The Link Pt. 03: The Huntress

"It's wonderful," my wife whispered in my ear. I turned back to stage as the older saxophonist let loose with a soft solo that was quickly picked up by the violins and expanded upon. It was so well timed, almost as if they were in each other's brains. Rather incredible.

The other side of Mrs. McGruire was Rashid Hadawi and his wife. My counterpart in peace talks. We were the lower level negotiators, not the decision makers. I had spent many hours arguing minutia with Rashid. Always a wasted effort, but what do you expect from a people who want everything given without any sacrifices of their own.

Secretary Goodfellow sat next to Mrs. McGruire, calmly watching the show. It still smelled like a tricky diplomatic effort, but if it made my wife happy, I could stand to be used for one evening.

Mossad had informed my department that both Teegan and Caleb were present in Korea when the reunification talks began. It was a shock to the world when North and South came to the table, and the border collapsed. It was Germany all over again. I hoped that Goodfellow didn't think that joining two countries with common customs and ancestry was the same as Israel and Palestine. Two languages, two cultures, and a mountain of religious issues. It won't happen in my lifetime. We only talk peace to avoid the opposite.

The concert ended to thunderous applause. Well, as much applause as twenty or so people could produce. It was invitation only, and I wonder how many of my betters had foregone the concert for political reasons. My wife was still smiling, so it was worth it to me.

"Would you like to meet them?" Mrs. McGuire asked. I was about to say no, knowing she had asked the same of Rashid.

"That would be lovely," my wife chimed in. Her smile convinced me not to argue. I think she had a secret crush on Kato Tetsuzan. A husband could put up with a lot if that smile follows him all the way home.

"Thank you, we'd like that," I said in my most diplomatic tone. Mrs. McGuire's baby smiled at me. She had to be the happiest baby in the world. I had no choice but to smile back. It seemed to please her, and she waved her arms at me.

"Where is Secretary Goodfellow?" I asked Mrs. McGuire when we entered the small conference room.

"She didn't want to make this a diplomatic thing," Mrs. McGuire replied. "I'm sure she'll stop by for goodbyes later." My whole body relaxed and I let my job drift from my mind. Without the secretary, there was nothing official. I looked around the room and spotted mostly Americans, non-diplomatic types. Probably Corbett employees. They were relaxed and seemed familiar with each other. Strange to have Rashid and me in such company.

"I must say your baby is so well behaved," my wife said.

"Thank you. She's always happy when her daddy plays. Would you like to meet the musicians?" Mrs. McGuire asked.

"Oh yes." My wife's smile returned. It's nice when the perks of the job included her. It made me feel a bit more important like I was giving a gift. I would owe one to Goodfellow. Maybe that's what this was all about. No matter, smile first, debt second.

Teegan, as she insisted, we call her, introduced us to her husband, the saxophonist Tom, and to my wife's utter enjoyment, Kato. Caleb and Tom took no offense and deferred all the admiration to Kato. Kato tried hopelessly to pass some of it back, but my wife was having none of it. Good thing she wasn't twenty years younger, she might have forgotten she was married.

Rashid was brought over, and the introductions were repeated. Rashid's wife was less obvious but equally enthralled with Kato.

"I see we have something in common," Rashid said to me.

"If you hit him high, I get him low," I said. It was the first time we had ever laughed together. It was also the first time we had ever met outside of negotiations or some other state function.

"You think this is what Goodfellow had in mind?" Rashid asked, lifting his wine glass to me.

"For once, I don't care," I said, tapping my glass to his. "Our wives are happy, and there is nothing demanded of us."

"It is rather nice, though I don't recognize any of these people."

"Corbett Industries I'm guessing. She's barely a woman and owns half the world," I said.

"I thought it strange that her husband played for us. I would have thought they were too busy for such things," Rashid said, putting a voice to my thoughts as well.

"I must say, it was more entertaining than I imagined it would be,' I said. Rashid nodded and took a sip of his drink. It was then that I realized that we had separated from our wives and were having a normal conversation. "How are your daughters?"

"Most fine," Rashid replied, "and your son?"

"Fine as well," I replied. Again we laughed. It was more because we both knew it was research and not past conversations that identified our children to each other. "We should serve wine during negotiations."

"It would solve nothing, but we might be happier about it," Rashid said.

"Maybe our grandchildren will solve this," I said, "then we can sit down and have a meal together."

"I fear it will be our great great grandchildren," Rashid said sadly, "we have dug deep trenches, and it will take generations to fill them in." I could tell he was about to add more, but he thought better of it. "But tonight we can be cordial and leave our differences for the next meeting."

"Agreed," I said. At least we could share a glass of wine and bask in our wives' happiness.

"Malkiel," my wife called. I turned to see her and Rashid's wife fawning over Teegan's child. She lay in a what looked like a car seat sitting upon a table. Teegan was off to the side talking to her husband, giving her a break from childcare for a moment. "Malkiel," my wife called again. Rashid's wife waved him over as well. Their faces wore glowing smiles, so we had little choice but to comply.

Each woman held a foot of the child and the baby thought it was hilarious. She was laughing and moving her feet like she was riding a bike. It brought back pleasant memories of my son as a babe. My wife held out her free hand, and I took it without thinking.

The world shifted, and the beauty of it expanded before me. My wife's memory of our son mixed with mine and our love collided. She looked at me, and all I saw was the young woman I married. Nothing had changed but our bodies, and that meant so little. Still so beautiful and now I knew her true heart, validating our years together in an instant. Rashid's face had a look of wonder as he looked into his wife's eyes.

"It's so wonderful," my wife said. There was no doubt in my mind that Goodfellow had orchestrated this. I also had no doubt that it was good and real. Teegan moved between Rashid and me. She held out her hands. It was her smile that I trusted when I took her hand. Rashid had committed a second earlier.

Something wonderful flooded into us, pure reason laced with pure love. Rashid's mind merged with mine. Impregnable arguments began to shatter at light speed as solutions and compromises filled in the holes created. Our stubbornness was worthless. It was for the children that a compromise must be found. His daughters and my son needed peace.

I let go with both hands and took a deep breath. Rashid had done the same and stood there looking at me. I was afraid to speak, to be the first to offer the comprises our shared wisdom had already defined.

"Islam and Judaism?" Rashid asked. The mixture was usually volatile, but we both saw it living in harmony. It wasn't the contest I thought it was. The only way to win is to simply live and let live. The holy sites could be shared.

"God doesn't care how you dress him up," Teegan said, "he only cares that you remember he is love."

"Water rights," I said, thinking of possible failures that could topple the ideas in our minds.

"And unemployment," Rashid said. It was the lack of opportunity that brought out the most adamant of foes.

"I think we may have the beginning of a solution," Teegan said. "Let me introduce you to William Hogan."

"Bill," a tall man corrected her with a smile. He approached with a large rolled up document. He began unrolling it onto the table.

"Bill is in charge of our alternative energy program at Corbett industries," Teegan said as she moved out of the way. "One of his engineers has been working on something as a side project."

"This is a design for a desalination plant. Solar powered and the largest the world has ever scene," Bill continued. I could see the pride in his eyes. "It produces fresh water on a scale never before envisioned. If our projections are correct, it will produce three times what is currently needed. With conservation, it may be adequate for generations."

"15,000 construction workers and three years to fully build," Teegan added, "over 5,000 permanent jobs."

"You wish to build this in what would be Palestinian territory?" Rashid asked, his eyes as large as saucers.

"The Gaza strip has good access to the Mediterranean," Bill replied. "If it works as expected, we'll build them all over the world. Water will cease to be a contentious issue. It is Mr. Corbett's legacy to the world. Palestinians will be the experts by the second construction, exporting your engineers and workers."

"And excess water," I added. The commodity would hold sway in Israel. I looked at Rashid, and I saw the same misgivings in his eyes. He spoke before I did.

"We don't make decisions. Malkiel and I negotiate at a lower level, arguing the tidbits of broader agreements that are never enacted," Rashid pointed out.

"There are many people who will fight this," I added.

"But you both know who those people are," a voice behind me said. I turned to find Secretary Goodfellow. "How would they like to see a concert? Maybe their spouses have the same interest as yours." I couldn't hide my smile.

"You tricked us Madam Secretary," I said.

"Do you regret it?"

"No," I said, holding out my hand to Rashid. He shook it, which meant a lot since it wasn't staged for cameras.

"Maybe we will have that dinner after all," Rashid said. I nodded and shook his hand harder.

"Peace is coming," Goodfellow said. "Embrace it or get out of its way."

"Who are you?" my wife asked Teegan.

"Just a girl who loves a boy," Teegan said, grabbing Caleb's hand. "The rest of this, well, it's why I'm here. Peace is my purpose."

A strange gurgling sound came from the table. We turned to Teegan's baby who thought it was awfully funny. A moment later, the foulest odor filled the air. Hands quickly covered noses and eyes started blinking fast.

"Ahh, Stinky. They were just beginning to think you were perfect," Caleb said. Everyone was laughing as they moved away. Caleb was braver than I thought. He picked up the child and the diaper bag without a thought. Now that was true love.

Epilogue 3 - General Donald Sells

"Why the hell are they holding the meeting way out here?" James asked. We had gone through the academy together and raced for our stars as friendly competitors. He had reached his seven months before I got mine, but I was better looking in the uniform. At least that's what I kept telling him.

"I guess they didn't want any eavesdroppers," I said.

"This better be good. It's taken us half the day to get down here."

"It's warm, the ocean is calm, just enjoy it," I said. I gripped the guardrail of the ferry as it took us from the runway to the other side of Guantanamo Bay. The ocean had a special place in my heart. Memories of a beach some thirty years ago came to mind. I could still see that pink bikini wrapping the finest ass I had ever seen. I was just one week out of the academy, thinking I was God's gift to women.

"Remember Hilton Head?" I asked James. He smiled at me and nodded. That was one contest he lost hands down. I never did tell Jessica that she was the target of a bet. "You know I lied to you. Jessica didn't sleep with me that night." I had no idea why I was telling him now. The bet was only for a six pack. We always were competitive.

"She's always been better than you," James said, settling against the railing next to me. "I've always known, but I saw how she looked at you. It was worth the six pack." He chuckled, and my respect for him increased. "You don't deserve her you lying bastard."

"No, but don't let her know that," I said. Our thirtieth anniversary was coming up. I wondered if a trip back to Hilton Head would please her. We didn't look near as good in our swimsuits but filtered through memories it may not matter.

"It is nice out here," James admitted.

We debarked from the ferry and were loaded into a vehicle by a corporal who was not used to generals. She was starched from head to toe and could barely get a word out. I had learned it was best to just follow whatever plan was given to them and limit the deviations, or conversations. In time, she'd figure out we were just men and it's the rank she was saluting.

"Isn't this the way to the detention center?" I asked, breaking the long silence.

"Yes, sir," the corporal said as her eyes snapped to me in the passenger seat. They stayed longer than I felt safe so I pointed forward and she realized she should be watching the road and not me.

"I thought the meeting was at the Navy Lodge," I said.

"General Landings prefers the detention mess hall, Sir."

"Long trip, uncomfortable chairs, and crap food," James mumbled from behind me. The corporal struggled to hide a smile. He was getting pissy again. I wished he wouldn't do it in front of the rank and file.

"Does General Landings fly down here a lot?" I asked the corporal. Her terrified eyes looked at me, then back to the road.

"It's not for me to say, sir," the corporal said fearfully.

"You're correct, Corporal," I said, to calm her down. I doubt if she would be betraying any national secrets, and I think I already had my answer by her reaction.

We pulled up to Camp Delta's mess, and the corporal broke a world record running around the vehicle to open our doors. I waited patiently, though I would have preferred to open it myself. Stopping her would have been insulting.

"What's your name, Corporal?" James asked. It was clearly written above her pocket, but like me, James had sensed her unease.

"Corporal Debbie Johnson, sir," she replied as she stood at attention.

"Excellent driving, Corporal Johnson," James said, then walked off. I nodded my agreement and caught a growing smile on her face as we moved forward. Sometimes a little downward respect goes a long way. I knew how she felt. It was little different for the first-years at the academy.

It looked like we were the last to arrive. General Landings sat at the far end of a long table usually reserved for regular troops. Eight other generals were already gathered. Anyone in direct command of combat troops was present. The rest of the hall was empty, though we could hear things happening behind the mess counter, in the kitchen proper.

"Mr. Lewis, I believe we are ready," General Landings shouted toward the kitchen. James and I quickly took seats as a tall black man in chef's garb exited the kitchen. Behind him came soldiers wrapped in aprons and pushing carts filled with covered plates. The civilian stopped before General Landings.

"I've prepared something special tonight. We'll begin with an Arugula Persimmon Pear Salad that I think you'll enjoy," Mr. Lewis said. General Landings rubbed his hands together and smiled.

"That sounds wonderful, Mr. Lewis," the general said. He looked down the table at all of us. "Welcome to the armed forces best kept secret." Plates were placed in front of us and the lids removed. An amazing looking salad lay before us. "Please, food first, we'll talk after," General Landings said.

It was an hour later when I decided it was the best meal I had ever eaten. James heartily agreed and had lost all his misgivings of distance and uncomfortable chairs. I suspected that General Landings flew down here a lot. I wondered what budget line he used.

"What was that sauce on the prime rib?" General Landings asked Mr. Lewis.

"A roasted garlic thyme sauce. It was an experiment that turned out rather well," Lewis responded. He was grinning as General Landings continued to praise the meal. It wasn't long before we were all congratulating him.

"Who is the chef?" I asked General Davidson next to me.

"An inmate actually," Davidson said. "I've only heard rumors, but something to do with homegrown terrorism. A life sentence is what I've been told."

"And they let him cook for us?"

"Some kind of special dispensation from The White House I heard," Davidson said. "It was like yanking teeth to get that much. I stopped asking questions the first time Landings brought me down here. It's definitely worth the extra hour on the treadmill." He patted his stomach and gave me a sated smile.

"Gentlemen," Landings called to get our attention. The last of the dishes had been whisked away and replaced with fine cups of coffee. "I'm sure you're all aware of the diplomatic efforts over the past few years. I have no idea what kind of drugs Secretary Goodfellow is selling, but the world is buying." He paused a moment to let that sink in.

"The reunification of Korea and the Israeli/Palestinian solution were surprisingly quick. It caught us off guard, and we now have troops protecting places that don't need protection. Who could have envisioned a mutual protection pact between the Israelis and Palestinians in our lifetime? That Corbett project, the Tisdale Desalination Plant, went fully operational last month and is generating more water than expected. I was informed that two more are already in the works in Africa." Landings stood from his chair and started pacing.

"Somehow, in one trip to Russia, Goodfellow was able to align their interests with ours. The hostilities in Syria have ceased, and ISIS is no longer. The whole middle east is singing Kum-bi-yah." Landings stopped pacing and looked at us directly. "It seems they are trying to put us out of business." His hand came down on the table, rattling the coffee cups. "This I will not allow. We are the strongest military force the world has ever seen and piece by piece we're becoming obsolete."

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked without thinking.

"Yes," Landings replied, "yes it is. What if this peace isn't permanent? I don't want us to be caught with our pants down. That's why I've called you all here. We have to stay relevant and short of conflict, that becomes difficult."

"Sir, you're not suggesting..." General Cummings interrupted. He was stating what we were all beginning to think.

"No, damn it! I want to be ready to fight a war, not start one," Landings said. "We have to develop a new purpose, something that keeps us cohesive and in uniform. Something the country will agree is worth continued funding, something humanitarian." He paused again, then began when he was sure he had our undivided attention.

"I want each of your units to build a rotating reaction force. Its purpose is to quickly put boots on the ground at natural disasters anywhere in the world in under six hours. This will require a different type of training than we are used to. Once deployed, we will be in non-combat roles and unarmed. Heroes don't always have to fight."

"Save the world and make sure the press sees us doing it," General Thomas added.

"Exactly," Landings said. "No one can move men and machines like we can. Let's put those skills to good use." Talk erupted as we traded strategies on how best to accomplish the new mission. It was late when everything finally simmered down. Most of the officers had left. James, Landings, and Thomas were still present.