From the Pulpit, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Pastor Mike nearly jumped out of his skin at the high pitched screech of the fax machine in his office. 

“Oh dear God!   No! No! No!” 

He jumped up from the recliner in which he had fallen asleep and ran to the office.  The fax machine had started sending already the message programmed into it for transmission at eight o’clock.  He desperately reached behind it pulling the power cable from the wall.  The digital display on the machine suddenly went blank.

He disconnected the phone cord and reattached the electricity to it.  As soon as it cycled through the power-on sequence he went through the menus and printed a report of sent items.

Last Send:  Failed at 30%

Reason: Power outage

Total Errors: 1

As he read the report the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Alright Pastor, what’s going on?”  said the voice on the other end.

“How much of the letter did you get?”

“You identified Cold Bones.”

“Come over, let’s talk.”

“I’m on the way, don’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry.  Do you like coffee?”

“I’m a cop.”

“There’ll be a fresh pot when you get here.”

“Twenty minutes.”

Mike ran upstairs and showered.  He changed his clothes, return downstairs and put on a fresh pot of strong dark roast coffee.  Just as the last few drops of it fell from the filter basket into the pot, the doorbell rang.

He opened the door and Detective Martin came in, his brow furrowed, an angry scowl on his face.

“Alright Pastor,” he grunted, “give me the whole story.  Don’t leave anything out this time.”

Mike filled him in on everything that had happened including a brief description of how he met Akbar Usein in Somalia, telling him only the details relevant to the previous nights events. 

As he listened, Detective Martin seemed to grow impatient with Pastor Mike.

“So,” said the detective as Mike finished, “You are absolutely certain this is the same guy who tortured you in Somalia in ’95?”

“Yes, beyond a doubt.” Replied the pastor.

“Do you realize how many laws you broke, and nearly broke by going out there?” said Martin staring hard into Mike’s face, “And I want you to know that I am more than a little pissed that you didn’t tell me about Cold Bones when I asked you last week.”

“I figured you would be.” said Mike without emotion.  “I hope you also understand my reason for not telling you.”

“Isn’t revenge one of those things the Bible forbids?”  asked Martin.

“Tell me where and in what context the Bible says that.” replied the pastor.

“Didn’t Jesus say to ‘turn the other cheek’ and ‘vengeance is mine says the Lord’?  How do you reconcile being a Presbyterian Pastor and an executioner at the same time?  That just seems to be rather hypocritical to me.”

“Look Detective.”  Said Mike, “I did not call you to talk about my theological positions and I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

“Wait a minute.”  Said Martin, pointing his finger accusingly at Mike.  “You are wrong!  You do have to justify your position to me, or I am going to put your ass in jail!  You understand?  You are a pastor, not a detective, not a sheriff, not even a goddamned meter maid! You do not have the authority be running around in the shadows with a gun trying to assassinate someone you think deserves it.  Just because your family was killed, does not give you the right to take another man’s life.  Especially without a trial!”
 
“Look detective!”  shouted Mike, his voice growing unexpectedly strong as he allowed the Marine officer to come out, “Akbar Usein is a terrorist!  I know that for sure.  He is either working for Al Qaeda or for a similar and probably allied group! You had better do something about, and fast, or a whole lot of civilians in your jurisdiction are going to be dead!”

The intensity that suddenly overcame Pastor Farris surprised Martin who ran the fingers of both hands through his thinning hair.  He took out his cell phone and dialed a number from its directory.

“This is Detective Dan Martin with CPD.  I need to talk to the task force chief.”

Mike could hear the voice on the other end over the small phones speaker.  Det. Martin must be hard of hearing he thought to himself, as the volume seemed very high.

“Special Agent Hogan, what can I do for you Dan?”

“Paul, I have a serious situation on my hands and need your immediate attention.  Can you spare a few hours?”

“What’s it about?”

“Can’t say on the phone.”

“As it happens, my whole days schedule just got clear.  Your place or mine?”

“Can you come to this address?  I have some one you need to talk to.”

He gave agent Hogan the address for Mike Farris’ house and hung up. 

“He will be here in about an hour.”  Said the detective, “In the meantime, I am not letting you out of my sight.  I should have had you arrested for obstructing an investigation, attempted murder, vigilantism, and half a dozen other charges.  And you had better believe that if things are not exactly as you say when we get this all together, that is just what is going to happen.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere detective.”  Replied Pastor Mike.

The tension between the two men was palpable. Neither said anything to the other for the rest of the time while they waited for Agent Hogan to arrive.

A little less than an hour after Martin had placed the call they heard the sound of a vehicle pull into the driveway.  Farris walked to the window and looked out to see a tan Ford Expedition with US Government license plates park in his driveway.  A man in a dark suit and tie got out from the drivers side door and walked around the front of the SUV, putting a cell phone into an inside pocket of his jacket. 

He was average height, but quite stocky, thick arm, shoulder and chest muscles bulging beneath his custom tailored suit.  He walked upright and confident, a strong yet relaxed look about him.  He was wearing dark sunglasses that obscured his eyes as he mounted the steps to the porch. 

Mike opened the door to welcome him and the man stopped, smiling at him.

“Come on in Agent Hogan.”  Pastor Mike offered, but the FBI agent just stood there staring from behind his sunglasses and smiling at him.

Mike looked at him uncomfortably.  “Is there a problem?”

“Nope, just making sure it’s really you…Major Farris.”  Replied Hogan.

“How do you know….wait a minute.”

Hogan took off his sunglasses.  “Don’t you worry sir….Hogan and company is on the job!”

“Holy cow!”  shouted Pastor Mike as he reached out his hand to Paul Hogan, formerly known as Staff Sergeant Paul Hogan USMC, the man who had pulled a young Marine captain off of a pole in Somalia on which he was about to be skinned alive.

“Paul! What in the world are you doing here?”  asked his former commander.

“Well,” replied Hogan, “it’s like this, I’m the SAC, that’s Special Agent in Charge, of the FBI’s Ohio Valley Anti-Terrorist Unit.  When I read your story in the news a couple weeks ago, I thought it might be you and inquired of Detective Martin, but he had no idea of your past and couldn’t verify.  I asked him that if anything came up with your case that involved us, to call me directly.  And what do you know, but it is really you.”

“Yeah, it is.”  said Mike, waving Hogan into the house and closing the door behind him. “Man, it’s been what…almost fourteen years since we last saw each other?”

“Yes sir, Croatia as I recall.  After that I lost track of you when you went to seminary.”
“Well, come on in here and have a seat.” Mike pointed to the recliner in the living room.  Detective Martin stood up as the two men entered the room.

“Agent Hogan.”  He said reaching out his hand.  “So you two know each other?”

“Yes we do,” Hogan answered. “He was my boss during the six years we spent fighting bad guys together in the Corps.  Major Farris here is one tough guy, and to imagine that he became a pastor.”

“Major?  You didn’t tell me you were a Major, pastor.”  Said Martin, looking irritated again.

“You didn’t ask.” Replied Mike.  Turning to Hogan he said, “Paul, you want some coffee?  I’ll brew some fresh real quick.”

He walked into the kitchen to make the coffee and the other two men sat down in the living room.

“Hogan, what is up with this guy?”  asked Martin.

“What do you mean?” 

“First off, he lied to me about threats against his family, then he kept back evidence as to who did it, then he goes out in the middle of the night and tries to assassinate the guy. Now I am finding out that he is some kind of special forces operative in addition to pastoring a flock of 500 souls in the middle of the Ohio corn fields.  That’s what I mean.”  Martins face grew red with exasperation as he spoke.

“Well, yeah.  He is those things, and as far as lying to you, well…I’ll wait till he comes back in to explain this together. Let me just say that Mike Farris is not what you think he is, but he is probably one of the best good guys walking around this little blue marble today.”  Hogan leaned forward and grinned as he added, “I will also say this; you don’t have a high enough clearance to know everything about Mike, so get used to being a little confused…and keeping your mouth shut.  Understood?”

Detective Martin was clearly angered by that last comment and was about to protest when Mike walked back into the room carrying a steaming mug for Hogan in one hand and the pot of coffee in other.  He handed the hot cup to the FBI agent and refilled Martin’s and his own mugs on the coffee table.

Martin took the coffee up in his hand and looked at the two men, his eyes were bloodshot. He did not like this kind of stress.  He did not like to not be in control of what was going on around him.  He especially did not like being told that he was not in control of his own investigation.  Nineteen years as a cop, twelve as a detective, had surely been enough to earn him the right to be able to run an investigation without being questioned.

“Look Agent Hogan, I don’t care if Farris here is Ollie North himself, this is my city and my investigation.  I expect to be told everything.”  His voice was full of barely suppressed rage as he spoke.  “And we’ll start with who the hell are you for real, Pastor Michael Farris?”

“Martin, I’ll humor you for the time being,” answered Hogan, “but be advised, once we verify that Akbar Usein is present in the area, and involved in anyway with these gangs, this becomes completely an FBI investigation.  That being said, you might want to try and make friends with us so that I don’t end up leaving you out of the whole thing.  Go ahead Mike, tell him what you can.”

“Alright,” answered the pastor, “My name is my real name, and I really am a fully ordained pastor, and the senior pastor of Faith Presbyterian Church.  I can also tell you that after my initial tour, I did not leave the Marine Corps.  I stayed in the reserves, retiring after I met my wife.  During the years of reserve duty I was frequently called up to run covert operations against assorted terrorist targets all over the world.  I ran these missions without the knowledge of my church, who thought that I was merely doing my weekend drills with the reserves.”

“So you deceived your congregation just like you deceived me.”  Martin retorted, “So much for ‘thou shalt not lie’.  You disgust me”

“I did not lie to them, I just didn’t tell them the details of what I did.”  Mike replied, “One of the members of the church did know what I did.  He had been a member of the CIA in the fifties, and figured it out pretty quick.  If anyone asked I would simply tell them it was classified work, and that would be enough.  No one really questioned it.”

Martin stood and paced around the room, trying to digest what he was hearing.  “So, just exactly what did you do during these ‘missions’?”

“Kill people.”  Mike said flatly.

“Excuse me?”

“I killed people who threatened the security of the citizens of the United States.” 

“Like who?”  Martin asked incredulously.

Hogan interrupted, a smile on his face, “That’s the part that you aren’t allowed to know Danny boy.”

“Don’t worry,” added Mike, “I committed no crimes against the US, it’s allies or it’s legal residents.”

“Whatever happened to ‘thou shalt not kill’?”  grumbled Martin, “That makes two of the commandments that you seem to think unimportant, pastor.”

“Actually, in the original language, it says ‘You will not murder’.” Answered the pastor. “I am sure you know the legal difference between killing and murder detective.”

“At any rate,” Hogan interrupted again, “we are not here to debate theology or the Ten Commandments gents, we are here to find and render harmless Akbar Usein and his cronies.”

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