Dark Vessel (COIL Book 4), page 28
"Firing to provoke," I warned Nathan.
"Ready. If he spots us, Boss, we're done."
"Understood."
Boom! My sniper rifle jumped against my shoulder. I imagined the cartridge flying at a velocity of eighteen hundred feet per second. At five hundred meters, the five water-soluble tranq-darts would have a spread of only two and a half feet.
Using the bolt action, I slammed another round into the chamber of the specialized non-lethal rifle. I peered through the scope about the instant the five non-infectious silicon ribbed darts peppered the ruins. Gently, I squeezed the trigger, ready for the final bit of tension to end this whole—
There! His head! Boom! Again, I chambered another round.
"It's a miss," Nathan said, "but he knows we're somewhere out here now. He's looking for us. Oh, he sees your merc friends. Fire, Boss! His head and shoulder are visible. Fire, Corban!"
I fired. The shooter, too far away to identify, moved slightly west at the last instant.
"Miss."
Another cartridge.
The shooter fired.
"Now he's shooting at the mercs. They're hiding. He's got them pinned down. Still out of their range. Take him, Boss. He's scoping for us!"
Exposed now from his torso and up, the shooter was in the open. I couldn't see his features well, but his bald head was visible enough. It was indeed Karl Coleman. The long barrel of his rifle swept across Gustavia, hunting for someone who was firing at him with a long-distance rifle.
The harbor water unsettled us, and at the last second, before I could shoot, the whole boat rocked. I lost Coleman completely from my scope.
"Fire, Boss!"
Again, I fired, but I knew it was off, and I regretted it an instant later. Such a careless shot, made while Coleman was searching for me, was an obvious tell of my location.
"Get down!" Nathan warned, his spotting scope still focused on the target.
He pulled me off the counter, and we fell in a heap on the galley floor. A bullet punched through the hull and passed down the length of the counter. A magnetic cupboard door splintered from its hinges.
Before I was completely oriented on the floor, Nathan was pulling me up and pushing me toward the rifle still propped in the window. Instead, I moved aside.
"Take him, Nathan."
Nathan met my eyes and nodded. He'd been a Marine sniper. The only reason he'd been spotting was because he'd known where the target was and I hadn't.
Instead of rushing into another hasty shot, Nathan removed the rifle barrel from the window altogether. He gave me the spotting scope.
"Do you have a boat hook on board?" he asked.
I rushed up the companionway to the helm. A bullet dashed into the deck, missing me by two feet. What Nathan wanted with a boat hook, I didn't know, but I wasn't about to question him at that moment.
With the long staff, its hooked end in my hand, I jumped down the companionway's six steps and gave the rod to Nathan. He and I crouched on the galley floor, uncertain where the next bullet would pass.
Licking his lips, Nathan gently laid the rod in the middle window of the three he'd broken. Then, he moved closer to the front window, the rifle cradled in his arms. Understanding now the decoy barrel he intended, I took hold of the end of the boat hook.
"You ready?" I asked.
The water of the harbor seemed to settle again.
"Do it, Boss. God help me . . ."
I thrust the boat hook two feet out the window. From the hill, it surely appeared like a barrel. Barely had I stepped back when a bullet tore through the window frame and slammed into the mini-fridge on the opposite counter.
Just as quickly, Nathan pushed the NL-X1 barrel through the first window. His eye seemed to focus for no more than one second through the scope, then he fired.
Breathing heavily, I waited, but after chambering another round, Nathan didn't move.
"Nathan?"
"It's a hit," he said, but he still didn't get up. "Use the scope. Check it."
Hesitantly, I leaned across the counter next to him and gazed up the hill. The lighthouse, the ruins . . . There was a hand resting over one section of the wall.
"Fire once more, Nate. His hand is exposed. See it?"
"Yeah, I see something." He fired again.
I watched. The hand didn't move as the tranquilizer darts hit the wall, maybe even the hand itself.
"He's down," I decided. "Our three merc friends are a short climb below him. They might reach him first, but the island authorities will take him into custody. Good shooting, Nate, as always."
Nathan stood and handed me the rifle.
"So, what now?"
"Well, I hear I have a family to return to."
"Don't worry about Senator Nettleton and Rod Chang, if you're even aware they were behind all this." Nathan went to the galley sink and washed his face. "Chloe, Brody, Gail, and I took them down in a little sting, then leaked it to the press. It was no mistake on Chloe's part to bring in Gail. As an actress and disguise artist, Gail had the four of us under a layer of makeup to fool Senator Nettleton." Nathan laughed. "And all these guys are going down for Flight 524. Your name is clear again. Actually, whatever happens in the courts, your Muhammad alias will go down as the instigator. You can use the publicity as an asset."
"Our God brought it all together, son." I shook Nathan's hand. "We both know our calling, as long as we're alive. It's moments like these that remind us God is ever before us."
"You don't know the half of it." Nathan grinned and turned, gesturing for me to follow him topside. On deck, he pointed across the short expanse at the catamaran mast. "Look at that bullet hole about thirty-five feet up the mast. The first shot Coleman fired was probably dead-on. You'd be dead right now, Boss, if we hadn't sailed past you on the port side at that exact instant. Think of all the details that had to be arranged for your life to be spared. A carbon fiber catamaran mast saved your life!"
"God's ways are remarkable." I gazed across the harbor. Chloe and Brody were waving from the western shore. Luigi motored the Predator speedboat up to the sailboat and threw Nathan the bowline. General Forglade, still in the speedboat, was probably ready for another tranquilizer shot, but I guessed I'd hand him over to the authorities. There were a lot of questions they'd want answered. As primary COIL agent on the scene, I would dismiss the others so they could return to their lives or missions. They'd proven themselves as keepers of their brothers and sisters yet again.
Once I tied things up on the island, it would take more than a storm and an army to keep me away from Janice and Jenna. I wasn't sure I could merely talk to them over the phone; I had to hold them in my arms.
"Did you hear me, Boss?" Nathan asked.
"What's that?"
"I said, people only see how remarkable God's ways are when they get out here and answer the call for themselves."
"They don't know what they're missing if they don't answer, huh?" Chuckling, I thought of the past weeks of life and death situations. "Nathan, I wouldn't want to live for my Lord any other way. Come on. Let's go see Chloe. I would've loved to have seen her face when she realized you were still alive!"
"It was something, Boss! But don't think I'm letting you fake my death again just to witness it!"
*~*
Chapter 45
Two weeks later . . .
"Hello, I'm looking for Officer Heather Oakes. My name is Corban Dowler."
A young officer working the Franklinville Police Department counter turned to face several desks behind him.
"Oakes! Someone here for you."
A pretty, blondish woman in her early fifties looked up from her desk. I smiled and waved. She sighed, as if I were interrupting her, then she walked to the counter. Her smile seemed to be forced.
"Can I help you?"
"My name is Corban Dowler." I said no more, waiting for a reaction. Luigi had said he'd told her something about me, but she showed no recognition on her face.
"Well, Mr. Dowler, I have a pretty big pile of work to do. See that stack of reports there? That's all mine. So why don't you just tell me what I can help you with."
"Yes." Usually one to withhold my emotions, this time I couldn't hide my grin. "I see why he liked you. No nonsense."
"He?" She frowned. "Did I miss something? Someone likes me? I've got a secret admirer you're gonna tell me about?"
"Miss Oakes, I don't want to say too much here," I glanced at the younger officer, "but if we go for a sandwich at the deli, we can talk about it. I was told to ask you before your lunch break so you could schedule it in."
"The deli? I don't even know you. The last time someone— Oh! You're . . .?" Her eyes opened wide. "Who are you again?"
"Corban Dowler." I handed her a card. "Previously of Langley, currently with the Commission of International Laborers, COIL. Go ahead and run me. I'll wait."
I went to the wall and sat on a bench. Though she eyed me suspiciously, she also displayed a crooked smile as she studied her computer screen. Periodically, she glanced over her monitor at me, and I was reminded of what Luigi had told me. She was indeed witty, and maybe even intuitive. For certain, she knew I was there for Luigi, now.
A few minutes later, she grabbed a coat from her desk chair and donned it as she faced me.
"Can we go in separate cars?" she asked. "Meet you there?"
"Yes." I chuckled. "He told me you might say that."
"You're gonna answer all my questions, right?" she asked as she led the way outside. "Luigi is this great big mystery in my life, and I really don't like mysteries. After he was arrested, he dropped off the face of the earth."
"Oh, he's still around."
Once we were seated in the deli, she simply folded her hands and rested them on her wrapped sandwich. I took this as my cue to begin.
"It was my decision to come see you. I insisted. Luigi's tied up for a few weeks."
"Well, I guess that's what happens when you get arrested, huh? You get tied up?" She laughed. I liked her attitude.
"He's no longer in police or government custody. But he's debriefing with certain unnamed people who will ask him everything he ever knew or did for France while residing in Italy."
"Then he's not from New York originally?"
"No. He has on occasion misguided people to protect them—you included. Don't take that personally, if you can help it. At times, I've had to use misinformation as well, for the good."
"So, he's not in trouble now? The stuff he said he's done in the past is just—written off?"
"Oh, no. Nothing's written off. There's a long journey ahead of him. Luigi's a veteran spook of the highest caliber, so he has much to disclose—more than probably ten normal agents put together. But he wants this—to be, uh, legalized. Eventually, he'll be given citizenship in the States."
"What about his enemies?"
"Once the US adopts him, certain disclosures will be made to other governments. They'll be notified, in a firm tone, that Luigi Putelli is ours. Hands off."
"Putelli, huh? So then he'll be safe?"
"Safe? No, but safer, I suppose. He has a past. That doesn't go away. And that's more between him and God. But I could help him with his citizenship, so I did. Numerous times in the last three years, he's saved my family, and my own life. He's a good addition to the lives he touches, unless they're criminal masterminds or sadistically homicidal."
"Yeah, I got a report on something he handled here when we kinda dropped the ball. He's a bit of a wrecking ball, huh?"
"He's more subtle than a wrecking ball, but yes, he's a one-man justice system."
"So, you're here to explain things." She unwrapped her sandwich. "Is he mad at me? I kinda gave him the brush-off last time he called. Does he want to see me again?" Her cheeks turned pink.
"No, he's not mad, just sorry." I sipped my lemonade. "Luigi's a complicated man. Maybe with all of us working together, we can bring him to Christ, huh?"
"That's the other thing. I've been a Christian for almost thirty years and I'm not about to get involved with a nonbeliever. He did say you were his spiritual mentor, though."
"You mean more involved. I'd say we're both already involved. And I told him I wouldn't approve of him getting romantic with a Christian woman at this point."
"Have you checked up on me?"
"A woman who goes to Newark on her days off to help inner city mothers put their lives together catches my attention."
"It's not that big of a deal." She blushed again.
"Those single mothers think it is. You're helping them in the name of Jesus Christ. I'd say Luigi has good taste in women."
"Oh, you approve!" She laughed, still embarrassed. "So, when can I see him?"
"Well, that's up to him. I can't imagine he'll be done by Thanksgiving, but I'll let him know there's a green light on this end, at least to contact you."
"That'd be nice." She frowned firmly. "But I'll make sure to put my foot down about not being unequally yoked. We'll get him in the Lord's army one way or another, huh?"
"My wife's name is Janice. She knows Luigi a bit. Luigi's circle of friends is pretty small, but he's going to need all of us in the next few months more than ever. I want you to be in contact with Janice. We can coordinate efforts with Luigi. Janice might even be of help with your work in Newark, too; she has connections."
"Thanks. You make Luigi sound pretty slippery still." She smiled. "Is he done with the spook life?"
"Guys like him and me—it's all we know."
"You didn't answer my question. I see you're slippery, too!"
"The world's an evil place. That's why I don't want Luigi going off on his own ever again. We're his family now."
"Thank you for telling me so much." She frowned. "A lot of times it seems I just drift from week to week. I can't tell you how special I feel that you've come to see me—and then I saw your file on the system. You're really someone, aren't you?"
"Just a man leaning on Jesus, Heather. Listen. I'd like you to consider a job with COIL. Look into us. Talk to Janice. No Christian should work a job where she drifts along week to week. The laborers are few. Christ needs you every day, not just on weekends. Besides, New York City is a lot closer to Newark than Franklinville is."
"You're offering me a job with this COIL place?"
"It's an organization. It's all on the card. Give that mountain of paperwork to someone else and join us. God's people have a different calling than what the world has."
"Luigi works for you?"
"No, not yet, anyway. He's more like a freelance shadow who doesn't think his sins should be dealt with by anyone but himself."
"There's a fiery place for people who hang on to their sins."
"True. And COIL only employs real Christians. There's an extensive screening process, too, so beware."
"As you know now, I've got nothing to hide. Wow, I can't believe this is happening to me." She blew her nose on her napkin. "I keep wondering if you have the right person."
"If it weren't for Luigi, I wouldn't even be here. You can thank him when you see him next."
"You two seem close. Only real friends care for each other like that."
"Only family." I smiled. "And since you're a sister in Christ, we can say without hesitation that you're family, too, Heather. I look forward to seeing you with COIL soon."
"Well, I'll definitely pray about it." She wiped her mouth. "But to be honest, it sounds exactly like what I need. God sent you guys to me. I know it."
"He knows what we need, Heather. We'll be in touch."
#######
One week later . . .
"Agent Trimble?" I knocked on the doorframe of the office in the Pentagon basement. My visitor pass hung loosely on my blazer, but I had no escort since leaving the elevator. This was one of my old haunts.
"That's me." A powerfully-built man rose from a desk. He wore a sidearm, an eye patch over one eye, and an amused look on his face. We shook hands. "Corban Dowler, the legend, in the flesh."
"Corban, the ancient, more like it." We laughed.
"No, no," he said. "That's not what I hear. You're busier than ever with that COIL Agency. Good stuff. I'm a believer, so I keep tabs on you guys. Not much different than working where, uh, you used to work, wherever that was."
He blinked his one eye and I imagined it was his version of a wink, and we chuckled again as he showed me to a faded upholstered chair. Other agents of the PRS division were working at their stations without regard to us.
"I'm always glad to visit with a colleague, sir, but something tells me this isn't just a friendly visit."
"That's true, Wes." I folded my hands. "I'm here to talk to you about homemade parachutes."
"COIL needs a homemade parachute designed? What's wrong with a—" He stopped himself, stared at me, then understanding dawned on his face. "Ah, you jest. Homemade parachute. Clever, sir. I have chills up my spine as I speak."
"Yes, I thought that'd catch your attention." I smiled. "That was some stunt, diving out of that jet with whatever Luigi Putelli built for himself."
"Not my finest display of brain matter, I assure you." He shook his head. "Most of that wasn't in my final report, so I'm guessing you've talked to someone who's been questioning Putelli? I lost track of him a few weeks ago."
"No, I haven't spoken to anyone." I made sure he heard the seriousness in my voice. "Just Luigi. He's one of mine."
"Oh." He sat up a little straighter and even adjusted his eye patch. "Oh! Please tell me I didn't mess up something serious. I would've never tried to arrest him if he didn't have a lengthy sheet on him, sir. Just because I'm a generation after you doesn't mean I hijack operational priority from other agents, retired or not. You're one of the most respected men who's ever walked the halls of Langley, where I'd much rather be stationed, and I know, well, you can stop me at any time . . ."
