Dark Rule (COIL Book 3), page 24
Rising from the hole in the ground, he felt the weight of the pack on his back. He'd carried heavier packs while fly-fishing for steelhead with his dad below Klamath Falls. It seemed everything in his life had prepared him for this very night.
At a slow pace, Brad headed southeast. He kept the goggles on his face to watch where he placed his feet, and occasionally stopped to check his back trail and the terrain around him. Two hundred yards later, he saw another pair of men with flashlights walking clockwise around the island. Quickly, he crouched down. The volcanic rock all around him was flat with nothing to hide behind, but the men weren't approaching him. Rather, they circled the perimeter of the volcanic rock. Shivering with fear, Brad watched them until they reached the beach and continued north. Before he moved again, he studied the terrain. Already, he was approaching the peasant farms north of Sankadden. The satellite photos had shown a slope speckled with peasant dwellings amidst farm fields.
After scanning his back trail, he rose, only to fall flat a breath later. Was that a gnarled olive tree behind him? The tree moved toward him, then stopped. It was no tree at all, but a man! The man with a frame as tall as Brad's but heavier dropped out of sight to hide in a shallow crevice one hundred yards back. The patrolling soldiers seemed to move in pairs, so where was this man's partner?
Brad's presence had been discovered far sooner than he'd planned. He wondered if he should sneak up on the man with a tranquilizer. It didn't seem like a valid option, not when he had to get so close to him. Walter had said the soldiers carried firearms. And Brad had no interest in testing a tranquilizer pen against a gun.
However, Brad still didn't see a second man on his tail. It was only one man, a man who obviously didn't realize Brad wore night vision and could see the prowler raise his head to check Brad's position. He guessed the man couldn't see Brad well, if at all, unless Brad was moving. The stranger seemed to be waiting for him to move again, but Brad didn't have time to out-wait the enemy. He had to reach Zalzuna, find a way into the rehabilitation center, and flee to the harbor. Already, he was pressed for time.
Yet, he couldn't bring himself to move onward, and the longer he waited, he feared the more obvious it would became to the stranger that Brad was aware of his presence. Had the man already called for backup? Did they have radios? Brad turned and scoped the fields to the south. No movement there. He looked back to the northwest. The enemy had risen from his hiding spot and crawled adjacent to Brad's heading, as if the man were trying to get around Brad.
Without moving, Brad watched the man crawl closer, though not directly at him. He didn't seem to have a sidearm or a uniform, but rather a suit of some type. His features seemed European, but that didn't mean much on the island since all of New Manchester had been settled by socialists from France and other European countries. What was the man doing out there in the middle of the night?
The prowler paused and peered in Brad's direction. Brad couldn't be seen unless he stood or moved, he was sure, so he remained very still. The enemy then moved east along the slope. For five more minutes, Brad watched before the man simply disappeared over a small bluff where the vegetation had begun to grow, free of the poisonous volcanic vapors.
It made no sense. Brad was confused. He hadn't been in the Special Forces for more than an hour and he found himself already stumped by a situation. Though he considered alerting Walter that he'd already crossed . . . someone, such an explanation defied reason, and Walter probably wouldn't know what to think of it, either.
Nothing else moved for several more minutes. Cautiously, Brad rose to his feet, half-expecting a barrage of bullets to mow him down. But all was silent. Evermore alert, he edged eastward in the direction of Zalzuna—and after the prowling stranger.
*~*
Chapter Twenty-six
Nathan crawled two more yards before he stopped and rolled to his feet. His hands and knees were raw from the volcanic rock. He wouldn't have been crawling at all if it weren't for the lone stranger who was also suspiciously hiding amongst the lava formations.
Motionlessly, he studied the rock to the west, certain they'd seen each other. Something told him it wasn't a soldier he'd come across. But who else would be snooping around on the southern side of the volcano? Crouching, Nathan dashed down a rock bowl and hid there. He was thirsty and famished. Praying for water, he felt around in the darkness, but found none. The peasants, in their cheerful, kindhearted way, would certainly spare a piece of bread if he inquired at one of the many farmhouses to the south, but he wished to put no one in harm's way. If he were found on a peasant's doorstep, the peasant would be executed as well.
Looking to the west again, Nathan noticed the one he'd crawled past was again on his feet, creeping to the east after him. The man was wearing a pack, Nathan decided, but he could only occasionally glimpse the silhouette of the man against the stars. The stranger didn't have a rifle, but he could still be armed.
They couldn't play tag all night in the dark, so Nathan tensed for a confrontation as the other crept nearer. Nathan leaned against the rock below the approaching man. The shallow rock bowl was visible enough, but he wouldn't see Nathan until it was too late.
A couple more steps . . .
Suddenly, the man stopped short, just one yard away from where Nathan was about to grab the stranger's ankles and drag him into the rock bowl.
"If you move, you'll regret it," a young man's low, quiet voice said in unaccented English.
Blinking in shock, Nathan stared up at the figure. He was caught, but how had the man seen him? There was no point in getting shot by blindly running away across the dangerous rock.
"I'm not moving," Nathan stated.
"Give me your weapon."
"I don't have one." Nathan squinted through the darkness at the shadow above him. He couldn't see a gun. Rather, the man's left arm seemed to be cocked as if he were about to throw something.
Flinching, Nathan heard voices behind him, somewhere to the southeast. The stranger had heard them, too, and dropped to the rock, trying to hide. Nathan understood right away—neither of them wanted to be discovered by the patrolling soldiers.
"Get down here!" Nathan whispered. "They'll see you up there!"
The man belly-crawled headfirst into the rock bowl. Together, they held their breaths as they waited for the soldiers to pass. After not moving for two more minutes, the stranger next to Nathan then poked his head over the rock.
"They're gone," he said. "Now they're down by the beach."
"You . . . have night vision." Nathan wagged his finger. "I should've guessed. Apparently, you're not from the island. Zalzuna's soldiers have never even seen night vision."
"And I'd say you're not from the island, either—hiding with me the way you are."
Nathan licked his lips. Just because they had the same enemies, didn't make them friends.
"Do you have a way off the island? I'm looking for a boat I don't have to steal. The name's Dirk, by the way."
"Call me Brad. Why don't you want to stay on the island?" Brad asked. "Nice climate, beautiful scenery . . ."
"It's the company—with exception to yours, of course."
"So, you know the island?"
"Sure. Why?" Nathan's voice was strained, his throat parched.
"Show me around Zalzuna's streets and I'll give you a boat ride to Mykonos."
"What's in Zalzuna?" Nathan shook his head. "The whole island is crawling with soldiers tonight. You don't want to go there."
"Seems that's where you're headed." Brad touched his throat as Nathan heard a loud transmission from the young man's ear. "Yeah, I'm here. Ran into someone south of the volcano. Not an enemy."
"Who is it?" the transmitter asked. "Ask his name."
Nathan frowned. There were others nearby with this one? It wasn't a habit of his to be outsmarted. Who were these guys?
"Your name?" Brad asked him.
"Dirk Salverskein."
"Ask him how long Moses was in the ark," Nathan heard the transmitter in the youth's ear.
"How long was Moses in the ark?"
Suddenly, Nathan smiled. The question itself confirmed to whom he was talking. Finally, some friendlies!
"Moses wasn't in the ark." Nathan set a hand on the young man's shoulder. "It was Noah, and it rained forty days and forty nights. I think they were in the ark close to a year."
"Did you hear that?"
"Yeah, I heard him," the transmitter responded. "He's with us, Brad! That's my guy. What's he still doing on the island?"
"My cover was blown," Nathan said. "I ran into someone who recognized me. Now, I'm trying to get off the island."
"Are the Jamisons still in place?"
"I suspect so, but at this point, they're probably only being used as bait for me."
"Who recognized you?" Brad asked.
"A man named Trevor Niles. I had a run-in with him in the Coral Sea two years ago. Bad character."
"See, I knew it!" the transmitter voice said. "This guy can help you, Brad. I'll get into place. Talk to you in an hour."
"Please tell me you have water in there." Nathan gestured to Brad's back.
Brad slipped off his pack and gave Nathan the canteen and two energy bars.
"So, how bad is it?" Brad sat down in the rock bowl. "What are we walking into? Can we get who's left of the Jamison family out?"
"Don't know. Depends on how many you have in your team. If we watch the building for a couple days, we might come up with a plan. We'll need to wait until things settle down, though."
"Yeah. Well . . . a couple problems with that." Brad drew from the canteen as well. "We have until daylight. Our escape boat will be waiting in Zalzuna's port to take us off this rock. As for the team, it's just you and me. The real team fell prey to the wiles of your friend, Niles. Walt and I saw it was a trap, so we came early—as soon as we got your call earlier today."
"Walter Kassviney. That would make you . . . ?"
"Brad Alders."
The two shook hands. Nathan settled onto the rock opposite Brad.
"Well, we have a problem then. The building is well guarded. We can't approach the building as it is. Soldiers are all over the place, hunting for me."
"I noticed."
"You've got night vision, though." Nathan pointed. "We can use that to our advantage. Maybe we could try a little Trojan horse tactic to get into the rehab center, but getting out won't be easy. What kind of weaponry do you have? Maybe an NL-3 or something?"
"NL-3? I don't know what that is. I've got some stun grenades and tranq pens, but I've never used any of this stuff before."
"What? Who are you?" Nathan asked. "You're what COIL sent in? After all I've risked, they send in some inexperienced kid?"
"Hey, I'm not even supposed to be here! If the team would've followed the plan, they could be doing this right now and you could be talking to them. But Niles duped them, so Walt and I took the boat and half their gear. If the Jamisons have any chance at all, it's you, me, and Walt."
"Give me half of everything you have," Nathan ordered.
"I'll do you better than that." Brad gave him the night vision goggles. "I'm not even sure I'm using these things right." He also handed him a number of stun grenades.
"Okay, I'll take point." Nathan donned the night vision. "You trail by twenty yards. Watch for my hand signals, if you can. A fist means stop and find cover. If you see anything, give me a low bird call, something loony."
"Got it," Brad said. "Hey, it'll be okay now, right?"
Ignoring the boy's optimism, Nathan could see through the night vision that Brad was both young and nervous. They'd be lucky to survive the night, let alone rescue anyone.
"We'll continue straight east until we reach the coast. You at least know the geography?"
"Yeah." Brad waved ahead. "Lead the way."
"When we reach the coast, we'll follow it north until it's time to cut west to the rehab center. Expect an ambush at some point. Hopefully, I'll see them first, but don't count on it. They'll be hiding on the flat roofs when we get closer to the center. They're expecting an invasion, so there's not much we can do about that."
"Did you see Lacy?" Brad asked. "I mean, I just want to know what kind of condition she's in."
"Does it matter?" Nathan regretted the words an instant later. He'd been working alone for too long. "We're taking her home either way, right? I'd prepare for the worst, though."
"Right. I was just wondering. She's my cousin. I just—"
"Wait a minute. Brad, how old are you?"
"Nineteen, same as Lacy."
"On second thought, when we get to the coast, you wait for me to come back, then we can all get to the boat together."
"No." Brad shook his head. "If it's as dangerous as you say it is, you'll need me to get them out of the center. Yeah, I'm only a teenager, but I've been through enough to know I can handle whatever is waiting for us. Just tell me what to do, Dirk."
"You keep your head down," Nathan ordered. "Hear me? Don't turn this into a failed rescue attempt."
"I won't."
Nathan nodded. Brad's face did look a little older than nineteen, but that didn't mean he could react to the coming threats without freezing.
"Do you know the terrain east of here?" Nathan asked.
"Sure. Turns into farmland. There's an airstrip on our right. The city will be on our left when we reach the coast."
"Can we expect anything from the team you left behind?"
"Not too soon," Brad said. "We took their transportation."
"Okay, let's move out. Remember: bird calls if you see something I don't. And watch my hand signals."
#######
As Brad watched, Dirk swept the surrounding terrain once with his goggles, then crawled out of the bowl to the east. After tightening his pack around his shoulders and chest, Brad climbed out after the operative. It took him a few seconds to spot the man ahead of him. Dirk moved quickly, nearly at a jog across the volcanic rock. Smiling, Brad was reminded of his baseball training. His coach had prepared him for this. If he had to, he could run for an hour.
Without much effort, Brad matched Dirk's pace to the east. He was grateful for a lighter pack since Dirk now carried several grenades. Every few minutes, Brad glanced over his left shoulder at the volcano's glow to ensure they were headed in the right direction. But Dirk didn't seem to need any landmark compass.
Dirk didn't slow or even look back for twenty minutes, until he raised his fist suddenly and knelt on one knee. Brad skidded to a halt and fell on his belly. What was it? Tilting his head, he strained his ears for a sound. They hadn't seen any soldiers for a while. It had to be a patrol.
Then Brad noticed a light beyond a number of olive trees. The vegetation and fields were thick now, the vaporous side of the volcano left far behind. Dirk waved him forward. Brad stood and bounded ahead to kneel next to Dirk.
"Four houses." Dirk pointed. "See them? And soldiers, too—one . . . two . . . three and four."
Brad shook his head. He could see one little light where the nearest house was, but the other houses or soldiers were beyond his vision.
"We'll have to go around to the south." Dirk swept his hand across the dark scene. "We might lose a little time, so keep moving. If we get separated, meet at the airport. Got it?"
"Yeah. The airport."
Not wasting any more time, Dirk set off to the south. Brad followed without hesitation. Every step he took brought him closer to Lacy and Uncle Albert. He prayed they weren't too late.
*~*
Chapter Twenty-seven
Straightening his uniform, Horatio Salmose made a mental note to wash off the blood before the next shift. The blood was the worst part of his job. Discouraged, he pondered why Fredrick kept him as his primary torturer. Horatio was a horrible torturer. He pretended to be interested in the politics and the defense of their communist ideals, but in Fredrick's efforts to turn Horatio into a brutal robot, exactly the opposite had happened to the young guard. Instead, Horatio was having thoughts he dared not voice to anyone.
Briskly, Horatio saluted one of the senior officers in the corridor of the rehabilitation center. Normally, he and only two other guards ran the center. On this night, however, Fredrick had called in extra hands—twenty in all—to ward off any sort of rescue attempt of the two American missionaries. And all the soldiers knew about the ambush also being staged by Trevor Niles east of New Manchester.
Horatio looked up and down the corridor from the guards' lounge. Almost everyone was outside on the roof, waiting in ambush, though there were three inside besides himself. No one was too attentive, he noticed, which would infuriate Fredrick if he made a surprise inspection. It was four in the morning. The men had been on guard all night. Some on the rooftop were probably even sleeping.
But Horatio was wide-awake. Yes, his body was weary after a double shift, but his mind was racing. He hoped someone out there was truly coming to rescue the Jamisons. And in the chaos that was sure to follow, he hoped to leave with them.
Scoffing at the idea, he knew he didn't have the courage to run away from Fredrick. What if he were caught? Horatio shivered at the thought. The torture or "rehabilitation" techniques the bald man would use on a traitor or conspirator with the Christians—was it worth the risk?
Pacing closer to the holding room where the captives slept, Horatio noticed two of the three guards in the building were in the lounge drinking watered-down coffee. Though Horatio listened to their conversation about crops and weather, his eyes were on the holding room's steel door. Policy stated that at least two guards were to be present to open the door, but Horatio had his own key. And as soon as no one was looking, he planned to break that policy. He wanted to talk to Albert Jamison again. No one had spoken to him as that old man had. No one had ever befriended Horatio before—certainly none of the captives, especially after he'd tortured them for hours under Fredrick's supervision. Albert was the first of only a couple dozen that Horatio had tortured who actually lived his faith, unwaveringly. Most Christians had recanted and vowed loyalty to General Yousef and their communal government. And Niles was always nearby, asking for whatever intel their victims confessed.
