C.O.I.L. Extractions: a Christian Short Story Collection Read online

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  Extraction: Vietnam

  by D.I. Telbat

  Nasser al-Burah used a hand-sized scope to study the territorial prison outside Hue, Vietnam. The jungle and humidity hadn't done the prison walls any favors; the paint was crumbling and vines had overtaken the two nearest cement housing units.

  "It's getting late," Brahim "the Turk" Skah said from the ground where he lay watching the prison. "It's nearly midday. She should have signaled us by now."

  "We can't go in without her." Nasser patted his younger partner on the shoulder. "Our instructions were precise."

  This wasn't Nasser's first dangerous operation. He'd been a Sunni Islamic militant in the Arab Spring of North Africa. For years, he'd waited for an opportunity to exercise his deadly skills for Allah. But when Egypt had her "awakening," something inside Nasser had been unresolved, dissatisfied.

  "There!" the Turk whispered, though their position in the jungle foliage was far enough from the prison to speak openly. "It has to be from her. Look, the green and white cloth just appeared in that window."

  "Good. She's ready." Nasser scanned left and right, then settled his pack under a broad fern. "Forty minutes on my mark. Set, mark."

  "Mark," the Turk said, and punched a button on his special operations watch to synchronize. He looked up at Nasser and smiled. "No perspiration, right?"

  "I believe the English expression is ‘no sweat'." Nasser chuckled. His nerves were on edge, but he was glad the Turk was with him. Though he hadn't been a military man as Nasser had been, the Turk had been a demolitions expert in Turkey's mines east of Ankara.

  Nasser stepped into the clearing and walked a wide circle to the front of the prison. If he messed up this extraction, the prison—or one like it in Vietnam—would become his new home.

  He'd come far from his Muslim roots in Cairo. His failure to find fulfillment in the Arab Spring revolutions had been the very key that God had used to unlock his heart. Walking into a Christian house church had been another work of God, followed by guiding Nasser to COIL, the Commission of International Laborers, and a commitment to Jesus Christ.

  After training in Mexico and several operations with weathered COIL field agents, he and the Turk had been paired together. Both men had come from Muslim cultures, but they had few other similarities besides being Christians now. This was their first solo mission together. They would've been deployed sooner, but their only common language of English had been a COIL concern. A month of intense language training together had preceded this urgent Vietnam extraction of a Chinese missionary.

  Approaching by way of the parking lot, Nasser arrived at the front gate. He hoped it would be assumed he'd arrived by car.

  "I'm here to visit Liu Shiwen," he explained in English, Vietnam's widely used language after Vietnamese. "I have an appointment."

  The guard at the fence accepted Nasser's identification and visitation papers, then picked up a phone. Everything about this op had been prearranged by COIL, and a contact codenamed "Minnie" was to be waiting for him on the inside.

  Nasser's past paramilitary deployments had been more freelance, but without precise guidelines. COIL's care for each soul, however, showed much more caution. Every detail had to be memorized before the op had been approved by Agent Corban Dowler, the founder and chief administrator of COIL.

  "You were scheduled for two hours ago," the guard said. He didn't offer Nasser's identification back through the fence.

  "I'm terribly sorry." Nasser bowed his head slightly—a sign of respect to the guard, perhaps, but a gesture of prayer to God for Nasser. "You heard, I'm sure, about the landslide on the highway from Da Nang."

  The operative played the part of a worried import-export manager from the Middle East. COIL had taught him that the best cover during a sensitive op was one based on reality. The prison had surely run a background check. If they asked any questions, Nasser was prepared to fall back on his youth, when his father had been a dock worker in Alexandria.

  "You will receive twenty minutes with the prisoner Liu Shiwen." The guard unlocked the gate. "It is not worth the drive for only twenty minutes."

  "Yes, you have a good point." Nasser nodded as he moved through the open gate, then paused as the guard locked it. "I promise you this: I won't be coming back to visit this prisoner again."

  The guard grunted, then led the way toward a dark entrance. Nasser had expected the front to be in better repair, but mold and cracks covered the walls even there.

  Nasser was given two forms to sign and his fingerprints were taken at a desk where he was handed over to two women in crisp uniforms. They processed his paperwork and asked him questions as another male guard arrived and frisked him for contraband.

  "No touching the prisoner," a stern woman of about sixty ordered. "You will not give the prisoner anything. You will not speak about the charges of the prisoner, or about the prison. You will leave when you are told to leave. If you do not comply, you will be physically removed."

  The orders didn't require his agreement, he realized, and the two women continued their work. Either he obeyed, or he would be arrested. This was communist Vietnam.

  "Come with me. Do not speak to anyone."

  The older woman became his escort into the interior of the prison, the smell of mold and suffering humanity growing by every corridor they entered. Cells with bars on the front lined the walls. Three to ten people were inside each cell. The prisoners were dressed in bright civilian clothing, but their faces were anything but bright.

  This was one of Vietnam's many political prisons—known as Ha Nam Prison, the most renowned. Recently, the Hmong, San Chi, and Dao minorities had been persecuted by villagers and the government alike for the spread of Christianity. The government fumed as villages were "infected" by Jesus, and appropriate pressures had been applied to curb the number of converts.

  But nothing could stop the moving of God's Spirit, Nasser knew, any more than his hardened heart had stopped the truth from transforming his own life. COIL and other courageous organizations continued to smuggle Bibles and hymnals into Vietnam. Families who were discovered to be Christian were denied housing, their property was confiscated, and some were arrested, like Liu Shiwen.

  Liu Shiwen had been incarcerated for two years. Her sentence had been served, yet the Chinese immigrant had refused to denounce Christ when her release was offered. Freedom, therefore, had been denied.

  Nasser was aware that COIL didn't interfere simply because God's people suffered in their reasonable service for their Lord. Rather, COIL became involved under extreme circumstances. That fact gave Nasser confidence. He liked the thought of being a last resort, a final answer to injustice.

  It was true that Liu Shiwen was a Christian teacher and missionary, but her disabled daughter required special attention. This fact had tipped the scales for COIL to extend their hand in aid. Friends had provided for Liu's daughter during the two year sentence, but the strain on the threatened Christian community had reached COIL's ears through contacts. Liu Shiwen needed to be freed now—for her work in Vietnam, but also for her daughter's sake.

  After descending narrow steps, Nasser followed his escort through a puddle, then up a short flight to arrive at yet another corridor of cells. The female guard gently spoke Vietnamese into a corner cell where three middle-aged women rose to their feet from a single floor mat.

  With all the twists and turns of the corridors, Nasser had lost track of his cardinal points. But a little window high up on the wall showed the sun pouring through at a high angle. He'd indeed arrived at the western-most wall of the prison housing units.

  "This is Liu Shiwen." The guard pointed at a short-haired woman in a green striped shirt. She had crooked teeth, but her face was radiant with kindness. Tilting her head in a particular way, she studied Nasser.

  "Hello, Liu Shiwen." Regardless of previous instructions, Nasser reached through the bars and took Liu Shiwen's right hand. Her skin was cold, and she seemed to tremble,
but Nasser hoped some of his confidence was conveyed through the Spirit to her.

  "My name is Minnie," the guard said softly.

  "Yes, I had guessed as much." He continued to gaze at Liu Shiwen, an evident joyfulness on her face.

  "I have explained to Liu Shiwen that you will help her escape right now. She will go, but she has asked if you can please take the other two with her. They are also Christians serving long sentences."

  "That was not in my instructions." Nasser looked at the other two. In training, the COIL operators had taught him the impact of unplanned extractions. Resources would be stretched thin. But he also understood the consequences of leaving the two women behind. They could be severely punished. Here was a judgment call dependent on him, something the COIL directors hadn't foreseen. "What about you, Minnie? Do you want to come as well?"

  "No," the guard said, "you are to hit me and leave me behind. Quickly now. Your visit is to last only a few minutes."

  Nasser checked his watch. The Turk would be in place by now. He had three minutes until detonation. Minnie nudged him aside and unlocked a padlock. She slid the bolt aside, and Nasser swung the cell door wide. The three women whispered and huddled together when Nasser gestured for them to exit.

  "They are afraid." Minnie shook her head. "It is so far to the front gate, they think they will be caught."

  "Tell them to come out of the cell, that God will make a new gate, a door through their cell wall."

  After translating, the women's eyes widened, and they inched toward him, though still clinging to one another. Once outside the cell, Nasser gripped each of them in turn by the shoulders and positioned them with their backs against the corridor wall.

  "Tell them to cover their ears," Nasser said. "There'll be a loud explosion in sixty seconds."

  Minnie translated, then Nasser stepped close to her.

  "I'm not pleased to leave you like this."

  "There is no one else here to help the others." She stood up straighter, though she was visibly shaking. "Do it now, or I will be suspected."

  Nasser swung his fist and connected with Minnie's left cheekbone. She fell against the wall but Nasser caught her before she collapsed onto the floor. He easily carried her a few paces up the corridor and lay her on the floor. Her check was split and blood trickled into her hair. The cut was serious enough to leave a scar, and Nasser was sorry he'd hit her so hard.

  It was strange to feel such care, Nasser reflected. Just a few years ago, he'd been a merciless soldier. Now he was tearing up over a woman's loving dedication to the people of God.

  "Sleep gently, sister," he mumbled, then covered her ears as he bowed over her body. He did his best to protect his own ears with his upper arms.

  A blast shook the building, the explosion so loud and devastating that nearly twenty seconds passed before he could rise and breathe through the choking air, his ears ringing. He took Minnie's keys in his hand.

  Liu Shiwen and the two Vietnamese women stood where he'd left them. They covered their mouths to breathe and obeyed his waving hand to re-enter the cell. The back wall of the cell was now in rubble and a giant hole faced the jungle.

  The Turk appeared in the opening wearing a proud smile. His ordnance had worked, as promised. The women stood clinging to one another, but the Turk took one woman's hand and led them out. Nasser was about to explain that they would be taking all three with them, but the Turk had already exited his new door. Apparently the Turk didn't need an explanation; two more in need were simply two more to be helped. No discussion was required.

  Nasser entered the cell, closed the bars, and locked the padlock. After inserting the key into the lock, he twisted it sharply and broke it off. It would buy them a little more time, but not much. The sound of boots was coming from down the corridor.

  He climbed through the rubble into the afternoon sunlight. The Turk and the other three had reached the edge of the jungle. It would be a long hike to the border of Laos, and it would be harder with two more in tow, but the COIL agents were trained for these type of operations. Nasser was a soldier and the Turk could blow up bridges as they fled.

  Where there had been no door, the Lord had provided one. Now the women would be relocated with their families, and the operatives would continue their work for Jesus Christ.

  The Turk paused and looked back at him, grinning. Nasser bounded after them, thankful that their first solo extraction together had been a success.

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