Dark Rule (COIL Book 3), page 6
"Since we won't let them in, will they really destroy us?"
He'd asked her the question many times. The City of Gilgal had options, but not safe ones until the jammers were removed and buoys could be sent up to the surface to restore satellite communication.
"I wish I could say no." Li bit her lower lip. "It's not below Mr. Niles to blow the dome, especially if he's receiving pressure on the surface to move on."
"What about the other defectors up there?" Nicholas' stress was at its peak. Li wasn't sure he'd even slept for two days. "If you have friends up there, why aren't they stopping this?"
"Nick, I don't know." Li looked up at the dome. For two months, she hadn't made contact. Where was COIL? Had Corban Dowler abandoned her to die? What had happened to COIL's rapid response teams? "There may be men up there right now risking their lives for us."
"Well, we're risking our lives by waiting, knowing others want to kill us. I've been patient, Li." He accepted a cup of tea from his wife, the leaves picked from their own garden. "At first, I refused to leave the sub-chambers behind. Those cost millions of dollars. And then you joined us and assured me others would come to help us. But help hasn't come. I'm sorry. Even if we can't establish geosynchronic communication with the surface, we'll take the risk and navigate through the water. We leave in twenty-four hours, Li. Staying here any longer is death."
The man stood beside her a moment—perhaps expecting her to respond—but Li had no answers for him. He certainly didn't need to apologize to her; he carried the city's expectations for safety on his shoulders. The Gillies had come to Gilgal to escape the evils of the world, but instead, evil had hunted them down.
Li was left to stand alone to reflect on the time that had finally run out. Now they'd risk everything. Nicholas was desperate.
Unknown to Trevor Niles, Gilgal had a simple ballast and jet turbine system that enabled it to rise from the sea floor, then move at a slow speed through the ocean to another settlement site. Li hadn't been aware of the system until the fifth week she'd been in the habitat. The Gillies had hoped to reestablish the satellite link to safely relocate, because moving blindly through the blackness of the sea was madness. However, Gilgal had been pushed to that point—to loose the ballast and fire up the turbine drives. The cost would be the twelve sub-chambers attached to the central dome, but seven of them had already been drilled and flooded by Niles' teams.
The citizens of Gilgal listened to Nicholas as he explained his plans. Moving Gilgal up the Great Barrier Reef was dangerous business, but Nicholas and the rest of them understood from Li just how deadly those above were becoming. Only the day before, Li had abandoned her crutches, the bullet wound on her calf still tender from her escape from the Materia. The other defectors had been killed in a submersible collision, or from Niles' over-anxious shooters. The Gillies could expect no better treatment from those aboard the Materia.
Gradually, the Gillies returned to their sleeping pallets, or one of the five sub-chambers still livable. Whatever Niles was planning wasn't coming yet. The explosion had rocked the nerves of the Gillies to the point that they were willing to risk everything as soon as the generators were fully powered.
Walking around the central control console of Gilgal—a massive elevated cockpit—Li sat down on a bench in the hydroponics quarter. The plants and garden had been a place of peace for her to pray and meditate over the slow weeks. But tonight she found no peace or answers, and she fought the feeling of abandonment and loss. The cause for which Corban Dowler had sent her no longer depended on her. Had she failed? She'd kept the Materia's mischief in check until she couldn't hide her inner feelings to preserve life. Instead of saving anyone once the danger was apparent, she'd become another life that Niles was about to take in order to gain control of the world's only underwater city.
Where were the COIL heroes she'd heard of?
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Nathan stood with his back to the wall in the Materia's dive locker. Next to him, Marlon inserted the keycard into the armory's locking mechanism.
"It's still not working, Mr. Niles." Marlon was visibly sweating. He inspected the card as if he didn't know Nathan had damaged the card with a welding torch before giving it back to Marlon. Arming the crew on the Materia before they entered Gilgal wasn't an option for Nathan. "It's no use."
Ripping the card from Marlon's fingers, Niles glared at him, then shoved his weapons officer aside. Repeatedly, he inserted the card into the slot and turned the handle of the oversized safe. Behind him, half of the crew waited with bloodlust to be armed for the takeover. The delay played on their nerves.
"The Gillies have made us look like fools for the last time!" Niles jerked on the handle harder than necessary. "We just detonated an explosive to shatter their courage! We must take Gilgal now!"
Pausing for a breath, Niles studied the card more closely.
"Has this card left your person?" Niles moved closer to Marlon, and two of the larger divers grabbed Marlon by the arms. "What did you do to this card?"
Marlon opened his mouth to respond, and Nathan prayed he'd say nothing of their pact. Nathan looked around him for his own escape if the mercenary confessed to his tactics with Nathan, but there was nowhere to run.
"It's been tampered with!" Niles held up the card. "What have you to say for yourself? I always wondered if we had more defectors on board. But you, Marlon?"
Niles was losing control. So determined was he to conquer and rule Gilgal, he wasn't able to consider anything but evil in those around him. Worse yet, Niles was armed with a handgun, as was Captain Sardan. Though Nathan and Marlon had guns visible in their waistbands, Nathan had thrown the bullets overboard.
"I didn't do anything to the card, Mr. Niles! We can still board Gilgal!" Marlon tried to shake off the men who held his arms, but they held him tightly. "We can bluff our way inside with the arms we do have!"
Before Nathan could think of something to diffuse the situation, Niles drew his gun on Marlon. Marlon looked down at the gun aimed at his chest.
"This armory keycard was your only responsibility!" Niles shook with rage. "I trusted you, Marlon! Now this key is useless! How could you do this to me?"
"Mr. Niles, I'm as frustrated as you!" Marlon's voice was steadier than Nathan expected it to be. "We still have some plastique left. I can blow the door hinges."
"No, you can't! The armory door is tamper proof! Only a fool would try to blow a door on an armory where bullets and guns are stored!" His finger tightened on the trigger. "You betrayed me, Marlon."
Marlon glanced at Nathan. Nathan didn't move, still unsure whether to save Marlon for the sake of the facade, or save all the Gillies. By some miracle, Marlon wasn't crumbling before even a drawn gun. Nathan had to do something!
"Fine." Marlon sighed. "You may as well know, if you're going to kill me. I couldn't let you kill all those Gillies."
From the doorway, Guntari sneered. He and Captain Sardan seemed glad to see Niles' trusted man fall. That would leave mostly outlaw oceanographers, divers, and a few techs at Niles' side. But Nathan had come aboard to disrupt their operation, not to see lives lost.
"Not here, Mr. Niles." Nathan stepped around Niles and snatched Marlon's gun from his waistband—before anyone else could find it unloaded. Since Nathan felt he couldn't expose his hidden motives quite yet, Marlon would simply have to keep playing along. "Let me take him out in the tender."
Niles clenched his teeth. He kept the gun against Marlon's chest, but Nathan didn't wait for his answer. Taking a length of nylon rope out of a locker, Nathan cut it and bound Marlon's wrists behind his back while the divers held him by the shoulders.
"Please, you can't kill him, Mr. Niles!" Sam fumed. She tried to get through the crowd, but Stajner held her back. "Marlon hasn't done anything!"
"He was against the truce the whole time." Nathan shoved Marlon toward the closed tender door and smacked him on the head. "Why'd you turn, huh? A weak stomach?"
"Don't do this, Mr. Niles." Marlon looked at Nathan, maybe for a signal, but Nathan gave him nothing. Spitting at their feet, Marlon tried to kick those nearest him. "Killing me will solve nothing!"
"You may have single-handedly destroyed this entire operation." Niles himself opened the access door in the starboard hull. The divers wrestled Marlon to the floor and bound his ankles. Nathan took the opportunity to take an emergency five-ounce dive tank off the wall, and hide it in his shirt. "Fine time for you to grow a conscience, Marlon—on the eve of taking over Gilgal!"
Nathan moved to the access door, the morning sunshine pouring through.
"I'll do it, Mr. Niles." Nathan yanked Marlon to his feet and held him by one arm. "Someone lower the tender!"
"Patrick, this is personal." Niles held up his gun. "It's just between Marlon and me."
Leaning closer so only he could hear, Nathan spoke quietly to Niles.
"This is an opportunity to show the crew what happens to traitors." Nathan winked at Niles as the man's blood thirst seemed to bring a sparkle to his eye. "Get everyone on deck. It'll help bring the group together, especially since we recently drew a truce. Make sure they all see me take care of this for you."
"My authority will be confirmed . . ." Niles' head lifted in pride, then he turned to the others. "Lower the tender. Patrick will be feeding the sharks this morning!"
"Don't do this!" Marlon screamed as Niles' henchmen wrestled him to the edge of the door. "Mr. Niles, you'll never get away with this!"
"I already have." Niles chuckled. "Come on. I want the whole crew to see this from the helipad."
The tender—the same red and white inflatable that had picked Nathan up—plopped onto the water outside the access door, and the davit cables were released. Nathan and two others forced Marlon out the access door. He dropped two feet to the bow of the outboard.
"Just me." Nathan set his hand on one of the diver's shoulders and jumped down to the tender. He pushed away from the Materia. Only he and Marlon were on board the little motorboat. "This will be quick."
Starting the motor, Nathan piloted away from the Materia. He looked back once and saw the crew lining the starboard deck of the helipad. Fifty yards out, he cut the motor and allowed the boat to bob in the gentle waves.
"What are you stopping for?" While still bound, Marlon twisted around to look at Nathan. "We're busted! Keep going! We'll be halfway to—"
"To nowhere before they catch us, or we run out of gas." Nathan looked over his shoulder. "The chopper would catch us in five minutes. Besides, I'm not about to leave the Gillies in Niles' hands. No, we have to follow through with this."
"So I risked my life because you want to stay undercover?" Marlon fought his binds as Nathan moved from the stern to the bow. "I should've never trusted you! What was I thinking siding with a government spook?"
"That's right. Make this look real." Nathan struggled with Marlon, even in his bound state, to lift him over the edge of the inflatable side. I'll throw a life preserver off the bow within an hour. Just give me some time. Can you tread water that long?"
"Huh?" Marlon frowned and stopped fighting. "Not tied up, I can't!"
"Just stay under water for a few minutes until everyone goes inside."
Greater fear and misunderstanding swept over Marlon's face as Nathan rolled him overboard then reached into the water to hold him by his shirt collar. On the far side of the inflatable, those on the Materia would hardly be able to see him.
"Can you swim five miles west to make land?" Nathan drew a diving knife from a sheath on his belt. He raised it high overhead for effect, and leaned far overboard to hold up Marlon's dead weight. "Lizard Island is west by northwest."
"Patrick! Don't!"
The knife plunged, sliced through the water, ran along Marlon's spine, and split the nylon that bound his wrists behind him. Three more splashes into the water cut through his ankle binds as well.
"Keep your head under and swim for your life!"
Nathan pulled the dive canister from his shirt and thrust it in Marlon's face. Marlon grasped it as Nathan shoved the man's head under water. Bubbles seeped from Marlon's mouth. The last image Nathan saw was Marlon fitting the mouthpiece of the little canister into his mouth, then diving into oblivion.
Standing in the boat, Nathan raised his knife to the Materia, as if he were the victor of a great battle. The show was over, and with nothing left to see, those on the helipad began to disperse. Only Niles remained.
After piloting the outboard to the access door, Nathan rode the inflatable to its place where it hung from a davit arm.
"The sharks will tear the body apart." Niles' dark hair blew in the sea breeze. "You continue to impress me, Patrick Gibson."
"I just want my place in Gilgal." Nathan looked at Niles. "You and I are alike in that respect."
"Is that so? How?"
"We'll do anything to get it."
Niles held Nathan's gaze for a moment, and then looked out to sea again.
"I believe you."
*~*
Chapter Seven
Marlon sucked on the mouthpiece of the miniature dive canister and rolled over on his back under water. He was fifteen feet beneath the surface, treading water in the shadow of the Materia. If anyone on board switched on the fish finder, he imagined the crew's curiosity at the large stationary fish under the hull.
Ten minutes earlier, the man Marlon knew as Patrick Gibson had saved his life by orchestrating a mock execution. Ever since the tall man with the leg brace had come aboard, he'd been tangling the whole operation into knots. Even Marlon had been the victim of his mastery. But now more than ever, Marlon was intrigued. The man certainly had guts to face Niles.
Even though Marlon had been slow to discover how Patrick was reacting to the chess game on board, Marlon saw how the government man had worked his way tightly into Niles' good graces. However, Marlon had been removed from the equation to the point that Marlon could now do as he pleased. At the present, he swam at a crosscurrent between escaping to the reef islands to the west, and inserting himself back into the fray of fighting over Gilgal. If he did enter the fray, he might expose Patrick as a fraud, and Marlon knew they'd both be killed then. The facade had to be maintained.
Clearly, Patrick had intended for Marlon to swim for his life, never to return. But Marlon wasn't so hasty. Patrick was quite a strategist, but Marlon had known Niles off and on for years, even before he'd left his native Greek Island of Zalzuna to build himself an empire. That was fourteen years earlier. Niles didn't understand the word defeat, even to the point of killing one of his men—Marlon himself—who'd known him longer than anyone! Well, at least Niles thought he'd killed him.
No, Marlon decided. He'd stick around to personally see Niles fall. If not his downfall, then at least he'd see his defeat over Gilgal. Somehow, Marlon was certain Patrick would win—maybe just to send Niles defeated back to Zalzuna—but Niles would put up a fight. And when Patrick needed someone, Marlon would be there to repay the favor he'd been shown. Patrick had saved his life in more ways than one.
A donut life preserver plopped on the water above him. Marlon let go of the now empty dive canister and rose to the surface, his head emerging in the middle of the preserver. He swam backward, clutching the donut, and hid from sight under the awning of the pointed bow of the Materia.
It had been almost twenty years since Marlon had been home to the British coast of Plymouth. For years, he hadn't the nerve to return home, knowing in his heart he was an international criminal. His father would've sensed trouble in an instant. But now he was on the side of right, and the hope of returning home was something that intensified in Marlon's heart like it had never soared before!
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Something deep inside Nathan was instantly revealed to him—a sense of confidence that guarded him, preserved him in the will of God, no matter what he might face.
He'd had this feeling many times when he'd led COIL's primary extraction team. When triumph was in sight, when God's hand was evident, when the fruit of love was lived out by faith—a man pushed concern for himself aside and a spiritual determination became the driving force.
Stabbing a piece of sushi, Nathan held the very knife blade with which he'd supposedly retired Marlon. Using his teeth, he plucked the raw meat off the tip and chomped on it. He was aware of the stares, whispers, and questions the others shared about him as he stood at the kitchen counter. They sat at the dining table or on the settee, eating their own meals.
The engineer on board had unsuccessfully tried to remove the door on the armory, so Niles was in a fit again. No one wanted to cross him now, yet everyone was anxious to take from the spoils of Gilgal. Even Captain Sardan was keeping to himself, though Guntari had inquired of Nathan earlier to ensure their plan against Niles was still intact.
"I'm working myself into the right position," Nathan had promised him. "Gilgal will be ours by midnight."
All on board seemed to give Nathan a little wider girth now. They'd witnessed him murder a man in cold blood. Chances were, if Niles wished it so, he would do so again. No one dared speak ill of Niles or his plan—or the one they knew as Patrick Gibson.
Nathan walked to the windows that faced west. It had been three hours since he'd sent Marlon swimming toward the Reef. As long as he was reading the sun right, the man was probably near one of the islands by that time. Guessing that Marlon was a wanted man, Nathan figured he wouldn't see him again.
And somewhere out there, Corban Dowler was orchestrating other operations, seeking God's will in the lives of the afflicted, sometimes asking men and women to pay the ultimate price to help the persecuted.
"Everyone listen up!"
It was Niles. Nathan had never seen the man's face so dark, as if the drive to kill the Gillies and rule Gilgal was making him ill. If the man had any conscience at all, Nathan considered, he'd be bothered by the blood he'd shed and terror he'd caused.
