Captain Thibaut’s son clutched his book bag to his chest and leaned toward the window. “Is that the bad man, Papa?”
Thibaut turned and looked out to the courtyard. “That is
our prisoner, yes.”
The boy stood staring.
“Time for you to leave for school, Jean. Jean? Did you
hear me?”
“Yes, Papa. Does he have a family?”
“Yes. Do you have all your books?”
“Yes. Do you think he is sad?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. Run along now. Your friends are
sure to be at the gate waiting.”
The boy slung his bag over one shoulder and started for
the door.
“And don’t keep your mother waiting this afternoon.”
“Yes, Papa.”
The boy turned sideways to squeeze past Corporal Allard
coming in with several letters in his hand.
“Sir, these are from Dr. Linton.” Allard held them out so
that his captain could see there were three.
“Who are these for?”
“One for Professor Riga at the university, one for his
son, and one for his granddaughter.”
“Okay, put them in the file with the others.”
“Yes, sir. And Dr. Linton wishes to speak with you.”
“Ah. Well, tell him I will join him in the garden
shortly. Coffee for the two of us.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thibaut stood and adjusted his belt. Looking out the
window, he could see Linton stooping to smell some of the roses. A threat to
national security and yet, he mused, a regular fellow, pleasant enough, and,
well, just a man.
When Thibaut got out to the garden, Linton was sitting on
a bench near the smaller fountain of the two in the courtyard. “Dr. Linton.”
“Captain. Thank you for coming out to speak with me. Such
a pleasant morning.”
“Indeed.”
“I gave three letters to—“
“Yes, Allard has taken care of them. He will bring us
coffee.”
“Excellent. Then you will sit for a visit?”
“Is there something in particular you wish to ask or you
need?”
“Well, I am surprised none of my letters have been
answered. None of my phone call requests have been addressed. It’s been four
months—“
“The Defense Ministry oversees the disposition of your
correspondence and phone—“
“The Dense Ministry?” Linton stood. He ran his hand over the
top of his head. “The Defense Ministry. Of course.”
“You were not aware?”
“No, Captain. But now, well I see how it is. Of course
Justice would hand it off to the military.”
“Doctor, if I may, you are a prisoner of the state. If
not for the intervention of my country you would be in a far harsher
situation—perhaps, even—“
“Yes, yes. I understand all that.”
“Do you, sir?”
“Yes. But, Captain, conscience is a powerful force. So
powerful to be a kind of madness, perhaps you think. Or you think me a fool?”
“I think in terms of wins and losses. What you have won,
what you have lost.” Thibaut signaled for Allard to set their coffees down on a
small table.
“So, Doctor?”
“I suspect you only see the losses—family, job, perhaps
prestige.”
Thibaut handed a cup to Linton. “Freedom. I see you have
lost your freedom. That is no small thing.”
“No. It is no small thing. I believe in my own small way
I am fighting for freedom.”
“And your family?”
“Yes, of course, my family. I did consider the
ramifications—“
“But a ten-year sentence?”
“No, not that exactly. Perhaps I misjudged, thought more
international pressure would be brought to bear.”
The two sat for a moment, silent in their thoughts.
“It would be hard for me to choose against my family,
Doctor. To lose them, even to a noble idea.”
“Yes, Captain, I understand. Family.”
“Foolhardy or courageous, I—“
“Or both.”
“Yes, perhaps.” Thibaut stood. “I am being reassigned to
a joint mission in Gibraltar in two months.”
“Well, let congratulate you and thank you for your professionalism.
Oh, and I have a phone call request I forgot to give to Allard.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Thibaut took the form in hand. “I
will handle this one according to the protocol set by your government, of
course.”
“Of course.”
Thibaut nodded and walked back to the main building. Once
inside his office, he glanced at the request form. “Allard— Never mind.” He
folded it once, halved it a second time, and let it drop into the wastebasket.
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