DARK EDGE: Prequel to the COIL Series Read online

  One mile upriver, Corban pulled up to a dock where Scanlon had recently arrived by motorcycle. The assassin smiled at them.

  "Why again does your government want you dead?" Scanlon climbed into the boat as Corban was still wiping tears from his face. The Brit picked up Kimberly, who hadn't said a word, and hefted her onto the dock. With a knife, he carefully cut her binds and left her standing there. "I have generally appeased my conscience to some degree by killing, well, the bad guys. For your name to be given to me, that would usually confirm that you were one of the worst."

  Corban climbed from the boat and went to the street where a car was parked. Scanlon welcomed Kimberly by holding the back door open for her, then he climbed into the driver's seat.

  "You sure you don't want to call her father yet?" Scanlon started the car.

  "Not yet." Corban turned from the passenger's seat and shined a flashlight into Kimberly's eyes to gauge her relative health. Her eyes were alert though puffy, but she seemed fine otherwise. "What do you say, Kimberly? Mind if we take the scenic route home?"

  "Not at all." She smiled. "Thank God for both of you."

  *~*

  Chapter Nine – The Protocol

  Deputy Director William "Chip" Buchanen stood next to Director Jacob Dench in the parking lot on Boston's Boylston Street.

  "It's like the old days, huh, Chip?" Dench puffed on a cigar, blowing smoke into the night sky. "Did you ever think we'd be standing here like this? We're minutes away from watching Corban Dowler beg us for his life."

  "You don't know Corban very well, Jake." Chip eyed the tall buildings in the distance. "I still think we should've brought backup. There could be a sniper out there right now. The man we know as Scanlon doesn't normally take prisoners. Why's he bringing Corban to us alive?"

  "It's a new age, Chip." Dench chuckled to himself, but Chip saw nothing laughable. "We should consider it an honor when an ally brings our enemy to us so we can personally kill him."

  "I'm not killing Corban!"

  "You signed off on Scanlon a week ago. Don't act like you've never gotten your hands wet!"

  Chip cursed and walked over to his car, the door still open. He'd left it open intentionally in case he had to make a quick getaway. There were no free passes around Corban Dowler. Even if Dench had forgotten what it was like to be in the field, Chip remembered very well that in the spy world, nothing was guaranteed until a target was in the grave. But with Corban, even a body in the grave wasn't convincing enough.

  "What're you doing?" Dench called from the front of his own car. "They'll be here any minute. You'll want to catch every minute of this."

  "I'm reading a report from India about your daughter." Chip sat in the driver's seat, his tablet against the steering wheel, and scrolled through a daily activity report. "An agent in Varanasi filed a DAR on Kim. A Hindu extremist group led by someone called the Sadhus is the one who kidnapped her. But the word along the river is that he . . ."

  "What, Chip? What'd they do to Kim?" Dench stomped over to Chip's door. "We can catch a superspy, but we can't protect an American kid! What happened?"

  "The Hindus sold her to an unknown Muslim, some big shot from Egypt. She's like a trophy to them, or maybe they mean to use her as leverage against you."

  "Then they don't know me very well!" Dench scoffed. "The last three weeks my daughter's been missing, I've been focused on our security with Corban. They're crazy if they think I can be extorted to turn against my country, even if it is my daughter!"

  "Yeah, you're all hugs and kisses, Jake. What do you want me to do about Kim?"

  "There are a billion Muslims in the world. If one Muslim doesn't want to be found, he won't be. If he does, then we'll probably be the first to know. When Kim became a Christian and wanted to run around the world, she had to expect this sort of thing. Now she's got to live with her rotten choices and whatever they're doing to her!"

  Chip was about to call him a cold-hearted father, but a pair of headlights swung across them, and a shiver washed down Chip's body. As much as he'd meant to remain behind his car door for protection, Chip moved to the front to see what was going to happen next. In that regard, Dench was right: he didn't want to miss this, even if it killed him.

  Dench stood five paces to Chip's right, in front of his own car. Both vehicles' high beams illuminated the lot for three hundred yards directly ahead.

  The approaching headlights belonged to an SUV, which stopped twenty paces in front of them. The headlights remained on, nearly blinding both men, but Chip focused on the dark windshield between the headlights. He imagined his old friend, Corban, watching him even then.

  The driver's door opened and a sizeable black man stepped out. Chip recognized the middle-aged man, though he looked older than his outdated MI6 photo.

  Chip waited as Scanlon walked slowly from his car door to the front of the SUV between the headlights. He crossed his arms and stood there. Chip gazed around at the rest of the parking lot, but all he could see was darkness. His ability to see beyond the lot was ruined by the bright lights. A whole army could be hiding out there, he realized . . . or no one at all.

  "I have brought the man, Corban Dowler," Scanlon said, his deep voice filled with confidence and authority.

  "This wasn't the deal." Dench lit another cigar. For a moment the flame from the lighter was close to his face and Chip saw the cut over the director's cheekbone. There were already whispers at the office about how he'd gotten the scar. Chip's money was on something sinister. "You were to kill him. Where did you find him?"

  "We'll get to that." Scanlon waited, immovable. But why? Chip was becoming increasingly suspicious. Were there others in the SUV besides Corban? It seemed that Scanlon was stalling for some reason. "You should know that Corban Dowler saved my life during this operation."

  "He what?"

  "Twice. He saved my life twice."

  "What do you mean he saved your life?" Dench shook his finger at Scanlon. "You're a professional! What Dowler did shouldn't matter to you. You were given a job to complete!"

  "There's more." Scanlon said, uncrossing his arms. Chip glanced over his shoulder. If the shooting started, he hoped he could reach his car door in time. "Corban rescued . . . your daughter in India."

  "Ha!" Dench guffawed and looked over at Chip. "You hear this nonsense?" He faced Scanlon again. "What game are you playing? We have intel that says otherwise—straight from operatives in India. Kim was sold to some Muslim from Egypt. She's not even in India anymore. And don't you worry about that Paris business. We've already made arrangements, Mr. Scanlon. Corban killed that agent in the airport."

  "No, I killed the German agent," Scanlon said. "And Corban and I met with the German team in Frankfurt on our way here. Corban asked them to wait until after tonight to take me in, and they agreed. It was wrong for me to kill him, but they believe you are responsible for hiring too many operators for a single target. It was unprofessional. Crowding the field got a man killed. I have my own amends to make, but I'd say you're in more trouble than I am."

  "Oh, no you don't! You don't strong-arm me, Scanlon!"

  The passenger door of the SUV opened, and Corban stepped out. Chip's hand trembled. He wished he had a strong drink to take the edge off. Under his blazer, he felt his side arm, but something inside told him not to draw it, not to even move a muscle.

  "Why isn't he in cuffs, Scanlon?" Dench yelled.

  "Haven't you been listening?" Scanlon moved to his left to make room for Corban between the headlights of the SUV. "You're finished, Director."

  "Finished?" Dench held up his cell phone. "One call, and one hundred agents will swarm this place. Tell me I'm finished again!"

  "Your agents would never make it in time," Scanlon fired back. "You have no idea—"

  Corban held up his hand, interrupting the assassin. Chip exhaled, relieved to find that Corban was truly in control, and not the MI6 operator. Dench didn't seem as certain of himself, however, as Corban walked briskly towar
d him.

  "Chip, you should've been a better advisor here." Corban planted his feet three paces in front of Dench—close enough, Chip guessed, to reach Dench if he started to draw his weapon. "I'm disappointed in you, Chip. More than usual."

  "Sorry, Corban. It got outta hand—you know, momentum of its own." Chip shook his head. "But you're right. No excuses. I messed up."

  "Shut up, Chip!" Dench shouted. "We're the Agency! We're America! A traitor and a Brit don't tell us—"

  "Director, you don't get to erase agents just because they become Christians." Corban's voice softened, but there was power in his words that made Chip's breathing difficult. "And you don't get to write off your daughter when she's persecuted in a distant land. Your heart has become so dark that you're not thinking clearly about the people who should mean the most to you."

  "Corban Dowler, you can't take me down!" Dench drew a concealed handgun faster than anyone could stop him, and aimed it at Corban's face. "I have a kill order with your name on it. That doesn't go away! You're done!"

  "You've just convinced me that I'm making the right move by leaving the Agency, even if you won't be there anymore." Corban hardly blinked at the sight of the gun. "You ruined yourself, Director. Chip, keep the next director a little better informed, huh?"

  Raising his arm, Corban then dropped it like a race starter.

  "I'm not done with you!" Dench screamed.

  Kimberly Dench walked out from behind the SUV headlights. Chip recognized the oversized jean jacket she wore. It was one Corban sometimes wore around New York City when he wasn't on assignment. That meant Corban, Scanlon, and Kim had probably been in the country for a couple days, maybe even visiting Corban's home.

  "Hi, Dad."

  Dench stepped aside to keep Kim out of his line of fire.

  "Kim, stay out of this! This changes nothing!" He pulled the hammer back on his handgun. "Remember who won tonight, Corban. Don't you forget it!"

  "No, Jake, you remember tonight. And when you retire, you'll know that your actions brought you down. Your own sins have taken you over the edge."

  Suddenly, other headlights beamed on around the parking lot, one after another, until the circle around them was complete and there was no more darkness. Chip guessed they had driven up when the SUV had, the engine covering their approach.

  Chip heard two doors slam, and found that Corban and Scanlon had made their exit while he and Dench were distracted by the other lights. But distracted by whom?

  There seemed only one answer.

  The SUV backed away, its lights growing dimmer, then indistinguishable from the others.

  Dench dropped his gun arm to his side, and his daughter approached him.

  "Who are they?" Dench gasped, turning in a circle.

  "There's only one thing it can be." Chip took the gun from the director. "It's an Endgame Protocol. He had a contingency plan all along, in case someone in the government turned against him. An agent like Corban Dowler can't just be erased. Think of all the lives he's saved over the years. Look what he did to Nace Scanlon! That man will never be the same. No, I'd say Corban belongs elsewhere. Let him go. He'll do greater things on his own. Look around you, Jake."

  "I am looking around. What?" Dench seemed to shiver.

  "I mean, really look. And think about it. How many Nace Scanlons are out there, behind those lights?"

  Shaking his head, Chip chuckled and took Kim by the arm.

  "Drive you home, Miss Dench?"

  *~*

  Chapter Ten – The Beginning

  Corban held the chair for Janice as she sat beside him in the busy steakhouse in Albany, New York. And like the spy he was, Corban had already surveyed the establishment for familiar faces and then requested a table with a view of the entire room.

  "I hardly recognized you, sir," said Chloe Azmaveth, who sat with her husband, Zvi, across the table. "You know, without the fake nose and whatnot."

  "Careful, Chloe, you'll ruin all the mystery for me," Janice said, then elbowed Corban in the arm. "We've been married for years, but I feel like I'm just getting to know him—or married to someone new."

  "It's not a real marriage until Christ is your bond, anyway." Zvi, older and shorter than Chloe, saluted with his ice water. His Hebrew accent was rich and the friendliness on his face was genuine. "It was Christ who brought Chloe and me together."

  "Well, I don't know if I'm ready for all this . . . secret agent stuff." Janice ducked her head as if she were dodging a drone flying above. "How do you do it, Chloe?"

  The ex-Mossad agent smiled, and Corban appreciated her sense of discretion. He didn't need boastful agents working for him.

  "There's a spiritual war waging," she said, narrowing her eyes at Corban, as if studying him. "It was a war declared long before us, but we're in the middle of it now. We can't sit in the bunker any longer."

  "Chloe has told me a bit about your idea, Corban." Zvi leaned forward on the table. "You know, I'm a wealthy man. The gold business is thriving. Is that why we're here?"

  Corban browsed the faces of the patrons again. He didn't recognize anyone nearby, but the government was sure to keep an eye on him for a while, maybe for the rest of his life.

  Chip had arranged a deal for his safe retirement, in exchange for his cooperation regarding the CIA assets that he was still tied to after years with the Agency. Deal or not, Corban had lived too long near the dark edge to trust the Agency. Director Dench had resigned and Nace Scanlon had returned to Britain, but there would be new enemies, other assassins, recruited from the darkness.

  "Your financial support is welcome, Zvi, but this is about something bigger than money. I want to create a Christian intelligence and relief organization. It's time that those of us with the skills and experience turn our trade into an asset for believers in the field who need our support and protection."

  "A Christian spy agency," Chloe said.

  "Yes, but with more selflessness than your traditional spy agency." Corban took his wife's hand and held it firmly. Even though Janice had recovered from his faked dismissal of their marriage, he wondered if she was ready for the greater secrecy and subterfuge to come. "We'll hire Special Forces soldiers who are devout Christians, and deploy them with non-lethal weaponry to protect God's people in foreign nations. We'll smuggle Bibles, buy safe houses, and hide missionaries.

  "As you two know, Chloe and I each have international networks already out there, and we'll need them. We'll pool our resources and start rescuing the persecuted, or at least we can make their calling more secure in some of the worst places on earth for Christians. I want tonight to be the beginning with the four of us. From here on, we live our lives a day at a time, ready to go to be with our Lord if necessary. But while we're here, we live it fully for God's people and the gospel message."

  "Okay. I already left the IDF," Chloe said with a chuckle. "We're in. Just tell us what you want us to do, Corban."

  "Janice is a nurse. I'd like her to coordinate our medical relief arm, which will sometimes be used as a cover."

  "Yes, I can do that." Janice nodded. "I like the administration side of things."

  "Zvi, you have business contacts world-wide. We don't need your money as much as we need your knowledge about moving equipment in and out of closed countries—your mining and assaying equipment. Your micron gold business will remain your cover as you go before us."

  "You mean to smuggle Bibles hidden in my equipment?" Zvi tapped a finger on his chin. "Every country uses a different customs protocol. I'll get my people on the basics, then quietly format it for our own use."

  "Good. Chloe, your cover will be as our public relations manager, but really, you'll be my second as our foreign operations manager. All rescue missions will pass your desk for approval, unless I'm not in the field. When I'm around, we'll work on field agent assignments together."

  "So, I'm a handler?" Chloe sat back in her chair. "I like the sound of that. What will you do?"

  "Well, I'll conce
ntrate on security, as well as screening and hiring initial field agents. I'll also begin adjusting the minds of our foreign assets to demands we'll have for them. And where no one else can go, I can—like North Korea, Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Nigeria. My old aliases need to be maintained and covers need to remain intact. As you can guess, I'll be on the road a lot for security and rescue operations that'll be carried out by our teams."

  "My nerves already feel like they're all . . . coiled up!" Janice said with a nervous chuckle. "What are we going to call ourselves?"

  "I don't know." Corban said. "Some acronym that makes an impact."

  "Janice just used the word coil," Chloe said. "I like the sound of that—a coil that springs into action. Can we use it as an acronym?"

  "Hmm, coil. Okay. C for . . . Commission? You know, like the Great Commission."

  "How about International for the I?" Zvi asked.

  "And L for Laborers," Janice said, "from Luke 10:2."

  "That can be our theme verse! I know it in the King James Version," Chloe said. "The harvest truly is great, but the laborers are few; pray ye, therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth laborers into his harvest. So what do you think, Corban?"

  "COIL: the Commission of International Laborers, with theme verse of Luke 10:2. Great! That didn't take long. This is going to be some adventure . . ." Corban looked into their faces one at a time, knowing the testing that was probably ahead for them all. "There's only one thing left to do: let's pray . . . and never stop praying." Then Corban bowed his head.

  ###

  Reader friends, if you enjoyed Dark Edge, Prequel to the COIL Series, please leave your comments for me wherever you downloaded this free eBook. Thank you! –David Telbat