Capter V Banner's Mission Changes

John Banner finds out his mission is about to change.

Banner had been with his host for almost a week now. Still, His Holiness had expressed no interest in any conversation other than chit-chat and repeated questions about what it was like to fly in a plane. Banner realized that the old man was not capable of deeper conversation, but where had those written sermons come from?

Banner came to the conviction that they couldn't have come from the old man who sat before him repeatedly asking him the same questions, traveling across the desert, giving long, rambling speeches to blood-thirsty Afghans. He was incapable of putting more than a couple of sentences together. There had to be another source. Now, it was just a matter of finding out who the author was.

Abdul's hands had been cut off and the error of his ways had been pointed out to him, but confession, made under duress could be taken back, and he could still dictate. He was the prime suspect. Banner thought he could bear watching, but that was impossible. He rarely saw him after the first day.

Banner wasn't allowed any contact with The Voice's daughter. He stupidly didn't ask her name during their time together. It was driving him mad. One day, he got the idea to just walk through the palace calling out for her, but he quickly dismissed it. This wasn't the movies and he wasn't Dustin Hoffman.

At dinner that night, it was just The Voice and Banner. By now, Banner had just about had his fill of lamb. What had started out as one of the best meals he had eaten was now leftovers. There was little conversation at dinner. The old man asked him again about his flight. He never seemed to get tired of hearing about it. Each time, it was as if it were the first time he had heard it. Banner guessed it was.

That night, the girl came to Banner's room again. This time, Banner asked her name.

“Alisha.”

“Alisha. Perfect.”

“We have to be more careful. We were almost caught the other night.”

“Yes, I heard about the guard. We must be careful. To be found out would mean death for both of us.”

At least, the girl knew what she was getting herself into.

They made love. The girl gave herself completely. She was full of passion. Years of pent up emotion all released at once. She had never been with a man before. She had ever even touched a man's hand before. Now she wanted to explore every inch of Banner's body. She wanted him to discover hers.

Banner wondered if she really had been a virgin. It would have been quite an accomplishment. She had been educated in America. Banner knew he could never make it through four years at Stanford and come out a virgin. Who could? Maybe an Afghan Princess. She went back to her room and Banner followed her. She protested, but not too much.

After she had fallen asleep, Banner turned on her computer. He felt dirty, like a jealous boyfriend, searching through a girlfriend's purse.

There was the usual amount of files. Emails from old college friends, pictures of vacations and children. Then Banner found what he was looking for. A recently completed sermon, ready to be published. The same hate-filled vitriol as The Voice's sermon, In fact, it was The Voice's sermon. She was The Voice of God. A woman could not teach under Sharia law. Her father had become her vessel.

The mission had changed. A new target had been acquired. It was impossible. Surely, Jerry Batista would not ask him to kill her, but he knew he would. As he made his way quietly back to his room in the dark, he wished the darkness would just come and swallow him up.

This was horrible. Banner was devastated. That night, he didn't sleep. He thought of Jesus in the garden. “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.” But it was his cup. It may be bitter, but he would have to drink it.