“Jesus Christ!” The pilot pulled away.
Ice stuffed the map inside his chest rig and grabbed the Mk18 wedged between his knees. “Get ahead of him. Like before.”
“Roger.” The pilot dropped the nose of the helicopter and they roared around a corner banking hard. Then he flared and flicked the chopper sideways over the road.
Ice spun in his seat and jammed the door open with his boot. “Hold her steady,” he yelled as he lifted the carbine.
The car accelerated around the corner, filling his red-dot sight. It was only twenty yards away when he took up the slack in the trigger, exhaled, and put a bullet through the driver’s side of the windshield.
The car slewed across the road, ran up an embankment, and crashed into a tree.
“Put us down.”
The chopper’s skids were still a foot off the ground when the two SAS troopers leaped out. They raced to the silver taxi, covering it with their weapons as the rest of the team caught up.
Ice dragged the driver from the front seat and laid him on the ground. The shot had gone through the man’s right lung. Blood frothed from his mouth, his eyes wide with fear. “Mitch, I need you to render that bomb safe.”
“On it.” The technician was already inspecting the vehicle.
Gaz dumped the med kit from the chopper next to the wounded Albanian.
Ice propped him up and used shears to cut the man’s leather jacket and shirt off. “Gaz, seal that exit hole.” He tore open a field dressing and tossed the bandage to him. Cutting the plastic cover into a square, he taped it over the entry wound. He left the bottom side loose, creating a one-way valve that let the man breath and the blood escape.
“What’s your name?” Ice asked.
“Murat,” he gasped.
“Where were you going to put the bomb, Murat? Tell me and I’ll make sure you live.”
“In front of the office. Taxi stand.” Bloody froth bubbled from the corner of his mouth.
“How were you going to detonate it?”
“Kreshnik. Kreshnik was going to do it.”
Ice looked in the man’s jacket and found a phone. He checked the messages; nothing. He checked the calls; there was one from an unlisted number an hour ago. They were in luck. The driver hadn’t had the opportunity to warn anyone. He turned to the car where Mitch was inspecting some wiring. “I need an update on that thing.”
“I can defuse it. No problems.”
Ice nodded. That meant his plan could work.
“Gaz, I need you to take this guy back to Pristina in the chopper, then head to Daçi’s office. Link in with his PSD. Take Barishna with you.”
“Mitch will stay and sort the car, yeah. So we evac this guy and RV with you all in the city?”
“Correct, keep Barishna detained and out of sight.”
“Wilco.” Gaz lifted the wounded man. One of his men grasped his legs and they carried him to the waiting chopper.
A few seconds later, Vance appeared having left Barishna in the hands of the SAS.
“How’s it going?” he asked Ice.
“Mitch will have it sorted in a minute. The driver didn’t alert anyone so we’ve still got a chance to get the jump on Kreshnik.”
“Good, then we need to get moving."
***
A little over twenty miles away, Kreshnik lit another cigarette as he leaned against the gray van and watched the crowds gather. People were carrying blue flags and signs emblazoned with LDK party slogans. It amused him they had chosen to hold the political rally in the main square of Kosovo’s only university. The institution was once the pride of the Serbs; a glowing beacon of their dominance. Now, the university was closed.
He looked across the square at a half-finished Orthodox Church that towered over the grounds. Like the university, it had been abandoned. For Kreshnik, the five story, onion-domed building was a reminder that their work was not yet finished. There were still Serbs that needed to be taken care of.
He checked his watch and looked down the street. Where the hell was the cab? It was nearly midday and the bomb needed to be in front of Daçi’s office across from the university. Zahir wanted the voters to see him die in a ball of fire. When that happened, they would tear the city apart and the last remaining Serbs would be forced out of Kosovo.
He was about to call Murat when he spotted the silver taxi driving around the ring road. He checked that the garage door opener was still in his pocket. It only had a range of about fifty feet so he’d have to get close to detonate the bomb. He banged on the van and flung open the windowless side door. His three men inside were playing cards. “Imer, come with me.”
“In a minute, I’m winning,” Imer shot back, never taking his eyes off his hand.
“Fucking now!”
Kreshnik left the van with Imer in tow, crossed the busy street, and entered the university grounds. He scanned the crowd, scoping the security presence. British soldiers and Italian policemen stood at most of the entry points to the square.
They walked across the grass to where a crowd was gathering around a large flatbed truck. Technicians were busy setting up speakers and a microphone. This was where Daçi would give his speech. It was a short walk from his office, down the main road, and past the taxi rank.
He skirted around the crowd, searching for the car. It was parked in the taxi rank just as planned. A tall man with a beard got out. It was not Murat. He reached into his pocket and pressed the garage remote. Nothing happened.
“Fuck.” He turned and pushed Imer back into the crowd.
“What’s going on?”
“We’ve been compromised.”
“What? By who?”
“Move it. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“What about Daçi? Boss wants him dead.”
“I fucking know that, and I’m going to take care of it.”
He reached the outer edge of the crowd and scanned for threats. Two Italian policemen were smoking cigarettes and chatting. He glanced up at the buildings around the square and froze. On the roof of a university building, one hundred yards away, he caught a glimpse of someone familiar. Vance’s bull-head and broad shoulders were silhouetted against the blue sky. “Your mother’s a whore,” Kreshnik mouthed as he lowered his eyes to the front of the building. There on the steps was Ice, looking straight at him. Kreshnik turned and walked into the crowd. “Don’t look back, they’re hunting for us.”
CHAPTER 12
Ice spoke into his lapel mike. “Kreshnik’s on the northern side of the square. He’s wearing a black jacket. Anyone got visual?”
“Negative,” reported Gaz.
“I ain’t got shit,” reported Vance from the rooftop where he was in position with a SAS sniper. There were three more SAS in the crowd. “Brother, there’s got to be over a thousand people in that crowd now. The chances of you finding that asshole are slim to none. All these fuckers look the same.”
“He was heading away from the stage. If Kreshnik makes a move, he’ll to try to snipe Daçi. Cover all the high ground.” Ice scanned the area north of the square where he had glimpsed the Albanian assassin. His eyes came to rest on a massive stone structure less than three hundred yards away. The partially-constructed Orthodox Church towered above the surrounding low-rise buildings. He started jogging toward it. If he were a sniper, that’s where he would be.
Vance's voice boomed over the radio. “Guys, Daçi is about three minutes from taking the stage.”
“Gaz, I need a team to clear the old church,” transmitted Ice.
“Roger, Harry and I are close by. We’ll check it out.”
***
Kreshnik wrenched the side door of the van open, startling the two men in the back still playing cards.
“What? You want me to deal you in?” one of them asked, a cigarette bouncing in the corner of his mouth as he spoke.
“No, you stupid bastard.” Kreshnik climbed in and smacked him on the side of the head sending the cigarette flying. “We�
��ve been compromised.” He climbed through the van to the driver’s seat as Imer pulled the door shut. “Grab your weapons.”
He drove down the street, over a curb, and parked in front of the abandoned church.
“What are we doing?” asked one of them as he checked his AK. “When’s the bomb going off?”
“It’s not. We’re finishing this by hand.” He jumped out of the driver’s seat and slid open the side door. “You two keep watch at the bottom of the tower. If anyone tries to get in, kill them.” He screwed a suppressor onto his Skorpion and thrust it into Imer’s hands. “You’re with me.”
He grabbed the rolled carpet containing the sniper rifle and walked toward the church. He was halfway there when a voice startled him.
“Mi scusi.”
He turned and faced two Italian policemen. One adjusted his beret as the other surveyed him with a critical eye.
“Yes?”
“This area is off limits. You can’t pray in here,” the officer said, looking at the carpet.
“It’s OK. I am a priest.” He turned and nodded at Imer who had stepped out of the van holding the suppressed Skorpion. “Here’s my altar boy.”
The policeman’s eyes nearly popped out of his head and his partner fumbled for his pistol. They were too slow. The Skorpion hissed twice as Imer shot both of them in the head.
“Drag the bodies inside.” Kreshnik turned and entered the building.
Construction materials coated in bird dung filled the entrance. The worship hall was stacked from floor to ceiling with scaffolding, blocking most of the light that slipped through the narrow windows. He unrolled the mat and checked the weapon. Glancing around, he identified the staircase to the bell tower and bolted up it, sniper rifle in hand.
***
Ice spotted the gray van as he jogged to the church. “Vance, you got eyes on?” He drew the Glock from under his jacket as he pushed his way through the bushes that surrounded the dilapidated building.
“Yeah bud, no sign of Kreshnik. Daçi has left the office and is walking to the stage.”
He held his pistol ready as he inspected the van. It was unlocked and empty. A glint of brass on the ground caught his eye. He knelt to pick it up, and spotted a blood trail and scuff marks.
“I can confirm multiple hostiles are in the church.”
“We do not have a visual.”
Gaz’s voice came in over his earpiece. “I can see you, Ice. We’re directly opposite.”
He looked up. The two SAS troopers were approaching the entrance with pistols drawn. Webbing and rifles had been left in their vehicle, allowing them to maintain a low profile.
“I’m going in,” said Ice.
“Negative, we’ve got this,” replied Gaz. He moved with Harry through the entrance, covering each other using a technique that allowed them to see deeper into the room.
A shot rang out from the tower above.
Vance’s voice blasted over the airways. “Ibrahim is down, Ibrahim is down!”
The two SAS troopers surged forward. Ice rushed in behind them.
The deafening roar of an assault rifle echoed off the walls and Gaz fired a volley of rounds as he slumped to the ground. Harry spun from the other side blasting away with his pistol.
Ice lunged forward to extract Gaz but was forced back by a hail of bullets.
“Fuck!” Gaz had his fingers pressed against a stomach wound. “There’s two of them. They’ve got the inner door covered.”
“Vance, we need an ambulance. Gaz is hit.”
“Roger, I’m on it.”
“Harry, you OK?”
More AK fire thundered. “We’re pinned!”
Ice sprinted out the building, searching for another way in. He looked up. If he could get to one of the window openings five yards above him he could out-flank the gunmen. He looked around for something climb and remembered the van.
The keys were missing but it was unlocked. He holstered his pistol, released the park brake and pushed. It rolled forward slowly as he turned the wheel. It hit the church with a crunch and he climbed up onto the van’s roof. The metal groaned under his 220 pounds.
He sized up the gap to the window. With a grunt, he ran, jumped, and managed to grab the edge. Then he hauled himself up and wedged himself in the opening. “Oh shit.” Inside was a long drop onto the scaffolding. He had no way of turning and lowering himself, there was only one option. “Harry, make some noise,” he whispered into his mike.
Shots from the SAS trooper echoed off the walls as Ice let himself tumble forward flipping over to land on his back. He hit the board with a crash. Struggling to his feet, he drew his pistol and aimed down at the worship hall. The first gunman was fixated on the entrance and Ice dropped him with a double tap.
The other gunman spotted him.
Ice slid off the scaffolding, sprinting for cover as the room was sprayed with bullets. All went quiet.
“You’re clear,” Harry yelled out. He had killed the other shooter and was tending to Gaz who lay in a spreading pool of blood.
“I’m heading up.” Ice strode to a stone staircase, pistol held ready as he cautiously ascended. Near the top Ice crept upward, listening for any movement. He had almost reached the bell tower when bullets ricocheted off the wall. The shooter was armed with a suppressed weapon.
Ice emptied his pistol, dropped the magazine, and slammed a new one home. More rounds ricocheted off the wall as the gunman fired blindly. When the shots stopped, Ice heard a clatter as a magazine hit the floor. He stormed up the last flight of steps and found the man fumbling with a machine pistol. Ice grabbed it with one hand and struck him in the face with his Glock. The man dropped the gun and stumbled back into the bell tower. Ice shot him twice in the chest. As he stepped out of the stairwell, he caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye.
A rifle butt smashed into his arm, sending the pistol flying. The butt-stroke was followed with a savage kick to the thigh and Ice’s leg collapsed dropping him to the ground.
Kreshnik grinned. “Not so calm now, Iceman?” He lifted the rifle and pointed it directly at his face. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
“You’re a murdering scumbag.”
The Albanian shrugged. “I’m fighting for my people. You’re just another war loving Yankee.”
“Vance, fire.” Ice had his thumb on the transmit button of his radio.
The round caught Kreshnik by surprise. He flinched as the bullet cracked by his head and blew a chunk of stone from the edge of one of bell tower’s columns.
Kicking out, Ice swept the assassin’s legs from under him. The rifle fired and a bullet blasted a hole in the bricks. Kreshnik landed on Ice and abandoned his weapon as they grappled across the floor. He managed to kick the radio from Ice’s hip, but not before he was caught in a headlock.
Ice hauled Kreshnik off the ground. “This is for everyone you’ve killed, you murdering piece of shit.” He braced his foot against the edge of the bell tower and threw the war criminal out through the opening. The terrified scream lasted a full second before he smashed into the ground headfirst.
Ice retrieved the radio and stuffed the earpiece back into his ear.
“Ice, can you hear me?” Vance’s voice sounded frantic.
“I’m here.”
“Damn, I thought I’d lost you, buddy.”
“Is Daçi dead?” Ice peered out from the church tower. The crowd was dispersing while police and military converged on the square. An ambulance siren wailed in the background.
“Took a round to the shoulder but he’ll live. We’re moving him to his office now.”
“Roger, can you also send the police over to the church. There’s six bodies here, including two police officers.”
“Tell me you didn’t wax the cops?”
“No, Kreshnik did.”
“Did you get him?”
“Let’s just say we had a falling out. I’ll see you at the safe house. I need to check on Gaz.�
� Ice turned and jogged down the stairs, past the dead bodies and out to the parking lot. Harry was watching a team of paramedics loading the unconscious SAS patrol commander into an ambulance.
“How’s he doing?”
The grim expression on Harry’s face said it all. “Not good, but he’ll make it.”
“Yeah, Gaz is a tough bastard." He looked around. “We need to get out of here. Follow me.” Ice walked around the church and found Kreshnik’s body in the dense bushes at the base of the building. The corpse was on its back with the head at almost a right angle. He checked the dead man’s pockets and found the keys to the van. “Let’s get back to your safe house.”
***
In the chaos caused by the attempted assassination, it took Ice and Harry nearly half an hour to get back to the safe house. They parked the van in front and met the rest of the team in the operations room. Everyone looked tired but alert. Eager to take the fight to Zahir.
“Any update on Gaz?” Ice asked when everyone was present.
“It’s not good, mate,” Mitch said. “He’s in a coma at the base hospital. They’re prepping him for evac.”
“And Ibrahim Daçi?”
Vance spoke up from where he was sitting on a stool in the corner. “To say that he’s pissed is an understatement.”
“With us?” asked Ice.
“No, with his old friend, Zahir. I explained the full situation to him. How he was behind the attacks in Mitrovica and the missing girls, and how Kreshnik, Zahir’s right hand man, pulled the trigger. He wants Zahir taken down.”
“He wants him dead? I thought he was a moderate.”
“He is. He wants Zahir exposed and humiliated. Wants his political party to lose all credibility. I told him how he’s planning to head up to Mitrovica tomorrow.” Vance chuckled.
“And?”
“Daçi’s people have already told the press the attack was lethal. The sly dog wants to make a surprise appearance. Rise from the dead, catch Zahir with his pants down and give him a solid spanking in front of the crowd.”
PRIMAL Inception (The PRIMAL Series) Page 9
