Execution of Justice

by Patrick Dent

  On the television, King Fahr stepped to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here today to talk about unity. As the Arab nations are one, so we wish the world to be as one. Tensions have been high in recent times due to production concerns among what you call the Gulf Six. I assure you that, regardless of appearances, we wish for nothing more than peace.”

  Fulton squinted in confusion. Where was he going with this? His grip tightened on his glass of water.

  “I represent all the Arab nations when I say that we earnestly want to reach a mutually satisfactory détente with our neighbor Israel, along with the rest of the United Nations.

  “As a gesture of good faith, I am pleased to announce the end of our oil embargo on Western nations. Production will return to full capacity effective today, March 18, 1974.”

  Fulton was in shock. What had he just heard? Before he could process the information, his red phone rang. Only one person in the world had that phone number.

  “Fulton,” he answered. His voice was high pitched from the stress.

  “Fulton, abort Project Crossfire at once,” the DCI said.

  “But Sir…”

  “No buts, Fulton. Our problem has been solved and this new gesture of friendship will be a direct contradiction to what we had hoped to accomplish.”

  “Sir, the time is right. We can still strike. We can spin Fahr's statement as cruel irony.”

  “No, goddamnit, we can't! The risk is too high. We can't imperil our country's standing in the UN to fight a problem that no longer exists. Fulton, I am ordering you to pull the plug right now.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Fulton slammed the receiver into the cradle repeatedly until it broke in half. He screamed and threw his glass through the television screen.

  “You slick little bastards! How did you know?” he shouted at the dead TV, “I was one hour from the pinnacle of my career, and you screwed me!”

  He threw the TV over and kicked it repeatedly until he broke the big toe on his right foot.

  * * *

  The Prometheus

  Rymes was tense. The launch codes would arrive any minute. He just hoped all the doors functioned properly, if nothing else.

  “Commander Rymes, we have received a transmission marked 'urgent'.”

  “Let's see it, Sparks.” Rymes quickly grasped the document.

  Rymes sat with the codebook and deciphered the message. All missiles were to be launched to a single set of coordinates. The actual coordinates were unknown to Rymes. The ones he was now looking at were dummy coordinates. Only the missiles would know exactly where they were going. This double blind code system seemed a bit excessive to Rymes, but he accepted his duty. This must be big, for such elaborate security measures, he thought.

  “Lieutenant Commander Killian to the bridge,” he spoke into the PA system. Killian appeared within thirty seconds. “Killian reporting for duty, Skipper.”

  “Joe, this is it. I'm entering the launch codes now. Regulations require that you witness and double check my numbers.”

  Killian translated the encoded message. His coordinates exactly matched Rymes'. Rymes entered the dummy coordinates with Killian looking over his shoulder.

  “Agreed?”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  Killian took his post across the bridge. For the launch to occur, they had to press the go buttons simultaneously.

  “On zero. Three, two, one, zero.”

  At first nothing happened. Rymes wondered if they had not been properly synchronized. Seconds later, they heard the mechanical sounds they assumed were the outer doors opening.

  “Sir, this is strange.”

  “What?”

  “The outer doors are closed. What was that sound?”

  “I don't know. Maybe…”

  Rymes never got to finish his sentence. The full complement of missiles exploded in unison, killing all hands below deck instantly. The inner and outer hulls were perforated along the entire length of the Prometheus, just below the waterline.

  “What the hell?” Rymes screamed. “What is happening? Are we under attack?”

  “Sir, I can't hear you!” Killian had been deafened by the blast. The ship was taking on water at an alarming rate. Within minutes the deck would go under.

  Rymes and Killian spent the last moments of their lives furiously trying to figure out what was happening to the Prometheus. They never even came close to guessing that Special Agent Robert Fulton had murdered them before they were sucked into the vortex created by the rapidly sinking ship. Rymes watched Killian go down, but he swam with all his might nonetheless. The vortex would only last a few minutes. He just hoped he could maintain this pace for that long.

  * * *

  Langley, Virginia

  Fulton sat in the emergency room, waiting to have his toe X-rayed. The news was on the television mounted in the top corner of the room. When international affairs came on, his ears perked. He could barely make out the words.

  “In a surprise move, OPEC announced yesterday the end of the oil embargo. In response to this, Israeli officials announced that they would honor the UN's recent call for a cease-fire. Egypt and Syria have also agreed, pending further negotiation about Israel's status as a nation.”

  Fulton broke his other big toe.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Los Angeles, California

  Congressman Hernandez wrung his hands in nervous anticipation. He was dressed in his favorite blue suit, although he knew Lupe didn't care what he wore. He hadn't slept more than a couple of hours in a row in weeks. At first, he was angry with Lupe for running off to Brazil without permission. But, when the school called Monday inquiring as to Lupe's whereabouts, he began to worry. By Wednesday, his house was filled with Federal Agents. The FBI had assured him that ransom demands would be made soon, and that their success rate for this particular scenario was respectably high. That's what they called it – a 'scenario'. He grew to hate that word. His daughter was not some goddamned scenario from the FBI playbook.

  By the end of the second week, most of the agents had been pulled from his house. They left one behind to monitor the phone. They delicately told him they were shifting their resources to investigate the possibility of homicide. By that time, the solitary emotion he was capable of feeling was anger. Although he knew it was irrational, he hated the FBI for their incompetence. As the third week wore on, he began to accept that he would never see his daughter again. This sank him into a crippling depression, even though the FBI shrink told him it was a natural and healthy process.

  When the General from Fort Benning called him on day twenty-two to tell him his daughter had been recovered by a special Army task force, he didn't know what to think. Hope, once lost, was a difficult thing to recover. At first, he was suspicious, thinking it was a mistake or a cruel prank. But a few phone calls later, he knew the impossible was true – Lupe was alive and well.

  Now he stood in the foyer, and in just a few minutes he would see Lupe. He would be able to hold her and know she was home. When the front doorbell rang, he jerked involuntarily. Inside the door, he paused to say a prayer of thanks. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a soldier in full dress uniform standing at parade rest on his front porch. For an instant, he feared something had gone wrong, but after his initial shock wore off, he saw his beautiful daughter Lupe just behind the soldier.

  “Daddy!” she cried, throwing her hands around his neck, “I thought I'd never see you again!”

  “I love you, sweetheart. I love you more than you'll ever know.” Tears flowed freely as they embraced. After a few seconds, the soldier recognized that his presence was no longer needed. The Hernandez family was whole again.

  * * *

  Ft. Benning, Georgia

  “John!” Tammy ran to meet her husband in the driveway. “I can't believe you're home so soon!” Tammy had been told John's mission in Vietnam would last the better part of six months. And now, here he was, home after less than three weeks
. She leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He winced at the pain in his ribs, but returned her bear hug enthusiastically. He held her silently, treasuring the moment, before he responded.

  “The mission went well. We finished ahead of schedule.” He tightened his grip. “I love you, honey.”

  “Oh, I love you so much,” Tammy said, returning his hug. She felt his rib brace under his shirt. “What's this?”

  “Just a few cracked ribs. I'll be fine in a couple weeks. And, the best part is, I'm off duty with pay until the ribs heal up.” Suddenly, a hairy blur emerged from the front door.

  “Vonnegut!” he shouted at the sight of his old friend. Vonnegut jumped up on his master, fortunately missing the broken ribs. John put Tammy down and vigorously scratched Vonnegut behind the ears.

  “I've got some good news.” Tammy was brimming with excitement.

  “Which is?”

  “I'm pregnant!” She jumped into his arms again. John suppressed a grunt as she squeezed his ribs. “I just found out last week. The base gave me some APO box where I could reach you, but I didn't want you to find out in the mail.”

  John was stunned. They had been trying for months, but now that it had happened, he wasn't sure how to feel. Would he pass along his father's characteristics to his child? Would The John's defective genes infect his baby, giving him the last laugh in their eternal power struggle? But, he already knew the answer to that question.

  In an instant, John relived every moment of his childhood - every need that had starved, every time he had turned tears into quiet rage - and it dawned on him that The John had actually taught him everything he needed to know about fatherhood. The John's words reverberated in his ears: There is no right. There is no wrong. There's simply whose side you're on. This statement had been a convenient rationalization for John, but it now took on a different level of meaning. For the first time in his life, John had a side to be on – his family's. Maybe that's all he ever needed. Maybe that's all anyone needs.

  One thing was certain. John would give this child everything he had lain in bed and yearned for his entire life.

  “Well?” Tammy asked.

  “Well…Whoopee!” he shouted, “I'm going to be a father!” He squeezed her so tightly he nearly crushed her with his love. This time his ribs didn't hurt.

  At that moment, John abruptly understood everything. He'd had the power all along, but never realized it. He knew what he had to do.

  * * *

  Beaumont, South Carolina

  John parked his Challenger in front of his parents' house. When he rang the bell, Gloria answered. “Oh my goodness! What an unexpected surprise,” she said, embracing his aching ribs.

  “It's good to see you too, mom. Is dad home?”

  “He's in the den.”

  “If you don't mind, I'd enjoy a few minutes alone with him.” John had been anxiously awaiting this moment, and he wanted to act while he still had the courage. He strolled into The John's lair.

  The John was watching an episode of All in the Family. John turned the TV off, walked toward his confused father, and knelt. The next seven words he spoke took more strength than he knew he possessed.

  “I forgive you, Dad. I love you.” Such a simple statement - but it evoked profound effects in both the speaker and the listener. The John's eyes swelled with tears. He had no idea how to respond, but it was clear to John that his father was overwhelmed with emotion. As John spoke the words, he felt the venom being sucked from his soul. It was the most liberating sensation he'd ever felt.

  * * *

  Saint Mary's Cathedral, Beaumont, South Carolina

  John entered the massive stone edifice whose door he had last darkened the week he'd killed his friends. He dipped his hand in the holy water, made the sign of the cross and genuflected. He walked calmly behind the pulpit, toward the confessional booths. Once he sat, the priest joined him within a few moments. John began to speak. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned…”

  * * *

  John and Tammy sat at the breakfast table, both staring at the landscape through French windows.

  “John,” Tammy asked, “You sure you're up for changing diapers and doing midnight bottles?”

  “That's exactly what I plan to do. You know, for nearly twenty years, I've been trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. Now I know. It's all so simple! I want to raise this child.”

  As John spoke the words, he felt an unfamiliar sensation – contentment. He had no malice toward anyone in the world. Just as Tammy's confession of her dark secret had freed her soul, John had wrestled his demons and decided to let them go. For the first time in his life, he felt complete.

  Outside the window, a dove lit on a branch. John could swear it was looking directly at him. He winked at the bird before it took flight again.

  The End

  Dear reader,

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