The ICC just issued an arrest warrant for Naing. Thought you’d want to know.
“News?” his mother asked.
“The International Criminal Court put out an arrest warrant for General Naing.”
“That’s the man who was after you on this last mission, right?”
“That’s him.” He kissed his mother on the cheek. “Thanks for breakfast.”
He fired up his computer, sent an email to Shanti, knowing she must be relieved.
“You did it, princess,” he wrote. “You made it happen. Congratulations.”
He stupidly waited for a reply, hoping to hear from her, her absence like a hole in his chest. When nothing came, he shut down his computer and went out to help his father, who was harvesting pumpkins.
“Need some help?”
“Sure.” His father handed him a pumpkin and pointed to the cardboard containers on the back of the trailer he’d hitched to his tractor. “We got frost coming in.”
“Since when do you grow pumpkins?”
“Since I discovered that having a pumpkin stand and a corn maze makes good money come Halloween.”
“A corn maze?” Connor noticed that the stalks in the nearest cornfield were still standing. “Who cuts that?”
“I got a fellow out of Kansas comes in and uses GPS and a mini-tractor to get the job done. This year, it’s an elephant. I’ve got a drone photo if you want to see it.” His father pulled out his smartphone and pulled up the image.
“GPS? Drone photos? You’ve gone high-tech.” Connor took the phone, grinned. “Well, look at that. An elephant.”
And instantly, his mind was back on Shanti again.
It was hot, thirsty work, the two of them taking a break on the bumper of the trailer, drinking iced tea from a thermos.
“What’s eating you, son? You come home, work your butt off, and don’t say a word. You’re shook up about something. Is this about the helicopter crash?”
Connor chuckled. “Dad, that was my fourth helicopter crash, and it went well.”
“Then what’s up? Talk to me. Your mother is worried.”
Connor had never talked about his missions, never talked about what he’d had to do, but he found himself telling his father about the boy in Syria and what had happened in Myanmar with Shanti, leaving out the sex. His parents were pretty old-fashioned when it came to that stuff.
“I wanted to tell her I loved her, but I couldn’t. I … I can’t help thinking she deserves someone better, a man who’s made something of himself.”
“Let her decide what kind of man she wants. Correct me if I’m wrong, but last I heard less than ten percent of the soldiers who try out for the Unit actually make it.”
“Yes. About ten percent.”
“You have made something of yourself, one hell of a something. You’ve done more for your country than most people, and we’re awful proud of you. If Shanti loves you like she says she does, she already knows that.”
His father wasn’t getting the point.
“Shanti is an educated woman, a high-powered attorney. She works for peace. Even her name means ‘Peace.’ Her family was nearly wiped out in a genocide before she was born. Her entire life has been about stopping violence. I fight and kill for a living. This isn’t like you and Mom, where you met in high school, lived in the same town, and both grew up farming.”
His father chuckled. “Well, you’ve never done things the easy way.”
That much was true.
“Maybe it’s time for you to find a new line of work. You’ve done your part. Let someone else take it from here.”