PRIMAL Reckoning (Book 1 in the Redemption Trilogy, the PRIMAL Series Book 5)

by Jack Silkstone

  There was an awkward silence as she scrutinized him over her sunglasses. “You look worse than I feel.”

  Bishop smiled. “Nothing coffee won’t fix.”

  “Did you hear about the protest?” she asked as he ordered.

  “No.”

  “There was a demonstration in Chihuahua yesterday. Three students were killed in clashes with the police. They were demonstrating against the Barrio Del Rancho mine.”

  “Things are getting serious down there.”

  Christina nodded. “My friend, the rancher, he was targeted by the police. They must be working for RED.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “He sent me an email last night. I’m going to fly to Chihuahua this afternoon.”

  Bishop shook his head. “That’s too dangerous. These guys are playing rough and there are no rules in Mexico. It’s the Wild West.’”

  She raised her voice. “What do you want me to do? Sit on my hands while these bastards murder and steal from innocent people?”

  An elderly woman one table over shot them a scowl over her breakfast.

  “Christina, your emails have been compromised. If you fly in, they’ll be watching the airport. If they think you’re going to blow this wide open then God knows what they’ll do to you.”

  The veins at Christina’s temples were throbbing. “I’m going, Aden. I made a promise to Roberto and I’m going to make good on that promise.”

  “OK then, I’m coming with you.” He was not about to let another woman enter his life then tragically leave it.

  Her face immediately softened. “You said your boss wouldn’t let you.”

  “I’ve got some leave. I’ll take a week off. But here’s the deal. I’m going to make all the arrangements and you’re going to listen to me. You’re also going to stop using any emails or social media.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll need to head into the office and finalize a few things. I’ll sort out the transport. You go out and buy whatever you need but don’t go back to your apartment.”

  “OK.”

  The coffees were delivered and Bishop took a sip from his cup. “We’re going to play this safe. Get you the photos and interviews you need, then get the hell out.”

  “I feel safer already.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see how safe it is when we get down there. It’s got to be safer than having dinner with you.”

  Christina blushed. “Look, Aden, I want to apologize for last night. I came on a bit strong and I just wanted you to know it was a little out of character. With the escape and the alcohol I just…”

  “Oh, so now you don’t find me attractive?” He feigned indignation and gave her a cheeky smile. “It’s OK, Christina, I get it. We’ll just put it behind us.” Bishop poured himself a glass of water and drank from it.

  “I still very much want to sleep with you, though.” She returned the smile.

  He snorted water out of his nose and the elderly woman gave them another angry look.

  Christina spoke softly. “You’re a very handsome man who swooped in and saved a maiden in distress. As if I’m not going to find that desirable? The timing wasn’t right. I get that.”

  Bishop wiped his face with a napkin. “I’m flattered and you’re a very attractive woman. But for the time being let’s keep this professional. You try to find trouble, and I’ll try to keep you out of it.”

  She shook his hand. “Deal.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Bishop knocked on room 604 of the Waldorf Astoria. Mirza opened the door and he entered the luxurious suite. “Wow, nice digs. Pity you look like a tubby douche bag.”

  His partner was still dressed in his Indian businessman outfit complete with a padded midriff and moustache. “At least I can take off my disguise, Aden. You’re stuck with yours.”

  “Ouch.” Bishop slapped him on the shoulder. “You get a little more like me every moment we spend together.” He grabbed a fist full of cashews from a bowl on the bar.

  Mirza sat on the bed. “I thought that’s what this trip was about. But then you make me dress like a jerk while you hang out with your new girlfriend.”

  “Hey, she’s just a friend. That’s all.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah she’s attractive but it’s strictly professional. Look, I really appreciate you helping out. We can do the touristy stuff when I get back from Mexico.”

  Mirza’s eyebrows shot up. “Mexico? Since when were you going to Mexico? Have you run this past Vance?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I’m on holidays and this is just a quick trip down to Mexico. Think of it as my spring break.”

  Mirza looked him in the eye. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Christina’s going back to investigate further and take some photos. I’m going to make sure she stays safe. That’s it. I’m not going looking for trouble, the opposite in fact.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  “If you like. It’s only going to be a day or two.”

  “I’m meeting a cousin for dinner tomorrow but I could reschedule if you need me.”

  “It’s fine. You do your dinner and check out a few of the museums. Then, when I get back we can hit that Yankees game.”

  “OK, but for the record, I don’t think Mexico is a good idea. What’s more, no matter what you say, this is going to look like you’re chasing a girl. Considering what happened in Japan with Kurtz, that’s not going to go down well.”

  Bishop sat on a plush sofa and rested his feet on a coffee table. “I’m on holidays. As long as I stay out of trouble, HQ isn’t going to care.”

  “They’ll see you’re down there on the tracker.”

  “Yeah, and if they ask what I’m doing, I’ll tell them. Now, what did you get from your meeting with RED?”

  “No new intel. What I did get was a lunch meeting with a potential investor for the Bougainville project.”

  “Tell me it’s Manhattan Ventures.”

  Mirza nodded. “You were right, they must be bank rolling the Mexican operation. I spoke to Flash and he’s shown me how to bug their phones. If I get the chance we’ll hack their emails and see what he can find.”

  “And he’s not going to tell Vance or Chua?”

  “As long as you’re not running around shooting people he’s happy for us to keep this low key. But that might change when your iPRIMAL shows up south of the border.”

  Bishop nodded. “You know, not so long ago you would never have gone along with this.”

  “Not so long ago you couldn’t be trusted to go down to Mexico and not get into a gunfight.”

  “I guess we’re all growing up.”

  Mirza stood and smoothed out his jacket. “I think hanging out with you has made me a little reckless.”

  “A bit of recklessness is what keeps us sharp.”

  “You just stay out of trouble, Bish. I don’t want to have to come running down there to pull you out of the fat.”

  “You mean the fire.”

  “I mean stay out of trouble. I’ve got to go; they’re sending a car to take me to lunch.”

  ***

  The silver Mercedes S500 collected Mirza from the hotel foyer and whisked him around the block to another high-rise. The doorman directed him to an elevator and up to the top floor.

  “Mr. Premiji?” a security guard asked when the elevator doors opened.

  “Yes.” Mirza frowned as he was led down a corridor and through a set of doors into a stairwell; there wasn’t a restaurant in sight.

  “Mr. Kestrel is waiting for you.” They climbed a short flight of stairs and the guard pushed open a door to reveal a Eurocopter Squirrel idling on the helipad.

  The big Canadian waved at him from where he was sitting in the back.

  Mirza grasped the sides of his jacket and ducked beneath the rotor-blades. When he climbed in, Kestrel handed him a headset as the pilot secured the hinged door.

  “I hope you don’t mind. The chairman of the investmen
t company already had an engagement so he extended us an invitation,” Kestrel said over the intercom.

  He nodded and strapped himself in. The engines screamed and the helicopter wobbled as it lurched into the air.

  “It’s always a little rough but there’s no better way to see the city,” Kestrel added.

  They climbed until they were a few hundred feet over the building. Then the pilot tipped the nose slightly and they beat their way over the city toward the Hudson River.

  Mirza caught himself grinning. He looked over at Kestrel; the Canadian was doing the same. “This is amazing.”

  “Best view in the city.”

  “I thought we were having lunch,” Mirza said as they swept past the Empire State building.

  “We are. Just doing a little sight-seeing to work up our appetites. One of the directors owns a boat and he’s going to take us along the coast to the chairman’s place.”

  The chopper banked and descended toward a marina perched on the far bank of the river. A helipad floated among the rows of luxury cruisers and sailing boats.

  They touched down with a gentle bounce. The pilot leveled off the blades, got out, and opened the passenger door.

  Mirza gave the man a nod and followed Kestrel off the helipad to the floating dock. It bobbed lightly under the big man’s weight as he led them between the luxurious vessels. Mirza counted over a dozen motor cruisers, each well over sixty feet in length.

  There was a white-uniformed steward waiting on one of the pontoons with a tray of champagne. Kestrel took one and headed up the gangplank. Mirza declined.

  “Wow!” Mirza mouthed as he approached one of the most impressive boats he had ever seen. It looked like a cross between a stealth fighter and a massive 118-foot cabin cruiser. The hull was a deep metallic green with raked angles and gaping air intakes. As he walked up the gangplank and onto the smooth teak deck the vessel’s superstructure came into view. Like the rest of the boat, it was exquisite with jet-black glass encasing a sitting area that would not be out of place in an exclusive nightclub.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Kestrel said as they walked between the tables on the aft deck into the main cabin.

  “Magnificent.” He looked around in awe. The central cabin of the vessel held another lounge and a long table complete with leather chairs. It looked like the boardroom of an architectural firm. At the far end was a control console with two men standing at it.

  The taller one turned from the console. “You don’t want to know what she costs to run.” He looked youthful with a clean-shaven, narrow face. Mirza guessed late twenties to early thirties. His white linen shirt was open at the collar and bright blue slacks were rolled up at the ankles.

  He offered a hand to Mirza. “Wes Chambers.” His face was partially hidden behind black-rimmed sunglasses.

  “Adir Premiji. A pleasure to meet you. Are you the captain of this fine vessel?”

  Wes laughed. “No, dude, I’m the owner.”

  “Wes is one of the directors of the investment fund,” Kestrel explained.

  “Make yourself comfortable, gentlemen. We’re going to cast off and then the captain here will take us for a short cruise along the coast.” He led them to the lounge at the back of the cabin and waved over a white-clad crew member. “Frank, make sure these men have plenty to drink and bring the ladies up.” Chambers returned to the console as Mirza relaxed on one of the sofas in the cabin.

  “Sir, can I offer you a drink?” the waiter asked.

  “No thanks, I get a little seasick.”

  Kestrel sat across from him. “Not on this thing, you won’t. She cuts through the waves like a knife and…” He smiled. “Wes always has good company.”

  On cue, two blondes appeared from below decks. Mirza almost blushed; their bikini tops barely contained their enhanced breasts.

  “Hello, my name’s Natasha, and this is Paulina,” the tallest of the pair purred. Her sarong parted as she sat next to him.

  Mirza felt the deck tremble lightly as they backed away from their mooring. The boat’s engines thrummed as the waterjets pushed it out into the channel.

  “Twin turbines,” said Kestrel as he put his arm around the other girl. “Just like Paulina’s.” He laughed and the two girls giggled.

  Mirza barely heard the faint whine of the gas turbines as they cruised down the Hudson between Liberty and Governor’s island. They made small talk for a few minutes before Wes strolled back to check on his guests. “You sure you don’t want a drink?” He had a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

  “No, I’m good for the moment.”

  Natasha put an arm on his thigh and squashed her breasts into his side. “It’s OK, I’ll take care of him.”

  Mirza almost laughed, if only Bishop was here to see this. He felt the bow of the boat rise as they swung into a wide bay and gathered speed. In a few minutes they were a mile offshore and the skipper began a lazy turn, sweeping around until they were heading east following the coast. The bow rose further out of the water as they gathered even more speed. Despite the choppy seas the ride was smooth, the deep V-shaped hull cutting through the waves with ease. He heard the turbines now, they howled like banshees as they propelled the sleek vessel at over fifty knots.

  “Pretty amazing, isn’t it.” said Kestrel. “She’ll do sixty five at full throttle.”

  He couldn’t contain his grin. “What’s it called? I’ve never been on anything like this.” He’d pushed thirty-foot rigid inflatables to forty knots in similar conditions and they bounced around like a bucking bronco.

  “She’s a Wally 118. The only one of its type. Wes calls her Nemesis.”

  Mirza nodded. He would have to tell Mitch about the vessel. “So, where are we heading?”

  “The Chairman has a holiday home in the Hamptons. At this speed it won’t take us long to get there.”

  Mirza sat back and enjoyed the high-powered ride and the attention of the beautiful blonde.

  Forty minutes later the skipper powered back the engines and they curved in toward the coast. They slowed to half-speed and slid through a narrow channel into a small bay.

  “Natasha, show him around,” said Wes as he sat next to Kestrel.

  Mirza followed the model through the superstructure and out to the wooden front deck. The sun was shining, the skies were blue, and he almost forgot he was on a mission. “Are you a friend of Wes’s?” he asked Natasha.

  “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing.” She dropped her sarong and lay down on a sunbed. “Let’s just say that I’m part of the crew.” She gave a wink then closed her eyes.

  In his bulky suit and padded midriff he felt more than a little overdressed. He tried to make himself comfortable on the adjacent lounge and occupied himself by watching the mansions on the far bank.

  Five minutes later the boat pulled in against a wooden pier that extended out over the beach and onto a bank covered in manicured grass. Beyond a row of willows Mirza saw the large glazed windows of a modernist mansion.

  “This way, guys.” Wes led them off the boat and through the trees.

  The smell of barbecuing meat greeted them as they reached a patio in front of an exquisite sparkling blue swimming pool.

  “You made good time.” A tall, grey-haired gentleman was drinking a beer and cooking on the most expensive looking BBQ Mirza had ever seen.

  “That boat moves pretty quick,” replied Kestrel.

  “You know what they say about boats,” said Jordan Pollard as he handed the tongs to the miner. “Best investment a man never made.”

  Kestrel laughed but Mirza sensed the off-hand comment annoyed Wes who seemed to avoid eye contact with his boss.

  “Mr. Adir Premiji, my name’s Jordan. Welcome to my home away from home.” He reached into a cooler and offered Mirza a beer.

  “Please call me, Adir. Is there any chance you might have some soda? That boat ride upset my stomach a little.”

  “Wesley always drives that damn toy of his too fast. F
ollow me, we’ll grab a drink from the kitchen.” He gestured for Mirza to follow him through the floor-to-ceiling folding glass doors into the residence’s living area. “My wife’s responsible for the house so I can’t make any claim to having good taste.”

  “Well, she certainly does,” said Mirza as they entered the well-appointed kitchen.

  “Cola?” He pulled a bottle from the fridge and handed it over.

  “Thanks.”

  Pollard leaned against a white marble bench top. “Brian gave me a heads-up on your project. If you’ve got the rights to the mine we’d be interested in investing.”

  Mirza cracked open the soda. “We’ve got the rights, what we need is capital.

  “If the project is what you say it is, then money will not be a problem.”

  He took a sip. “Did Mr. Kestrel make you aware of the security issues?”

  “He mentioned a lack of indigenous support. We specialize in managing that sort of thing. It won’t be a problem.”

  “You’ve worked on similar projects?”

  “My people can provide a number of case studies.”

  “Food’s ready!” yelled Kestrel from outside.

  “Hungry?” Pollard asked, walking back to the patio.

  “Starving.”

  “Good, because my beef ribs are the best this side of the Mason Dixon.” He took a plate of food from the table setting and handed it to Mirza. “I apologize that I won’t be able to stay for much longer. I’ve got to head out of town for business but I’m sure Brian and Wesley will keep you entertained.”

  They made small talk over lunch and the financiers asked more questions about Mirza’s fake mining project. After half an hour Pollard excused himself, bid Mirza farewell, and went back into the house. Mirza noticed the chairman had paid scant attention to Wesley, treating the young director with an element of disdain.

  “Let’s ditch this place and get back to the boat,” said Wes once he was gone. Kestrel licked his fingers and finished off his beer. “Good idea, should we take some food for the girls?”