The Secret Cardinal

51

‘Satellite uplink off,’ Kilkenny said.

The heads-up display disappeared and Kilkenny removed his helmet. Gates reclined beside him in the co-pilot’s seat, resting up for the final leg of their flight.

‘Think your buddy Grin will get that?’ Gates asked without opening his eyes.

‘He’ll figure it out.’

‘I hope so ’cause it’d be mighty nice if there was someone friendly there to meet us on the other side.’

‘I’m more concerned about the unfriendly ones who are trying to keep us from getting there.’

Kilkenny pulled himself out of the BAT and stretched, his joints stiff from two long flights. The temperature had dropped considerably as they ascended to the Tibetan plateau, and Kilkenny’s breath now billowed in steamy wisps as he exhaled. At a little over three thousand meters, the altitude relative to sea level here was ten times higher than where he lived in Michigan. The air was noticeably thinner, too, but Kilkenny found he had little difficulty acclimating.

He left Gates in the BAT and found Tao in conversation with the team’s medic. The three pilots were clustered together around one of the BATs, reviewing the night’s flight plan over what qualified as their evening meal. Food was a traditional grumbling point among soldiers, and Kilkenny was certain that even a Memphis barbecue served by the Hooters girls would receive complaints by troops in the field. The remaining team members were either on watch, checking equipment, or, like Gates, trying to catch some shuteye.

Yin sat back on his heels, his legs tucked beneath him, knees parted in a wide posture Kilkenny was familiar with from his years of martial arts training. Yin’s upper body stood tall, and his palms lay open on his thighs. He was alone on a grassy patch of ground facing the western horizon. The sun had just slipped behind the highest peaks, painting the entire range in a warm golden glow. A gentle breeze ruffled Yin’s white hair but did not disturb his meditation.

‘How’s he doing?’ Kilkenny asked out of earshot of Yin.

‘Vitals are strong,’ Jing reported. ‘His heart rate is good for a guy his age, and his rhythm is textbook. If there’s a glitch in his ticker, I’m still not seeing it.’

‘Is he having any trouble with the altitude?’

‘Actually, I think he’s handling it better than some of us. I’m keeping everybody hydrated and passing out the Tylenol as needed.’

‘Good.’

Jing left to stow his medical supplies in the ebbing twilight. Kilkenny and Tao studied the man they had come to China to save, wondering if their actions might instead shorten the cleric’s life.

‘What do you think? Is he okay?’ Kilkenny asked.

‘Something is wrong, but maybe it’s not physical. The shock of reentering the world like this after what he’s been through — I can’t imagine.’

‘An institutional man.’

‘A what?’ Tao asked.

‘An institutional man. Morgan Freeman’s character used the term in The Shawshank Redemption. It refers to a man who’s been in prison so long that he can’t function on the outside — a man who needs the walls of the prison to feel safe. Looking at him now, though, I’d say he’s enjoying the great wide open.’

‘His sleep is troubled.’

‘I was in a box just like his for only one night, and it messed up my dreams. He’ll get the best treatment available for whatever’s bothering him once we get him out of China.’

‘I’m worried about him,’ Tao said.

‘Yeah. Me too.’

Yin prayed as the sun set, his thoughts moving beyond scripted formula into a personal conversation with the Almighty. His prayers sought protection for those who risked their lives to free him, and forgiveness for their persecutors. He asked nothing for himself, knowing that each day was itself a precious gift.

He felt a surge of warmth in his chest, swelling from his heart, embracing him, enveloping him. The sensation rushed to his extremities, and his mind seemed to expand beyond his body into the horizon. In that instant, Yin felt a small pair of hands touch his cheek and the cross on his chest, and he knew the child Ke Li was now with God.