PRIMAL Nemesis (Book 2 in the Redemption Trilogy, A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 6) (The PRIMAL Series)

by Jack Silkstone

  A split second later he knew something was wrong, very wrong. His heart raced and he fought the sudden urge to puke. He turned to the bodyguard as he clutched his chest. The man was watching him intently. As Wesley keeled over he wondered why the guard was wearing rubber gloves. Clarity hit him the same time as the deck.

  Crouched under the outdoor setting Saneh was listening to everything happening inside. Mirza was retransmitting the audio feed from the listening devices over her earpiece. Prompted by the commotion she crept up to the glass and peered in. “Mirza, he's not trying to help him.” Wesley was lying on the ground convulsing as his bodyguard watched calmly from a seat at the table. “I can't just let him die. I'm going in.”

  “Saneh, wait.”

  She drew her Riffe dive knife from its sheath and padded forward. The rear doors were still open. She slipped through and stalked across the floor, the knife hidden behind her forearm. The bodyguard was watching Wesley and didn't see her till she was climbing up the steps to the bridge.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” His eyes locked on to her cleavage.

  “I was waiting for Wesley.” Saneh flashed him a doe-eyed look and thrust out her chest as she walked toward him. “Oh shit, is he alright?” She cupped her free hand to her mouth.

  “He's fine. Had bit too much to drink.”

  That's a lie, thought Saneh. Wesley was still convulsing on the floor.

  “You want a line?” The bodyguard flicked his chin in the direction of the table.

  She shot him a sultry smile. “I don't need drugs to have fun.”

  The man reached inside his jacket. “You should have a line,” he said as a pistol appeared from under the coat.

  “I'm on my way,” Mirza transmitted.

  She glanced at the handgun then back down at Wesley. “What are you doing? Please don't hurt me.” The banker was clutching his chest, hyperventilating, and his lips were blue.

  “No one’s going to get hurt if you do what you’re told.”

  Another lie, thought Saneh as she took a hesitant step toward him. “He's dying, isn't he?” She exploded into action. A long brown leg flashed through the air kicking the gun free from his hand. Simultaneously she lashed out with the knife.

  The bodyguard was fast and he avoided the knife strike.

  Saneh knew she was overmatched. The GES operative was bigger, stronger, and just as quick. She reversed the knife strike and launched another kick. The slash cut through cloth and flesh but the guard caught the kick and with a grunt tossed her across the room.

  She hit one of the uprights supporting the ceiling and landed dazed on her side. The bloody knife was still clutched in her hand.

  The man pulled back his jacket to reveal a blood-soaked wound in his flank. “You fucking bitch,” he snarled as he turned and dived for the pistol under the table.

  As Saneh moved to throw the knife it was plucked from her hand.

  Mirza spun the blade in his palm and leaped up the steps to the bridge level. The guard retrieved his handgun as the PRIMAL operative thrust the dive knife down between his shoulders, burying the blade in his spine and heart. Screaming, the guard tried to reach back and grab it. Slumping forward he hit the ground and twitched in a rapidly expanding pool of blood.

  Saneh staggered to her feet. Mirza had dumped his backpack next to Wesley and was checking his vitals.

  “How is he?”

  Mirza shook his head. “We need a med kit. I haven't got adrenaline or a defib. He's going into cardiac arrest.” He rolled the skinny banker onto his side. “A boat this size should have a proper med kit. Check the galley.”

  She rushed downstairs. The first door she opened was the empty crew quarters. The second was the galley. She flicked a light switch and pulled open cupboards. Above the sink she found the medical kit. Grabbing the bag she ran upstairs, ripped the defibrillator unit from the pack and handed it to Mirza.

  He waved it away. “I need adrenalin.”

  Her hands trembled as she hunted through the pack’s compartments and pouches. She found a clasp of injectors and handed Mirza a shot of adrenalin. He plunged it into Wesley's thigh.

  The banker sat bolt upright and screamed. Mirza clamped his hand over his mouth and the two of them held him down as he thrashed. After a few seconds he went limp. “He's got a pulse but we need to keep him warm.” The wiry Indian scooped Wesley off the deck like he was a child and carried him across to the lounge. “We need a blanket.”

  Fifteen minutes later Wesley was stable and passed out on the lounge. Mirza had rigged a giving set and placed a heart rate monitor on him. He sat beside Saneh on the couch opposite.

  “How did you get past the security?” she asked.

  “I used a trick Bishop taught me.”

  One of her eyebrows arched. “You blew something up?”

  He laughed. “No I pulled my cap low and strolled on in.”

  She gave a chuckle. “He has his faults but a lack of courage isn't one of them. So, what are we going to do now?”

  He shrugged. “I don't know, team leader, what are we going to do?”

  She nodded to Wesley. “We've secured our primary objective. Now we just need to figure out how to get him the hell out of here.”

  “Can I make a suggestion?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, we're on a boat.”

  Saneh smiled. “Yes, we are.”

  CHAPTER 11

  VIRGINIA

  Bishop was behind the wheel of the station wagon as they sped through the rain-swept countryside. A torrent lashed the windshield and the headlights cut through the darkness illuminating the road ahead. The extraction from the GES facility had gone off without a hitch. Their gillie suits, stinking and muddy, had been thrown in a dumpster at the last town where they stopped for coffee and donuts.

  “How’s it going?” Bishop glanced across to see how Mitch was progressing with the bug. He had plugged the tiny device into his iPRIMAL and was using a single earphone to listen to the six hours of recording.

  “Good, none of the data has been corrupted.”

  “That happens often?”

  “The micro memory in this thing is cutting edge, but not exactly bomb proof yet.”

  He frowned. “You mean there's a chance we went through this for nothing?”

  Mitch shrugged. “There are always risks, mate.”

  He concentrated back on the road. It was three in the morning and the coffee they’d drunk was doing little to keep his eyelids from drooping. He needed to keep talking to stay awake. “Mitch, can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “What do you think I should do about Saneh?”

  Mitch stared sideways at him. “Not sure what you mean.”

  “Should I make a go of it?”

  “Look, I'm not an expert on women or relationships. But, I reckon if you love her, you should. God knows she's nuts about you.”

  “What? She hates me.”

  Mitch snorted. “Champ, she hates self-destructive, high-speed, leap before you think, Bishop. She's angry because she can see what you could be if you dropped all your baggage.”

  He frowned. “So she wants to change me?”

  “No numpty, she doesn't want you taking risks and getting yourself killed.”

  He grunted.

  “Mate, your cowboy days are over. But, you already knew that.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “The last job in Mexico. Your decisions were cool, calm, calculated. That's more Mirza than you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Yeah OK, character assassination is over. How about you find me something interesting to listen to.”

  Mitch turned his attention back to the tablet. “OK, I've trimmed the track to when King and Pollard are talking. Audio's pretty shite though, can't quite make out the words. I’ll run it through an enhancer and see if we can clean it up.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “A few seconds.” A
s the software completed its rendering Mitch plugged the tablet into the car’s audio system. “OK, we're live.”

  The speakers crackled and Bishop could make out faint voices. He turned the volume up.

  “When are you going to deal with that weasel Wesley?”

  “That's Pollard,” said Mitch.

  “Tonight.”

  “And that's King.”

  “Good, he's a goddamn liability… Damn that's good. So what did your boys uncover in Germany?”

  Germany? Bishop’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Mitch, Aleks was in Germany.”

  Mitch put his finger to his lips. “Listen.”

  “We've got a strong lead, sir. Objective Red Sox's parents gave up a means of contacting him. A phone number we've traced to Brazil. Pershing's team is ready to go as soon as we have more fidelity.”

  “Fidelity? How long is that going to take?”

  By the time they’d finished listening Bishop's hands were crushing the steering wheel. His foot was pushed almost to the floor and the needle was touching ninety miles an hour. “Call Chua.”

  Mitch enabled the secure communications app on the tablet.

  A dial tone sounded over the speakers. “Gentleman I trust you’re–”

  “Listen, Chua,” Bishop snapped. “You need to warn Saneh. Pollard is going to have Wesley killed.”

  “OK.”

  “There's more. Somehow they know about Kurtz, they've been sniffing around in Germany. You've got to let Aleks know.”

  “Guys, great work getting this info. It corroborates what's happened in the last twelve hours.”

  “Is everyone OK? We can be back at the jet and airborne within the hour. Fly to New York by morning and backup Mirza and Saneh.” He spoke at breakneck speed.

  “That's not necessary, everyone is fine. They're not going to be in New York for long. Saneh and Mirza have commandeered Wesley Chambers’ boat and they'll be underway in the next few minutes.”

  Bishop raised his eyebrows. “How the hell did they do that?”

  “Saneh was onboard when Wesley's bodyguard tried to kill him using spiked cocaine. She and Mirza intervened, saved him, and killed the guard. They're about to sail the boat down the Hudson.”

  “Do either of them know how to sail a vessel that size?”

  “Yes, it seems Saneh was trained as a helmsman for a mission when she was with Iranian intelligence. With Wesley's help they're confident they can get underway and escape. They might need some technical support so Mitch should standby for a call.”

  “Will do, mate,” responded Mitch.

  “OK, so we were a little late with that intel.” Bishop backed off the accelerator and the torrent of rain hitting the windshield eased. “But, what about Aleks? Has he found Kurtz?”

  “No, but he did thwart an attempted kidnapping. Two ex-military types tried to abduct Kurtz's parents. They're both safe.”

  “That's what King was talking about,” said Mitch.

  “Did you get a recording?” asked Chua.

  “Yes, Mitch can send it to you now.” Bishop paused. “Chua, those guys Aleks bumped were GES operatives. I think we've seriously underestimated the resources and audacity of these people. They’re half-way to tracking down one of our own.”

  “And that's why we need to regain the initiative. Vance has activated the CAT and they'll be in my location in twelve hours. Aleks is meeting them here to head it up. If GES get Kurtz we’ll have to be prepared to do a recovery op.”

  “But we still don't know where Kurtz is.”

  “That’s why I need you to take over the search for him. We do know the last time he checked his Skype account he was in Brazil, downtown Rio.”

  “OK, Mitch and I can fly there directly.”

  “Negative. I need Mitch back here to assist in extracting Saneh and Mirza. Get him to drop you at Miami International. I’ll arrange a ticket to Rio for you. Contact Aleks and get a verbal handover. We’ll deploy a team to support you once we’ve reconsolidated here in Jamaica.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “I know I don’t need to tell you to keep a low profile. GES are probably already in Rio and we don’t want to deal with them until the CAT is ready.”

  “Roger.”

  “I'll check back in when I've arranged your ticket. Drive safe.”

  “Will do.”

  ***

  NEW YORK

  Saneh checked the time on her watch; it had just passed three in the morning. She glanced out the bridge windows of the Nemesis at the Hudson river. There were only a few boats cruising past. New York might not sleep but she was definitely at her drowsiest in the early hours.

  She turned to where Mirza was checking on the now conscious investment banker. “We have to get this boat underway.”

  He nodded. “Wesley, we need you to start the engines. Are you feeling strong enough to stand?”

  “Yeah.” The banker was staring at Mirza with a confused expression. “I know you, don’t I?”

  Mirza shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He helped him off the lounge.

  “Yes, I do.” Wesley was shaky as he walked across to the helm. Halfway across the room he stopped and his face lit up. “You’re the miner! The Indian guy. You’re the one who bugged my phone. You sneaky shit!”

  Saneh grabbed his shoulder, holding him steady. “Hey, Wesley, let’s focus on the job at hand. Your dead bodyguard probably has other friends, yes? They could be on their way here now.”

  “Oh, yeah, OK.” He leaned against the console. Mirza slipped out through the rear door of the cabin.

  He dropped his head and mumbled, “Hey, I haven't had a chance to thank you yet. So... thanks.”

  Saneh shrugged. “At least now you know what your boss thinks of you.”

  The young man sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Those dirty pricks. They'd be nothing without me. I brought in hundreds of millions of dollars of investment.”

  She gave him a wink. “And now you get to help us take them down.”

  “You're working with the Yankee guy aren't you? The one who took down the Mexican operation.”

  “Let's just say we're here to right some wrongs. Now are you going to help me power this bad boy up?”

  Wesley sighed. “She's a lady. Nemesis was a goddess…” He managed a wry smile and shot her breasts a glance. She was still wearing her black one-piece swimsuit. “Just like you.”

  “Eyes on the console, Romeo.”

  “Yeah, OK.” He reached across and pressed a button. The touch screen came to life. He entered a four-digit code and the engines commenced their initiation procedure. “You can tell your buddy to cast off.”

  Saneh relayed the order through her radio. “Let's keep the running lights off,” she added as Wesley checked the engines were green across the board. “I was expecting a more complicated start-up process.”

  He shook his head. “No, I had her upgraded last year. Single digital console, pushbutton start, and automated engineering settings. Extra two million on the thirty I paid for her.”

  “Wow, you really must have the world’s smallest dick.”

  He frowned. “That’s a bit harsh.”

  “You’ll get over it.”

  Mirza reappeared in the cabin a moment later. “We’re free of the pontoon. No sign of the guards.”

  “You're kidding me. With the berthing fees I pay I would have expected more. Look, if you're not going to let me use the running lights maybe we should kill the internals.”

  “Good idea.” Mirza hit the wall-mounted switch.

  The glow of the boat’s console cast an eerie glow in the cabin as Wesley pushed the throttle forward and spun the wheel. The sleek vessel pulled away from the dock and slowly nosed its way out onto the river.

  “You got it from here? I'm not feeling great.”

  “Sure.” Saneh took the helm and aimed the bow down river. Once they were a few hundred yards from the dock she activated the running lights and eased
on the throttles. The touch screen indicated the boat was making headway of eight knots. The digital map showed their position being slightly right of the river’s centerline. Off the port side the lights of Manhattan were bright.

  She eased the throttles and brought the high-performance motor-yacht to a cruising speed of fifteen knots. The diesels thrummed under her feet as they surged forward. She noticed there was another set of throttles for the 5,600 horsepower jet turbines. She searched the screen to see if they were online and identified a button for the start-up sequence. That might be handy later on, she thought.

  Mirza joined her, having laid the Banker on the lounge behind them.

  “How is he?” she asked.

  “As good as can be expected. We're just lucky he's got a high tolerance for drug abuse.”

  “Kids these days.”

  “So what's the plan from here?”

  She swiped the touch screen accessing the navigation system. “I've plotted a route from here to Jamaica. At twenty knots we'll be there in forty-eight hours.”

  “She'll go that far?”

  “She’ll go further if we're just cruising on the diesels. Once we're far enough offshore we can ditch the body.” She nodded at the dead bodyguard that Mirza had wrapped in a blanket.

  “And the authorities? What if the boat is declared missing?”

  “We’ll get Wesley to call in and tell them he decided to take her for a cruise.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Mirza, I need you to setup the iPRIMAL satellite uplink so we’ve got comms. I also want you to secure Wesley in his bedroom. Then you should get some rest. We're going to be pulling four hour shifts once underway.”

  “Roger, Skipper. I'll get things sorted. Oh, one more thing. Mitch sent me a message to remind you to disengage the mode A and B AIS transponder, whatever that is.”