Gift of Revelation (20 page)

Once the guards saw me, they backed up and let me speak to the child, who handed me a tattered, sweat-stained note and whispered something in my ear. Then he turned on his heels, shot a glance at me, and ran off into the bush. I walked back toward the tents, reading the note, trying to figure out what it meant.

As I walked through the grounds, Dr. Bromberg waved to me, beckoning me to come into the main building. I mounted the steps to the building, and when I reached his side, he put his hand on my shoulder. We walked inside the main room, and there I saw Dr. Arriale, who was flanked by a white man in a rumpled white suit, his hair graying, two men in UN regalia, and a couple of medical staffers. I wondered about the man in the suit, because its fabric seemed too heavy for this tropical climate. Everyone was sweating profusely.

“Our embassy doesn't want to do anything to complicate relations with the South Sudanese officials,” said the man in the white suit as he adjusted his wraparound RayBan sunglasses. “They tried to pressure us into sharing intelligence about the increased rebel activity along the White Nile. No dice—”

Dr. Bromberg interrupted his statement. “What are we going to do for the minister?”

“What indeed?” said the man with the graying hair. He looked at me. “By the way, are you Lutheran, Christian Scientist, Catholic, or Presbyterian?”

“I'm Baptist,” I replied proudly. I knew that in some circles Baptist was the lower rung of the religious congregations. A stepchild, an outcast.

The man with the graying hair went over and took a seat at the table. He was followed by the UN representatives and the doctors. “Reverend, I've passed your request for assistance on to Washington. Expect a decision on it shortly. Some things take time.”

“Will I be safe out there?” I asked as I sat down at the table. “Who are you?”

“I'm a representative of the State Department,” he said, suddenly removing his sunglasses. “I think you'll be safe. Our friends at the UN will be our eyes and ears here. We'll partner with them, and they shall give us every resource necessary. I wouldn't worry.”

I addressed Dr. Bromberg, reminding him that the bishop had said that the U. S. government would be sending some assistance. The bishop knew every trick.

“How much does this Addie mean to you?” the government man asked me. “I know this bishop. You're dealing with the devil himself.”

Dr. Bromberg scratched his head and frowned at this statement. “Isn't this a bit odd? Reverend, you're being emotionally blackmailed to do something you find despicable. I believe you're a moral man.”

“Elsa asked me if Addie would do this for me, go into harm's way,” I replied. “I told her I really don't know what she would do.”

The government man shrugged. “These guys want something from you. They're using the woman as bait. They want either cold, hard cash or a public relations victory. Have you slept with her? These bad boys will use sex as a weapon against unsuspecting civilians.”

I bristled. “That's none of your business.”

Dr. Arriale answered for me. “Elsa said he hasn't slept with her. As a man of faith, he refused her advances. She's a pretty wayward woman.”

“Don't say that about her,” I countered. “She's my friend.”

“He's going to contact you, right?” the government man asked.

I handed them the note I had just received from the child, and they passed it around. Maybe the guy from the State Department could make out what that blasted thing was really saying. It really didn't make sense. What did they want?

“You think you know the bishop,” Dr. Bromberg said, handing back the note. “He's completely corrupt.”

“See? The bad guys believe they've got to our pastor already,” the government man said. “To them, he's ripe for the picking. A lonely guy. A widower who lost his wife and kids. They've checked him out.”

It was certain that Dr. Bromberg really didn't like the bishop. In his opinion the bishop did what most in the hierarchy of established Christians, the bigwigs, did: pandered to both sides, while ignoring the real needs of the poor.

“The bishop doesn't make mistakes,” Dr. Bromberg noted. “He's very calculating. He'll come out of this thing smelling like a rose.”

The government man stared into my face, his tiny eagle eyes piercing my resolve. “Maybe they want to recruit you. It would be a major coup for them. I could see them forcing you to act as a mouthpiece to the American media. That would get some attention.”

“No way,” I said angrily.

But Dr. Bromberg got on the bandwagon, agreeing with the State Department rep about the possibility of my doing a Tokyo Rose for the Islamist rebels. I would rather die than do something like that.

“He has a point there,” Dr. Bromberg said. “It would be great to have an English-speaking, fallen Christian preacher spewing Islamic extremist gibberish. Get in and get out.”

The government man asked the doctors for a glass of water, then continued. “Reverend, you cannot behave badly. You must try to tell the truth as much as possible. Then, when you tell a lie, they'll believe you. Don't let us down. Always keep America in mind. Don't bring your country disgrace.”

“I won't do that,” I replied. “I'm always loyal. I'm an American citizen first and foremost.”

One of the staffers passed a glass of water to the government man, who sipped it like it was red Kool-Aid. “The bishop wants you to do what he tells you,” the government man said sternly. “If you don't, he'll be very upset. He might make your life hell. The bishop doesn't like to lose.”

“Keep your wits about you, and you'll be all right,” Dr. Arriale said. I was pleased they were worried about my safety.

“These fellas'll try to work on your mind,” the government man said. “They'll tell you a bunch of lies. We'll protect you, no matter what. You can be assured of that. However, the situation might get dicey, but if it does, we'll bail you out.”

“Is Addie so important to you?” Dr. Bromberg asked me. I didn't like him messing in my personal business.

 

“She's my friend, Doctor.” I tried not to get mad.

“Do you plan on marrying her?” Dr. Bromberg asked.

“I don't know,” I replied.

I remembered the note and what the kid had told me. He'd whispered that I should burn the note after reading it. It might fall into the wrong hands. The bishop knew I would give it to anybody who could help me. I would give the note to anybody who would free Addie, because I was desperate and felt my back against the wall.

“I'm sure the rebels will know you gave it to us,” the government man said. “They know what you do and say. They know we're here. This camp has several people working on their side. We know all their names.”

“You do?” Dr. Arriale asked.

“Yes, we do,” the government man answered as he stood to his feet. He caught my eye. “Look happy. Don't be so glum. You'll get her out. She'll be safe. Trust us to back you up. Still, keep your guard up. You'll be in terrible danger until we arrive. Don't get careless. Don't get reckless.” He walked over to the briefcase he'd left on a nearby chair and pulled out a folder.

“I won't be careless,” I said solidly. “I won't embarrass you guys.”

“Are you worried?” Dr. Arriale asked me.

“No, not really,” I answered.

“What if something goes wrong?” Dr. Bromberg asked.

“I'll deal with it,” I said. “I have my faith to protect me. The Lord will shield me.”

The government man walked back over to the table and spread something out on its surface.

“Gentlemen, these are some satellite images taken of where we think Addie and the others are being held,” he said, holding one up. “The buildings circled with a Magic Marker are the prime targets. They're protected by the rebels, but our concern is for the captives. We don't want anything to happen to them.”

I was astonished by the information he had revealed to us. Usually, the government held its cards close to the vest.

“We needed more men like you, Reverend, during the Cold War,” the government man said, laughing. “We'd have beaten the commies easily.”

“You said you had something to tell us about the security of the camp, yes?” Dr. Arriale asked the government man.

“Oh yes. We have word from some sources that the camp can expect to come under attack,” he said. “We'll send over some reinforcements to bolster your defenses. Meanwhile, Reverend, you continue your routine as usual until you get final instructions. When you do, notify us first, and then follow the instructions of the bishop to the letter. Again, we'll monitor your every move.”

I nodded, taking every bit of advice.

Walking over to me to shake my hand, the government man smiled with his eyes, as if trying to put a positive spin on a bad situation. “Don't breathe a word of what we discussed here,” he said, pumping my hand. “Let's keep it in the family.”

Sometime in the middle of the next night, a strong hand shook me awake. I saw a shadowy figure hold a finger to his face, asking me to be silent and to listen. He stood just out of my line of sight after a time. But his voice, low and raspy, gave me a hint that my time had come. I was going to begin my journey to get Addie back.

“The bishop sent me, and now you will meet your lady friend,” the darkness said, still asking me to be quiet. “There is a car waiting for you outside the gate. You will have no trouble from the guards.”

I saw a ray of night light flicker across his face. It was one of the medical staffers, the assistant to Dr. Bromberg, and he was pointing the way to the car. No wonder the rebels knew their every move.

“Now, hurry,” the staffer said. “Good luck!”

Scrambling to gather my things, I tucked everything in a small bag and ran to the gate. I reached the gate and nervously waited to be stopped, but the guards suddenly turned and looked the other way. As fast as my feet could carry me, I ran toward the car. The door opened, and I slid into the backseat.

“Quiet, Mr. Preacher. Not a sound,” a child soldier said, placing an automatic pistol to my temple and handcuffs on my wrists. “Let's go. Get away from here quick.”

The car's motor roared to life, and we sped away through the bush. Nothing was said. The rebels were well trained, obeying their orders to the letter. The handcuffs bit into my wrists. I had no idea where we were going. I lost track of distance in the total darkness, and the stretch of road ahead through the trees seemed endless. We changed cars after a few miles and drove for hours before another vehicle joined us. I could see its headlights dimly through the dust and blackness.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked the men.

Nobody said anything. The car kept on its path to its destination, where I hoped I'd find Addie and the others.

Suddenly, the cars pulled into a small village. Three rebel soldiers formed a roadblock, walked around the vehicles, and inspected them. When they saw me, they laughed and shouted in their language. The village was strangely quiet. It was as if its residents were trapped inside, prisoners in their homes, while the rebels patrolled the streets.

The vehicles rolled forward a few yards and stopped inside a large shed. A group of men escorted me from the car, with one smelly thug holding a weapon in my back. They took me to a room in a small building. My first instinct was to call for help, to scream bloody murder. But I realized it was futile for me to yell for someone to come to my aid.

“We got the big American preacher spy,” one rebel yelled. “He fell for the trap, and here he is. Welcome to hell!”

For an instant, I thought about what the government man had said about the possibility of torture and whether I could withstand it.
Crack my skull. Pull out my fingernails. Snip off my fingers and toes one by one,
I thought defiantly.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked them. “Where's Addie and the others?”

The men said nothing. I stood in the center of the room and waited for the head man to come. I could tell these folks were underlings, grunts. They talked among themselves before they searched me carefully. The one who spoke about “the American preacher spy” stepped forward and freed me from my cuffs. He spoke fairly good English. He asked me to undress. I protested, but a hard blow brought me to my knees. My head was spinning from the punch.

“I'll do it,” I replied, my face starting to swell. “You don't have to get rough.” I stripped down to my drawers, but they wanted me as naked as the day I was born. I complied with their demands.

After a time, they led me downstairs to a windowless cell, where I sat on a dirt floor. They hurled my clothes inside after me. There was a bowl for my toilet. No bed. No place to wash up. That first night I huddled against the wall, wondering what would happen next.

The next morning I said my prayers, and then they brought a jar of tea and a bowl of beans. I refused to eat. I shoved the food back at them, although the guard said I had to eat. I refused again. I nodded out from nerves and exhaustion but awoke when I heard the voice of a muezzin calling all the faithful to prayer.

The same guard came and secured me to a long shackle connected to the wall. I was alone in this room. They kept me here in solitary confinement, alone with my thoughts and my demons. Maybe they wanted me to break down, to crack and do their will. Sometimes I could hear them whispering behind the door.

Later, the guards brought me to the same room where I'd stood when I first arrived over a week ago. An older man in a neat military uniform sat majestically behind a desk, flanked by four armed gunmen. They did not wear uniforms. He spoke very precise English.

“Reverend, why are you here?” he asked me.

“I'm here to take Addie and the others home,” I replied. “I've done everything you said. If you let us go, then we will fly home.”

“Not so fast, infidel,” the older man said. “Is that the only reason you came to Sudan? Some have said you're a government spy. Is that true?”

I was upset by that accusation. “Where do you get your information? I came here to see what was going on. I wanted to find out for myself. I heard terrible things, and I didn't want to believe the media's accounts.”

“And now you are a part of those terrible things,” the older man said, smiling. “You're spreading the gospel and the teachings of the Christ to blind the people. Why are you spreading this poison?”

My mouth was dry, and my heart was pounding. I knew what the older man was going to say next. The government man had warned me that they would want to recruit me.

But I interrupted him. “Where's Addie, my friend?”

A guard stepped up and hit me hard, sending stars and fog into my head. I collapsed, but then I stood up. Wobbly, I faced the older man, my eyes piercing. I was fed up with this game.

“Where's my friend?” I repeated.

The guard was about to strike me again, but the older man raised his hand. Luckily, these men were trained well, because there could have been trouble right then.

“Reverend, what we want from you is that you renounce your faith and your country,” the older man said with a sneer on his lips. “If you do what we say, if you cooperate, you'll be freed before the weekend.”

Being captive, I had no sense of time or place. What day was it? What week was it? What did it matter to me? The goal was to dangle a carrot before me, to give me false hope.

“Tell me about your associates at the camp,” the older man said. “Give us some details. Prove to us that you want to be freed.”

I was prepared for this chess game. “Why do you want to know, when you already know everything about the camp? We all know you have people working for you there. They're on to you big-time.”

Another fist smashed into the back of my head. I almost blacked out, but I remained calm.

The older man nodded, and the guards went to work on me, punching and kicking me. They hurt me really badly, so badly that I passed out. I awoke in the cell, knowing I couldn't submit to these hostage takers. I wanted to strike a deal with them, the deal I had discussed with the bishop, but they had another agenda. If they got what they wanted, I would be left with nothing. No honor, no dignity, no pride, no faith.