Alfred flicked on a lamp. If he were caught now, it would be okay. The phone call had already been made to his employers, the COIL Agency. He had done his job, giving whatever invading team they were sending an inside view. If he was discovered as a mole now, he could die with some resolve and peace. The lives in his care would soon be saved, his job complete. Anything else he could find out now was merely extra intel.
The desk computer was on standby. Sitting down in the chair, Alfred clicked the curser through a list of applications and documents most recently accessed. He couldn't risk the noise of the printer, so he would have to memorize whatever he found, if he found anything at all.
What he discovered seemed like very little at first: transportation schedules for infected captives. Alfred counted thirty different outlets that branched out to more than one hundred down the line, and Xacsin was organizing more. It would be impossible to stop the infectious diseases once the process began. COIL had to stop Xacsin before anyone left the castle!
That was the only option.
But then Alfred found a four-page document full of names and addresses, accessed as recently as that day, minutes before Xacsin had stormed out of the castle. Names and addresses, but for whom? Some were in Berlin, and some were in New York City. He clicked on links to adjacent photographs. The images were of a surveillance quality, taken covertly. Alfred bit his lip. These could be kidnapping targets, perhaps future victims. But no, there were many women listed, and Xacsin wasn't housing women and children. And New York was too far away to be kidnapping people there only to bring them to the castle for an infectious shot. Maybe there was another similar enterprise in the United States? He prayed not.
Opening an image titled "C.J. Dowler," Alfred saw a photo of a man, woman, and child. The child looked around six or seven-years-old and seemed to gaze awkwardly off-focus. She was evidently blind. The couple with her were smiling and happy, both of them in their fifties, he guessed.
C.J. Dowler. From where did Alfred know that name? He studied the man a little closer. Brown hair and eyes. Average height, not very fit. Though an older picture, Alfred recognized him. It was the man from the woods. Corban Dowler—the founder of COIL!
Then the names and addresses all made sense. Alfred browsed the list. Yes. They had to be COIL people, the organization that Xacsin seemed to both blame and target more than anyone for their Christian activities. Xacsin wasn't satisfied that he was going to infect three continents with fatal diseases; he was going after his enemies specifically. And their families.
Alfred heard a noise. Someone was downstairs in the garage. He closed out of an application and moved to the window to look down at the courtyard. No, no one was in the garage. There would have been light shining out of the garage door windows. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just—
"Find what you were looking for?" a woman's voice asked behind him.
The hammer of a pistol clicked. It was Hannah. Slowly, Alfred turned around. She flipped on the overhead light. Though she was in her nightshirt, Alfred's eyes were focused on the barrel leveled at his chest.
"Just nosing around, Mrs. McLeery," he admitted truthfully. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"What were you doing on the computer?" The gun didn't move.
"I'm an old addict. Chat rooms. Hoped you were wired to the net. No luck."
He met her gaze, her icy blue eyes. She wasn't even five-five, but that gun made her seem much taller. The castle guards had said when she'd returned from the South Pacific six months ago where she'd visited her sister, she'd come back mean and bitter, snarling at everyone, not only the prisoners. And she flaunted herself in front of everyone down in the mess hall, tempting every man in the castle, threatening with death itself if anyone touched her.
She lowered the gun.
"I suppose this can be our little secret if…"
"If what?"
"Xacsin's gone," she purred, glancing over her shoulder at the bedroom. "But I've been lonely even when he's been here. Doesn't seem fair that he leaves us all alone, does it?" She took a step toward him. "You have to be lonely, too, Snake. That's what they call you, right? Snake? Call me Hannah."
"You're married, Mrs. McLeery. Let me just duck out of here. Have a good night."
"Wait! I'll have to tell Xacsin you were here then. We can't let this secret be one-sided. Don't you want to have something on me, as well?"
Hannah hooked her hand around his neck and tried to pull his head down to her lips, but she was too short and he resisted. Without his help, she couldn't reach him. He stepped away, but she followed.
"Mrs. McLeery, this isn't happening. I have too much respect for your husband to mess around with you."
"Respect? Hah!" Turning away, she tossed the gun onto the desk, then rummaged through an envelope and handed him a photograph. "You respect Xacsin now? Him with a black girl, Snake!"
"This must be a fake."
"Yeah, right," she scoffed. "That's what he said, but I know graphics. And, I checked it out. It's for real, and I trust the source I got it from, a contact of mine in Berlin. Everything we've worked so hard for is all on the line because he couldn't control himself ten years ago. Why do you think he left so quickly today? He flew to England to try to fix this mess, prove it's a fake picture. But it's no fake. There's even a team in Berlin from Liverpool, the rumor is, coming to take Xacsin out. They're saying he misrepresents the white race. After all the work we've done! It's more than a rumor, those people from Liverpool. Someone named Cecil. And you respect him, Snake? My own husband sleeps with blacks! I wouldn't be surprised if there were Christians and Jews in his background, too!"
"How could he keep something like this a secret?"
"I don't know. He had a life before I knew him, before my sister and I met him at a seance in Austria. So, he asked me to join him in his efforts to dispose of the racial filth that littered our world. My sister and her boyfriend, Branden Fairchild, made their own mistakes for this cause. Xacsin and I weren't going to make the same errors. Those COIL maggots were digging around in Xacsin's past, though. Must've found the picture, and turned it over to some purists in Liverpool." With both hands now, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "He'll probably never be back, Snake; he's out for revenge. If Liverpool doesn't kill him, he'll die before he's ever taken alive by the COIL people, like they got my sister. Now, it's only you and me. We could continue the movement after the captives are released. You have the experience. I have the money. It could all start tonight, right now, you and me."
"What about the captives?"
"Nothing will change for now. Everything's been arranged. Dr. Stashinsky's in charge of that now. Oh, what's this?" Her hand was in and out of his coat pocket before he could stop her. She handled the thick antenna. "A satellite phone."
Alfred grabbed for her hand, but she was already moving toward the desk. Knowing that she'd connected the dots in that split second, he dove for the gun as her fingers wrapped around the grip. Dropping his phone onto the floor, Hannah pulled the trigger before she'd completely aimed. The bullet ripped through Alfred's coat, into his abdomen, and out his left kidney. Rolling off the desk, Alfred collapsed heavily onto the floor. Panting, he ignored the disabling pain and pulled the phone close. After turning on the power, he hit the redial button. If he was going to die, he had to warn the COIL operatives that Xacsin was after their families—about the addresses he had discovered!
The gun muzzle pressed against his temple.
"Give me the phone!"
Guards were now rushing noisily up the stairs to the loft.
The woman answered the phone, presumably on the other side of the world.
"James and John," he coded, his breath coming in gasps. "Xacsin is coming for your—"
Hannah pulled the trigger.
#######
Though her eyes burned, June Ellerman didn't take them away from the spotting scope mounted on the tripod in front of her. The scope was attached to a digital camera and l
ens, all calibrated and focused on the forest road across the highway. Camouflaged, she remained hidden on her side of the highway as an SUV came into sight. She held up a fiber optic cable with a button attached to the camera. As soon as the SUV's occupants came into focus, she pressed the button. Their faces were captured at a range of two hundred yards. The lens was so powerful, whoever would analyze the surveillance photos later in Berlin would be able to count each facial pore, if they wanted.
June remained motionless as the SUV pulled up to the highway. The driver looked both ways, then turned left toward Berlin. Little did they know, she was hunkered down in a camouflaged tent in the brush across the highway. Since she knew cameras, her current assignment was to surveil the road leading into the castle. Next to her, a propane heater kept the tent toasty. The birds in the trees around her had accepted the intrusion of the tent and continued to fight over seeds between patches of snow nearby.
It had been a week since June had fought in the underground club in Berlin. Her face was healing, though her eyes were still slightly bruised and the bridge of her nose was still scabbed, probably scarred for life.
"December, this is Memphis. Come in."
Checking her watch, she saw it was two in the afternoon. Her shift was over. Now, as she had done that whole week, she would take her shift's photographs and notes back to Berlin. The intel would be sent via satellite to analysts capable of identifying the men in the vehicles coming and going from the castle. Other analysts in Berlin would do the same, then compare notes with New York, and try to make heads or tails of what Xacsin's next move was.
She picked up her radio.
"This is December. Go ahead, Memphis. Over."
"I'm coming up on you. Please confirm. Over."
"All clear. Come on in."
A moment later, the bushes rustled behind the tent. They kept their vehicles parked nearly a mile away on an old logging road and hiked to the covert post. June moved the tripod aside and opened the tent flap more than the crack required to shoot pictures. Memphis dropped to his knees and crawled into the tent, bringing pine needles and snow in with him.He lay on his belly next to her and studied her notes.
"Busy morning, huh? A dozen vehicles?"
"In and out, yeah. Wait."
June quickly repositioned the tripod as she heard an engine approach from the north. A commercial bus came into sight. She snapped two broadside shots before the bus turned off the highway onto the castle's access road. After adjusting the focus, she took one last shot of the bus's rear plates as it drove away into the shadows. Memphis watched as she jotted the time and description of the photos in her notebook.
"You ever think about making a career out of this?" he asked.
Looking up at him, she suddenly felt self-conscious, and tugged at her ski cap to make sure her baldness was covered. Thankfully, her hair was now beginning to grow back.
"Seems hard to imagine that I could return to my old job after all of this."
"What?" He chuckled. "No more investigative reporting?"
"Let me just say I'd have a tough time doing you guys justice no matter how long I worked on this story. The world can't understand what happens out here. This is real. You guys are real. The stories I write… I want them to be real, too."
"Is that why you've been so quiet this past week? Thinking about your priorities?"
"Is it that obvious?" She sighed. "The others are talking, aren't they?"
"They're only curious since you haven't asked for an interview for over a week. Don't get me wrong. We're glad that you're not snooping about like we're newsworthy. Look at you. You've become part of the team."
"Well, not really." She frowned. "I don't really believe what you guys believe."
"Right." He positioned the tripod in front of his face. "So, what are your beliefs, Miss Ellerman?"
Though her shift was over, she made no indication that she was ready to leave. Shrugging, she smiled sheepishly.
"To be honest, I never thought of it much before all of this. I've never risked my life for anyone else before—just a good story here and there. I feel more alive than ever because of it, though."
"What about God?"
"God. Yeah. I don't know. I've made fun of Christians in the States my whole life. Much of what I've seen in America is pretty hypocritical. Most Christians might go to church and sit in a pew once a week, but they're otherwise no different from anyone else. They still lie, cheat on their taxes and spouses, break the law, and so on. That's only what I've seen in passing. In the last week and a half, what I've seen while living with you guys, has me, well, refiguring my conclusions about genuine faith and Christianity. Maybe not everyone is a fake. Maybe there's more to it all."
"Keep in mind that your relationship with the Creator should not depend on the good or bad actions of others."
"Oh, I know. But if I see something working for others, then I know it's real. For the first time in my life, I'm witnessing genuine people. It has me thinking there's something to the Bible after all—if it's taken literally."
Side by side, their faces were only inches apart. She suddenly realized that he had been watching her mouth as she spoke. He met her eyes, then looked away.
"I think I've been spending too much time in this tent. Sorry," Memphis said, as he needlessly adjusted the calibrations on the camera.
"What?" She nudged him playfully with her elbow. "Christians aren't human?"
"It's not that. I asked you a serious question and you were giving me a serious answer, which I barely heard. Sorry." Looking back at her, he swallowed nervously. "You were saying?"
She tilted her head slightly and kissed him softly on the lips. When she settled back, she saw him sigh with frustration.
"Now, I'm the one who's sorry. Maybe we've both been in this tent too long." But she didn't bother to crawl out. "Let's change the subject. You're the only single guy on the old Flash and Bang Team."
"Well, Nathan's single."
"Okay, but I don't know Nathan. Besides, he's rather inaccessible at the moment, right?" She saw him flinch. "I didn't mean to sound heartless, but I don't want to talk about anyone else. I want to talk about you. When I asked Johnny about you, he said your wife passed away not long ago?"
"Yeah. A while back."
"What was her name?"
"Sammie. Samantha."
"You don't wear your wedding ring anymore?"
Memphis gazed at his finger where the mark from his band still showed.
"Not on missions."
"Do you still love her?"
"It wasn't even a year ago, June, but it seems like it was another lifetime. Since she was buried, COIL took me in and gave me a new place in life. It's helped me a lot. I was a P.E. teacher, you know? As a grieving widower, I was depressed to the point of inactivity. I lived like a hermit for days, not even showering. I needed to refocus. Don't get me wrong. I believe God can get us through any difficulty, but I was so torn up; I may have bordered on suicide. Sure, I loved Sammie, but after she was gone, all I could think about was myself. Why me? Why did God have to take her from me? How would I continue alone?"
"That's natural, though. You were hurt."
"No, I was selfish; I wasn't seeing the bigger picture. Even when Sammie was alive, I was selfish, staying in my comfort zone rather than listening to my calling. Sammie's accident shook me up, got me refocused after I cried my eyes and heart out to God."
"And this…team is your calling? Flying choppers and planes for COIL when you're not hiding in tents with cameras?"
"I was a good teacher, June, and I loved working with kids. But I've never felt so fulfilled before now. It's like Special Forces Christianity, you know? Every day we fight spiritual battles. We can't handle these ops unless our hearts are in the right place. Now, I've never been on the front lines of a war before, but I can tell you that the spiritual front lines are more fulfilling than the physical. Here, we know we make a difference. My relationship with God adds a dimensi
on to this lifestyle that makes it more complete. This is what matters."
"And that's what I'm missing," June decided aloud. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"Would it be selfish of me to, well, change my faith from basically nothing to what you guys have so I can feel more fulfilled, as well? That's a stupid question, but I see that you guys have something I've never seen before in anyone else. You guys, even your support people like Chloe, are active."
"It's not a stupid question, June."
"I've interviewed a few dozen special ops guys. They're awesome and they do unbelievable ops, but at the end of the day, they're only soldiers who killed a pile of bad guys for people they don't know and they have to get drunk to drown out their memories before they can go home to their cheating wives and rebellious kids."
"They have it that bad, huh?"
"Well, not totally, but don't get me started. So, my stupid question?"
"Right. A change of faith—selfish or not, just to feel fulfilled. It's not a stupid question. I wish more people would consider it. There are a lot of reasons why people decide to seek God, initially. The thing is, if the desire is genuine, the desire to be saved from yourself or your lifestyle, God kneads us like clay to be His vessels, anyway. In the beginning, most people are probably a little bit selfish with their faith-seeking, I suppose, but when it's done in humility and brokenness, is that really selfishness? God is powerful enough to straighten us out if we trust Him."
"Okay, then, I have another stupid question."
"Yeah?"
"I'm already thinking about the faith thing, so I can ask you this: would it have bothered you less when I kissed you if I was a Christian?"
DARK HEARTED (The COIL Series) Page 15
