to answer. “You’ve been watching me for the past three days. I’ve noticed that you seem to be paying a lot of attention to me. More so than the others. You choose your words carefully, and you’ve undoubtedly read that file that’s sitting on your desk. You know why I’m here.”
Lewis hid his surprise that Rapp had guessed his profession. “It’s my job to ask questions.”
“But why would you ask if I miss her? Don’t you think that’s pretty obvious?”
“So that’s why you’re here?”
“I’m not here because I miss her. I miss my father, who died when I was thirteen. I miss my grandparents, and someday I’ll miss my mom when she dies, and maybe if I get to know you, I’ll miss you, too. That’s part of life. I’m here for a very obvious reason. One that I’m sure you’re already aware of.”
Lewis noted how he had taken charge of the conversation, but was willing to let this play out. “Revenge?”
“I prefer retribution, but it all depends on the definition you choose.”
Lewis was pleased that he’d made the distinction. He was intimately familiar with the difference between the two words. “I’d like to hear your definition.”
“Revenge is more wild, less calculated … deeply personal.”
“And retribution?”
Rapp thought about it for a moment and then answered in a very clear voice. “Retribution is a punishment that is morally right and fully deserved.”
“And the men who conspired to bring down Pam Am 103?”
Rapp leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and said, “Every last one of them deserves to die.”
Lewis looked at the file on the desk and asked, “You’re Catholic?”
“Yes.”
“So how do you square this with your Lord? Your idea of retribution doesn’t exactly conform to the turn-the-other-cheek preaching of Jesus Christ.”
“Nice try.” Rapp grinned.
“How do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you a little secret about me. I’m not the most patient guy. I have a lot to learn, and I’m eager to learn it, so when you start to hit me with selective theology you might get my back up a bit.”
“Selective?” Lewis asked.
“Yeah. I’ve never understood the intellectual dishonesty of people who say the Bible is the word of God and then choose to pull verses only from the New Testament, for example. Turning the other cheek is one of their favorites, and they use it, while ignoring a dozen Old Testament verses and a few New Testament verses that say the men who brought down that plane deserve to die.”
Lewis conceded with a nod. “So, if it comes to it … you don’t think you’d have a problem taking another man’s life?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Who the guy is, and more important, what he’s guilty of.”
CHAPTER 15
W HEN the sun rose for the fifth day they were one man short. It was Dick. Rapp didn’t know the guy’s real name, much less where he was from or where he was going, so it was hard to feel too bad when the guy stepped out of formation during a grueling set of up-downs in the hot afternoon sun. He simply approached one of the instructors, announced his intention, and the two men shook hands. Just like that the guy was done. Free of the pain, the sweating, the burning muscles, the tired eyes, and the battered ego. It all seemed too easy, and that’s what scared the crap out of Rapp.
It made him briefly wonder if he was capable of pussing out. All it would take was a down moment. A bad spell, a cold, or a fever or another sleepless night. One misstep and he could be the one shaking hands and packing his bag. While falling asleep that night, Rapp focused on the positive. There was one man fewer to compete with. They kept saying it wasn’t a competition, but Rapp wasn’t so sure. If it wasn’t a competition, why did they count or clock everything they did? The image of the fellow recruit bowing out after five days put Rapp on guard against a moment of personal weakness. It refocused him by
Lewis hid his surprise that Rapp had guessed his profession. “It’s my job to ask questions.”
“But why would you ask if I miss her? Don’t you think that’s pretty obvious?”
“So that’s why you’re here?”
“I’m not here because I miss her. I miss my father, who died when I was thirteen. I miss my grandparents, and someday I’ll miss my mom when she dies, and maybe if I get to know you, I’ll miss you, too. That’s part of life. I’m here for a very obvious reason. One that I’m sure you’re already aware of.”
Lewis noted how he had taken charge of the conversation, but was willing to let this play out. “Revenge?”
“I prefer retribution, but it all depends on the definition you choose.”
Lewis was pleased that he’d made the distinction. He was intimately familiar with the difference between the two words. “I’d like to hear your definition.”
“Revenge is more wild, less calculated … deeply personal.”
“And retribution?”
Rapp thought about it for a moment and then answered in a very clear voice. “Retribution is a punishment that is morally right and fully deserved.”
“And the men who conspired to bring down Pam Am 103?”
Rapp leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and said, “Every last one of them deserves to die.”
Lewis looked at the file on the desk and asked, “You’re Catholic?”
“Yes.”
“So how do you square this with your Lord? Your idea of retribution doesn’t exactly conform to the turn-the-other-cheek preaching of Jesus Christ.”
“Nice try.” Rapp grinned.
“How do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you a little secret about me. I’m not the most patient guy. I have a lot to learn, and I’m eager to learn it, so when you start to hit me with selective theology you might get my back up a bit.”
“Selective?” Lewis asked.
“Yeah. I’ve never understood the intellectual dishonesty of people who say the Bible is the word of God and then choose to pull verses only from the New Testament, for example. Turning the other cheek is one of their favorites, and they use it, while ignoring a dozen Old Testament verses and a few New Testament verses that say the men who brought down that plane deserve to die.”
Lewis conceded with a nod. “So, if it comes to it … you don’t think you’d have a problem taking another man’s life?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Who the guy is, and more important, what he’s guilty of.”
CHAPTER 15
W HEN the sun rose for the fifth day they were one man short. It was Dick. Rapp didn’t know the guy’s real name, much less where he was from or where he was going, so it was hard to feel too bad when the guy stepped out of formation during a grueling set of up-downs in the hot afternoon sun. He simply approached one of the instructors, announced his intention, and the two men shook hands. Just like that the guy was done. Free of the pain, the sweating, the burning muscles, the tired eyes, and the battered ego. It all seemed too easy, and that’s what scared the crap out of Rapp.
It made him briefly wonder if he was capable of pussing out. All it would take was a down moment. A bad spell, a cold, or a fever or another sleepless night. One misstep and he could be the one shaking hands and packing his bag. While falling asleep that night, Rapp focused on the positive. There was one man fewer to compete with. They kept saying it wasn’t a competition, but Rapp wasn’t so sure. If it wasn’t a competition, why did they count or clock everything they did? The image of the fellow recruit bowing out after five days put Rapp on guard against a moment of personal weakness. It refocused him by
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