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

by Jack Silkstone

  “The Manhattan Ventures chairman, Pollard, didn’t give anything up, but he certainly implied they had experience in dealing with non-compliant locals. Have you read Christina’s article yet?”

  “Yes, and I spoke to Bishop. He was attacked by cartel thugs as soon as he arrived in Mexico.”

  Mirza’s jaw tensed. “Is he OK? Do I need to get down there?”

  “He’s fine. He and the girl have met with a local resistance element. They’re going to recon the mine and get some imagery. My team’s collating everything we have to present at the targeting board tomorrow. Until we get approval this remains a prelim op. If we get approval, Mitch will fly in and you’ll both support Bishop.”

  An elderly couple walked toward Mirza and he rose, offering them the seat. “I really do think this is worth pursuing, but we need to tread carefully.” He started walking. “These people are powerful and they have a lot at stake. If they got a look at Bishop in Mexico they’re going to be suspicious.”

  “I agree. There’s also a good chance your Indian cover was burned.”

  “I’ve already dropped it. Both Kestrel and Pollard mentioned their people were ex-government. Kestrel actually mentioned the CIA. I’m worried they might have active links, or worse.”

  “You think this could be a front for CIA operations?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll look into it. See what Vance says. Shouldn’t scare us off though. If these guys have done half the things that Christina has written in her article, then they need to be held accountable. We know they’ve tried to kidnap her on two separate occasions. CIA or not, I’m happy to expose corruption no matter who’s the perpetrator.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s going to disagree with that.” Mirza stopped at the railing and looked out over Hudson. A container ship was plowing its way through the brown water. “We just need to be careful.”

  “You pass that on to Bishop. He never likes to hear it from me. Oh, and if you’re looking for a spot for lunch, there are some great places about a hundred yards from where you are. Take the next set of stairs down.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “I’ll check in with you once the targeting board is done. In the meantime, enjoy your vacation. Later.” Chua ended the call.

  He descended the stairs and contemplated ringing Bishop. No, Chua, would have already updated him. He’d wait to see what came out of his recon with Christina and the targeting board. In the meantime he’d enjoy some of the fine cuisine that New York had to offer. He had come a long way from the streets of New Delhi.

  CHAPTER 14

  CHIHUAHUA

  Pershing’s office at the mine was a bare-walled portable building that had been trucked in on the back of a sixteen-wheeler. He hated it. It was hot during the day, cold at night, and isolated him from what was happening on the ground. It was a necessary evil though, and he was forced to spend a good portion of his time in it working at his computer.

  He fumed as he checked his email for the fourth time that day. Howard, that fat useless prick, had found nothing more on the man who’d escaped with the reporter and almost shot Burro through the face. All he had was the grainy photo from the Ukraine and the Chihuahua City C4I4 images. It wasn’t much.

  The CIA analyst hadn’t even been able to come good with the Predator drone. He’d only managed to secure a one-off flight that spent a single hour over the mine before flying back to the border with nothing to report. Pershing sent a terse email to Howard, then used a secure communicator application to dial through to his boss, Charles King.

  The call connected and King’s shaved head appeared on screen. “George, did you get anything useful out of the kid?”

  “Yes, I just flicked you an email. Seems our man goes by the name Aden. What’s more he’s currently in the planning stages to disrupt the mine.”

  King’s face turned serious. “What do you mean? More protests?”

  “No. I believe he intends to sabotage our operations directly. Sir, this guy is a serious threat. I’ve attached the images provided by our Company man. Check out the one from the Ukraine. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

  There was a pause as King brought up the picture from his email. “This is all the CIA have?”

  “That and the C4I4 images from Mexico. They’re the same guy. My concern is that he’s not acting alone. If he’s linked to a protest action group he’ll have support. And I’m not talking about dirt farmers with shotguns.”

  “No, they’re tooled up all right. Do we know anything else? When was the photo taken?”

  “2012. It’s allegedly from a terrorist attack Aden was involved with. A big-time arms dealer in Kiev had his entire enterprise taken down.”

  “Alright, I’m going to initiate security protocols.”

  “I’ll tighten things up here and push Langley for additional support. I’m still trying to get a drone.”

  “Right. Keep me posted.” King terminated the call.

  Pershing stared at the high-resolution C4I4 image of Aden for a moment. With the Yankees baseball cap and sunglasses the picture wasn’t ideal. He printed off a copy, grabbed his Stetson from where it hung on the wall, and stepped out into the midday sun. He stood looking out over the mine site as he folded the photo and stuck it in his suit jacket.

  His office was one of thirty portable buildings clustered together into a micro-city. They housed the accommodation, cookhouse, and recreation facilities of the mining crew and security personnel. Across the road were the vehicle maintenance sheds, secure gold storage vaults, the ore processing facility, and beyond that the tailings dams. A track wider than a dual-lane highway ran from the crushers and the refinery back into the mountains. That was the way to the pit.

  The snarl of a high performance engine caught Pershing’s ear and he walked to one of the maintenance hangars.

  Burro and half a dozen of his men were watching mechanics put the final touches on four DeJong Special Ops Vehicles. Painted in flat desert tan, with off-road rally-spec suspension, 6.2-liter V8 engines, and 35-inch sand tires, the dune buggies were serious hardware.

  One of the diesel mechanics wiped his hands on a dirty rag. “This one’s good to go, boss.”

  Pershing dropped his hat on the workbench and walked around the vehicle. He pointed at the fluorescent orange flag affixed to a ten-foot whip antenna. “What’s with the damn flag?”

  “Stops the trucks running you over.”

  Pershing snorted. “They ain’t gonna catch this thing. Get rid of ‘em.” He grabbed the heavy steel roll cage with one arm and slid in through the open side. “Burro, get in.”

  As he waited for the lieutenant to climb in he gave the controls a once over, checking the GPS and a digital screen bolted to the dash. “This working?” he asked, pointing to the screen. It was the latest generation Remotely Operated Video Enhanced Receiver, or ROVER. The tablet-sized device could stream full motion video from a drone.

  “It did last night, Mr. Pershing. I was able to see everything.”

  He nodded and thumbed the starter. The V8 roared to life. He let it idle for while then dropped the buggy into gear and eased on the accelerator.

  The engine rumbled as they rolled out of the shed and turned out onto the wide stretch of unsealed road leading to the mine’s pit. Once clear of the maintenance areas he stomped on the accelerator. The engine snarled and the buggy shot forward snapping their necks backward. It fish-tailed wildly as Pershing swung the steering-wheel back and forth.

  He glanced across at Burro. The Mexican was clutching the side of the cockpit with white knuckles. He laughed and followed the track as it curved, cutting into the rock on both sides.

  A massive dump truck appeared directly in front. He accelerated around it sending the buggy into a wild slide. “Wooo hooo!” he bellowed over the roar of the engine.

  He spun the wheel and slammed on the brakes, bringing the buggy to a skidding halt. “Hell, yeah, that’s fun.”

  B
urro inhaled suddenly as if he had forgotten to breathe. The dust from the wheels swept over them and he coughed as it cleared.

  They were at the entrance to the pit. From here the track led down to a wide basin. It had once been a jagged mountain range but now was a gaping crater. Below them gigantic front-end loaders hacked chunks off the hillside and fed them into dump trucks. The trucks then made their way up the winding ramp, out of the pit, to the ore crushers.

  Pershing cut the engine. “As soon as we get all the buggies running I want the men out patrolling.”

  “Day and night?” asked Burro.

  “The mine perimeter by night and I want them pushing out into the desert by day. If they see anyone, they shoot them.”

  Burro nodded. “Can we get some night vision?”

  “Negative, these buggies have blown the budget. You’ve got what you got.” Pershing pulled the printed photo from his jacket and handed it over. “Make photocopies of this. I want everyone to see it.”

  Burro gently touched the bandage on his cheek. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

  “No, I want him alive.” He hit the starter button on the buggy, floored it, and sent it into a sliding U-turn. Dust rooster-tailed off the rear wheels and they sped down the track to the camp.

  ***

  NEW YORK CITY

  Casey Millwood had been working for Ground Effects Services for a little over six months. The CEO had poached him from his previous role, Head of Information Security, at a technology firm in Silicon Valley. He considered himself at the top of his game, one of the best in the business. However, in the last hour he’d come to realize there was someone out there more capable than he was.

  On King’s orders he’d run a complete security sweep over their entire phone fleet. The intensive search had taken five hours and uncovered nothing. All phones were accessing known databases, running their standard IP settings, and performing exactly as they should. None of the encryption systems had been manipulated and there were no external devices trying to access their network. When he’d reported this to King, the CEO ordered him to conduct an even more detailed search on the firm’s five black phones. He had no idea who used them and had zero access to their email databases.

  Casey ran the search again and found nothing other than a slightly high data usage from one of the handsets. Spurred on, he found a weather app installed on the device was using twenty percent more bandwidth than usual.

  He opened the application and knew immediately he had hit pay dirt. He studied the code and realized the device was slowly replicating the entire encrypted email database, minus images and attachments, to an IP address outside their network.

  He remotely shut down the phone. It took him another five minutes to track the IP address. It led him directly to a weather database. This guy was good. Whoever it was had hacked into the service provider and embedded the code directly into the weather provider’s system. If he wanted to check where it was sending the data packets to he was going to have to do the same thing.

  He picked up his phone. “Mr. King, I’ve found a compromise.”

  “Which phone?”

  “Number five, sir. It was transmitting data but I’ve shut it down.”

  “Very good. Number five, huh? I’ll deal with that clown personally. Now, can you trace the hack?”

  “I might be able to but it’s going to take time.”

  “Do you need more manpower? You can pick your own team.”

  Casey considered requesting additional support but his pride stopped him. “No sir, I can beat this guy.”

  “Guy? Do you already know who it is?”

  “No, but he’s good. Whoever did this has resources, and skill.”

  “That’s interesting. I want a damage assessment on how much information was compromised. However, your highest priority is to find out who did this and where they are. You got that?”

  “Yes, sir.” Casey shivered involuntarily as the call hung up. He almost felt sorry for whoever did this because when King found out who they were they were screwed.

  ***

  FORT BLISS, TEXAS

  Howard stood in front of the candy machine contemplating which of the delicacies his taste buds most craved. He was about to punch in the code that would release a Hershey bar when Everest startled him.

  “Don’t eat that crap, Howard. It’ll mess up your energy levels. You need something low GI. Slow releasing to keep you going all day. Then you wouldn’t need to drink that sugary energy drink.”

  Howard turned and found his superior holding an apple. Everest offered it to his analyst by holding it on the palm of his hand, like he was feeding a horse.

  He took it. “Thanks, boss.”

  Everest smiled. “No problems. Look, I really appreciate the effort you’ve put into turning things around the last few days.”

  Howard caught him glancing at the freshly polished brogues that had been giving him blisters. The shoes were the most uncomfortable he’d ever owned.

  Everest led him out the kitchen and down the corridor. “I wanted you to know that I’ve noticed. The report you submitted last night on the environmental terrorist threat to US interests in Chihuahua was first rate.” He gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Keep it up.”

  Howard pulled a face as his boss strode back to his office. The man was clueless, he thought. The report he had submitted was completely fabricated. That was why it was good. It was almost one hundred percent fiction.

  He walked over to the little boxes that housed their cell phones when they were in the secure area. On his phone was an email and missed call from Pershing. He walked out to the smoking area and returned the call.

  “Why do you never answer your damn phone?” asked Pershing.

  “I’ve told you before, I can’t have it in my workspace. It’s like you don’t listen to anything I say. I’ve told you this at least three times.”

  “How about you holster that attitude, cowboy.”

  Howard bit his lip.

  “What’s going on with our surveillance? One hour is hardly worth getting out of bed for.”

  Howard clenched his fist. Fucking field agents. They had no idea how hard it was to get assets and good intel. They just snapped their fingers and expected everything served up on a platter. “We were lucky to get that. I had to do some creative work.”

  “Well you better get more creative because we’re not just dealing with dirt farmers anymore.” Pershing filled him in on the security breach and the hacking of the phones.

  “You fucking kidding me, dude? Is your phone compromised?”

  “Relax, this phone’s fine. I wouldn’t be about to raise my offer if it wasn’t secure.”

  “Your offer?”

  “I want dedicated assets looking at this; persistent surveillance and analysts. There’s a hundred-K bonus in it once the threat is neutralized. That’s on top of the extra ten grand retainer for the surveillance.”

  “A hundred, now that’s some coin!”

  “It is indeed. Sort it out. Do what you have to do.” Pershing terminated the call.

  Howard sat for a few seconds before he realized he was still holding the apple. He crunched into it as he contemplated the way forward. Now there was real evidence of a capable adversary, he had more leverage to push for a team of his own. All he needed to do was fabricate some Source 88 reports and take it to his boss. The man already had a hard-on for his previous work. He looked at the apple like it was poison and tossed it over the fence. He would grab a candy bar on the way back past the machine, he was going to need the energy. But first he was going to have a smoke.

  CHAPTER 15

  LASCAR ISLAND

  The PRIMAL targeting board was a monthly event that ultimately cost lives. Usually the lives on the line were those of despots, criminals, corrupt politicians, and the like. Scum and villainy, as the Director of Operations so eloquently put it. However, occasionally it was the lives of their comrades, the PRIMAL operatives that went in
to harm’s way to set wrongs right and bring justice to dark corners of the world. It was in this meeting that targets were put forward for consideration and decisions were made as to who PRIMAL would bring to justice.

  Vance and Chua were sitting at the conference room table waiting for Frank, the watchkeeper, to set up the video link to Abu Dhabi.

  Frank activated one of the wall-mounted monitors, and the handsome Arabic features of PRIMAL’s benefactor appeared on the screen. Stroking his manicured beard he studied something on his desk before looking up. “Gentlemen, how are you all?”

  Vance leaned forward and spoke into the microphone on the table. “Our settings must be all messed up at this end, Tariq, because those green eyes of yours are looking particularly dreamy.”

  The CEO of Lascar Logistics broke into a broad smile. “It’s not like you to offer a compliment, Vance. Does this mean you need more money?” He pretended to frown.

  Despite funding nearly all of PRIMAL’s operating costs, Tariq rarely involved himself in the day-to-day operations of the organization. However, like Vance and Chua, he did hold the power of veto over any mission. It was one of the controls that ensured they remained focused on delivering impartial justice.

  “I wouldn’t say no to more cash.” Vance coughed. “But, on a more serious note, have you got today’s target deck?”

  Tariq held up a tablet. “Yes, I’ve had time to go over it in detail. It’s an impressive piece of work. Chen, please thank your team for me.”

  Chua smiled. “Thanks, Tariq, I’ll pass it on. Now, if everyone is ready, I’m going to summarize the developing operations and move straight on to the emerging time-sensitive issue.”

  Tariq nodded.

  Vance folded his massive arms. “Go on.”