The Trinity Game

glowed 1:30. Tim Trinity still couldn’t sleep. Daniel’s snoring, while quiet by snoring standards, wasn’t helping any. And there was the anarchic symphony of frogs and crickets and God knows how many other nocturnal swamp critters, just outside the window screen. Trinity stood, tiptoed to the door, and slipped out into the hallway. Light from the kitchen spilled into the hallway, enough so he could make his way along, the smell of coffee getting stronger as he went.
    Pat sat at the kitchen table. The mug in his hand bore a US NAVY SEALS crest. Spread on the table, a street map of the downtown New Orleans, red marker lines indicating routes in and out of the French Quarter. On top of the map, a John le Carré novel.
    “Can’t sleep,” said Trinity. Pat gestured to the chair across, and he sat. “Got any bourbon?”
    Pat shook his head. “I don’t drink.”
    “Really?”
    “Never touch it.”
    “Now I
have
seen everything.” Trinity chuckled. “A tee-totaling mercenary. Amazing.”
    Pat smiled. “If it helps my badass credentials, I do smoke a little reefer from time to time. Alcohol just doesn’t agree with me.” Hestood and took his mug to the coffee maker. “Speaking of drugs, you want a cup? Or tea.”
    “What the hell, I’ll take coffee, I’m not sleeping anyway,” said Trinity. “Black, one sugar.”
    Pat filled a purple and gold LSU mug and handed it to Trinity as he sat.
    Trinity sipped the coffee. It was strong and had chicory in it and tasted like home. “I’m guessing you don’t believe in all this,” he said. “I mean, that what’s happening to me is coming from God.”
    “You’re assuming I even believe in God. I’ve been all around the world, and all I’ve seen are reasons
not
to believe. Still keeping an eye out for him, mind you. But...”
    “I don’t know how you do it,” said Trinity. “I’m not judging, I just don’t understand. You kill people for a living. I can see how you could do that in service of a larger belief…but if you don’t believe in anything…”
    “I’m not a nihilist,” said Pat. “I protect people for a living, and I kill anyone who makes an attempt on my clients. Sometimes the client is trying to change his government, other times the client
is
a government. Or there is no viable government, and I’m in the middle of a civil war. I don’t care which, so long as the client’s goal meets my criteria. Free and fair elections in a democracy limited by a constitution that caps the power of the state and protects dissent. That’s what I believe in.”
    “That’s gotta limit your job opportunities.”
    “It surely does,” said Pat with a smile. “But I’m very expensive, so I can be choosy.”
    “And that’s it, that’s your criteria?”
    “Hey, it’s the American ideal. I’ve been around enough to know we don’t live up to it, but it should always be our aim. See, I don’tneed God to tell me about basic human rights. Reason does the job just fine.”
    “Thin line between reason and rationalization,” said Trinity. “People step over it all the time.”
    “True ’nuff,” said Pat. He sipped his coffee. “Look, man, I grew up in these swamps. Both my grandfathers were Cajun Catholics, one grandma was a Choctaw Indian, the other a half-black half-Indian who practiced a kind of swamp spiritualism somewhat akin to Hoodoo. They were all believers, and you know what belief did for them? It helped them accept their lot in life. Thing is, their lot in life was getting shit on by the ruling class. To me, that’s what religion is. A philosophy of coping. It may bring comfort to the dispossessed, but comfort isn’t good for the dispossessed. The dispossessed need to stay pissed off so things can change for the better.”
    Trinity hadn’t intended to hit a nerve. He raised his hands in mock surrender and sent Pat a friendly smile. “Well, I haven’t been a believer very long myself. Preaching was always just a grift for me.”
    Pat smiled back at him. “You and every other preacher on TV.”
    “Can’t speak for all of them but, yeah, it’s an exceedingly profitable business,” said Trinity. “Anyway, Danny walked out on me barely in his teens…and I suppose I gave him every reason to.”
    “You two seem to be gettin’ along OK.”
    “It’s good to have him home,” Trinity said. “But I don’t want to rush things with him, you know?” He sipped some coffee.
    “Ah, I get it. You want me to tell you about