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

by Jack Silkstone

  Pershing sipped from his cup has he inspected the battered rancher who lay on the ground grimacing in pain. “Ah, Mr. Roberto Soto, I’ve been looking forward to having a chat with you.” He nodded at Burro. “Where are the others?”

  Burro shrugged. “That Aden bastard killed them.”

  “Not your minions, you damn retard. The other riders. Don’t tell me that son-of-a-bitch is still out there.” He placed his coffee cup on the tailgate of the truck and pushed back his jacket to expose the pearl-handled pistol in its intricate leather holster.

  Burro swallowed, carefully considering his next words. “You’re still following them with the drone. We just need more men.”

  He fixed him with an icy stare. “Well, how about you get it done then.”

  Burro nodded, and ran to the accommodation block.

  Pershing placed his cup back in his Chevy before squatting down next to Roberto. He smiled. “I apologize for his behavior. Good help is kind of hard to find in these parts.” He winked. “But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” He stood and opened the door to his office. “I’d be much obliged if you joined me inside.”

  Burro’s co-driver jabbed Roberto with the barrel of his AK and nodded at the door. Pershing closed it behind the rancher and pointed to the metal folding chair in front of his desk.

  Roberto watched warily as his captor circled around and sat behind his desk. “So, Mr. Soto. Can I offer you a drink of water?”

  Roberto shook his head.

  “Do you mind if I call you Roberto?”

  There was no answer. Pershing had no doubt this was a hard man. He had dealt with idealists before: jihadists, communists, and fascists. They all crumbled when he started cutting off fingers. But men of the land, farmers and ranchers, they could be different. They toiled from dusk to dawn, and were used to physical pain. He knew with men like this you needed to use the full gambit of psychological tools in an interrogator’s arsenal.

  Pershing took off his hat and put it on the desk. “OK, Roberto, I’m guessing you had a chance to have a good look around. It’s an impressive facility, wouldn’t you say? I’ve got a platoon of cartel gunmen here and the full support of the authorities. This mine is here to stay, and any resistance is futile.”

  The rancher’s cold grey eyes seemed to bore a hole straight through his head.

  “If you’re not going to talk, then this is going to be hard on you. Not just you, but your family too.”

  At the mention of his family the rancher’s leathery lips thinned. Pershing thought he was about to speak.

  A knock at the door interrupted them.

  Pershing grabbed his hat. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, business is calling.” He opened the door.

  “The men are ready, boss,” Burro said. Behind him three pickups of armed Black Jackets were waiting.

  “Good. Lock this sorry son-of-a-bitch in one of the spare offices and post a guard. Make sure he has water, food, and a bucket to shit in.”

  Burro turned and snapped out orders to two of his men. They looked disappointed as they jumped down from a truck. They would miss out on the hunt.

  “OK, let’s get this show on the road!”

  CHAPTER 21

  Bishop looked at the stars as he caught his breath. He knew it was futile to try and spot the drone. What they needed to do was hide from the aircraft’s sensors, and the only way to do that here was to get underground.

  They had reached the sandy area with the poisoned creek, Bishop running alongside as Christina rode her horse down the canyon. He fished his iPRIMAL from his pocket; hoping it had enough battery power to activate the emergency beacon. “Damn.” The screen was cracked, he must have landed on it during a fall. He powered it up but the screen glowed blank.

  He switched the device off and pointed at the hill to where Roberto had showed them the old gold mine. “We can’t take your horse up there with us.”

  “What about the drone? She might lead them back to the farm,” said Christina as she dismounted.

  Bishop knew the safest option was to shoot the horse. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “The drone will stay on us.” He hung the horse’s reins over the saddle and slapped her on the rump. “Go on, go!” he yelled clapping his hands. The beautiful Palamino took off down the canyon at a gallop. “Good luck, girl.”

  As they climbed the hill the rumble of engines grew louder. “That didn’t take them long.” He grabbed Christina by the hand and hauled her up the slope. “We need to move!”

  He pulled out the ROVER and activated the screen. The drone was still fixed on them. He zoomed out and identified the old mine location. It was only a few hundred yards away. A worn trail to the entrance was on the overhead image. “Come on.” He scrambled up the rocky incline. Behind him Christina struggled for her footing.

  “I’m sorry,” she puffed.

  “Don’t be sorry. You’re doing great.” The noise of the vehicles stopped, replaced by doors slamming and men shouting. “I’m going to scout ahead,” he hissed. He climbed further and found a goat trail. In the moonlight he spotted the track the cartel guys would be using. He didn’t dare to pull out the ROVER again. Even with the screen brightness turned down, it might give them away.

  Christina caught up with him and he gave her a chance to catch her breath. As he watched the track he spotted the first figures approaching. “Christina, I need you to go first. This path leads to the mine. I’m going to slow these guys down.”

  She nodded and scrambled into the darkness.

  Bishop knelt and waited half a minute before he closed one eye and lifted the AK. He fired a burst at the figures on the track below, then dashed after Christina.

  Yelling filled the air followed by random gunfire. He smiled, it was the exact effect he was after. He jogged back along the track, pushing through waist-high grass. When he spotted Christina he knelt again.

  A minute later he caught a glimpse of a dark shape approaching cautiously. He aimed and fired. A man cried out. He sprinted after Christina and almost ran into an old mining cart. She was crouched behind it. Bullets snapped through the air and the bark of automatic weapons reverberated off the hill.

  Bishop kicked at the ground in front of the cart. His boot hit something hard and metal. “Railway tracks. Follow them into the mine.”

  Christina continued through the grass as Bishop waited by the cart. He took one of the grenades from his stolen chest rig, yanked out the pin, and tossed it into the darkness. He turned and ran after Christina.

  The explosion shook dust and rocks from the hillside as he ran into the mouth of the mine. Christina had baulked at the gaping black hole. He grabbed her arm. “We’re dead out there. In here, we have a chance.” Reluctantly she followed him into the darkness.

  ***

  Pershing was waiting in the Chevy a few hundred yards from the mine when Burro tapped on the window. He checked the time on the dash. It was four-thirty in the morning. He lowered the window. “Have you captured them yet?”

  Burro was still puffing. “They’re cornered in the mine.”

  “Have you sent anyone in?”

  “No, Mr. Pershing, but there’s nowhere for them to go.”

  He sighed. “So it should be very easy for y’all to go in and get them.”

  “OK.” He turned to walk back.

  Pershing opened the door. “Oh and Burro. Send someone to get explosives. If we can’t get them out, we’ll bury them in there.”

  “That’s more like it.” The cartel killer talked to one of the men at the trucks before heading back up the hill. A pickup started and drove off.

  He watched for a moment then followed Burro, catching him halfway up the hill. “Did you lose any men?”

  “Yes, just one. But it’s OK, he was stupid.”

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. Pershing looked out to the east. In less than an hour the sun would start to rise, taking the edge off the frigid desert air.

  When they reac
hed the mine entrance they found men on both sides of the opening, some sitting on rocks, others with weapons pointed in to the darkness. Every now and then one flashed the tactical flashlight mounted on his weapon.

  “So who’s going in there?” Pershing asked.

  The men looked at each other.

  He laughed. “So you’re all chicken shit.” He cupped his mouth and yelled down the hole. “Aden, you and Christina should come out now. If you stay in there you’re only going to die.” He paused. Hearing nothing, he continued. “I’m going to give you twenty minutes to consider your options. Then, if you don’t want to come out we’re going to come in.”

  Pershing turned to the men sitting on rocks watching. “What are you dumb shits doing? It’s goddamn cold. How about you light a fire.”

  ***

  It was pitch black inside the mine. Bishop used the flashlight on the AK to light their way as they pushed deeper into the heart of the mountain. When they were a few hundred yards inside he activated the ROVER and placed it on the ground. Without a signal from the drone it was just a softly glowing panel. With the brightness turned down he guessed it would last at least a few hours.

  Christina sat next to the glowing screen, wrapping her arms around her knees.

  Bishop draped his jacket over her. “You heard the cowboy. They’re going to send guys in here. We need to be ready.” He unfastened all the pouches on his vest and performed a quick check of his equipment. Four full magazines remained for the assault rifle. He also had two grenades, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, the ROVER, his damaged iPRIMAL, a watch, and his Gerber covert folding knife. He ran his fingers through his hair and cursed. He’d lost his baseball cap.

  “Are we going to be OK?” she asked quietly.

  He flashed her a confident smile. “Of course. I’ve gotten out of worse than this.” It was not exactly a lie. Bishop had been in plenty of situations where death seemed imminent.

  She swallowed. “OK. What do you need me to do?”

  ***

  Pershing stood in front of the blazing fire warming his hands. He checked his watch. Twenty minutes had passed and he’d heard nothing from inside the mine. He turned to Burro. “I need two men to go in.”

  “Good luck with that, Mr. Pershing. Nobody wants to go in there.”

  He took out his wallet, peeled off a thick wad of hundred dollar bills, and addressed the group. “I’ve got two grand here. I’ll give a thousand dollars to anyone who goes into that mine. When you get the Aden guy and his girl, I’ll give you another nine each to match it.”

  The men started talking. He had their interest. Before long two of them stepped forward.

  “Finally, among the sheep we have some wolves.” He handed each man a thousand dollars. One of them refused the cash and spoke to Burro in Spanish.

  The lieutenant translated. “He doesn’t want the money, Mr. Pershing. He wants your pistol.”

  Pershing contemplated the request. The chrome pearl-handled .45 had been a gift from an oil tycoon who had appreciated some work he’d done. It was one of his most prized possessions. But hell, he could always buy another one. He slid the weapon out of its holster and handed it over. “It’s a deal.”

  The two Black Jackets each chose a side of the three-yard wide tunnel and stalked forward, aiming their weapon-mounted flashlights down the passage. Powerful beams of light pierced the darkness.

  When they were out of sight, Pershing turned to Burro. “You sure there’s no other way out?”

  Burro shook his head. “Pedro said he’s been inside when he was a boy. There’s only one way in and out.”

  “The guys inside have got ten minutes. If they haven’t dragged them out by then, we’re going to blow it.”

  ***

  The two gunmen were a hundred yards into the mine and had yet to see any sign of either the woman or Aden. They moved forward tentatively, the flashlights attached to their weapons bobbing in the darkness as they leapfrogged forward. It was a slow process, but it meant neither of them was exposed without a cover man.

  “What’s that? Can you hear it?”

  The other man turned his head. He thought he heard a woman crying. They edged forward until they could see her in the soft glow of the ROVER screen.

  One of them inched forward until his flashlight illuminated the woman. She was hunched over and sobbing.

  She looked up with tears flowing down her cheeks. “You killed him,” she wailed.

  The man lowered his weapon.

  Bishop’s arms were burning. He’d held himself in position up on the tunnel’s wooden scaffolding for over two minutes as the Black Jackets slowly searched down the tunnel. Christina played her part to perfection and when the men lowered their guard, Bishop swung down from the roof.

  His feet hit one of the cartel thugs square in the chest sending him smashing into the wall. A weapon clattered to the ground. Bishop landed behind the second man. He transferred the blade pressed between his lips to his fist and punched it into the base of the man’s neck driving it up into his brain. The body twitched as it collapsed.

  Dazed from the blow, the first man feebly raised an arm as Bishop stabbed him in the heart.

  He switched off the flashlights on the assault rifles. Only the glow of the ROVER screen remained.

  “Are they dead?” Christina asked softly.

  He stripped the equipment from the bodies. “They can’t hurt you now.” As he removed their jackets there was a clatter as something hit the ground. He picked up a .45 pistol. It was a custom job. Not something you would usually see in the hands of a low-ranking foot-soldier. He stuffed it in one of the empty pouches on his chest rig.

  He dragged the pile of gear to Christina. He had selected the least bloody of the two jackets for her. “Put this on, you’re going to need it.”

  She donned the oversized jacket and slung her Canon camera over it. As she adjusted the strap on the camera, she stopped and sniffed the air. “Aden, can you smell that?”

  “Smell what?”

  “It smells like something metallic. Like fireworks.”

  It took a split second for Bishop to recognize the smell of a burning fuse. He pulled Christina off the ground. “Run, run!” He activated the light on his AK, grabbed her by the hand, and dragged her down the railway tracks deeper into the mine. As they ran Bishop flashed the light from side to side searching for a hole in the rock. Finally he found one. He shone the light into it then pushed Christina inside. He barely fit in behind her. “Block your ears and open your mouth.” He wrapped his arms around her and they waited.

  Minutes seemed to stretch into eternity. Then it started as a rumble and shudder. Dust and debris dropped from the ceiling and Christina whimpered.

  Seconds after the initial rumble a roar like a freight train blasted past the opening, through the mineshaft. Christina’s scream was cut off as the oxygen was sucked out. Then it was over and they could breathe again. Christina coughed in the dusty air. “What, what happened?”

  “They blew the entrance.”

  ***

  Pershing held onto his Stetson as the rush of wind and dirt blew out of the mineshaft. It took half a minute for the cloud of dust to settle, then he dusted off his suit. “Check it.” He waited as the men lit up the entrance to the tunnel with their flashlights. The explosive charge had done its work. The roof of the shaft had collapsed, completely blocking the entrance.

  Burro laughed. “Nobody’s getting out of there, Mr. Pershing.”

  He kicked the rubble and spotted something trapped under a collapsed beam. Kneeling down, he tugged it out from under the piece of wood and held it up. It was a battered New York Yankees cap. “I think that’s the end of Aden.”

  He turned and walked back to where the men were sitting around the fire. He warmed his hands and looked out over the mountains to the east. A faint tinge of pink glowed on the horizon. “A good night’s work, boys. Time to get back and find out what Mr. Roberto Soto knows.”

>   The first rays of sunlight reflected off the mining camp’s tin roofs as the convoy led by the black Chevy arrived. Pershing had the battered Yankees cap in hand when he strode across to one of the transportable buildings. There were two Black Jackets standing guard. “Open up, I need to talk to him.”

  Inside, Roberto was lying on a thin mattress in the corner of the room. His hands were shackled by handcuffs and a length of chain ran through them around one of the building’s metal uprights.

  Pershing grabbed a chair, spun it on one leg, and sat. He took off his Stetson, ran fingers through his thinning hair and placed the hat on his knee. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  Roberto sat up and stared.

  He tossed the battered New York Yankees cap onto the ground. “You recognize this? Belongs, sorry I should say belonged, to your buddy, Aden. Seems him and your pretty journalist friend had a little accident in the old mine out near Digger Canyon.” Pershing watched the rancher’s face for any sign of emotion.

  Roberto glanced once at the hat, then returned his gaze to Pershing.

  “I’m a reasonable man, Roberto. If you tell me who else is helping your little band of renegades, I’ll give you the chance to talk them down.”

  The craggy-faced farmer remained silent.

  “Here’s the deal. If you work with me, I’ll make it very lucrative for you and your friends. Convince the other farmers to leave their land peacefully, and I’ll make sure you’re generously rewarded.” Still no response.

  “Tomorrow, you and me are going out to the Veda farm. Perhaps then you’ll reconsider your position on all of this. The mine’s gotta expand, buddy, and those people are in the way of progress.”