"Now, Rupert has our hotel designations, which will be altered at least once a week. Watch for tails. Keep your heads down. Trust no one. And keep the faith, because above all, we serve a God who works for and with His people. We've been through a lot, all of us. There's a purpose for everyone in this room, even you, June. Now we have to live up to our potential. Let's get our boys home one way or another and get back to the basics of our calling: making sure the Gospel is spread worldwide. Abaddon has done a good job of pulling us off our mission statement. We're going to remedy that."
Selecting a syringe from the briefcase, Corban pulled off the cap and stuck it into his deltoid muscle. Johnny Wycke was next. Everyone watched until each one had taken a turn. June went last, but she bravely followed suit.
Corban closed the briefcase. He eyed his team, then with a nod, he bowed his head and prayed for the safety of his team and for God's blessing upon them.
"Okay, let's get to work."
#######
Bruno took his time installing the pinhole camera lens in the hotel room assigned to him and Scooter. The camera was mounted behind the picture of a goose, and the lens peeked through a hole he had delicately drilled into the frame. Both men were weary. Scooter was in his queen-sized bed, watching Bruno work, and waiting for the light to be turned out. They had already installed a similar camera in June's room a few doors down, as well as in Corban's, just as a precaution. When they left their rooms to gather intel on the castle, if someone crept into their rooms, they would know. Memphis, Rupert, and Brauch were sharing two rooms at a different establishment.
Scooter picked up a two-way radio from his bedside table. It was more than a radio, though; it was a satellite radio that used scrambled frequencies. All eight members of Team Rahab had a radio and were to keep it on them at all times, which wouldn't be difficult since the devices were as small as cell phones.
"I think Corban installed GPS systems inside these babies," Scooter guessed. "You think he's spying on us too much?"
Finished with the motion-activated camera, Bruno lay on his own bed.
"Can you blame him? He feels responsible for losing three men."
"You think anyone's monitoring the signal right now?"
Yawning, Bruno clicked off the lamp.
"I think it's safe to say there are a lot of boys and girls involved in this op, no matter what Corban says. And you know Chloe wouldn't sit this out, so you know either she's in Germany undercover, or she's the one coordinating all of our movements from the head office. It's a machine effort."
A quiet moment passed.
"You think Nathan's still alive?" Scooter asked.
"I don't know. We'll bring him home, either way. Go to sleep."
"He may not want to live if they do to him what they did to that Taath kid."
"Nathan's no beginner," Bruno reminded. "This is Eagle Eyes we're talking about. Remember when he was captured by those thugs in Sao Paulo?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"Almost ten million people, and we were supposed to find him there?" Bruno chuckled. "None of us spoke Portuguese and we were out of cash. And remember what happened?"
"He found us."
"That's right. He got away from those thugs, escaped with two other hostages, and found us at that cheap motel. Think about it. God's looking out for us, man. If it was you or me in some prison, we'd go crazy, but Nathan's an old whiz at this."
"What about Toad and Milk?"
Bruno hesitated.
"You're thinking too much, Scooter. We'll take that castle down, this Xacsin character, too, and we'll get 'em all out. Anything else is out of our control. If they were taken in England only so we would take down this Xacsin character, so be it. And maybe it'll all lead to whoever this Abaddon guy is. Nathan, Toad, and Milk would sacrifice themselves to save others. You know that. And at what time has God ever abandoned His people? If the rest of the Flash and Bang Team is alive and awake right now, I bet they're praying. They know where their strength comes from."
After taking a few minutes to pray together for the captives, the two men drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened an hour later by a light knocking on the door.
Scooter was out of bed first, an NL-2 in his hand. Moonlight from the window gave them barely enough visibility to give each other a couple hand signals. Approaching the door from the side, Scooter knelt down and aimed up at the door with one hand, then gripped the door handle with the other.
He whipped the door open as he held his breath. The hallway was dark, but he could see enough to reach up and grab the arm of the prowler. Jerking the man inside the room, Scooter twisted him around onto his belly, and covered his mouth as he struggled and tried to scream out. Scooter kept the intruder pinned down with his weight and closed the door softly with his foot.
"Lights," Scooter ordered Bruno.
Bruno kept Scooter covered as he clicked on the lamp.
"June?"
Taking his knee off June's spine, Scooter stood above her, and they lowered their weapons at the sight of the investigative reporter. They offered her nothing as she caught her breath and rolled to a sitting position. Her hair bun had come loose. She brushed her hair out of her face but didn't try to stand since she was clearly too shaken.
"Obviously, she needs to know our secret knock," Bruno suggested. "Or remind her we have radios for late night communications."
"Mind telling us what couldn't wait till morning?" Scooter stretched his arm and held his shoulder. He still wasn't used to the man-made socket.
"You can't go sneaking around like this."
"I wouldn't have even come to your door if I hadn't heard Corban sneaking out of hishotel room."
"That's Mr. Dowler to you," Scooter corrected.
"You're saying the boss isn't in his room?" Bruno questioned. "And what business is that of yours?"
"If he's telling us to keep our heads down and stick to our assignments, why is he running around secretly? I want to know what he's up to." June crossed her arms, pouting.
"Did the boss say he was going anywhere?" Scooter asked Bruno in Arabic, the Flash and Bang Team's secondary common language. They'd all picked up the language when they served in Middle East campaigns before joining COIL and it served as the perfect code language.
"Nothing was said to me." Bruno shrugged. "But he's the man; he doesn't need our approval. I think Germany's like a second home to him. He was here a lot in the Cold War days."
"I don't like it. It's dangerous, him going off alone. The rest of us are working in pairs. Who's watching his back?"
"No matter, it's none of our business," Bruno said in English to June. "You have a lot to learn about Mr. Dowler. There's a lot more to him than some middle-aged guy who could pass for a car salesman."
Getting up from the floor, June sat on the foot of a bed.
"Well, while I'm here and since we're all up and awake, why don't you guys tell me a little more about him. What makes Mr. Dowler so special?"
"It's too late for this." Scooter rubbed his eyes. "We'll have plenty of time in the days ahead, believe me. Working surveillance is nothing but time."
"Come on!" June growled. "Every time I ask a question, you all avoid the answers!"
"June, I think it's time for you to go back to your room," Bruno encouraged. He glanced at Scooter, then at the NL-2 weapon in his hand. "Go ahead, Scooter. I don't think she's going to go voluntarily. She's in her reporter mode again."
"Why me?" Scooter gestured to Bruno's own NL-2 tranq gun. "It was your idea. You do it."
"Do what?" June threw her hands up in frustration. "This is what I'm talking about! Cryptic talk! Every time we—"
Bruno shot June on the chin, only one pellet. Jerking, she touched her chin with one hand. Fury crossed her face as she started to rise from the bed, but she had already inhaled the pellet's fumes. She slumped over on the quilt.
"You shot her." Scooter shrugged. "You carry her back to her room."
Smiling, B
runo shook his head.
"Oh, no. We're both going, and on our way back, we're stopping by the boss's room to see if he's really there."
**~~~**
Chapter Eleven
On the other side of the world, it was daylight. Chloe Azmaveth was in the COIL home office, working on her computer on various Operation Rahab research. In a few hours, she knew the team in Germany would be waking up and beginning their first official day of gathering intel and sabotaging Xacsin's network around Berlin and Hamburg.
Every few minutes, Chloe glanced at another screen, a screen dedicated to tracking the handheld radios via satellite. The team was asleep in their assigned hotel rooms and not moving, but still, Chloe was watching over them. Too much had gone wrong in recent years to not keep an eye on their status.
"Oh, no," she mumbled aloud when she noticed Corban's radio beacon on the screen begin to move. "What are you up to, Corban?"
She dedicated her attention to watching Corban drive through Berlin on the northbound autobahn toward Lubeck, the port city. Once she realized he was headed toward the thick forest around Xacsin Castle, she reached for her own satellite radio.
"Christopher Cagon, what are you doing? Over."
"Just a little recon, Az. Can't sit still."
"Don't you do it, Cagon," Chloe warned. "Wait for the others to back you up. Over."
"I'm going silent, Az. Over and out."
"Cagon, come in! Cagon!"
Chloe dropped the radio and stomped her foot. Corban had turned off his radio, but she could still see his radio beacon since he hadn't disabled the power source. She contemplated calling Janice to tell her that her husband was taking dangerous and unnecessary risks without backup. But she couldn't do that. He knew what he was doing, she hoped. Besides, Janice didn't even know he was in Berlin for the next couple of weeks. Then she considered alerting the others on the team to get up to the castle to help Corban, but she knew that would only bring a reprimand. There was a reason he'd gone alone.
When Chloe saw Corban's beacon move off the highway just west of Xacsin Castle, she could stand it no longer. She reached for the radio and cued Brauch Schlenko's radio specifically. If Corban wanted something done quietly without the team knowing, he had often called on Brauch, once a spook at the highest level in the German underground. Chloe had met him once and thought he looked like a geek with his glasses and sunken cheeks.
"Brauch, come in. This is Mother Rahab. Over."
A few seconds passed. Watching Brauch's radio beacon in the Berlin hotel room, Chloe saw that it moved ten feet away, presumably into the hall.
"Speak, Mother. I know your voice. Over."
She smiled at the German's accented English. He was all business and just what she needed right now.
"Father Rahab has gone to castle alone. Do you copy? Over."
"Understood. What is your request? Over."
"Must've gone alone for a reason, but he has no cover. Can you go solo to keep Father quietly warm? Over."
"On my way, Mother. Out."
Chloe sighed and set her radio down. Watching the signal, it told her that Brauch returned to his room, prepared for the trip, and then left alone. She watched the other radio beacons belonging to Memphis and Rupert at the same hotel. Theirs didn't move.
Five minutes later, Brauch Schlenko was driving north on the autobahn to back up Corban. Staring at the screen, Chloe prayed that she hadn't made a mistake in sending someone. Corban simply wasn't a young agent anymore who could be running off alone to infiltrate enemy compounds!
#######
Fifty miles north of Berlin, Corban crept through the forest. He carried a night vision scope and an NL-2 pistol. Slung across his back was an NL-3 rifle, but he hoped he wouldn't need to use either one. Though he was taking a huge risk approaching the castle alone, he'd come so far after so long. How was he supposed to sleep when he knew his men were held captive so near? This time he had to throw caution to the wind, as well as Chloe's concerns. Sure, it was a reckless move, especially since he wasn't sure if there were tremble-sensors in the forest around the castle, but it was an impulse he couldn't deny; he had to look around.
Corban paralleled the road to the castle. He stopped short at the sound of a man's cough and swung the NL-2 toward the sound, though he didn't pull the trigger. Bending down, he peered under the boughs of several trees between him and the source of the cough. That's when he saw the lit station house and gate across the road not thirty yards away. Two men, smoking cigarettes, mumbled to each other, too quietly for Corban to hear. The men wore parkas to ward off the twenty-degree weather and both carried assault rifles.
It was three in the morning and the castle was obviously alert. Through his night scope, Corban watched them for ten minutes before moving south and deeper into the woods. Then he circled to the east, walking slower now, pausing more often, and patiently studying the terrain around him. There could be a patrol marching through the woods at any moment, and the four-wheeler tracks in the snow suggested Xacsin took his security seriously.
The castle finally came into sight through the trees. Corban remained deep in the forest, hiding behind a thick pine for extra cover, studying the castle through his night vision gear. Since he had approached from the south, he could see only one side, but the four towers were prominent. The double-door gate was on the west end of the castle complex. On either side of the gate was a tower, each thirty feet tall. But the real estate paperwork had told him that much.
Two men stood in each tower, evidenced by their glowing cigarettes. On the southeast corner was a forty-foot tower, also with two guards. Then, farther away, there was another forty-foot tower, but this one was roofed and had windows rather than parapets. No doubt, someone was keeping watch from within. No, not someone. Xacsin seemed to keep his men paired. If Corban crossed one, there was sure to be another nearby.
Everywhere else on the fifteen-foot rampart between the towers, two men patrolled, each spaced about fifty feet apart. On each of the other three wall sections, there were sure to be more sentries. At least fifteen men keeping guard even at night? Xacsin was obviously hiding something.
Corban figured the walls were probably taller than fifteen feet at one time—most likely twenty or more all the way around. But after the wear of several hundred years, the heavy rock had sunk into the ground. So, tunneling into the compound would be out of the question.
Hearing a motor, Corban hid his white face behind the tree as a four-wheeler rounded the castle wall from the west on a perimeter path that Corban hadn't seen until now. The four-wheeler slowed and revved its engine loudly. Two men rode the all-terrain vehicle. As Corban watched, they stopped in the hundred-foot clearing between the forest and castle wall, and climbed off the machine, leaving the engine to idle, while they checked their rifles without a sense of urgency. Certain he hadn't been seen, Corban guessed this had to be a random perimeter check, a patrol exercise.
Light suddenly beamed across Corban's position from his far left. Like an amateur, he looked directly into the single headlight of another four-wheeler that had approached from the west, its engine noise disguised as the other idled nearby.
Temporarily blinded by the headlight, Corban dove to the snowy ground on his right as bullets took chunks out of the tree where his head had been. They weren't using silencers, so the thunder of gunfire alerted everyone to the danger of an intruder. And there were no homesteads around for miles, so no one would be calling the police about the shooting.
Rising to his feet, Corban dashed south, deeper into the woods. Bullets whacked tree limbs over his head. He fired at the nearest four-wheeler as he ran. Several pellets harmlessly slapped the top of the driver's helmet. Desperately, Corban dove behind a rotting log half covered by snow. Men were yelling in German and English. They were getting organized.
Stupid! He chastised himself. Though he'd been careful, he'd not been careful enough. Only now was he considering the footprints he'd left in the snow from whe
re he'd parked his rental car. That had to be how they found him. There was no going back to the car now, but he didn’t need to. It was clean, rented under a bogus name through Rupert Mach in Berlin. And he couldn't fight these men if they kept their motorcycle helmets on, protecting them from the tranquilizer pellet fumes. But they couldn't track and chase him through the forest with the helmets on, either. They'd have to take them off eventually to use their night vision, if they had any, then his pellets would be effective.
Corban jumped to his feet and ran two paces before he fell into a snow-covered hole. He expected to hear his leg snap from the natural trap, but he freed it in time to tumble against a fallen tree. Rounds zipped near his head. Ducking low, he dashed west. Though he wasn't returning to his vehicle, they would think he was since he was stupid enough to leave tracks.
He didn't stop for three hundred yards. Finally, he drew up to catch his breath. While watching his back trail, he noticed four lights. Maybe they didn't have night vision after all, Corban hoped. But then he heard two men crashing through the brush from the station house, closing fast, and they didn't have any flashlights.
Moving cautiously to the south, Corban doubled back to the castle, fully aware the men were following his tracks through the snow. Tucking the NL-2 away, he took the NL-3 assault rifle off his back. It was more accurate, though a little more bulky. Clipping his night scope onto the top, he then swept the rifle from left to right until he spotted their flashlights. Two had already passed him. The other two were pursuing more carefully. Corban aimed at the first man. They'd left their helmets behind. Perfect!
Firing a burst of five pellets, he then pivoted toward the next man. Too late. With bullets spraying overhead, Corban dropped to his belly on the snow.
"Over here!" someone yelled in German.
Knowing the language from his youth, Corban put his hand to his mouth.
"He's going back to the north!" he called out in warning.
DARK HEARTED (The COIL Series) Page 10
