DARK ZEAL (COIL Book 5)

by D. I. Telbat

  "Oleg can do it." Titus gestured at his partner. "He's a genius with a knife."

  "No!" Aaron grit his teeth through the pain. "He's not touching me!"

  "I could do it." Oleg took a swig of water to wash down his food. "But I'd first like to know where you got those guns and why Corban is armed."

  "Don't sweat it, Oleg," Titus said. "They're tranq guns. Can you get this kid back on this side of the grave? I don't want his condition interrupting the deal in a few hours."

  "Do I have to wash my hands?" Oleg wiped his hands on his jeans. Titus laughed as Aaron stuttered a protest. "Take off. Annette, you're my nurse."

  "Please, Corban, don't leave!" Annette said. "Titus, look at Oleg. Are you serious?"

  Titus glanced at his partner.

  "Just because he doesn't like to bathe doesn't mean he doesn't know how to gut a fish." Oleg and Titus laughed. "Relax, kid. Oleg's no beginner. Corban, we need to roll."

  "It's okay." Corban nodded at Annette. "Their joking around relaxes their nerves, even when it's tasteless. The bullet's between his ribs. You guys can do it. Just hold the light low so no one sees it outside. I can finish up when I get back."

  "If you get back!" Annette reached over Aaron to grab Corban's arm, but Corban stood and moved toward Titus.

  "Get back before Luc Lannoy returns with Crac Hassad," Oleg said over his shoulder as he rolled up his sleeves. He still hadn't taken off the canister. "Annette, hand me the disinfectant. There should be an antibiotic drip in that bag. Put it in his IV. Hold it up higher."

  Fighting panic, Aaron looked to Corban for help, but Corban had already left with Titus, abandoning Aaron to the likes of Oleg Saratov. Annette touched Aaron's shoulder as he began to tremble in shock, and Oleg sat his bulk down at Aaron's side.

  *~*

  Chapter Nine

  South Gaza City, Zeitoun District

  "I'm used to taking point," Titus said as he caught his breath. He was shoulder to shoulder with Corban, their backs to a crumbled wall that had once been a residence. The wall now bordered a crater.

  Titus had settled into the rhythm of sprinting and waiting through the haunted streets of Gaza. He was careful to use his rifle's night vision scope to study the darkest corners of bombed buildings where an enemy could be hiding. The fires and distant explosions lit up the night only so much.

  "I used to be that way about life." Corban poked his head over the wall, Titus with him, to see a small unit of IDF soldiers lingering at a crossroads. "But I let God take point now. Goes much smoother. If we're not yielding to Him, we're living without Him."

  "I'm talking about taking point through this war zone, and you relate it to your faith?" Titus shook his head. "Don't make me run out there into an IDF hail of gunfire just to shut you up."

  "Let them move on. They're friendly, but we don't want them slowing us up with a bunch of questions, even if you are being a Good Samaritan at the moment."

  "Hey, I do plenty of good things for people!" Titus shifted his pack. Corban had given him the heavier pack, the one with all the Bibles for the Palestinian people, instead of the insulin and medical supplies. He guessed that was probably one of the Bibles digging into his spine between his shoulder blades. But he dared not complain or Corban would give him another lesson, probably about self-sacrifice or bearing another's burdens. "I'm just saying I'm used to taking point. Usually, I'm the one in charge, risking everything to get what I want or go where I want."

  "I understand your discomfort. It's humbling. Now you're risking everything to give others what they need."

  "I swear, Corban, if you give me one more Bible lesson, I'll drop this pack right here and return to Oleg. We may not even make it back in time for the deal now. All this cursed waiting!"

  Corban showed him the time on his watch.

  "We're doing fine. It's only another few blocks."

  "How can you tell where one block ends and another begins? Look at this devastation!"

  "War is ugly, but no uglier than the hearts of the men who hate this much to go to war."

  "The Palestinians are always the bad guys with you."

  "No, not true. Israel isn't faultless. I know that. But I'm also a student of history. As a people, the Jews have been blessed, and they work hard against all odds. Many Palestinians claim to be victimized and want everything for free. Their immigrant parents and grandparents temporarily abandoned the land so Israel could be wiped out during their first few wars for survival. Later, when Israel won their conflicts, those Palestinians returned and expected their property back. The Bible talks about how God will never abandon His Chosen People, but as individuals, He loves each and every person in this conflict—Israeli, Palestinian, Lebanese, even those instigating Iranians and Syrians."

  "You're opinionated, Corban." Titus laughed. "I get what you're saying about God taking point in your life. You even let Him take point of your opinions and advice."

  "If that's a Bible lesson you're repeating back to me, then my job here is done." Corban smiled, then flinched as an RPG suddenly exploded near the intersection. "Oh, that didn't sound good."

  Both men raised their heads over the wall to see the IDF unit scatter and take cover as Hamas militants fired down on them from rooftops.

  "Give them cover fire!" Corban yelled over the noise. "The Israelis are pinned down!"

  Titus swung his NL-3 over the rubble and fired on the ambushers above. Corban joined in, and from their angle of covering the IDF soldiers, the Hamas terrorists were caught in the crossfire and forced to move back. The IDF troops took that opportunity to retreat past Corban and Titus. Titus raised his hand to gesture to the friendlies that it was he who had saved their lives, but they kept running down the street, two soldiers in the rear providing additional cover fire.

  "They didn't even know we helped them!" Titus loaded a fresh magazine by slamming it home. "We risked our lives and that's the thanks we get?"

  "Now you know how God feels." Corban swept his night vision scope from side to side, still watching the rooftops. "You'd think people would show a little gratitude for all that God does for them."

  "It looks clear. Are you ready to go?"

  "I'm ready." Corban nodded. "You still want to take point?"

  "I don't know where I'm going."

  "Exactly my point—in more ways than one."

  Corban rose from behind the wall and crouched as he ran across the street, his muzzle aimed upward. Titus watched the older man dart down the street to the intersection and pause to sweep the area. Titus felt the Bible against his spine. He looked back the way they'd come, wondering if he could be back at Oleg's side in an hour if he left now. But Corban was right: Titus' conscience needed to clear itself by helping the helpless. And he hated sitting around doing nothing, waiting for his client. One of the things on his conscience had nothing to do with shooting Aaron or selling a weapon to evil people. It had to do with Annette. A clothing model in this carnage? He hadn't comforted her or gone out of his way to make her feel safe. Sure, she seemed brave, but what kind of animal had he become if he was holding frightened people as prisoners?

  "My conscience isn't stronger than my greed, though," Titus mumbled and rose to his full height to check the street behind him. He didn't mind helping the helpless as long as it didn't interfere with his pocketbook.

  Two hundred yards later, Titus knelt next to a withered cypress tree and searched the shadows for Corban. Titus briefly fought panic as he imagined traveling alone in Gaza City. He had plenty of NL ammo now, but the enemy had live rounds. Without a partner to offer cover fire, his chances were slim. That's why he'd brought Oleg—to watch his back.

  A chickadee whistled to his right. Titus peered across the front dirt yard of a three-story apartment complex. Through his night scope, he could see fifty-caliber bullet depressions in the structure's walls. Corban waved from the second story railing.

  Titus climbed rickety stairs and knelt next to Corban outside the metal door.


  "Is this it?"

  "Remember the man who lay dead with these packs?"

  "Sure. You called him Jachin."

  "This is Jachin's home. His wife and two kids are inside. They're still expecting him."

  "I don't do well with mourners."

  "Your friend, Luc Lannoy, is the one who killed Jachin. The least you could do is comfort the widow. Her name is Leah."

  Corban tapped lightly on the metal door, waited, then knocked twice more.

  Titus shook his head.

  "Nobody's home. Let's go. We can still—"

  "They have to be home. There's nowhere else to go. They're Palenstinian Christians, and their neighbors shun them. They have no one."

  "Why do they have Hebrew names? Leah, and you said the diabetic girl is Huldah?"

  "And the boy is Levi. They renamed themselves when they accepted Christ into their lives. That's how much their faith means to these people, but their neighbors saw them only as Palestinians who were disowning their heritage by taking Hebrew names. Jachin's life was full of trials, but he was happy. He knew God's love was real."

  "He was insane." Titus scoffed.

  The padlock finally jiggled inside and the door cracked open. A bearded man's face appeared. Titus stuck his muzzle in the face that Corban didn't seem to recognize.

  "Let us in." Corban ordered in Arabic. "We have insulin for Huldah. Jachin sent us."

  "Where is Jachin? He was expected back yesterday."

  "Titus, push through the door," Corban said in German. "Something's wrong."

  Taking a step back, Titus kicked above the door handle. The bearded man stumbled backwards, and Titus plowed through the door with a heavy shoulder. Corban followed after Titus and shut the door. The room was dark until Titus flicked a lighter. He lit a lamp on a paneled countertop to illuminate the bearded man lying on his back on the floor, in the midst of six children and two women.

  As Corban used the lamp to study the faces of the frightened people, Titus kept his gun on the bearded man. Corban motioned to a woman in her sixties.

  "Where is Leah and her children?" he asked in Arabic. "Jachin sent me with insulin for Huldah."

  The woman remained silent and pulled one of the younger children closer.

  "I am Nuri, Jachin's friend," the bearded man said. "When Jachin didn't return yesterday, Leah brought the children to my home where many of us had gathered for prayer. A gang of men rushed in as you have done, and they took many of our people, including Leah, Huldah, and Levi. We didn't know where else to go but here. What news do you have of Jachin?"

  "He's with his Lord in heaven," Corban said.

  "You're all Christians?" Titus lowered his rifle and shrugged out of his heavy pack. "What do you want to do, Corban?"

  "Watch out the window. If anyone comes for these people, I'll gladly disappoint them." Titus moved to the window and peeled back a corner of the shatter-proofing tape to watch the street, but he kept an eye on Corban as well. Corban pulled Nuri to his feet and kissed the man on both cheeks. "My name is Chris. I am also a Christian. I am Jachin's friend and supplier from America. He has told me much about the church here, but we thought it safest if I dealt only with Jachin." Corban unzipped the pack that Titus had carried. Bibles, vitamin packs, and bundles of Israeli shekels tumbled out. "We brought all we could. I wish it were more."

  Corban set aside his rifles and pack to offer the children chocolate candies. The children didn't hesitate to become chocolate messes in their glee.

  "So, can we call this mission accomplished?" Titus asked in German. "It took us two hours to get here from the factory and it's already after midnight."

  "Nuri, can you tell me who took Leah and the others?"

  "They were Palestinian men—I'm certain, but I didn't see which division." He smiled as one of his children crawled into his lap and pushed candy into his mouth. "We haven't had sweets for months."

  "Nuri, I know you don't want to endanger your family, but I need to know why Hamas took Leah."

  "We're Christians, but we're also Palestinians. Leah and the others will become human shields, or they'll be killed to make Israel look like war criminals."

  "Where would they be taken? Does Hamas have a base you know of?"

  "The mosque!" The older woman blurted. She held a child on her hip. "Nuri, tell him about the mosque."

  "My mother-in-law," Nuri said. "There's a Crac Hassad gang who's been hiding in Ibn Uthman Mosque in Shuja'iyya. The Israelis destroyed it last year, but it has been rebuilt. Crac Hassad keeps part of his army there because the Israelis now know there are many civilians being housed there as well."

  "Human shields," Titus said with a growl, but then he shut his mouth. It was those same animals to whom he was about to sell a biological weapon.

  "Then Leah and the others are at this mosque?" Corban picked up his rifles. "You're certain?"

  "It makes sense." Nuri shrugged. "There's a school building farther east where other women and children are forced to live, but the mosque is closer. The military uses Christians when they can, because we're now outcasts. When we're not available because we're all dead, Hamas will use their own families."

  "Titus, how's the street?"

  "All clear at the moment."

  "Shuja'iyya is on a hill east of here." Corban reloaded his weapons. "How will we recognize this mosque?"

  Titus tried to listen as Nuri gave Corban directions to the mosque, but one of Nuri's children had wrapped herself around Titus' leg. She stared up at him with large eyes, a toothy smile on her face that begged for more candy.

  "Are you a superhero?" she asked.

  "No, I'm the villain." Titus gestured at Corban. "He's the superhero." Titus stepped away from the window and out of the girl's embrace. He drew Corban aside and spoke in German. "There's no way we can get back to Oleg in time for the meet if we go farther east. If you want to help every suffering Christian in Gaza, you'll do it alone."

  "We're going together, Titus. Leave everything here but your canteen, ammo, and weapons. We'll be traveling fast and light with—"

  "No!" Titus gripped the front of Corban's shirt and shoved him against the wall. "None of these people are worth it! Even if you did help them tonight, what about next week? They have a death wish to live here. Their own people want nothing to do with them. They're Christians!"

  "They stay here out of love for their people," Corban stated calmly, even as Titus breathed in his face. "They risk their lives to show Christ's love to the people who hate them. The least we can do is help them for one night. They aren't afraid of dying like you are."

  "Then you're on your own, and you'll die like the fool you are if you think you can make a difference here."

  "I'd die a hundred times for these people."

  Titus released Corban and backed away.

  "These aren't your people, Corban. All they do is kill one another. How can you care so much?"

  "I'm obligated if I can help. God has given me the desire, resources, and a few meager skills. I wasted most of my life serving myself and stashing funds from spy networks that no country dared to take for fear of reprisals. Money that was meant for evil was left in unclaimed accounts, and all I had to do was direct those funds for good. That's why I do this—because I can. For God. And because He did it for me. That was a much more costly price than a few spy resources."

  "Shut up. I'm not spending my fortune, even if you are, on the likes of these." Titus adjusted his weapons and prepared to leave. "I have to get back to the factory. Oleg needs me."

  "You don't get it, do you?" Corban chuckled. "So careful, yet so blinded by greed. You really think I'd risk my life to help a few here if there was a biological weapon threatening thousands?"

  "What? What are you saying?" Titus felt the blood drain from his face. "That's the second time you've said something like that! What are you talking about?"

  "There won't be a deal for whatever canister you have."

  "Why not? Did Israel get Crac
Hassad?"

  "As far as I know, Crac Hassad's alive. The deal will fail because there's no biological weapon."

  "You're crazy. I witnessed a demonstration myself in Pakistan. I saw what it can do."

  "In Pakistan? And your little case has never left your sight?" Corban walked forward and placed a hand on Titus' shoulder. "No, friend. An Interpol agent wouldn't allow such a chemical to fall into Crac Hassad's hands. It was just a matter of time before you found out. Now seems like the right time, because I need you focused on something other than what you've already lost."

  "Interpol? How?" Titus felt sick. He turned away to lean against the wall. "You're lying. I've been too careful. I haven't let anyone close to me for weeks."

  "I recognized him the minute you guys entered the factory to talk to Luc Lannoy. I've been out of the game for a few years, but I still recognize some of the older guys in deep cover."

  "No. No, Oleg Saratov is . . ."

  "He's Interpol, Titus. As soon as I saw him, I knew he must've switched out the weapon before it ever arrived in Gaza. His superiors would've arrested you days ago, otherwise. The IDF probably knows all about you."

  "Then why haven't I been arrested? Why let me come this far?"

  "I can guess," Corban said. "They're after Crac Hassad. He's Iranian by birth. You probably know more than me what he's done, the people he's killed to gain status, even his own family, the news has said, before he came from Iran."

  "Oleg!" Titus started for the door. "I'll kill him myself!"

  Moving quickly, Corban planted his foot in front of the door. When Titus grabbed for Corban's shirt front this time, Corban twisted Titus' hand sideways and slammed Titus' face against the covered window. Corban kept hard pressure on Titus' hand behind his back.

  "Just think for a minute, Titus! This is your chance to do the right thing. Give Crac Hassad to Interpol and to Israel. You can walk away. The Serval can put on a new face. There's no deal tonight. Help me go to the mosque, and then we can go help Oleg take down Crac Hassad, if there's still time."

  "You don't know what you're saying! Crac will have an army with him. They're probably already on their way to the factory with Luc Lannoy."