by D. I. Telbat
"Hold still!" Luc growled. He glanced over his shoulder. "You're not here alone! Where is Titus? Where is Oleg? Who's out here with you?"
Annette continued to struggle. Luc punched her twice before she was still. Only then did he realize that on Annette's shoulder was the canister. He had the weapon!
Suddenly, Luc felt no fear. He felt in control. And he once again sensed riches on the horizon. He didn't need Titus or Oleg. This was a game he would win himself!
*~*
Chapter Twelve
South Gaza City, Zeitoun District
Corban arrived at the factory where he'd left Aaron and Annette at the instant a man inside called for help. The line of Hassad militants didn't see him as they surged into the southern factory entrance. Corban's primary weapon was already sighting on them. Even without Titus, he'd hoped to reach the factory by the time the Crac Hassad meeting took place. In the least, he hoped to save Annette and Aaron's lives, and if things went right, he could help Oleg capture Crac Hassad as well. However, the dozens of Hamas men were an obstacle to be surmounted.
No matter the numbers, Corban was well-armed. He crouched behind rubble in the street, near Jachin's still body, and fired his NL weapon into the factory window. Since the CO2 cartridge produced no muzzle flash, the soldiers inside couldn't locate him immediately to return accurate fire. Nevertheless, a few did try to return fire, and in doing so, they killed each other. Corban hadn't intended further bloodshed, especially since Annette and Aaron were still inside!
He counted nine Hassad men left standing when his machine pistol clicked on empty. The nine exited to the south and ran west up the street, three of them wounded. The dead and unconscious lay everywhere, and Corban was reminded of Gideon's torchlight and pottery assault on the camp of Midian. A Saraph gunship swooped down on the fleeing nine, now two blocks away. A second chopper descended from the sky, and the nine raised their arms in the air, a spotlight illuminating them on the street.
Without waiting to see if the IDF had noticed him, Corban climbed through the factory window. He reloaded his pistol, and kept the NL-3 within reach on its sling, with the NL-X1 still on his back. He stepped through the tangle of bodies, searching desperately for Oleg, Annette, or Aaron. Since his primary objective had been completed—delivering the insulin—he was ready to focus on the additional lives now under his care. But in the darkness, amongst the blood and cries of several wounded, he seemed to be too late.
"You've saved my life again, Corban," a familiar voice said from the far wall. "Some of them believed they were caught in an ambush. They killed each other."
"I didn't wish for their deaths." Corban could hear the strain in Luigi Putelli's voice, and knew his old friend was in bad shape. "I believe in a God who can take even a bad situation and use it for His glory. Perhaps when the others wake up, they'll consider their lives that have been spared. Maybe some will change their lives toward a peaceful existence for their Creator."
"I believe you are right, Corban, because you said those same words to me once in Lebanon, and your God has been close ever since."
Corban reached the far wall and found Luigi slumped to the side. He was bleeding from a bullet wound to the gut. Another bullet had pierced his leg.
"How are you, old friend?" Corban sat down next to him and lifted Luigi's head onto his lap. "I've seen you survive more than this. You hear the helicopters? IDF ground troops are probably on their way to investigate what's happened here."
Luigi struggled to breathe. He closed his eyes at Corban's touch.
"I fear I've wasted my life, Corban. Heather won't be pleased that I've come here to die without calling her." Luigi choked on a sob. Crimson was seeping from his gut wound. "You're the first to bring meaning to my life."
"It was God who brought us together that day in Lebanon."
"Yes, I know. I've known since then. I once thought you weren't human. You scared me, Corban. But I know God has been on your side. He's always watched over you."
"God could be on your side, too, old friend. You have only to accept the gift of His payment for your sins. Yield to Him, Luigi."
"Sins. Oh, Corban, I have many sins."
"You don't have long, Luigi. Talk to God."
Luigi tensed and shuddered. He reached one hand up and grasped Corban's hand. Corban bowed his head. First Jachin, then Titus, and now Luigi. Somehow, he had to find Aaron and Annette and get them all out of Gaza.
"God, I'm a stupid man," Luigi said, his voice weak. "I've made many problems in my life. I've taken lives, many lives. I'm selfish, not like this man you sent to save me from evil. I believe, God, that You paid for my sins, even though that's a shameful thing. I know the story of the Cross. I believe it's real because Corban has told me it is. Because of him, God, I've seen lives change, and because of You, I know You have loved even me."
Then, Luigi spoke in Italian, his voice drifting off. But he continued to squeeze Corban's hand. As desperate as Corban was to leave, he wouldn't go until his friend had passed.
Suddenly, Luigi lifted his head and pointed away.
"That man is Petra. See? He's an emissary for Crac Hassad. I sent Oleg Saratov away with Annette Sheffield and the wounded Israeli. Do you see Luc Lannoy?"
"No." Corban studied the scene by two flashlights that had been dropped and left on. "He's not here."
"Then he fled into the factory, Corban. Find him. You must!"
"Relax, my friend. Oleg is Interpol. He'll keep Annette safe. Israeli soldiers are probably rescuing them right now. They'll live because of you."
Luigi began to tremble uncontrollably.
"I'll not be afraid," he whispered through grit teeth. "I'm a Christian now. Tell Heather, will you? Tell her I became a Christian, finally."
"I'll tell her. I'll tell everyone. Praise God," Corban whispered, his eyes full of tears. "I'll shout it from the mountaintop!"
Corban held Luigi's head until the old assassin exhaled one last time, and was still.
"He's Yours now, Lord."
Taking a deep breath, Corban squeezed his eyes shut, his tears falling on Luigi's head. He left him there, his head resting on a crumbled rock, and went to the man Luigi had called Petra. The man's pulse was strong, and he had no apparent wounds except a familiar scratch across his cheek, surely from Luigi's belt buckle. Though bone-tired, Corban managed to lift Petra onto his left shoulder, keeping his right hand free to access his NL pistol.
"I'd like to hang around and meet your friends when they wake up, Petra, but Israeli commanders will want to talk to you right away."
Corban was halfway down the corridor when he heard movement and a man grunt behind him. He paused and looked back at near darkness where the two flashlights shined in the room of dead or unconscious men. Someone was still alive back there, but he couldn't stop to rescue anyone now. For an instant, he wondered if he should've checked Luigi's pulse to make sure . . .
Outside the west factory doorway, Corban carried Petra toward a wide street intersection where a chopper could make a safe landing. Not far to his right, a rifle barked. Its thunder echoed around three tall water towers, and Corban was reminded he was still in great danger, regardless of the Hassad soldiers he had incapacitated temporarily. There were hundreds more in Gaza.
In the center of the intersection, Corban laid Petra on the ground. He knelt next to the terrorist and was still wondering how he would manage a safe extraction when a gunship illuminated him in its spotlight. Exhausted and feeling his chest wound now more than he had earlier, Corban lay on his belly in surrender fashion, arms and legs outstretched. The chopper's rotors beat the air over him.
Moments later, a heavy boot kicked Corban's NL-3 from his hand, and then he was stripped of his other weapons.
"My name is Corban Dowler!" he yelled over the rotor wash. Other soldiers secured the perimeter at four points around the intersection. Someone jerked him to his knees to face a man in an IDF uniform. He wore a black beret of the IDF armored corps. "T
his man's name is Petra. Francis Malvao captured him. Petra is close to Crac Hassad."
"I'm Colonel Yasof, Mr. Dowler. I've known about you for several years. Chloe's back at headquarters. Where is Francis Malvao?"
"He's dead. There's about thirty unconscious Hassad men in that factory there, the south side." Corban paused as Yasof yelled an order in Hebrew to a man with a radio. He then waved Corban toward the chopper.
"Chloe said you'd try to help. Did you come across the biological weapon?"
"Oleg Saratov has it secured. You haven't found him yet? He has Aaron Adar and Annette Sheffield."
"No sign of them yet." The colonel recalled his men to the chopper, two of them dragging Petra into the hold. Yasof gestured to a reclining figure behind the pilot's seat. "This guy won't give us a name. He says he's a friend of yours. Do you know him, Mr. Dowler?"
Corban sat amongst the IDF soldiers. He squinted through the green and red light from the cockpit that illuminated the cabin. He barely recognized the dusty heap of Titus Caspertein who gazed back at him.
"Yeah. He saved civilian lives tonight. He's a friend of mine."
#######
"Are you alive?"
Aaron weakly opened his eyes. Darkness surrounded him, but the feel of cold night air on his cheek told him he was still alive. He reached a hand out and touched a shadow next to him. Someone grasped his hand.
"Oleg?"
"Yes, it's me."
"Someone took Annette." Aaron heard his own wheezing breath and knew he was barely alive. "Are you hurt?"
"Luc Lannoy took Annette, but not before he put a bullet in me. Broke my hip. I can't walk."
"Annette can't be far. Please." Aaron clawed at Oleg. "She saved my life. She kept me alive!"
"I know, but I can't walk, Aaron! Maybe if . . . Yes, I hear helicopters near. I'll take you."
Aaron gritted his teeth as Oleg used one leg to crawl through the garbage, then dragged Aaron ahead a few inches. All Aaron could see were the water towers above. He focused on their height and tried not to feel the agony every time Oleg dragged him toward the street. To make matters worse, the stench of garbage made them both gag constantly.
Finally in the street, Oleg collapsed next to Aaron's head. Aaron placed a hand on Oleg's arm.
"I'm sorry for believing you were a criminal. Without you, I would be dead already."
"Don't thank me yet. We're on a street known for its traffic of Hassad's militants."
"Annette is gone." Aaron wept. His own safety seemed less important now without the American woman. "How will we find Annette?"
Oleg didn't respond, but Aaron could hear the man breathing, even though the tough Russian was unconscious.
Aaron knew he would be dead if it weren't for the kindness of several foreigners he'd met over the last day and night. Oleg and Annette had worked on him, and Corban and Titus had risked their lives to fetch medical gear from somewhere—and Titus was the one who had shot him! The crook was probably dead by now, but Aaron no longer despised the man.
"I'm not a man who has thought much about You, God, but I believe You had a hand in keeping me alive. Corban said he works for You. Wherever he is, and wherever Annette is, please help them. I—"
Frantically, Aaron waved one arm as a helicopter flew up the street, hunting for targets. Its searchlight swept over Aaron and Oleg, then moved on. Gasping, Aaron dropped his arm next to Oleg's still body.
"Another may pass soon," Aaron told Oleg. He felt a warm wetness leaking from Oleg's wound onto the cracked pavement. "Don't die, Oleg. We're almost home."
The chopper that had passed circled and investigated Aaron again. Aaron was certain he was unrecognizable as the IDF soldier he was, but the chopper descended cautiously to the street.
"Oleg! Oleg, we're saved! I will see my Elizabeth again!"
#######
Forty-eight hours later, Corban stood with his hands in his pockets and watched two grave diggers lower Luigi Putelli's casket into the ground. Behind him stood Chloe Azmaveth with Titus Caspertein, his arm in a sling. Oleg leaned hard on a cane and stepped up next to Corban.
"You should be in the hospital still, Oleg," Corban said without taking his eyes off the casket. After having Luigi in the shadows for so many years, it was hard to believe the man was actually gone. He would miss him.
"You knew this man well? The colonel said by the time they tried to retrieve his body, a stray Hamas missile had blown up the factory. The recovery team did their best, I guess." Oleg nodded at the grave. "Was his name even Francis Malvao?"
"It doesn't matter now. He's with his Lord and Savior."
"For what it's worth, Aaron and I would be dead right now if it wasn't for Francis. He let us escape as he faced Crac Hassad's people alone. Without you or Titus, I couldn't face Hassad without backup."
"Francis was always trying to redeem himself for the evils he'd done in his youth." Corban smiled at Chloe. "In the end, he received redemption, but it didn't come from anything he did. It came from God. He became a believer in those last moments."
"Maybe we're all trying to find redemption," Oleg said.
"Maybe we're all trying, but only Jesus Christ can deliver us from the sin we've committed. It's not about trying to be better or to be improved people. It's about trusting Christ to make us new." Corban looked Oleg in the eyes. "Did Colonel Yasof debrief you?"
"He did." Oleg glanced at Titus, who was just out of hearing range. "I kept Titus' name out of my official report, like you asked, but I'm obligated to explain the situation to my boss, at least. We at Interpol are primarily after Crac Hassad. I hope you know what you're doing. I've lived undercover with Titus for months. He thinks only about his own desires."
"We're all that way until we're changed by God. I know I was that way."
"What about Annette? She's still somewhere in Gaza with Luc Lannoy."
Corban's shoulders slumped a little. He didn't like leaving anyone behind. Not only was it against his training, it was against his conscience. All he could do was pray that Annette remembered their few words about faith, and he hoped she trusted in the God of compassion, even when circumstances and evil seemed to oppress. Hamas militants wouldn't be kind to an American woman, if Luc had handed her over to them.
"I'll talk to the Israelis. They're better equipped to find her at this point."
"I never heard," Oleg said. "Did you ever get that insulin to the Palestinian girl?"
"Yes, with Titus' help."
"Well, at least something good happened this week."
"Yes, good things did happen."
"If Titus strays again, I'll come for him, Corban. There's still a warrant with his name on it."
"He knows that."
"Well, goodbye."
Oleg Saratov turned and hobbled away to a waiting car. Titus and Chloe took his place at Corban's side.
"How mad is he that he's not taking me away in cuffs?" Titus asked.
"He could take you away if he really pushed for it. Hustling guns for mercenaries is one thing, but this time you were arming Palestinian Muslims who were willing to commit mass murder."
"So why didn't he take me? It's his job as an Interpol agent, right?"
"I asked him to leave you to me, for now," Corban said. "Or maybe he believes there's hope for you yet."
"Okay." Titus chuckled nervously. "What are your plans for me?"
"That depends." Corban turned to Chloe. "Chloe, what do you have for us?"
"It's not an easy mission. It's something Colonel Yasof is trusting me with. The Mossad has intel on a family member of Crac Hassad who's actually a Christian. You sure you two are up for another op so soon?" She held up a file, a taunting smile on her face. "Colonel Yasof is still pretty angry with you for going into Gaza illegally, even if it was to take insulin to a little girl, but this might help patch things up for us."
Corban took the file and studied it, then handed the papers back to Chloe.
"That's not going to be easy
," Corban said. "But it's something I believe God must have arranged." He took a deep breath and made note of the location of Luigi's gravesite in relation to the other graves. Someday, Heather and Anna would probably want to visit the place, too. "Let's get to the airport, Titus. We have some planning to do. Lord willing, this will lead to getting Annette Sheffield back home as well."
As Corban climbed into his rental car to drive to the airport, he moved aside a piece of paper with a smear of blood on it. Then, before Titus climbed into the passenger seat, Corban stuffed the paper into his pocket. It'd been left for him and him alone, even if it defied the odds of a man's survival. No one could know about it. This was an opportunity for a fresh start, and Corban had no doubt he'd eventually hear the details of how this was even possible. When it was time, they would talk again. It had to be him. Who else would leave a bloody gum wrapper for him to find?
*~*
Chapter Thirteen
Southeast Yemen
Nathan "Eagle Eyes" Isaacson stood on the edge of a desert cistern and stared down at the bodies. The magnitude of death was wearing on him. It was all he seemed to find nowadays—dead Christians, broken lives, lost souls. The soft glow of the rising sun over the sand dunes did nothing to brighten his embittered heart.
Closing his eyes, Nathan prayed for strength to maintain— spiritually, physically, and mentally. He willingly served God as a COIL agent, but ever since he'd been deployed as a lone operative, he'd struggled with depression and loneliness. Only rarely did he work with his fiancée, Chen Li, or other COIL operatives.
Each life-threatening mission distracted him from his loneliness, but afterward, his depression returned. Instead of dwelling on Christ to comfort him spiritually, he longed for Chen Li. His faith was waning, and this was partly due to the inability to have a Bible in many of the countries he frequented.
Tested. That's what came to him at that instant. His faith was being tested. When he'd been on the Special Forces team he'd led for COIL, his faith had been supported by other believers. Now alone, his spiritual needs were most visible.