Sean Chercover - The Trinity Game

A few minutes later, Pat cut the throttle and pulled up to another narrow spit of land, this one overgrown foliage and a rickety old cedar-shingle fishing cabin that listed to one side, braced from falling by three four-by-four beams that angled up from the ground.

Edgar jumped ashore first, followed by the men. Pat tied the boat to the exposed root of a cypress and led them to the cabin. “My safe house,” he said.

“Doesn’t look so safe,” said Trinity.

“That’s the whole point,” said Pat, digging a key ring out of his pocket. He put out a hand and stopped Trinity. “Wait.” He pressed a button on the key fob remote, and the entire front wall of the cabin began to rise like a garage door.

Behind the decrepit façade was a cinderblock structure with a metal garage door. Inside, another green Subaru Forester. Large metal cabinets lined one wall, and a Fort Knox gun safe stood in the corner.

Pat tossed the keys to Daniel. “You’ll find clothes and bottled water in the cabinets. I’ll go home and clean up the mess, meet you in New Orleans tomorrow.”

“There could be another guy or two waiting for you. We didn’t see if someone went around back.”

“Be dead by now. Once I set the defense system, nobody gets off my property alive.” Pat let out a grim smile. “Gotta go feed the gators.”

“OK. I’ll call your cell.”

Pat took the pistol off his belt, handed it to Daniel. “You’ve shot this one before, you know how it works.”

Daniel stared at the gun in his hand. The same gun he’d killed three men with in Honduras.

It felt better in his hand than it should have.

“Tim, there hasn’t been another car on the road for eight miles,” said Daniel. “Put it in the glove box.”

“Oh,” Trinity sounded distracted, “OK, good idea.” But he didn’t.

“Or keep fidgeting with it until you accidentally shoot one of us.”

“Right. OK.” This time he put the gun away. “Sorry. Guess I’m a little rattled, now it’s sinking in. That was…that was pretty close back there.”

“Yes it was.”

Trinity lit a cigarette. “Those men sure died ugly.”

“Yes they did.”

They rode in silence for a while. Trinity turned on the radio and found a talk station.

…and the Tim Trinity sightings just keep on pouring into 9-1-1 centers and newsrooms across the nation. The latest one, believe it or not, from Anchorage, Alaska. Elvis Presley, watch your back, I’m tellin’ ya... The radio jock chuckled at his own joke. Speaking of the King, a blurry YouTube video that some jogger in Memphis claims to be of Reverend Trinity has gone absolutely viral on the Interwebs and is now drawing so-called “pilgrims” to Tennessee by the tens of thousands…

Trinity turned the radio off, shaking his head. “Memphis? What the hell would I be doing in Memphis?”

“Hey, it’s good news,” said Daniel. “The more people think you’re in Memphis, the better.”

They fell back into silence for a minute. Trinity shifted in his seat. “Danny, I, uh…” He gestured to the glove box. “I asked Pat about Honduras.”

“He tell you?” Daniel kept his eye on the road, but caught Trinity’s nod in his peripheral. “Good. Not my favorite story to tell. He tell you I freaked out?”

“He said you kept your shit together like a pro, and he wouldn’t have survived without your help.”

Daniel smiled. “Yeah, I did all that. And then I freaked out.”

“Probably a healthy reaction,” said Trinity, “certainly a normal one. You were almost killed.”

“Wasn’t that kind of freak-out.”

“Moral crisis?”

“Identity crisis,” said Daniel. “When it happened I was terrified of course, and the killing was horrible…”

“But?”

“But beyond the normal stress reaction, I was actually OK with it. I couldn’t convince myself that I’d done wrong.”

“You hadn’t,” said Trinity. “What, you’re supposed to turn the other cheek?

“Yes.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I was a priest. We’re supposed to emulate Jesus.”

“Even if it means dying.”

“Especially if it means dying.”

Trinity threw his hands up. “What can I say? You Catholics have some crazy ideas.”

“Everybody’s got crazy ideas, Tim.”

“True.” He gave Daniel an avuncular wink.

“Anyway, it’s in the past where it belongs. But you were right, what you said before in Atlanta. I was a priest for the wrong reasons…and I’ve known it a long time. But every morning I woke up and made the decision to be a priest. And now…Now I just can’t keep making that decision anymore.

They rode in silence a while, but this time it was an easier silence.

“She’s not married, is she?” said Trinity.

“Nope.”

“You think she’ll have you back?”

“I don’t know,” Daniel said. “But I aim to find out.”

As the skyline of New Orleans grew large before them, Trinity said, “Been home since Katrina?”

Daniel shook his head. “You?”

“No.”

“You rode out the storm, huh?”

“Not my finest hour.” Trinity stared out the window. With the baseball cap and sunglasses, his face was unreadable, and Daniel decided not to press him for details. So many things had happened, in both their lives. So many years had flowed past. It wasn’t a matter of getting caught up .

Everything was different now. They were different now.

Trinity pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. “Christ, I got a headache…”

“I’ll stop and pick up some aspirin.”

“No, it’s— ackba —” His hand flew up and punched the roof liner, a shower of sparks raining down from the cigarette between his fingers, “— backala —Shit, it’s comin’ on strong— abebeh reeadalla …” His left leg jerked up, slamming his knee against the bottom of the dash. “Fuck!” His entire body spasmed and his head snapped to the right, sending out a loud crack as it hit the doorframe.

The tongues were upon him.

On television, it had looked ridiculous. From the back row of the audience, disturbing. But up close it was a horror show. Chills ran up and down Daniel’s arms as he quickly exited the highway, tires squealing in protest on the off-ramp, Trinity babbling and thrashing beside him.

He screeched to a stop on the service road, threw the truck in park, and grabbed his uncle’s shoulders, struggling to hold him down and prevent further injury.

The next thirty seconds felt like they would never end. But then, finally, the tongues stopped and Trinity’s body relaxed and his eyes regained their focus.

“I’m OK, I’m all right…It’s over.” Trinity blew out a long breath and sat back upright. “Man, that one came on fast.” He wiped the beads of perspiration from his face and forced a smile.

“It looks painful,” said Daniel.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Trinity chuckled, lighting a new cigarette. “Yeah, it ain’t exactly a day at the beach.” He dragged on his smoke, shook his head. “It is what it is. Anyway, it’s over. Let’s go.”

“All right.” Daniel put the car in gear. He didn’t want to dwell on it either.

Diamondhead, Mississippi…

They were five of the nation’s top Christian evangelists, boasting congregations in the tens of thousands, highly rated television programs, bestselling books. One had even been a spiritual advisor to presidents.