"Kill me," he said. "My last wish will be for rain. Rain, forever."
"We can torture you."
"And I will say, before you start, let it rain and go on raining. Let me
be powerless to prevent it. Rain!"
"We can kill the girl."
"Your country will float away."
A fist came at him out of the darkness. Hit him. It was tentative
torture. He sobbed and thought: rain, harder. Rain, rain, rain ...
Water seeped into the dungeon. This had never happened before. The fist
went away.
Outside it rained and rained.
* * * * *
"What does he want, comrade?"
"We don't know, comrade."
"Give it to him--whatever it is. He has disrupted our entire economy. We
face economic disaster unless he--and his rain--leave us in peace."
"Perhaps that is what he wants. Peace."
"You fool! We are supposed to want peace. Shut up!"
"Yes, sir. Comrade."
"Better ask the party secretary."
"Yes, comrade."
The party secretary was asked. The party secretary sighed and nodded.
Johnny saw the light of day. And Jo-Anne.
* * * * *
A month later, the Secretary of Defense told him. "Thanks to you, they
agreed to a German settlement, stopped sending arms to their Red ally in
Asia, withdrew their promise of aid to the Arab fanatics, and have
freed all foreigners held in their motherland illegally."
Johnny listened, smiling at Jo-Anne. They had been married two weeks.
Naturally, the enemy had been only too glad to see them leave.
"Just stay available, Sloman," the President beamed from alongside the
Secretary of Defense. "As long as they know we can always send you over
there again, they'll never try anything. Right?"
"Yes, sir," said Johnny.
They called him the Weather Man. They went on calling him the Weather
Man, although he retired more or less--except during cases of dire
emergency.
The world called him that, the Weather Man. And, because he had retired
to enjoy life with his new wife, they began to suspect, as could be
expected, that he had been a fraud.
But the enemy did not think so. Ever again.
And that was enough for Johnny.