Klandestine Maneuvers

Klandestine Maneuvers

Book Two of the Adventure Chronicles

by

Jeffrey Allen Davis

Smashwords Edition

Copyrighted Material

© 2014 Jeffrey Allen Davis

This book is a work of fiction. Places, events and situations in this story are purely fictional. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

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This book is available in print at most online retailers.

Edited by Karen Griffiths

Cover by Tim Johnson

Additional Proofreading by Samuel Campbell

Christian Fiction

http://jeffreyallendavis.wordpress.com

http://www.gcdpublishing.wordpress.com

Unless otherwise noted, all Bible verses are quoted from the King James Version (KJV) of the Bible.

To my beautiful daughter, Kaitlyn.

May you always find wonder in God’s Creation.

Then Peter opened his mouth, and said, Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: But in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him.-Acts 10:34-35

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Jesus, my Blessed Savior.

Thanks to Karen Griffiths, my editor.

Thanks to Samuel Campbell for his help.

Thanks to Darryl Sloan for all of his advice.

Thanks to my mother, whose heart knows no bounds.

Thanks to my hard-working father, who has already gone Home.

Thanks to my beautiful wife, Vickie, for her support during the long hours of writing. Thanks to my daughter, KK, for the calming effects of her hugs. Thanks to my stepson, Jay, for reading–and enjoying—the original version of this book. Thanks to my stepdaughter, Bree, for reminding me that I have to laugh every once in a while.

Thanks to D. Issac, B. Goodman, E. Griffiths, T. Thompson, D. Middleton, S. Black, J. Don Davis, L. Isaac, K. Corbett, E. Hall, J. Hall, L. Ringstaff, J. King, J. Decker, D. Goodman. You’ve all been lifelong influences.

Klandestine Maneuvers

Prologue

Early May, 1992

The young man made his way slowly up the rain-slick steps outside of St. George Roman Catholic Church in Sera, MO. He pulled his coat closer, shivering in the rain. Taking hold of the knob, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

This church was nothing like the churches with which he was familiar. Statues of the Virgin Mary, as well as several of the other Saints, adorned the inside of the building, with a single decoration standing out from the rest. At the back of the church, hanging on a wall behind the altar, was a sculpted crucifix. The young man's breath caught in his throat at the exquisite detail of the Savior.

Looking around the room, the young man's curious gaze settled on two doors about ten feet away. He made his way to them, opened the left door, then stepped inside.

The teen-ager felt cramped in this closet-sized room. Unlike the room outside, it was plainly decorated. There was a single, cushioned stool here, upon which he nervously seated himself, hoping that he wouldn’t make a mess with the rainwater that was dripping off of him.

In the wall between the two doors was a black screen. The young man examined this curiously, noting the fact that there was a sliding door on the other side.

There came the sound of someone entering the other door. A man cleared his throat, then opened the sliding door. How may I be of service to you, my son?

The young man had practiced what he was going to say several times on the way here, but he realized that, in his nervousness, he had forgotten everything. Uh . . . I am not sure what I should say here.

The man's voice was filled with compassion. When was your last confession? he asked calmly.

I have never had one.

After a slight pause, the man said, Never?

The young man explained. You see . . . up until today, I have never set foot inside of a Catholic Church. I was raised Baptist.

Why didn't you go to your Baptist minister for assistance? asked the man.

Well, the boy muttered nervously, I haven't attended a church regularly in a few years. My father, to my knowledge, hasn't been to a church since I was young, and my mother works and is always tired on Sundays.

And you?

I guess that I’ve never felt comfortable in church. Does that mean that God doesn't like me?

Certainly not! retorted the man. "God loves all of his children. What would have made you decide to come to a confessional, if you didn't feel that He would help you?"

I did something about six months ago that weighs heavily on my conscience. I have nightmares about it. I can’t stop thinking about it and one of my friends even said that he was worried that I might be suicidal.

Are you?

The young man shook his head, then realized the priest couldn’t see him. Of course not.

That’s good. We teach that, if one kills oneself, then one cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven. But, this isn't the only thing that you should worry about. The consequences of your actions could be detrimental to your family and friends. And, even if you didn't succeed . . .

"Oh, I would succeed," interrupted the young man.

How could you be so sure? asked the priest.

The adolescent answered bitterly. I have been trained well. I can kill any human being, including myself, with a touch.

Ah . . ., the priest said. I believe I know what this is about. You’re Jamie Raleigh.

I guess it was pretty obvious, huh?

I’m afraid so, commented the priest. Since I know who you are, why don’t we go out into the sanctuary and speak face to face? You aren’t Catholic and we do have some traditions that we like to keep.

Wow, muttered Jamie. Tradition trumps helping me?

I still want to help you, but I would never suggest what I’m going to suggest in the confessional.

* * *

Jamie sat in the pew. The wood was uncomfortable. He looked down and examined a device under his seat that looked as if it was supposed to be pulled out.

We pull those out during Mass so that the parishioners can kneel on the attached pads to pray, explained the young, blonde-haired priest, who had introduced himself as Father Jay.

Convenient, commented Jamie without emotion.

Father Jay cleared his throat. I suppose that what you have gone through would cause many people to have nightmares.

Jamie nodded, his heel fidgeting with the pad under his seat. I hate to fight.

The priest chuckled. I’m glad you don’t love it.

I killed people, stated Jamie, running his fingers through his brown bangs. Most people can’t say that.

True, responded the cleric. In my years, I’ve never had anyone confess that one. But I’m sure it happens more than we think.

Jamie’s blue eyes moved up, locking onto the crucifix. Was I justified?

Father Jay sighed. I believe so.

Not taking his eyes off of the carving of the Risen Savior, Jamie asked, "But does He think I was justified?"

King David was a great warrior, responded the priest. He also committed adultery and killed his lover’s husband. Yet Scripture says that he had a special favor with God.

Jamie shook his head. I’m no King David.

You feel guilty that you have done these things, remarked the priest, and that’s a good start.

My friend, Jeremy, tells me that my conscience is a curse, retorted the young ninja.

On the contrary, it’s a blessing from our Father in Heaven that some of us are not heartless individuals. The priest was silent for another moment, then said, Have you ever considered going to a church other than one of the Baptist faith . . . or Catholic?

Jamie chuckled. It felt good, considering the pain that he had been feeling as of late. Aren't you supposed to be trying to convert me to Roman Catholicism, or something like that?

Father Jay laughed out loud at that. Had we stayed in the confessional, I may have been obligated to do so. He patted Jamie on the shoulder. But I’m trying to help you to find God in your own way.

Jamie’s eyes met those of the priest. There’s more than one path to God?

Father Jay shook his head. No. Christ is the only path to God. But some of my own fellow clergy are starting to leave that idea behind. And I truly believe that, as a budding believer, you need to go to a church that points only to Christ Jesus, and Him crucified. You need a minister who listens only to God and not to a hierarchy of men. Sadly, you won’t get that here.

Jamie closed his eyes in thought. The face of a beautiful adolescent girl with blonde hair, brown eyes, and a captivating smile entered his mind. My girlfriend attends a Non-Denominational church, he answered the priest's question. She tells me that she wants me to go with her as a visitor sometime.

Perhaps this whole thing is a lesson. Perhaps He is leading you to the church where He wants you, and your conscience-as well as your loved one-are His tools for getting you there.

Jamie opened his eyes and looked at the young priest curiously. There was a sadness in Father Jay’s eyes that was suddenly palpable. If you believe these things are happening to your denomination, why don’t you leave?

Father Jay sighed. I’m going to fight the good fight.

Chapter One

May 15, 1992

Friday, 9:30 PM

Is it just me, or is Deck a moron? mumbled Max Adams from his place in the back seat of Buster Goodman’s minivan.

That is rather rude, commented Yoshi from her place next to George Tanner in the middle seat. Deck went to great trouble to put together an enjoyable game for us tonight.

Yeah, interjected her boyfriend, and he fed us, too.

He says some of the dumbest things, returned Max. "What did he mean that the last fight wasn’t realistic enough? We were fighting ogres, for crying out loud!"

Louis Robertson, Sera’s only African-American student, who was sitting next to Max in the back seat, joined in. I think he wanted the fight to move beyond being just numbers on a die.

It’s a dice game, returned Max. How can it move beyond that?

No, responded Buster, not taking his eyes off of the road as he talked, it’s an imagination game. The dice are supposed to just be tools to help our imaginations.

George shrugged. I don’t think they can make rules where the dice could really do a swordsman justice. We’ve all—Deck included—had experience fighting real swordsmen.

Yoshi sighed. Do not remind me.

I haven’t, said Louis. But I see how that kind of experience could almost be a curse for a gamer.

Max leaned over the seat and glanced at George. You live closer to Deck than the rest of us. Why do you drive all the way out to Jamie’s just to ride back to your side of the river to game?

George wrapped his arms tightly around Yoshi’s waist. I wouldn’t have an excuse to snuggle with her for twelve miles.

Yoshi turned to look at him with a smile. As if you need an excuse. She leaned forward and kissed him.

Get a room, you two, groaned Louis.

We never play a game where we see our characters train to fight, commented Max. I’ll bet that would be the best part.

Yoshi looked back at him, her smile gone. No, it is not.

Chapter Two

Flashback

April 15, 1988

Friday, 5:00 PM

Jamie’s wooden blade slammed roughly into that of the girl, sending it clattering across the concrete. Carrying his momentum into a spin, he swept her feet from under her with his right foot and brought his bokken down on the shoulder of the girl, causing her to flinch in pain.

His mask of seriousness melted into concern. Did I hit you too hard?

I am fine! she snapped as she jumped to her feet and walked to where her practice weapon had come to rest in the fallen leaves that blanketed the area around the patio. She reached down and snatched it up, turning immediately to where her father sat next to his uncle.

She walked up to the two ninja and dropped the wooden sword at their feet. "I