“You mentioned on the phone that your company may be interested in purchasing a number of aircraft. How many do you think they might want?” Dmitri asked. The eager salesman could sense a sale and a sizable commission.
“It will be dependent on price, but I’ve been authorized to purchase up to four aircraft.”
Dmitri’s eyes lit up. A four aircraft sale would earn him at least a six-figure commission. Possibly more, if Gulf Air Logistics could be convinced to base their maintenance operations in Kiev. “I’m sure that we can arrange a very good price for your company, Mr Fischer. Will you be requiring any logistical support?”
“Of course. We expect a five year servicing contract included in the overall quote.”
“Very good, Sir. I will get my people working on a deal right away.” The Ukrainian reached into his pocket and gave Bishop a business card. “This has my personal number. If there is anything you need whilst you are here in Kiev, you need only ask.”
“There is one thing you may be able to help me with, Dmitri.” Bishop reached into his wallet and handed his own card to the salesman.
The smaller man took the card from Bishop’s hand and inspected it. He frowned as he turned it over.
Bishop explained. “A more discerning client, with very deep pockets, has asked that I enquire about the availability of this particular asset.” On the back of Tim Fischer’s business card, in pencil, was written one word, ‘Krokodile’.
He waited for Dmitri to read it, then elaborated. “My client wants four platforms, ammunition, fuel and servicing.”
Dmitri spun the card in his fingers, looking at Bishop inquisitively. “So who is this wealthy client, Mr Fischer?”
“I take it you know someone who can provide?” Bishop matched the Ukrainian’s stare.
“I’m not sure I do, Mr Fischer. Antonov does not deal in such merchandise. Perhaps you are mistaken about your inquiry?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. My number is on the card if you hear of anyone who can help me.”
“I will see if there is anything I can do, Mr Fischer, but I am not making any promises. If that is all, I can escort you back now.”
A slightly more reserved Dmitri walked Bishop back out of the building. The two men shook hands once more and Bishop walked over to where Aleks was waiting with the BMW.
“How did it go, boss?” The Russian’s guttural accent was a contrast to the greasy tones of the salesman. Bishop was glad to be back in the company of his driver.
“I think I might have blown it,” he replied, punching Dmitri’s number off the business card into his phone. Chua would now have complete access to Dmitri’s handset through the Bunker.
“Nyet, it will be fine. You are judging yourself too harsh.”
“I guess we’ll find out very soon.”
Aleks accelerated the car back onto the Gostomel highway. He could sense that his team leader wasn’t interested in small talk and left him to his own thoughts. Ten minutes later the silence was broken by the ring tone of Bishop’s phone.
“Are we on?” Bishop asked, answering the call.
“The mission was a success.” Chua sounded excited. “Dmitri just finished a call to an unknown he calls boss. I am ninety percent sure it is our man Dostiger. My Ukrainian is a little sketchy but he mentioned ‘Krokodile’ a number of times, and the name Fischer.”
“That’s our man. Did you get a fix?”
“Yes, just pulling up the imagery now.” Bishop could hear Chua typing at his terminal. “Got him. Hmmm, very nice. He lives in Pechersk on the Dnieper River.”
“Good work. How does it look for surveillance?”
“Lots of high-rises close by. I’ll send you a full target pack within the hour. I’m going to see if there are any apartments for rent in the immediate area.”
“Nice one,” Bishop said. Any work Chua could do from back at the Bunker would save the team critical time in Kiev.
“Sending you the address now. Will get back to you within the hour.”
“Thanks, mate. Aden out.”
He looked at his watch, noting it was getting late on the island. Bishop knew the intelligence chief would have been working around the clock. His team covertly monitored many of the world’s most sophisticated communications intercept systems, a lot of work for a handful of analysts. More often than not, it was Chua who worked the longest hours to make sure the teams on the ground had the best support avaialable.
“So?” Aleks interrupted his thoughts.
“What?” Bishop looked at him. “Shit. Sorry, mate. Job’s on. We have his location and now we have his primary phone.”
“Da, is good. I told you not to be so hard on yourself, boss. We’ll get this Dostiger, no problems.” The big Russian smiled infectiously.
That’s the easy part done, Bishop thought. Now we just have to break into the house of the most dangerous man in the Ukraine and thwart his plans to supply a psychotic warmonger. I’d much prefer to park a car bomb in his lounge and blow the shit out of him.
Chapter 26
Petrivka, Kiev
On the other side of Kiev, a different team was also collecting intelligence on Dostiger. Parked by the side of the road, Alfsaneh Ebadi sat in the back of a cheap hire car rubbing her hands to stay warm. Despite the sun outside and her fur-lined jacket, the vehicle’s heater was struggling to keep her warm.
“Turn the heat up a little, please,” she said to the MOIS agent sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, turning the knob, his eyes never leaving the street ahead. The car’s engine was running, ready to pick up Saneh’s source.
They didn’t have to wait long before the voice of her third man was broadcasted over the radio. “Alpha, this is Alpha One.”
Saneh pressed the transmit button of the compact radio on her hip. “Go ahead, Alpha One.”
“Target is entering the pickup zone. He’s clean.”
“Acknowledged. We’re making the pickup now,” Saneh replied.
The driver pulled away from the kerb and drove a block before turning down a small side street.
“There he is,” Saneh said, pointing at a hunched-over figure with a hood pulled low to hide his face, walking along the sidewalk.
They pulled in against the kerb and Saneh leant over and opened the door.
“Get in.”
Saneh’s source slid in next to her. He was a monster of a man, one of Dostiger’s security guards, and barely fitted into the back of the small sedan.
“How are you, Anton?” Saneh asked as the car pulled away.
The Ukrainian source pushed his hood back and scratched at his shaved head. “I’m good now that I’ve seen your pretty face.” He spoke English with a thick Eastern Bloc accent.
“Not as pretty as yours is handsome,” Saneh said with a smile.
His face was far from attractive, dominated by a chunky, pock-marked nose, but his lecherous grin showed he appreciated the compliment.
“So what have you got for me, Anton?”
He fished into his jacket and pulled out a pen and notebook. “I have the address,” he said, carefully writing in the notebook. He ripped out the sheet of paper and handed it over. “You must not forget, Dostiger’s house has the best security in the whole of the Ukraine. You won’t get in without an army.”
“Thank you,” Saneh said as she pocketed the paper. “Now, what else have you got?”
“Ah, ah, I couldn’t really find the answers you’re looking for,” he said with a stutter.
“That’s OK, Anton, just tell me what you know.”
“Well, he’s doing something big: always away these days,” Anton started.
“Yes?”
“Been going to Odessa. He’s got a place there,” he continued.
“A place?”
“Yeah. I’ve never been there, but it must be important. Everyone’s afraid to talk about it.”
“Afraid?”
“Yes,” he said softly.<
br />
“What kind of place is it?”
Anton looked away, staring at the passing traffic as they drove through Kiev’s quiet back streets. “I don’t know. Ah, it is hard for me to ask these questions. If Dostiger finds out, he won’t just kill me. He’ll fucking torture me.”
“Come on, Anton, he’s not going to torture you,” Saneh said.
“Yes, yes he will! He’s got a special room for it at the Club. I’m serious. If he finds out, then I’m fucked.”
“I understand,” Saneh said, “but if you hear anything more, you’ll be sure to let me know, won’t you?”
“I’ll try,” the big Ukrainian muttered.
Saneh pulled out a wad of cash, throwing it onto his lap.
His eyes lit up as he pocketed the money. “Yes, thank you, thank you. I’ll try my best.”
Saneh tapped her driver on the shoulder before looking back at her source. “I’ve included a bonus in that payment. You’ve done well, Anton. You’re a good man, better than Dostiger realizes. If you were Iranian I’d recruit you in an instant!”
“Ah thanks.” The man’s rough face turned bright red.
“Now we won’t meet again for a while, but you have my number. As soon as you know anything more about Odessa, be sure to give me a call.”
“OK, thanks,” he replied as the sedan pulled up to the kerb. With a nod, he opened the car door and stepped out into the cold.
Chapter 27
Khod Valley
Ice had no doubt that when man finally set foot on Mars, it would look a lot like the mountains of Afghanistan. He and Mirza had been on the move for two hours and they were yet to see even the slightest sign of life. Not a blade of grass, not a lizard or a bug, nothing!
Ice was on point, resting next to a large boulder, his tan robes blending into the dirt and rocks. His pale blue eyes continued to scan the terrain as his lungs fought for air. He looked back over his shoulder at Mirza climbing the steep track. The hardy Indian didn’t seem to be noticing the effects of the thin air.
Reaching into his equipment vest, Ice pulled out a map and studied it intently. Despite having his iPRIMAL strapped to his arm, he still carried the paper version. Old habits died hard.
In the two hours since inserting, they had only covered a kilometer of lateral distance. Looking at the contour lines on the map, Ice estimated they had climbed at least three hundred meters in altitude. He checked back down the slope to the insertion zone where they had buried their parachutes and confirmed it against the GPS built into the iPRIMAL.
“How are we doing?” Mirza asked, crouching next to him.
“Not bad, buddy. Some of us better than others.” He laughed, still breathing heavily. “You must be used to this shit?”
“Yes, it is a lot like home.” The thin mountain air reminded Mirza of his birthplace in the Kashmir ranges.
Ice placed the map on the ground between them and used the point of his combat knife to show Mirza their position on the side of the ridge line. “We’re going to keep following it up here,” he explained, pointing to the mountain at the top of the ridge. “I‘d wager our Taliban buddies are over here somewhere.” He pointed at another ridge that paralleled their own. It also sloped up towards the mountain. “The Stryker patrol got ambushed down here.” The knife point buried itself slightly in the map’s plastic coating as Ice tapped the valley between the two ridges.
“So if we stay this side they won’t be able to see us,” Mirza said.
“Yep, that’s the plan. We can pop up to the top and have a bit of a sneaky peek but I agree we should travel just off the actual ridge.” Ice began folding the map. “Once we get closer to the excavation site, we’ll have to be even more careful. God knows how many of the bastards are up there.”
Mirza glanced up at the cloudless sky. “It would be nice to have air support back.”
“Tell me about it.” Ice glanced at his watch. “Still at least another three hours away.”
Both men were interrupted by a pinging noise in their earpieces. Ice checked his iPRIMAL. Using his fingers to navigate through the menus on the touch screen, he accessed the live feed being bounced from the UAV flying high above them. Although it was being flown by an operator in the Bunker on Lascar Island, Ice was directing its actions through a simple chat tool.
So far the small craft had located the ambush site but had not reported anything else of value. The pilot had just transmitted a short message:
Nil targets found. Moving North.
Ice confirmed the move with a few taps on the screen. He looked across at Mirza who was watching on his own system. “Thought we would have located something by now. Hope we’re not chasing our tails up here.”
Mirza nodded in agreement.
Another beep emitted from Ice’s earpiece announcing an incoming call over the satellite radio built into the combat communicator. “Ice, this is Bunker, over.”
Ice recognized Chua’s voice and replied, “Ice here, go ahead, Bunker.”
“Be aware I’m picking up radio transmissions from a US Special Forces call sign about two clicks to your South.”
“Damn. The last thing we need is some Green Berets getting themselves into the shit,” radioed Ice. “They could FUBAR the whole show. Go on.”
“Call sign Texas 1-3 is just short of the ambush location. They keep trying to raise their headquarters so I’m guessing their comms are being jammed,” Chua said.
“So how the hell’re you gettin' em?”
“Same way I’m talking to you. We’re using the satellite receiver on the UAV to boost the signal.”
“Does that mean if we lose the UAV, we lose comms to you?” Ice asked.
“No. We can do the same thing with the Pain Train.”
“OK, so what do we know about Texas 1-3?”
“Not much. I’m going to push Sentinel down to have a look. You OK with that?” Sentinel was the UAV’s call sign.
“No problem. They running any air cover?”
“Negative. All coalition air support is tied up down south.” PRIMAL HQ was still monitoring the situation in Southern Afghanistan and the Taliban offensive had not yet subsided; if anything, it had gained in intensity.
“Roger. Gimme a bell when you get something more.”
“Affirm. Bunker out.” Chua ended the transmission.
Ice turned to Mirza. “We gotta move fast, buddy. Those SF guys could be in a world of hurt.”
Chapter 28
Khod Valley
Unfortunately for Texas 1-3, Ice was not the only one in the valley aware of their presence. Ishmail Khalid and one of his men had moved a kilometer down from their new ambush position to watch for the approaching Americans and their Afghan allies. Khan had told them they were coming but Khalid wanted to see for himself.
The two Taliban warriors lay behind a rocky outcrop, watching the dust cloud from the approaching vehicles as they moved up the valley below. Khalid had his sniper rifle resting on its bipod and was peering through the high-powered scope. As the convoy neared the location where he had destroyed their comrades, Khalid rolled to one side, taking a satellite phone from his chest rig. Khan picked up on the second ring.
“Khan, it’s Ishmail.” He spoke in the hushed tones instinctive to soldiers in the field.
“Allah be with you, my son. Can you see them?” the warlord asked.
“Yes, your friends were right. They’re definitely Americans. Three of their Humvees and another four trucks.”
“How many men?”
“Maybe ten Americans and another fifty Afghans.”
“Afghans?”
“Yes, Afghan Army,” Khalid explained.
“Traitors. Can you kill them all?”
“I can try, but once we’ve killed the Humvees, the traitors will flee,” Khalid said.
“I will send more men if you need them.”
“No, our positions are well prepared and any more fighters would give them away. I have enough men.”
> “Allah willing, Khalid, but I will keep the other fighters in reserve. How long until the Americans reach you?”
“One hour, maybe two. I think they will be cautious once they reach the ambush site. Maybe they will push the traitors forward on foot.”
“Have you seen any more of the spy planes?” Khan asked.
“No, but if it returns, we will destroy it.”
“Only after you kill the Americans If you shoot first, it could bring bombers.”
“Understood. How much time do we need?”
“Twenty-four hours, then we can return to our own valley.” Khan was not happy to be so far from his own base of power in the North.
“Good, good. I’m having fun but I miss my wives.” Khalid was in his element; he could smell more blood but he was ready to leave.
“Not long now, my son.”
“I will call you once it is done. Allah's will.”
“Allah’s will,” replied Khan, ending the conversation.
Khalid put the phone back in his vest and grasped the stock of the sniper rifle, tucking it back into his shoulder. Although the approaching enemy were obscured by dust and heat haze, he could just make out individual men moving forward cautiously. As he predicted, the Humvees had stopped short and the Afghans were pushing ahead on foot.
Khalid had seen enough and nudged the man next to him. “Stay here. I will return to the position.”
“I will move when the Americans reach the track, yes?”
“That’s right. It will not be long. Just make sure they don’t see you. Allah be with you.” The veteran warrior crawled back from the outcrop and pushed himself off the ground. Cradling his rifle in his arms, he turned to walk back along the ridgeline. This far out from the Americans, there was no need to crouch or dash from cover to cover. As he walked back to his next position, he glanced up at the sky, wondering if the American spy plane would return.
Chapter 29
PRIMAL Unleashed (2) Page 12
