The Fifth Profession by David Morrell

“I'll cure you of wanting that. And conspicuous vehicles are forbidden. As for bars, you'll drink only in moderation, a distinguished wine while eating, for example, and never when on assignment. Do you smoke?”
    Savage did.
    “Not anymore. How can you notice a threat to a principal—”
    “A what?”
    “A principal. In the profession you claim you wish to enter, a client is called a principal. An appropriate word, for your principal is your main—your exclusive—concern. How can you notice a threat to your principal when you're busy fumbling to light a cigarette? You think I contradict myself because I smoke a cigar? I indulge myself now that I've given up protecting in favor of teaching and arranging for my students to find employment. For an agent's fee, of course. But
you,
how can you protect a principal when your hand is compromised by a cigarette? Yes, I can see you have a great deal to learn.”
    “Then teach me.”
    “First you must prove you're worthy.”
    “How?”
    “Why did you choose—?”
    “To be a bodyguard?”
    “An executive protector. A bodyguard is a thug. A protector is an artist.
Why did you choose this profession?”
    Accustomed to the demeaning shouts of his Navy instructors, Savage hadn't felt angry at Graham's outburst. Instead he'd humbly sorted through his instincts, trying to verbalize his motivation. “To be useful.”
    Graham had raised his eyebrows. “Not an inferior response. Elaborate.”
    “There's so much pain in the world.”
    “Then why not join the Peace Corps?”
    Savage had straightened. “Because I'm a soldier.”
    “And now you want to become a protector? A member of the
comitatus.
Ah, I see you're unfamiliar with the term. No matter. You'll soon understand, for I've decided to accept you as a student. Return to me a week from now. Read the
Iliad
and the
Odyssey.
We'll discuss its ethics.”
    Savage hadn't questioned this seemingly irrelevant assignment. He was used to obeying, yes. But he sensed that Graham's command was not a mere test of his discipline but rather the beginning of a new kind of knowledge. A skill that would make his previous training—as superb as it was— seem a minimum requirement for the greater demands of what Graham eventually told him was the fifth and most noble profession.
    After the
Iliad
and the
Odyssey,
Graham had insisted on discussing other classics that merged military and executive-protection skills. “You see, tradition and attitude are paramount. There are rules and codes. Ethics and yes, aesthetics. In time, I'll teach you tactics. For now, you'll learn a beautiful devotion to your principal, but as well an unrelenting obligation to control him. This relationship is unique. Perfectly balanced. A work of art.”
    It was Graham who made Savage read the Anglo-Saxon account of the loyal
comitatus
who fought to the death to defend their master's corpse from the ravaging Vikings at the battle of Maldon. And it was Graham who introduced Savage to the remarkable Japanese fact-become-legend of the forty-seven
ronin
who avenged their insulted dead lord by beheading their master's enemy and in victory, obeyed the
shogun's
command to disembowel themselves.
    Codes and obligations.
    3
    “I have an assignment for you,” Graham said.
    “Why so solemn? Is it dangerous?”
    “Actually it's fairly routine. Except for one thing.” Graham told him.
    “The client's
Japanese!”
Savage said.
    “Why does that make you frown?”
    “I've never worked for a Japanese.”
    “That intimidates you?”
    Savage thought about it. “With most other nationalities, I'm able to take for granted common elements of culture. It makes the job easier. But the Japanese … I don't know enough about them.”
    “They've adopted a lot of American ways. Clothes and music and …”
    “Because of the U.S. occupation after the war. They wanted to please the victors. But their habit of mind, the way they think, that's unique, and I'm not just talking about the