Tom Clancy - The Bear and the Dragon

“We must learn, first of all, that God’s Word is the same for all of us. I’m a black man. You folks are white. Skip was Chinese. In that we are all different, but in God’s Holy Word we are all the same. Of all the things we have to learn, of all the things we have to keep in our hearts every day we live, that is the most important. Jesus is Savior to us all, if only we accept Him, if only we take Him into our hearts, if only we listen when He talks to us. That is the first lesson we need to learn from the death of those two brave men.

“The next lesson we need to learn is that Satan is still alive out there, and while we must listen to the words of God, there are those out there who prefer to listen to the words of Lucifer. We need to recognize those people for what they are.

“Forty years ago, we had some of those people among us. I remember it, and probably you do, too. We got over all that. The reason we got over it is that we have all heard the Word of God. We’ve all remembered that our God is a God of Mercy. Our God is a God of Justice. If we remember that, we remember a lot more besides. God does not measure us by what we are against. Jesus looks into our hearts and measures us by what we are for.

“But we cannot be for justice except by being against in justice. We must remember Skip and Renato. We must remember Mr. and Mrs. Yang, and all like them, those people in China who’ve been denied the chance to hear the Word of God. The sons of Lucifer are afraid of God’s Holy Word. The sons of Lucifer are afraid of us. The sons of Satan are afraid of God’s Will, because in God’s Love and in the Way of the Lord lies their destruction. They may hate God. They may hate God’s word-but they fear, they FEAR the consequences of their own actions. They fear the damnation that awaits them. They may deny God, but they know the righteousness of God, and they know that every human soul cries out for knowledge of our Lord.

“That’s why they feared Reverend Yu Fa An. That’s why they feared Cardinal DiMilo, and that’s why they fear us. Me and you good people. Those sons of Satan are afraid of us because they know that their words and their false beliefs can no more stand up to the Word of God than a house trailer can stand before a springtime tornado! And they know that all men are born with some knowledge of God’s Holy Word. That’s why they fear us.

“Good!” Reverend Hosiah Jackson exclaimed. “Then let’s give them another reason to fear us! Let God’s faithful show them the power and the conviction of our faith!”

But we can be sure that God was there with Skip, and with Cardinal DiMilo. God directed their brave hands, and through them God saved that innocent little child,” Patterson told his black congregation. ”And God welcomed to his bosom the two men He sent there to do His work, and today our friend Skip and Cardinal DiMilo stand proudly before the Lord God, those good and faithful servants of His Holy Word.

“My friends, they did their job. They did the Lord’s work that day. They saved the life of an innocent child. They showed the whole world what the power of faith can be.

“But what of our job?” Patterson asked.

It is not the job of the faithful to encourage Satan,” Hosiah Jackson told the people before him. He’d captured their attention as surely as Lord Olivier on his best day-and why not? These were not the words of Shakespeare. These were the words of one of God’s ministers. ”When Jesus looks into our hearts, will He see people who support the sons of Lucifer? Will Jesus see people who give their money to support the godless killers of the innocent? Will Jesus see people who give their money to the new Hitler?”

“No!” A female voice shouted in reply. “No!”

“What is it that we, we the people of God, the people of faith-what is it that we stand for? When the sons of Lucifer kill the faithful, where do you stand? Will you stand for justice? Will you stand for your faith? Will you stand with the holy martyrs? Will you stand with Jesus?” Jackson demanded of his borrowed white congregation.

And as one voice, they answered him: “Yes!”

Jesus H. Christ,” Ryan said. He’d walked over to the Vice President’s office to catch the TV coverage.

“Told you my Pap was good at this stuff. Hell, I grew up with it over the dinner table, and he still gets inside my head,” said Robby Jackson, wondering if he’d allow himself a drink tonight. “Patterson is probably doing okay, too. Pap says he’s an okay guy, but my Pap is the champ.”

“Did he ever think of becoming a Jesuit?” Jack asked with a grin.

“Pap’s a preacherman, but he ain’t quite a saint. The celibacy would be kinda hard on him,” Robby answered.

Then the scene changed to Leonardo di Vinci International Airport outside Rome, where the Alitalia 747 had just landed and was now pulling up to the jetway. Below it was a truck, and next to the truck some cars belonging to the Vatican. It had already been announced that Renato Cardinal DiMilo would be getting his own full state funeral at St. Peter’s Basilica, and CNN would be there to cover all of it, joined by SkyNews, Fox, and all the major networks. They’d been late getting onto the story at the beginning, but that only made this part of the coverage more full.

Back in Mississippi, Hosiah Jackson walked slowly down from the pulpit as the last hymn ended. He walked with grace and dignity to the front door, so as to greet all of the congregation members on the way out.

That took much longer than he’d expected. It seemed that every single one of them wanted to take his hand and thank him for coming-the degree of hospitality was well in excess of his most optimistic expectations. And there was no doubting their sincerity. Some insisted on talking for a few moments, until the press of the departing crowd forced them down the steps and onto the parking lot. Hosiah counted six invitations to dinner, and ten inquiries about his church, and if it needed any special work. Finally, there was just one man left, pushing seventy, with scraggly gray hair and a hooked nose that had seen its share of whiskey bottles. He looked like a man who’d topped out as assistant foreman at the sawmill.

“Hello,” Jackson said agreeably.

“Pastor,” the man replied, uneasily, as though wanting to say more.

It was a look Hosiah had seen often enough. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Pastor … years ago …” And his voice choked up again. “Pastor,” he began again. “Pastor, I sinned.”

“My friend, we all sin. God knows that. That’s why he sent His Son to be with us and conquer our sins.” The minister grabbed the man’s shoulder to steady him.

“I was in the Klan, Pastor, I did … sinful things … I … hurt nigras just cuz I hated them, and I-”

“What’s your name?” Hosiah asked gently.

“Charlie Picket,” the man replied. And then Hosiah knew. He had a good memory for names. Charles Worthington Picket had been the Grand Kleegle of the local Klavern. He’d never been convicted of a major crime, but his name was one that came up much of the time.

“Mr. Picket, those things all happened many years ago,” he reminded the man.

“I ain’t never-I mean, I ain’t never killed nobody. Honest, Pastor, I ain’t never done that,” Picket insisted, with real desperation in his voice. “But I know’d thems that did, and I never told the cops. I never told them not to do it … sweet Jesus, I don’t know what I was back then, Pastor. I was … it was…”

“Mr. Picket, are you sorry for your sins?”

“Oh, yes, oh Jesus, yes, Pastor. I’ve prayed for forgiveness, but-”