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

by Jack Silkstone

  He was wearing a pair of augmented reality goggles that were transmitting a feed from the aircraft’s suite of external cameras. Using the same technology as the CAT helmets they gave him an unprecedented view of the rapidly approaching runway.

  As the rough surface raced up to meet him he tipped the nose and let the rear wheels kiss the grass. The engines roared as he reversed the thrust and punched a parachute release button. Behind the jet a single-shot parachute blossomed and Mitch was thrown forward against his harness as the jet slowed.

  He spotted the team closing in carrying a stretcher. He released the parachute, braked one of the wheels and spun the jet in a tight circle before stopping. Grabbing his MP7 submachine gun he ran back, opened the door, and dropped the stairs.

  The flashing blue lights of police vehicles reflected off the aircraft’s white skin as the PRIMAL team shuffled across the airfield with the casualty. Behind them the convoy bounced across the field, closing fast. Mitch extended the MP7’s stock and raised the weapon. Before he could fire a line of tracer reached out from Bishop's team and struck the cars. The PRIMAL team skidded to a halt as the stretcher-bearers reached the stairs.

  Behind them a broad-shouldered figure with a machine gun continued to engage the police.

  Mitch waved Kruger, Pavel, and Bishop up the stairs with the stretcher.

  “Aleks, let’s go!” Bishop fired his Tavor at the police cars. The two pickups were now reversing away from them.

  The big Russian staggered out of the darkness with Kruger’s machine gun slung across his chest. His face was pale, skin drenched in sweat. “Is Kurtz inside?”

  “Yeah, mate.” Mitch grabbed him as he collapsed and dragged him up the stairs. “Lads, I need a hand.”

  Bishop was at his shoulder and helped drag Aleks into the cabin. Mitch strode back to the cockpit and jumped in the pilot’s seat. “Hold on, this is going to be rough.” He threw on his goggles and hit the throttles.

  The jet screamed as it fought against the brakes. Once the engines were generating enough thrust Mitch released them and pushed the throttle to the stops. Grass raced under the nose camera as they blasted down the short strip. He pulled back on the stick as their speed increased. “Come on, girl.” The jet seemed to stick to the runway for a moment then with a shudder she lifted off with feet to spare. Thick jungle flashed underneath then inky black water as they banked over the estuary. “How we doing back there, lads?”

  His question was met with deathly silence. He hit the autopilot and shrugged out of his harness. As soon as he entered the cabin he knew something was seriously wrong. Bishop was kneeling next to Aleks. The Russian's armor was stripped away. His abdomen was smeared in blood.

  Bishop’s eyes were misty. “We lost him, Mitch. Aleks is dead.”

  Chapter 27

  ges facility, virginia

  Howard watched as King stared at his tumbler of whiskey. The man was remarkably calm considering the events of the last twenty-four hours.

  “Mr. King, I think we need to assume Pershing and his men are dead.” Howard had received a message from the CIA station in Rio De Janeiro. A police unit had reported to the safe house outside of Foz do Iguacu and witnessed a business jet taking off.

  “Same jet we lost out of Jamaica, right?”

  “Probably. We haven't got much information other than the safe house was raided and there were two survivors.”

  “Pollard is going to lose his shit.” King's eyes remained fixed on his drink.

  “He doesn't know?”

  King shook his head. “No, he's focused on the Venezuelan deal. Heads down there tomorrow.” He took a sip from the glass. “You can bet Larkin knows all about it already. We can kiss our CIA contracts goodbye.”

  “I haven't spoken to him.”

  “You should, he's not a man you want to keep waiting.” King finished the whiskey, placed the empty glass on the table and sat upright. “You had better report in. I'm going to call Pollard.”

  “Good luck, dude.” Howard rose and made for the door.

  “Pass on my regards, Terrance. I've got a feeling I might be needing a job soon.”

  Howard walked outside and grabbed his phone. He felt the slightest hint of sadness that Pershing was dead but it was quickly replaced with relief. If the former CIA agent had been neutralized there was no way his Mexico double-dealings were going to be revealed. On the other hand, it also meant he was back to relying on his measly CIA wage. He dialed Larkin; with any luck the contracting director would be able to offer him new opportunities.

  ***

  LASCAR ISLAND

  Vance was sitting at his desk when there was a soft knock at his door and Frank walked in. “What up? We get an update from Bishop and the boys?”

  The watchkeeper cleared his throat. “Yeah, they've got Kurtz.”

  “Excellent.” He caught Frank’s grave expression and his voice lowered. “He OK?”

  “Yeah he's OK. Vance… they lost Aleks.”

  He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “When, how?”

  “He took two rounds to the stomach, self-treated. The team didn’t know till Kurtz was safe onboard the jet.”

  Vance swallowed as he tried to come to terms with the loss. “Is the rest of the team safe?”

  “Yes, they're on their way to a Lascar facility in Panama. I've made arrangements for Aleks’s body to be shipped from there on a flight to the UAE. Then he’ll be transferred to his hometown.”

  “Yeah, OK.” He swallowed hard. “What’s happening with Kurtz?”

  “He’ll travel with Aleks’s body back to the UAE. He’ll be treated there.”

  “OK, when he's ready I guess he can make a decision on what he wants to do.”

  Frank nodded. “Bishop and the team are going to reorg in Panama, change the aircraft’s markings, then RV with Saneh and Mirza in Venezuela. The intel shop has confirmed the runway Ivan identified is suitable.”

  He nodded. “Did they get Pershing?”

  “Yes, the GES team was neutralized along with a CIA officer. The mission was a success.”

  “Hardly, we lost a good man.”

  “Aleks gave his life to get Kurtz out. In his mind the mission was a success,” Frank said before leaving the office.

  Vance glanced at his bookshelf. “To fallen brothers,” he whispered and headed out the door back to the operations room. He needed to contact Chua and give him the news. Then he would get on to Mirza and Saneh. PRIMAL was going to make Jordan Pollard pay dearly for the loss of Aleks’s life.

  ***

  PANAMA

  The Lascar Logistics terminal at Tocumen International Airport was one of the global company’s largest. Three huge hangars housed a maintenance facility, freight forwarding warehouse, and offices for thirty staff. In the early hours of the morning the maintenance hangar usually bustled with activity as technicians prepared the Lascar aircraft for the day’s work. However, today the hangar was empty of local staff and the doors closed. Inside, the C-130 that had dropped Mitch over the Nemesis, and Sleek, the business jet, were parked side by side under bright fluorescent lights.

  Bishop, joined by Pavel, Miklos, and Kruger, carried their fallen brother solemnly up the C-130’s ramp. Kurtz hobbled behind them with Mitch at his side. They laid the stretcher on the floor, said their farewells, and walked back out.

  In the front of the cargo hold the Priority Movements Airlift crew waited a respectful distance. Bishop and Kurtz were the last to leave.

  “He died because of me, Aden.” Kurtz almost choked on the words.

  “No mate, he gave his life to protect us all. If anyone's to blame it's me. I drove you away.”

  Kurtz turned to him with tears in his eyes. “This family means everything to me. You brought me back and he gave his life so I could live. I won't ever forget that.”

  Bishop wrapped his arm around the taller man’s shoulder, fighting back his own tears. “You're my brother, Kurtz, that will never, ever change.�
��

  The German sobbed, hugging Bishop despite his wounded hands. When they separated he wiped tears from his face. “I want to destroy them, Aden. I want to help you kill them all.”

  Bishop shook his head. “You're all sorts of messed up, mate. We need to get you to a hospital.”

  “I'm fine. Nothing is broken, just a little singed.” He managed a smile revealing the absence of his front teeth.

  Bishop shot him a wry smile. “You sure?”

  Kurtz nodded and they walked slowly down the ramp.

  “OK, I'd just got a message from Saneh. She wants us in Caracas tonight. We're going to be rolling heavy so you'll have to stay onboard Sleek with Mitch. Once the mission’s wrapped up we’ll get you some serious medical attention. Maybe even some new teeth.”

  “Ja, I can live with that.”

  “OK, let's get loaded.”

  Bishop watched as Kurtz walked stiff-legged across to where the rest of the team was sorting their gear. He glanced back into the dark hold of the C-130. “Rest easy, brother.”

  ***

  CARACAS, VENEZUELA

  Saneh’s stomach was twisted with grief. Aleks had been her closest friend within the PRIMAL team. The big Russian had treated her like a sister and he was the brother she never had. She sat at the kitchen table in the Caracas safe house struggling to hold back tears.

  Mirza placed a cup of green tea in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  She wiped her eyes and grasped the warm mug with both hands. “Aleks died getting Kurtz back. We need to honor that and finish the people responsible.”

  “I agree.” Mirza sat opposite. “We know Pollard is arriving tomorrow. That means we need to move on your plan tonight. Bishop and the team will have to infil just after dark.”

  “Yes, I already sent him a warning order.”

  They were interrupted by a knock at the front door. Mirza drew his pistol and moved to the entrance. Saneh readied her own weapon.

  “It's Antonio.” Mirza unlocked the door and exchanged greetings.

  When the student walked into the kitchen he was carrying a backpack. “I’ve got them all,” he said as he placed the bag on the table.

  She nodded. “Good work.”

  He unzipped the bag and emptied a pile of mobile phones on the table. “I took all the batteries out just like you said.”

  “No one asked any questions?”

  Antonio shook his head. “No, when I told them the police were listening they were happy to sell them to me.”

  “Great work. Do you want a hot drink?”

  Antonio pulled out a chair and sat. “That would be nice.”

  Mirza made his way across to the kettle as Saneh inspected the phones.

  “I don't see how this is going to help find the trident man. Or how this will make his men pay for what happened to my girlfriend, and the others.”

  She shot him a grim smile, her grief replaced by thoughts of retribution. “Trust me, he'll pay. They will all pay.” She checked her watch. “In fact, Mirza, we need to get going to pick up the boys.”

  “Can I come?' asked Antonio.

  “No, I've got a special job for you. I want you to organize a meeting.”

  Chapter 28

  CARIBBEAN SEA

  The sun reflected brightly off the calm seas but the mood on the fishing boat was dark. Chua and Flash had received the news of Aleks’s death not long after the rest of the team. The two men mourned in separate ways. Chua spent an hour at the back of the boat silently staring out at the wake. Flash turned to his work, burying himself in the task of developing the program that would enable them to steal Pollard’s funding. The other member of their tiny crew, Wesley Chambers, was left to keep them on course.

  It was mid-morning when Chua finished his silent vigil and climbed down to the galley. “Hey, Flash, how are you doing?”

  “Yeah I'm OK, bud. You?”

  “As good as can be expected. So where are we at?”

  Flash cracked his knuckles. “I think I’ve nailed it. The program I've written allows me to replicate the software the bank uses to authenticate. It needs two codes on two separate devices. They can't be in the same location and they need to be inputted within thirty seconds of each other. It’s all part of the bank’s anti-duress procedures. If you enter the wrong code the system automatically shuts you out. No second chances.”

  “So if Pollard or Wesley gives us the wrong code we’re screwed?”

  “Not quite. I’ve designed it so we can test the code with a spare device. OK, so we need both codes, a secure link, then once the transaction goes downrange we need to burn all the gear.”

  “We can go one better than that.” Chua glanced at his watch. “I'm going to head up and replace Wesley. He's been at the helm for hours.”

  “Yeah, not a bad kid that one. Just got led astray.”

  “He's OK.” Chua made his way up to the wheelhouse.

  Wesley was whistling as he sat in the skipper’s chair. He glanced sideways as Chua approached from the stairwell. “Hey.”

  “Wesley, how are we tracking?”

  “On course and making good time.”

  “Thanks for looking after things. Flash and I just needed some time.”

  “No problem.” He paused. “The guy who died, was he part of your team?”

  “Yeah, hey, you don't need to worry about that. We'll come good on our deal if you play your part.”

  Wesley stepped away from the wheel. “I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. I don't know if anything I did contributed to your friend’s death. But, I just never thought anyone was going to get hurt.”

  “It's OK, you're making up for it now. Get some rest. We're going to be busy later on.”

  The banker gave a nod and disappeared down the stairs leaving Chua alone at the helm. He confirmed the route, making small adjustments. As he gazed out over the blue waters his thoughts turned to Aleks. Chua felt the weight of the loss was on his shoulders. It was his first mission as the field commander and someone had been killed. That was going to weigh on his conscience for a long time. His only consolation was that vengeance was only hours away.

  ***

  FALWELL AIRFIELD, VIRGINIA

  King parked his sedan in front of the hangar at the small rural airfield. He had been summoned by Pollard and driven the fifty miles from the GES facility alone. The chairman's helicopter was already waiting on the tarmac.

  His hands were clammy on the steering wheel. When he’d reported the loss in Brazil the night before Pollard had remained calm and softly spoken. Then in the morning the chairman had called and demanded King meet him here.

  He left the car and walked across to the helicopter. The side door was open and Pollard was sitting in the luxurious cabin talking on the phone. When he spotted King he gestured for him to enter.

  King sat in a leather chair opposite and waited.

  Pollard pocketed his phone. “Your man Pershing let us down.”

  “The enemy we face is more formidable than anticipated.”

  “You don't say. So what are you going to do about it?”

  King met his steely gaze. “The intelligence team will locate the business jet. Once we do that we can cue CIA assets to destroy them.”

  “The Agency may not be so compliant.” The roar of a jet caught Pollard’s attention and he glanced out the window. “Well, I guess we're about to find out.”

  King stepped out of the helicopter and watched as a business jet touched down. It screamed along the runway, slowed, and turned toward them. The sleek Learjet taxied till it was alongside the helicopter then powered down.

  “Our good friend, Larkin,” snarled Pollard from behind him.

  The stairs on the jet lowered and a moment later the barracuda-jawed CIA director appeared. He was dressed in a slim gray business suit, his dark hair slicked back against his head. “Gentlemen.” He strode down the stairs and offered his hand to Pollard.

  The chairman shook it with a
grimace. “Thomas, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

  Larkin's thin lips turned up on one side. “You know why I'm here. Had a little trouble down in Brazil did we?”

  Pollard’s grimace turned to a mask of rage. “You know exactly what happened.”

  “Yes, I do. I know your people failed to complete a simple task and as a result a CIA officer is dead. I'm canceling all of your CIA contracts. From henceforth you and your personnel are persona non grata as far as the Company and our associates are concerned.”

  “You can't do that. We've got millions of dollars worth of assets tied up in them.”

  “Yes and you are more than welcome to sell them to whoever takes over the contract. You've been found wanting, Jordan, and you’ll pay the penalty.”

  “You flew all the way out here just to gloat didn't you, you piece of shit.” The veins in Pollard’s neck bulged.

  Larkin smiled. “Don't be so dramatic. I was on my way through to DC. Bad news is always best delivered in person. CIA support to your SCIF will cease immediately. Terrance Howard will be reassigned. Mr. King, I trust you will facilitate his return.”

  King nodded.

  “Don't worry, Jordan, my people will take over your little witch hunt. I'll make sure the problem is neutralized. Now, please excuse me, I have another appointment.” He offered his hand to Pollard.

  The chairman's gray eyes flashed with hatred. He turned and walked back to his helicopter.

  Larkin nodded at King. “Some people just aren't cut out for this business.” When Pollard was out of earshot he added, “I'll be in touch, Charles.”

  King followed Pollard back to the helicopter as the jet's engines screamed and it taxied onto the runway. Half a minute later it roared along the strip and lifted off.