by D. I. Telbat
"It's beautiful—Israel." Luigi sighed. "But, I'm not there to sightsee. I just don't want to get lost in the middle of Gaza, right?" Luigi made the sound of an explosion.
"Oh? You'll be near Gaza?"
"Might be." Luigi fought the urge to smile. He loved the game! "Depends on where exactly my friend is. He went off the radar three days ago and missed his last check-in." Luigi shrugged. "It's tough to say for sure. My Arabic isn't that good, but if the Arabs got him, I'll have to do something, right?"
Chloe stared at him with her coldest look.
"You're gonna make a mess of this, aren't you?" she said quietly, then surveyed the terminal. "Tell me what's going on. Did Corban contact you? I thought you retired from this business. I thought they made you retire."
"I don't retire from my friends, Chloe. Aren't we friends?"
"Just tell me what you know about Gaza."
"It's just deductive reasoning. I'm tailing you."
"You haven't changed. Look, I have people in Israel. I can't have someone tailing me for this. The Mossad never really got over me leaving."
"Janice and Jenna are safe. Let me tag along. It sounded serious on the phone. Corban might need some muscle. I want to help."
"You were listening in?" Chloe scoffed. "You're better than I thought if you have a bug on a COIL phone."
"No." Luigi shook his head. "It was on Corban's home phone. You called Janice. I couldn't hide a bug at the COIL offices, and I'm the best there is."
"Well, this is nothing, Luigi. The phones are down in Gaza. That's all that's happened. Corban's fine."
"I'm restless. And I think you need company, Chloe. You may call me your assistant."
"Yeah, right. You have spook still written all over you. The IDF will know you're not Francis Malvao. The people I deal with won't have the patience for your games."
"Well, I am a spook. I have no need to hide it from you. I owe Corban my life. Tell me how I can help, and I won't get in your way."
"No killing."
"I know that much."
"You do as I say and keep your spook mouth shut."
"I have nothing important to say to anyone but you."
"Then I'll allow you to tag along."
"Excellent. To Germany we go?"
"Funny. You knew I was going to Tel Aviv all along."
"Yes. Yes, I did."
*~*
Chapter Six
South Gaza City, Zeitoun District
"He needs surgery," Corban said as he withdrew bloody fingers from Aaron Adar's chest wound. His Gaza op—just a quick insulin run—had been derailed, but he was doing his best to roll with what God was guiding him to do. It seemed he was there for Titus. "I've done all I can with what we have here."
"Nobody leaves, Corban." Titus stood over them with his Glock in his fist. "Not until the deal's finished. You know the drill."
"I don't want to die." Aaron struggled to breathe. His hand shot out and gripped Corban's collar. "Elizabeth . . ."
Annette pulled Aaron's fist from Corban's shirt. Corban was growing impatient with Titus. The infamous weapons cowboy was risking lives.
"He's helping you, Aaron. You understand?" Annette cast a hateful glare at Titus. Corban had noticed she seemed attracted to the handsome smuggler, but now even she was growing intolerant of Titus' stalling. "He's just a boy! What were you thinking?"
"Survival," he mumbled and left the room. Corban watched Titus check the window. Both Palestinians and Israeli patrols had passed the factory building in the last hour, but both had been under fire and had moved on quickly.
"We should've never left." Aaron fumbled with his words, tears in his eyes. "I told them it would only get worse."
"Is he delirious?" Annette mopped Aaron's brow with the tail of her T-shirt.
"No, he's not delirious." Corban checked his watch. It was three in the afternoon. Three hours past his scheduled deadline. Chloe would be on the move by now, he figured. "He's talking about Israel's unilateral pullout of the Gaza Strip a few years ago. The Palestinians talked the world into the solution, and the world pressured Israel into the move. Most in Israel knew the Palestinian terrorists would take control of Gaza and assault Israel even more. And now, statehood? It's a mess. Good people on both sides have died."
"So that's what all this is about? All those rockets from Gaza firing into Israel?"
"Right. All those rockets."
"I was one of those settlers." Aaron squinted at the ceiling. "I met Elizabeth that year. We were just kids then, but I asked her to marry me last month."
"You hold onto that, Aaron. We're going to get you back to Elizabeth." Annette looked at Corban. "Right? Titus knows you. You can talk him into getting Aaron help. Just look at that Titus! He came in here so smug and confident. He's probably used to winning everyone over when he walks into a room. Well, he's not winning me over! You have to use what he knows about you to turn him. You have to!"
"He knows me, and I know him." Corban eyed the pieces of electronics against the wall. "Luc broke my phone. I have another one nearby, but the IDF is still jamming communications."
"Why's he doing this?" Annette growled, her voice low to keep Titus from hearing. "He doesn't seem that dangerous. I mean, he's nothing like Luc Lannoy, right?"
"Don't be fooled by his wit. Titus Caspertein is a world-renowned thug. The CIA used him for a while, but he went rogue again. If it's valuable and can be sold, you can bet the Serval is planning a heist."
"The Serval?"
"It's an African cat, like a lynx, but smaller. It survives by stealth and resilience. Titus is known as the Serval by those who've hunted him. I knew men in the CIA he outsmarted, but I never crossed him myself. Different assignments. He has powerful friends, mostly underground. Those friends made it difficult to actually prosecute Titus in the US, which is why he was exiled permanently years ago. His own family in Arkansas disowned him. After heists and arms deals, he's wealthy beyond imagination, but instead of retiring, he continues to pull jobs. He's an adrenalin junkie—addicted to the next risky sale. You're seeing him do what he loves."
"Seems like he has so much potential, a guy like him, and this is the life he chooses?" Annette sighed and shook her head. "That case on his arm—he's selling it to the terrorists? He hates the Jewish people that much?"
"Help me stand up!" Aaron begged. "Together, we can stop him!"
"Rest, Aaron." Corban placed a firm hand on the young soldier. He looked from Aaron to Annette. "We must be patient. Things are not as they seem."
"What?" Annette leaned closer. "What do you mean?"
"Quit whispering." Titus entered the room. "Corban, your two packs are still across the street with that dead Arab."
"His name was Jachin. He was a better man than you or me."
"Maybe, but he's not anymore. Anything in those packs we can eat or drink?"
Corban rose to his feet. If he was going to save Annette and Aaron, he would have to force the situation from Titus' hands.
"Let's not talk about food and water, Titus. This boy's dying here from your bullet. You really want his blood on your hands?"
"It's a war zone, Corban. You already know I didn't mean to shoot him. And I could've left him out there."
"Well, it's time to make things right." Corban prayed that God would reach into Titus' heart and plant a seed of compassion. "It's time to do the right thing, Titus."
Titus' eyes drifted to Aaron, whose face grimaced in pain.
"I've got a deal in a few hours." Titus used his gun to scratch his cheek. "You have a plan that doesn't jeopardize me or my retirement?"
"That's all you think about!" Annette leaped to her feet to stand in front of Titus. Her fists were flinched. Corban hoped she didn't attack him; Titus was twice her size and strength. "He's dying, and all you can talk about is your bank account!"
Titus smiled, which only made Annette angrier.
"It ain't easy being a famous model, is it, Miss Sheffield? All that mone
y you have while people are dying all over the world. You and I live with the same conscience."
Annette swung with a lightning-fast hand, but Titus caught her wrist before it connected. He squeezed her wrist until she whimpered. Corban considered stepping in, but he had to bide his time. Besides, Titus' tone was more flirtatious than dangerous, as he goaded her.
"I'm nothing like you!"
"You're right. I sell stolen commodities. You sell your body."
"You—!" She tried to strike him with her other hand, but Titus shoved her backward to land on her backside next to Aaron.
"What's going on?" Oleg asked as he strode into the room from the dark corridor. "Are you trying to bring attention to us?"
"Just setting a hypocrite straight," Titus said. "How's the back door?"
"I hear gunfire now and then. Seems nobody's clearing the buildings, yet."
"This man needs medical attention soon," Corban interrupted. "At sundown, we'll have a chance to move. You'll have to shoot me to stop me from getting him help, and I already told you about the girl who needs insulin. Time's not on your side, boys."
"What did you have in mind?" Oleg asked.
Corban watched the Russian's face carefully. There was a wariness in his eyes that confirmed Corban's hunch about the man.
"I have a plan," Corban said. "Let me go."
"Assuming Luc confirms our meeting," Oleg said, "we have an appointment later tonight, Titus. Let's keep our priorities straight."
"That has nothing to do with me," Corban stated. The only clout he had was his past reputation. He hoped it continued to threaten Titus' plans.
"Well, you're not leaving here alone." Titus shook his head. "You may have retired, Corban, but I know you. You'll still try to disrupt the meet. If you're going somewhere, I'm coming with you."
"Titus—" Oleg lifted a hand.
"No, Oleg. These self-righteous Christians irritate me. I'll show them they're not better than us. You can stay here with the girl and Aaron. I'll leave the case. We'll be back in time. So, Corban? What'd you have in mind? It's you and me."
"I have a safe house west of here in Rimal."
"That means we have to go through about a mile of battle zone I don't want to be a part of."
"There's food and water and some medical equipment, maybe enough to save Aaron."
"And what about the insulin?"
"First, we'll go to the safe house, then return here. Once Aaron is stable, we'll deliver the insulin. We need to avoid the Salah ad-Din Street which runs east and west. You know it? We can stick to alleys. Figure one hour for each run, if we hustle." Corban guessed it would take much longer, but Titus didn't seem to know Gaza City that well.
Titus looked at Oleg.
"What do you think?"
Corban watched the Russian's face. There was clearly something afoot, much more than even Titus knew about. For years, Corban had stayed alive by reading people in the shadows, discovering their secrets before they knew they'd revealed them. Oleg had a secret.
"You don't have to do this," Oleg said. He glared at Corban, as if trying to send him a message. Corban thought he finally understood. "Titus, Corban won't be a problem if you let me put a bullet in his leg. Forget the diabetic girl. We have other priorities!"
"Oleg, you said it this morning." Titus slipped the canister strap off his shoulder and handed it to his partner. "We're fools for being here, anyway. Maybe for me, it's boredom. I can't sit here doing nothing while they judge us."
Corban winked covertly at Annette. Their moral authority had definitely bothered Titus' conscience.
"Just be back by three." Oleg shouldered the canister. "I don't want to deal with Crac Hassad alone. I can't. You hear? He'll have an army with him, and Luc Lannoy isn't someone I trust."
"We'll be back." Titus turned and patted Corban on the cheek. "Rest up, old man. We leave at sundown."
Oleg returned to his post, down the dark corridor out of sight, and Titus kept watch by the window. Corban took Titus' suggestion and relaxed next to Aaron. Annette sat on the other side of the wounded Israeli.
"I can't believe you're leaving me alone with Oleg!" she whispered just loud enough for Corban and Aaron. "I can tell he's a pig. Look at the way he carries himself. A total slob. What am I supposed to do if he tries something? He wanted to shoot you again!"
"Oleg won't bother you. He has other things on his mind." Corban crossed his arms and tried to hold his chest muscles still. His bullet wound was superficial, but he didn't want it opening up again. "He's a professional, regardless of his sloppy appearance. Titus might be crooked in every other way, but he's always fancied himself as a ladies' man. He wouldn't tolerate a partner who wasn't halfway decent."
"A ladies' man? Hah! There's nothing attractive about him for a lady, believe me. I thought you didn't know him that well."
"I know his file."
"Well, you do have a plan, right? I mean, you're not going to let them sell that case to the terrorists, are you? It could be a nuke, or a biological weapon."
"Getting him alone is a first step." Corban remained prayerful in the silence, yielding constantly to the Spirit's guidance. If he operated as just a man in such a situation, he was headed for a wreck. But if he operated as a Christian, he was relying on his invincible God. "Maybe no one ever took the time or had the chance to share Christ with him."
"Yeah, like he deserves forgiveness for the things he's done!" Annette scoffed and grumbled under her breath.
"God doesn't discriminate against those who respond in faith to the proclamation of forgiveness, so we can't either, can we?" Corban checked Aaron's pulse as he rested. If he could keep Aaron alive, it would ease Israel's anger against him for being in Gaza, which was certain to become an issue now. "I've crossed some evil people over the years. I was one of the worst. But God is in the fixing business. He could turn Titus around if Titus yields. He has to first recognize his sin is an affront to our holy God. It's easy for us to judge people, but to God, hating a man is the same as killing him. That makes Titus, and the terrorists he's selling to, condemned men under God's wrath, like you and I would be without Christ. God changed me, made me a new man. He can change them."
"And you're okay with that?"
"Why wouldn't we be pleased to hear that someone who was evil is now a repentant believer?"
"Sounds nice, but Titus seems far from a repentant believer!"
Shadows gradually closed on Gaza City. Corban did his best to doze against the wall, but the necessity to pray felt greater than the need to sleep. Souls were in the balance.
As the sun arced into the Great Sea in the west, the fighting outside intensified. To the north and east, in the Old City, the battle was at its peak. Occasionally, a mortar round or rocket slammed into the factory's vicinity and shook dust from the ceiling onto the hiding party.
"You ready, Corban?" Titus called from the front window. "It's time, old man."
Corban checked Aaron's condition one last time and whispered a prayer over the young soldier.
"I'll be back," Corban said to Annette. "Stay close to Oleg if anyone else shows up."
She nodded, her face a shadow in the fading light.
With Oleg watching Annette and Aaron, Corban joined Titus at the window. There were just too many to save in one night, Corban thought. God would have to watch over those he couldn't.
"Let's do this, Titus."
"You sure you can stay up?" Titus raised his eyebrows. "I'm not going slower for you, old man."
"Why not? Do you know where we're going?" Corban smiled and nodded at the arms dealer. "So, just who's leading who here? You'll go as slow as this old man needs to go."
Corban climbed through the window with practiced agility and crossed the street. Titus, who seemed much more nervous, checked the street before crossing to join Corban, who knelt and touched his dead friend's body. Another needless casualty of the Gaza conflict.
"He's gone, Corban. Let's move!" Titus aimed his
Glock down the street as shots were fired two blocks away. "Do you know how many killers are flooding the streets right now, preparing for a night of fighting?"
"Hamas militants, Palestinian Police, Islamic Jihad, ISIS, and probably some Hezbollah antagonists sponsored by Iran."
"Okay, so you know the score. Can we go?"
Corban glanced east, and Titus followed his gaze toward a building close to total collapse. As soon as Titus looked away, Corban darted west, the other direction. He couldn't help but smile as he heard Titus curse and rush to keep pace with the older operative.
Settling into a silent, moderate pace, Corban crouched as he jogged through alleys and across streets. Still dressed in black, he felt in his element, his eyes adjusting quickly to the dark city avenues. When Israeli planes bombed or gunships fired rockets in the northwest, Corban looked away from the flash or closed his eyes, maintaining his night vision. When he paused at each building corner to survey ahead for roving bands of soldiers, he often glanced behind to see Titus struggling to keep up. Corban was being a little reckless, he knew, but lives depended on his speed.
Reaching the edge of Rimal, the stench of the sea reached his senses. Corban ducked into a doorway as three men nearby were illuminated by a rocket detonation a quarter-mile away. Since the three hadn't fired, they probably hadn't seen him, but Titus was in the middle of the street, twenty yards from the prowlers. Titus had nowhere to go.
The men shouldered assault rifles and yelled in Arabic at Titus to halt. Titus cursed and dropped his pistol on the cracked pavement. The gunmen advanced on Titus rapidly, passing Corban in the doorway. Corban knew if he wanted to get rid of Titus, this was his chance, but as a Christian, grace was in order—favor that Titus definitely didn't deserve. Without making a noise, Corban slipped into the street behind the Palestinians.
"My daughter," Titus claimed in Arabic, "she needs immediate medical attention. Please, let me pass . . ."
Corban didn't wait to see if the men bought Titus' ruse. He kicked the first gunman on the side of the knee and punched the middle one in the kidney. As the third one turned, Corban shoved the man's muzzle into the sky as the gun fired a volley of automatic rounds. Kneeing the man in his hip, Corban temporarily paralyzed the nerve on his left leg. Titus recovered his pistol and covered Corban as he collected the three frightened militants' rifles.