Dark Rule (COIL Book 3), page 19
The two guards walked along the base of the wall on the opposite side of the keep. Nathan saw no one else keeping watch of the general's compound—except for the entrance, where a heavy, iron gate was locked and more heavily guarded.
Sprinting across the expanse, Nathan reached the eastern wall's stone stairs, which he ascended three at a time. Reaching the top, he crouched low, hoping to make no silhouette against the night sky. Squinting in the fading light, he studied the lit windows of the fortress behind which General Yousef and maybe even Fredrick resided. Seeing no immediate danger, he stood and hurried to the battlement to look down at the hill that sloped toward the town's outskirts below.
It was much farther to the ground here than it was from Nathan's balcony. He climbed over the battlement edge, then hung from his fingertips and dropped. Turning as he fell, he landed with his back to the fortress wall, rolled twice before he stopped himself, then looked back. Getting out was the easy part.
*~*
Chapter Twenty-one
Brad Alden suddenly sat upright. Orange light poured in through two different starboard scuttles in the aft stateroom he shared with Walter Kassviney. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he listened for Walter's steady breathing. Moving so as not to disturb his friend, Brad peered out of the round window to where a super-sized motorboat idled. The engine was muffled, but it had still woken him from a dead sleep. After pulling on his jeans, he checked his watch—two in the morning. What was Jasper O'Shottie up to?
It was a warm night, so Brad didn't bother with a shirt as he climbed the cabin steps to the deck. Who was up and about in the middle of the night? He thought everyone had gone to bed when he had just before midnight.
Toward the stern, he saw the bear-like frame of Bruce Lavers lean over the rail of the yacht. The operative spoke in a low voice to someone below on the speedboat. Bruce saw Brad approaching and straightened to his full height of six-four—two inches taller than Brad and fifty pounds heavier.
"Thought I heard someone out here." Brad looked over the rail. "What's going on?"
He was shocked to see the length of the speedboat below. It was over seventy feet long! Three diesel engines revved under the control of Jasper on the roofless bridge.
"Just testing," Bruce stated. "Didn't mean to wake you."
Jasper killed the engines and ran to the bow. Throwing a line up to Bruce, Jasper's throw was off and Brad caught the line easily in one hand. He gave the bowline to Bruce and together they pulled the two boats together to tie off. Using a rope ladder, Jasper climbed onto the yacht with surprising agility for an aging, overweight man.
"What're you doing up, kid?" Jasper slapped Brad on the back as he passed him to check Bruce's knot on the deck cleat. Bruce didn't seem bothered as Jasper belayed the rope again.
"Heard the engines." Brad leaned against the rail as the three of them admired the speedboat. "Is it yours?"
"Her?" Jasper chuckled. "If she was mine, we'd be living on her instead of on this tub. No, she's just our transportation to Zalzuna on Kassviney's dime. Sleeps six in three staterooms. She's a few years old, but Sunseeker made their best Predator models back then. We'll outfit her to be our floating base of operations off the coast of Zalzuna, or maybe anchor off Mykonos. Just need a few provisions and fuel. We can find most of that in Mykonos, which is the closest island to Zalzuna in the Cyclades Islands."
Without saying good night, Bruce simply walked away and off the deck toward the stateroom he shared with his brother.
"Doesn't say much, does he?" Brad looked after the bulky man.
"Nah, but he's dependable, and he's a believer. Just be thankful he's on our side, kid." Jasper clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Usually, you'd have to get through Bruce to hassle Cliff like you did earlier tonight. I suspect I know why he didn't defend his little brother, though. Be glad he didn't."
"Why? Because I'm young?"
"No. Age doesn't mean much to Bruce, I suspect." Jasper buffed the deck rail with his sleeve. "A man like Bruce, he probably sized you up in the first few minutes after he met you—tested the strength of your handshake, saw how you move on the balls of your feet. And anyone who defends someone he cares about like you did Walter, well, that means something to Bruce. He's defended his little brother for years. Some say that's why he went to prison—defending Cliff."
"Bruce was in prison?" Brad frowned.
"Sure. Did a dozen years somewhere up in the British Isles. The irony is that Cliff went on to become a policeman in London. Got injured during a terrorist bombing."
"So, that's why he limps?"
"That's why, kid."
"Maybe I should feel fortunate I'm still alive, humiliating Cliff like I did—twice!"
"We're all Christians here, kid, but this isn't the world you know. Seems you got the right stuff. You think like they do, like an operative. I suspect Cliff was testing you, anyway—maybe to see how far he could push you and Walter. Even I thought you might get pushed around a little, but you held your ground. You got gumption. Bruce said so, too. Heather's saying they'll use you since their team is a little short."
"What? Use me?" Brad gulped. "You mean, when they go into Zalzuna?"
"You don't expect me to go, do you?" Jasper chuckled. "No, my days of belly-crawling up beaches are long past. And Walter wouldn't be of much use, either. I'll keep him in the Predator with me. He and I can monitor your movements once you guys hit land."
"I didn't really come prepared for anything like that."
"Better get prepared. Heather's going to put you through some training tomorrow. We'll be leaving in two days."
"Two days?" Brad blinked with a puzzled look. "Wait. What about Walter's inside man? Did we hear from the island? Am I the only one who slept tonight?"
"There's something about intel you have to understand, kid." Jasper faced him directly. "It never stacks up to what you expect it to be. Walter says he sent in a pro to study the island, find those missionaries. That's fine. We have other intel, and our intel says we can go in two days."
"Oh, man." Brad moaned. "Walt doesn't know about this, does he? You guys have done this behind his back?"
"Look, kid, I know he's a genius, but this is a world he doesn't know. You can't prepare for a mission by reading a spy book. I've known the Kassviney family for years. Believe me when I say I admire their tactics, but experience rules out here."
"What kind of intel do you have?" Brad felt like his catcher was second-guessing his next pitch. "It's solid enough to really go in two days?"
"Sure. Someone on the island gained Internet access and left a message, something about Zalzuna needing Bibles in English and Greek. The website was a few months old, but we found a drop box and left a message. They responded a few minutes later."
"This all happened tonight?" Brad shook his head. "That doesn't make you nervous?"
"Nervous? We text-messaged with the fella for a few minutes and found out he knows right where those missionaries are being held. This guy is connected with the Christian underground on the island."
"He knows the Jamisons?"
"Yeah. It's done. We found the warehouse in New Manchester where the Jamisons are being held—used some of your fancy satellite photos."
"New Manchester?" Brad felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Who was he to correct professionals? But he couldn't let it go. "They wouldn't be in New Manchester. They'd be in the capital, Zalzuna. They're political prisoners."
"Intel is intel, kid. We have a shot here. The sooner we go in, the better. Trust us. We've done this a few times."
Brad turned away from the old sailor and walked up the deck in thought as Jasper waited for a response. Frustrated, Brad sorted through what Walter had explained to him about the island's politics. Could it be that easy—an Internet connection? Walter had said Internet access was strictly policed on the island. Only the communist administration had access to the net—and very few of them! He returned to Jasper.
"You're telling me that someone with Internet access now knows we're attempting a rescue of the Jamisons?"
"Gotta trust somebody, kid. This fellow is even going to light a fire on the beach east of New Manchester where the team can go ashore. You'll be with 'em. We know what needs to be done. Now we're just working out the details."
"So, what's the name of your contact on the island?" Brad asked.
"Niles. Yeah. Trevor Niles. Hey, he's legitimate, kid! Even while we were typing back and forth, he was concerned about someone listening. Bad guys don't care who's listening on a commie island. It's legit."
"It could've been an act!" Brad felt his temperature rising. "You guys should've trusted Walt! He thinks of everything, every angle. And he wouldn't have missed the Zalzuna contact on the Internet. I'm no brain, but I'd say you just warned the enemy we're on our way. You might've just killed the Jamisons!"
Jasper was speechless as he stroked his red beard.
"What's going on?" sleepy-eyed Heather asked as she crossed the deck to them, wearing sweats and a hooded sweatshirt. "You get the boat, Jasper?"
"Yeah. Seems the kid here has a few concerns, though."
"Well, what is it?" Heather rested her hands on her hips as she stood next to Jasper.
Brad searched for words. He was out of his league, but he trusted Walter's strategy to the utmost.
"If Walt sent someone to the island to scope everything out before we arrive—risking his life to find the Jamisons—then it's only because there was no other way." Brad pointed at Heather. "You guys had no right to go behind his back to contact whoever this Trevor Niles character is. Citizens don't have computer net access in Zalzuna. You've all betrayed the Jamisons before we even gave them a chance—or gave ourselves a chance to get them out."
"I'm sure it's not a trap, Brad." Heather's voice was cold, like her eyes. "I read the text messages carefully. So did Cliff. Niles is for real. He's a Christian on Zalzuna. Though he didn't know much about the Jamisons, he told us where they're being held since they'd in fact been arrested, which was more than Walt gave us. You know what that guy kept asking for? Bibles. He said if we were coming to help the Jamisons, we might as well bring some Bibles with us to give to the citizens. The enemy doesn't ask for Bibles."
"The kid thinks we're beginners." Jasper scoffed. "You sure you want him along?"
"You know what?" Brad raised his hand like a traffic cop. "It doesn't matter. I'm done talking about this tonight. In the morning, we'll see what Walter has to say. He can think straighter than any of us put together on our best day."
"Have it your way, kid." Jasper shrugged.
Squeezing between Heather and Jasper, Brad reached the companionway and looked back at the two as they whispered between themselves, planning things beyond their ability. They'd been spies too long, Brad decided, as he descended the stairs.
Reaching his stateroom, Brad woke Walter. In hushed voices, Brad shared everything he'd learned. When finished, Brad waited in the shadows of the orange lights while Walter computed all the facts. He was silent for so long, Brad reached for him to see if he'd fallen asleep, but Walter cleared his throat.
"When I want a chess adversary to fall into a trap, I feed him every piece necessary to distract him from my strategy."
"Okay." Brad nodded. "Keep going. What are you saying?"
"Trevor Niles. It's too perfect. Zalzuna's administration has access to the Internet. They'd have shut down such a site right away. It's a decoy—maybe even the entrapping decoy your uncle pursued when he arrived in the country. Misinformation is the most useful tactic within the intelligence world."
"How sure are you?" Brad asked. "I mean, would you gamble with three lives? Are you that sure?"
"I'm a horrible gambler, Brad." Walter nibbled on a fingernail. "But I rarely lose a worthwhile bet. If Heather is putting everything on someone she met on the Internet who claimed to be a Christian from Zalzuna, she forgets how many Internet predators pretend to be someone else. It's a trap. I'm certain of it."
"So, how long until your guy in Zalzuna calls in?" Brad paced in the narrow cabin. "Will he call before we leave in two days?"
"I don't know. It all depends on his phone access. Could be a week, or an hour." To emphasize his point, Walter checked the phone clipped to the waistband of his shorts. "If Heather's plan is a trap—and I'm certain it is—we'll have a half-dozen people to rescue from Zalzuna instead of three. That is, if we go along with Heather's plan."
"This is insane!" Brad sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Jasper's totally backing Heather, too. It's you and me against a bunch of adults who think they can out-think you."
"Well, I've been known to be wrong before . . ." Walter paused, as if recollecting a few instances. "But I'm right about this. Only a fool would go to New Manchester to rescue prisoners. Countries as small as Zalzuna hear legal matters at the government seat, and that's the capital."
"They're going to ruin any chance we have, Walt!" Brad punched his palm. "How can we convince them? Heather's plan won't work, I know it! We have to wait for better intel!"
"You've already said what could be said to them, I believe." Walter stood and patted Brad on the shoulder. "I wouldn't have much more to add. In the morning, we could talk about everything again with that Clifford guy, but what use is that? We'd get nowhere." Walter turned, dug through his suitcase, then pulled out a pair of overalls. As he tugged them on, he looked up at Brad's face. "What? You know I don't own a pair of jeans. I bought these before we left Oregon. Overalls are all-purpose."
"Yeah, it's . . . cool." Brad smiled. "I've just never seen you wear anything but a suit since we were kids."
"Do you still remember how to pilot a boat?" Walter zipped up his suitcase. "Remember that time we went deep sea fishing? You were seasick until the captain let you pilot."
"Oh, I remember. That was your dad's idea. But I've driven a hundred water ski crafts since then, Walt. Yeah, I can pilot."
"Fine. That's what I needed to know." Walter sat on his bunk and opened his laptop. "We have clear weather. It's eighty miles to Zalzuna. The Sunseeker Predator you described to me, with three diesel engines, can do over sixty miles per hour. If we leave now, we can refuel in Mykonos around dawn. We'll harbor there until we get the call, then decide how the rescue should proceed."
"What are you talking about?" Brad whispered. "You and me? We can't do anything alone, Walt! We need—"
"Listen!" Walter hushed him with surprising force. "Who do you think is financing this? I am. The speedboat out there? It may be a rental, but I'm paying for it. This whole team is here because I wired money to Jasper. It's ridiculous it's come to this, but when employees can't follow orders, they get fired. If we do it their way, Lacy rots in a prison for sure. If you and I go on our own, we at least give her a chance, and we won't be expected by whoever this Trevor Niles is."
"Heather'll just find another boat and come after us," Brad said. "This isn't the way we should resolve this."
"I'm very familiar with people underestimating me, Brad, but you need to realize we're not among individuals who care how fast you can throw a spherical object. They are similarly indifferent to my God-given intelligence. Besides, if we take their boat now, we'll buy time for the whole team. We're saving their lives, Brad. By the time they catch up to us in Mykonos in a day or two, hopefully we'll have heard from Zalzuna."
"All right." Brad took a deep breath. "But I sure wish my dad were here. You and I might think we have everything figured out, but Dad would have some wisdom of his own to throw in."
"Your dad would tell us to pray right now. That's what he'd say."
In the semi-darkness, Brad and Walter looked at each other and nodded. They'd all been leaving God out of their plans. Yes, they wanted the same thing as Heather and the guys, but God was sovereign, and denying Him His place in their plans—they were acting no different from the world around them.
"Okay. I'll pray." Brad bowed his head next to Walter's. "Dear God, we ask for Your blessing on this plan of ours. We don't have much ironed out by any means, so we ask You to give us wisdom and insight along the way. Please watch out for Uncle Albert, Aunt Sarah, and Lacy. Please keep us safe as we go forward with the extreme, Lord. After we're gone, maybe Jasper, Heather, and the others will see some of the wisdom we've tried to share with them about Zalzuna. Thank You for everything You continue to do for us daily. In Jesus' name, amen."
"Amen." Walter moved to the door. "Take everything, my stuff, too. I'm going to get some of their gear to take with us. See you on deck."
Brad needed no more than a minute to gather his own belongings. He shouldered his duffel bag, and Walter's laptop case and suitcase. Outside the stateroom, he moved quietly through the galley to the companionway. Ascending the stairs, he found the deck empty. A drunkard whooped onshore, then broke glass, but it was nothing that concerned Brad.
He moved to the rail where the speedboat bobbed in the water. Brad dropped his duffel down the few feet onto the Predator's bow, then climbed down carefully with Walter's belongings. Carrying everything to the bridge, he set it on the floor as his face lit up at the sight of the technologically advanced controls. While the vessel itself may have been a decade old, the controls had been updated.
"Don't start the engine." Walter set two cases of gear on the floor next to the rest of their baggage. "Loose the ropes and let us drift away."
Reaching onto the deck of the yacht, Brad untied the knots Jasper had tied only ninety minutes earlier. He went to the tip of the bow, shoved off the yacht's hull, then returned to the bridge. Behind the Predator, the basin's mouth was narrow, but there was no traffic. Eventually, they'd have to start the engines to maneuver out of the basin, though.
