Rawlings rummaged through his desk drawers for the third time, without finding the pouch he thought should be there. "Damnation! Where's my tobacco?"

Slamming the last drawer closed, he rose stiffly from behind his desk and walked over to the window, holding his empty pipe tightly in his fist. He shook his fist, pipe and all, at the window. "Why aren't things the way they ought to be? That's what I want to know?"

Rawlings stood gazing out of the window for several minutes, seemingly lost in thought. His grip on his pipe loosened, and his shoulders sagged. This blasted business with Paul Gill was getting to him. They had to get this resolved.

Even the Ahmadis were unhappy. Rawlings had received a call from the Ahmadi leader he used to consult when he was the active bishop. They were worried that things were moving too fast. They wanted change in Pakistani society, of course, but they didn't want to disturb the delicate balance of forces that allowed them to live their lives unnoticed most of the time.

"Mary, would you bring me some tobacco?" he yelled. Mary would know where his tobacco pouch was. She was a highly efficient secretary. Moreover, she knew his weaknesses and helped him compensate for them. Since his wife died five years earlier, he had relied even more on Mary than before. Now he didn't know what he would do without her.

There was a knock on the door. Mary opened it and came in with his tobacco pouch. "You left it in the kitchen," she said with a smile.

Rawlings felt foolish. He could have looked there. "Thank you, Mary," he grumbled, turning away to hide his embarrassment.

"Will that be all, sir?" Her tone of voice was more formal now.

"Yes. But please have tea ready for Bishop Gregory and Fr. Paul, when they arrive in a few minutes."

"Of course, sir."

Rawlings listened for the door to close before he turned around. Her smile usually cheered him up. Why had he been so brusque with her? It's this nonsense about the blasphemy law! It had been on his mind ever since Paul Gill had first come to talk with him about it. Rawlings had invited Bishop Gregory to meet with him today, so the two of them might talk Gill into giving up this foolish quest for justice.

He was glad he had time for a smoke to calm his nerves before they arrived. Carefully he filled the bowl of the pipe with tobacco. His hand wasn't as steady as it used to be, so he had to take a little more care. Then he tamped the tobacco down with his forefinger before striking a match and inhaling, while he held the match above the pipe. The warm, sweet air filled his mouth and lungs. Ah! He needed that. Puffing vigorously, he returned to the chair behind his desk and lowered himself heavily onto the seat. Then he leaned back, hearing the squeaking noise of the swivel under the seat as he stretched it to its limit.

He'd called Gregory yesterday to prepare him for this meeting, because he knew Gill wouldn't listen to him. Together they'd gone over their arguments against continuing with the petition and public seminars. First, there was too much danger now for the Christian community. Second, moderate Muslims were asking them to slow down. And third, it would not help the Christians if Gill were killed.

He wants to be a martyr! Rawlings thought to himself. He's the kind of priest that kneels in front of his crucifix every night to ask God how he can give his life for the sake of the world. He's got a martyr complex, all right. But he'll never admit it, because that would make his motivation selfish. And we can't have that now, can we, Fr. Gill?

It made him angry, just thinking about it. When he was Bishop of the Church of Pakistan he'd worked with the Muslims to get a little breathing room for the Christians in this hell-hole of a country. He'd begged for permission to build a new church here, the privilege of holding an outdoor procession there, some books for the Christian schools and supplies for the Christian hospitals. He'd bowed, scrapped, smoked and drunk tea with these Muslims for twenty years to help the church survive. And now one Catholic priest comes along and threatens to undermine all his hard work.

"We can't let him destroy our working relationships with the Muslim leadership," he said out loud, as though Bishop Gregory were sitting there with him. He banged his fist on the desk. "He damn well better cooperate with us!"

He began to feel better, now that the smoke from his pipe had filled the room and the nicotine had worked its way to his brain. It was good to have a smoke before they came.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. About time they got here, he thought. Let's get on with it.

He knocked the ashes out of his pipe into the ashtray on his desk and put his pipe into its holder in front of him. Them he folded his hands and waited for Mary's knock on the study door.

"Come in," he said, surprised by how pleasant his voice now sounded to him. It must be the smoke in my throat, he thought to himself, as he stood up to greet Bishop Gregory and Fr. Paul. "Gregory, how good of you to come." Rawlings hoped that Gregory hadn't told Paul of the conversation the two bishops had had yesterday. He didn't want Paul to think he was being set up. "Paul, it's good to see you."

"You're looking well, Bishop," Gregory said.

"It's a terrible thing to get old, Gregory," Rawlings responded, "but better than the alternative." He'd taken to saying that lately. It wasn't really funny, he knew, but he disliked being told that he looked well, because he knew that couldn't be true. He hoped his response would discourage comments about his health.

Rawlings looked closely at Gill. He thought he could see the strain in the priest's tired eyes and tense shoulders. He knows I'm going to lean on him. I need to help him relax a bit first.

"Paul, how is your work at the mission going?"

"Well, as you might expect, I've been there less than usual these last few days. But several of the recovering addicts are attending Mass and holding down jobs. That's a start."

"If you've helped a single person free himself from drug addiction, you've done a real service-not only for him but for society. Is Sister Martha continuing to help you?"

"Yes. She's a tremendous help. I don't know how I'd get along without her."

"I feel the same way about Mary," Rawlings said. He was glad that she had entered just then with the tea.

"Don't listen to the Bishop," she was smiling again now. "He's as independent a man as you can imagine."

Gregory and Paul each helped themselves to tea, mixing in milk and sugar to taste. Mary handed Rawlings his cup, which she'd already made just the way he liked it.

"You may not be grateful to the English for much, Gregory, but I hope you're grateful for the tradition of drinking tea."

"Of course, Bishop. But I'm grateful for many other things as well."

"Such as?"

"It was the English who gave me a good education. And through that education I came to know Christ, to study for the ministry, and to become a priest. And under your leadership, I prepared to become the Bishop I now am. So, I am very grateful to the English for many things."

Gregory had served under Rawlings for almost five years, before taking his place. You're damn right that you should be grateful to the English, Rawlings thought. And you owe me for the chance I gave you to succeed me. I hope you keep that in mind.

Rawlings took another sip of his tea and then put the cup back on its saucer. "Well, you both know I invited you here to assess the situation we're in." He intended to approach this issue as amicably as he could. "How do you think things look, Gregory?" Rawlings wanted Gregory to speak first in order to begin the discussion with a moderate view rather than Gill's inevitable defense of his strategy.

"It doesn't look very good, particularly in Karachi. We've not only had the protest march and the attack on it by the police, but the public seminar was also disturbed. That means the federal government in Karachi is not going to allow this issue to be opened up. Moreover, it's clear from the charges filed against Paul that the police are committed to concealing their violence. If the federal officials and the Karachi police are both engaged in a strategy of repression, there aren't many good options for us."

"Are any of the Christian businessmen talking to you, Gregory?"

"Quite a few have called. They're concerned. They certainly oppose the blasphemy law, but they're worried about the loss of business if Muslims attack the Christian colonies."

Rawlings watched Gill sip his tea while they listened to Gregory's comments. Gill's more composed than I expected, he thought. I'll bet he acknowledges all the problems but concludes with a hopeful assessment.

"What do you think, Paul?"

Rawlings noticed that Gill folded his hands carefully before answering. I suppose he prayed about this meeting before he came and then rehearsed his comments, Rawlings thought to himself. He touched his pipe while he waited to hear the sincere sacrificial statement of a 20th century Christian martyr.

"Of course," Gill was saying, "we were shocked by the attack on the public seminar in Karachi a few days ago. The police only arrested our men, allowing those who attacked us to escape. The involvement of the Security Forces is also distressing, because this means someone in the government is trying to destroy our movement. On the other hand, it seems to make it even more important to get a hearing by the Supreme Court on the petition against the blasphemy law. Hassan and Javed continue to be willing to represent us in the litigation. So we're hoping for an early court date."

"I heard that Hassan's home was burned down and that Javed's was attacked," Rawlings said.

"Yes. That's true."

"Are you sure that they're willing to go ahead? It's a pretty big risk to take."

Paul shifted slightly in his chair. "When I spoke with Hassan yesterday, he was angry that I thought he might want to pull out. And Javed's given no sign of quitting."

Rawlings turned his attention to Bishop Gregory. He needed his help to put some pressure on Gill. "Do you remember, Gregory, when we worked out a deal with some of the Muslim leaders about ten years ago to build three churches in new colonies on the outskirts of Karachi? Then the extremist mullahs got wind of it, and before you could say 'Jesus Christ,' our Muslims 'friends' let us know that the deal was off."

"Yes, Bishop. I remember. But I'm impressed that Javed and Hassan continue to be committed to the lawsuit. They seem to think it has a chance, and they should know."

God damn it, Gregory! Rawlings swore to himself. You're not supposed to side with Gill. "But even if the petition is heard," Rawlings responded, keeping his voice even, "how will that affect the Christian community in Pakistan? If the court rules against the petition, there'll be no change. If the court rules in favor of the petition, none of us knows what will happen. We only know that the fanatical mullahs in Pakistan will not allow the blasphemy law to be removed from the Penal Code without a fight. And if there is a fight, we'll be the losers."

Gregory leaned forward slightly, before responding. "There's a lot of support, Bishop, in the colonies for the petition against the blasphemy law." His voice was gentle and persuasive. "The business community may be uneasy, but the people on the streets are generally in favor of the petition. I've talked with many of the elders. They stand solidly behind Paul."

Rawlings had expected this argument from Gill, not from Gregory. He was having difficulty controlling his temper and heard his voice rising in pitch. "The elders don't understand, Gregory, the ramifications of this petition. None of us do really. That's what makes it so dangerous!" Rawlings knew the conversation was slipping away from him. He had to get Gregory back on his side. "When we spoke a few days ago, Gregory, you seemed to think it was best to withdraw the petition in order to let the situation cool down."

"Yes, I did say that, when we spoke on the telephone. But afterwards I talked with a number of the elders and also with our ministers. There is a lot of support out there for what Paul is doing. I think we have to wait now and see if the Court grants Paul a hearing. I don't think the Court will allow a hearing without knowing already what the outcome would be. Either it will dismiss the petition, or not. If it doesn't, it will have decided that some other action is tolerable for the authorities. I think we ought to give the Court a chance to find some way to check the abuses that are happening because of the blasphemy law."

Rawlings slammed his fist on the desk and then pushed himself to his feet. "As the Bishop of this church, you've got to take responsibility for making the decision that's best for the whole community. You can't just poll a few elders and ministers. You've got to assess the situation and then do what's necessary. That's what I trained you to do."

Bishop Gregory was quiet for a moment, while Rawlings walked away from them towards the window. "Sir, I am making the decision that I think is best for the whole community. But before I made that decision, I consulted with others. I listened to your concerns, and then I spoke with a number of other church leaders. Many share your views, but more believe that the importance of proceeding with the petition outweighs the risks."

"The blasphemy law," he continued, "is not only a bad law, it corrodes the morale of Christians in Pakistan. It weakens our conviction that we are made in the image of God and have the right to worship God according to the teachings of our faith. For our own self-respect, we have to resist this pernicious statute."

Rawlings turned back from the window. His anger was spent, and his eyes were pleading. "Gregory, trust me." His voice was plaintive now. "I know how bad things can get for Christians in Pakistan. I know that if we continue to push this petition, the government will come after us. Please believe me. Making a martyr out of Paul isn't going to help our church. And it may undo all that we accomplished through dialogue and quiet diplomacy."

"With all due respect, Bishop," Gregory replied, "I don't think Paul is trying to become a martyr. Nor do I think we have accomplished very much through secret negotiations with Muslim leaders. Our church leaders, our ministers and the elders of our colonies want and expect that their church will provide more public leadership. The seminars have given them the hope that this may be possible, and the petition against the blasphemy law represents for them an assertion of their fundamental human rights. They are willing to take the risks, along with Javed and Hassan, and I think we have to be willing to take these risks with them."

It was over, Rawlings knew. Without Gregory on his side, he had no chance of persuading Gill. What had gone wrong? What had happened to the church that he had helped to build in this country, that its leaders could be so blinded by their own righteousness? He looked at the two men in front of him. They represented a new generation of leadership in the church. What would it mean for the future? He felt like crying, but he struggled to retain his composure. "Well, thank you both for coming and talking with me. I hope you'll reconsider, but I expect that you plan to go ahead. Keep me posted."

Gregory and Paul were standing now. They knew they'd deeply upset Rawlings, but that had seemed inevitable from the moment he had invited them to come. Rawlings was still living in the past. The church had changed, however, and Gregory and Paul were part of that change. They were looking to the future.

While Mary showed the two men out, Rawlings slumped back into his chair. His hands lay loose and limp on his desk, and he let out a long and bitter sigh.