "I can't imagine any concept of heaven accepting me," he said. "I'm a mass murderer!"

  Isabelle flinched, as if she hadn't quite come to terms with what he'd done.

  Dinah leaned forward. "That's the beauty of it," she said urgently. "Heaven is perfect. Who on earth would get in? None of us are perfect."

  "Well, I'm sure you're a little more perfect than I am," he said.

  "Let me tell you something," said Dinah. "For a long time, I carried on my heart the burden of causing the deaths of three people. Does that sound perfect to you? I used to work with gang members, extracting them and safeguarding them in exchange for information. One night, I drank so much alcohol that I forgot a promise to a gang member to meet him in a park and take him to a safe house. His body was found the following day, and gangs who discover snitches within their ranks ensure it's a not a quick and painless death."

  Dinah had to pause for a few moments to gather her thoughts. It was still pa
inful to think of the young man she'd betrayed so horrifically.

  "Not only that, but the last time I saw my husband and son alive, I screamed at both of them. I yelled at my baby son to shut up. Nice, huh? You think they accept people like me in heaven?"

  Michael seemed to be looking at her in a new light. "Maybe," he said. "It's not like you intentionally hurt any of those people."

  "Still, what about alcoholics? That's what I am," added Dinah.

  Maybe Michael was thinking of his own father when he said, "No, I don't think so."

  "Yet I can say with one hundred percent certainty that I'm going to heaven when I die, and there is nothing I can do to change that fact," continued Dinah. "And the same could be true of you, too. The reason is that there is nothing you can do to make God reject you."

  Michael raised his eyebrows sardonically.

  "All of us are unworthy to be in God's presence," she said. "There are no categories of sin, you know. Hate is just as bad in God's eyes as murder. So none of us deserve anything from God, let alone the promise of heaven. I can speak with confidence only because God provided a solution to this problem, out of His great love for us. He requires punishment for the sin in the world, but rather than visit His wrath upon us, He sent a perfect replacement. His Son, Jesus Christ, who was without sin, died in our place, enduring the wrath of His Father, so that we don't have to suffer eternal separation from God. All we have to do is receive this free gift and repent of the things we've done wrong."

  Dinah tried to think of how she could express the deep feeling inside her. "It's total freedom, Michael. Freedom from the guilt and shame of the past. Freedom from worry for the future. Freedom from the burdens of this world. There is such liberty in knowing that your past wrongs have been erased. And it's not just release in this world, but hope for the next one. I have no fear of dying."

  Michael stared at her with red-rimmed, exhausted eyes. "I wish I could say I had no fear of the future, or of dying. My future is so depressing! I have the rest of my life in jail with which to deal."