PRIMAL Unleashed (2)

by Jack Silkstone

  “Boss, I don’t think we’re the only ones interested in Dostiger.” He zoomed the camera in on a single man standing at the corner of the high wrought-iron fence. The man’s face filled the entire screen and Bishop recognized his features almost immediately. He may have passed for a local at first glance but under the scrutiny of the high-powered lens, his dark skin and close-cropped beard looked Middle Eastern. Pavel snapped a number of stills and dropped them into a facial recognition program.

  “I think that the Iranians might have a minder on Dostiger,” the Russian observed as the results of the scan appeared on the screen.

  No known matches – biometric genealogy consistent with Central Asian region

  Likelihood of ethnicity - 75% Persian, 15% Farsiwan, 10% Tajik

  Damn, he has to be Iranian, thought Bishop. The only question is MOIS or IRGC? He peered at the camera footage. “Stop. Did you see that?” He pointed at the side of the man’s head. “Back it up a frame.”

  Pavel stepped back the recording, and as the man in the image turned his head slightly, all three of them saw the clear, coiled lead running under his collar from his ear.

  Bishop poked his finger into the screen. “He’s wearing a wire. The bastard’s talking to someone. Can we trace the signal?”

  Pavel’s fingers were already dancing over the keyboard of the second laptop. “It’s UHF. I’ve isolated the channel. He’s talking to someone close by.” Pavel split the computer screen and brought up a feed from the other remote camera. “White car, three hundred meters from the target.”

  The camera zoomed in on the vehicle, a cheap Toyota sedan that looked like a hire car. Through the windscreen Bishop could make out the two occupants, a man next to a striking, dark-haired woman.

  “Wow,” exclaimed Kurtz as the image sharpened and the woman’s face came into focus. “Very nice, Mr Fischer, very nice.”

  Bishop recognized Alfsaneh Ebadi from the intelligence pack Chua had given him. Her long, raven-black hair flowed out from under her fur hat and her exotic features were unmistakable. Not much chance that another strikingly beautiful Persian would be attempting to run covert surveillance on Dostiger.

  “It’s Iranian intelligence,” stated Bishop. “There was always a chance they’d get a sniff of this.”

  “Well, Boss, if you don’t mind me saying, they’re going to give away the whole show if we don’t do something,” Kurtz said. “Dostiger’s security would have to be blind to miss these amateurs.”

  “You’re right.” Bishop paused in thought. “Get Miklos. I want him on the roof in two minutes. MOIS needs to be taught a lesson in covert surveillance.”

  Chapter 31

  Pechersk

  Saneh listened in as her hand-held radio crackled. “Alpha, this is Alpha One. Nothing to report. No sign of the target.”

  “Acknowledged. Remain alert. We are still expecting our target to leave the location this afternoon,” she replied. She was starting to doubt her source had provided the correct address. They had been watching this residence for over twelve hours with absolutely nothing to show for it. The three members of her team had been cycling through a standard routine. One was on close surveillance, one was positioned in the vehicle and the other was in a nearby hotel getting some sleep.

  Saneh was supposed to be on rest in the hotel but had chosen to join the extraction vehicle for a shift, something she was starting to regret now that they were two hours into a six-hour rotation. She was struggling to stay awake despite three sugar-enhanced coffees. To make matters worse, her surveillance partner wasn’t much of a talker. He remained completely alert and utterly disinterested in starting a conversation.

  Saneh’s radio emitted a short burst of white noise and then nothing. She keyed the handset. “Alpha One, Alpha One, do you read me?” There was no response, then the radio crackled and an unfamiliar voice transmitted.

  “Your communications are being jammed, Agent Ebadi. Please remain in the vehicle.” The crisp British accent emitting from the radio’s small speaker startled her. She looked across at her partner, a look of shock on her face.

  “Who is this?”

  “My name is Tim Fischer and I’m in the service of the British Government.”

  “Why are you contacting me, Mr Fischer? I haven’t done anything to warrant the attention of your government.”

  “Saneh, you are compromising a very sensitive operation.”

  “What are you talking about? What do you want from me?”

  “We need to meet. I’m not willing to discuss this any further over open communications. Listen carefully. You are to cease your surveillance immediately. Can you see the new five-storey office block 500 meters behind your vehicle?”

  She turned around in her seat. “Yes.”

  “In two hours, drive to the car park beneath that office building and we’ll meet.”

  Saneh looked at her partner and he shook his head. Her voice took a more aggressive tone. “Wait just a second, Mr Fischer. You have no idea what I’m doing here in Kiev. I suggest you mind your own business and stay out of mine.”

  The wing mirror next to Saneh suddenly exploded, a subsonic bullet tearing it from the side of the car. She jumped away from the noise, scrambling to recover her Makarov pistol from the car’s centre console. Hunkering down in her seat, she searched for cover from the gunman.

  “If I wanted you and your men dead, Saneh, you would be. It’s in both our interests to meet. You have two hours.”

  Saneh struggled to calm herself and she raised the radio to her trembling mouth. “OK, OK, I’ll be there.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  The radio gave a short burst of static before Bishop’s voice was replaced by her team member. “Alpha, this is Alpha One. What is going on. You disappeared off air.”

  “Alpha One, we are aborting the surveillance. Break off and meet us at the hotel,” Saneh replied.

  ***

  A lone figure stood inside the entrance to the underground car park, leaning casually against the wall. His heavy winter coat barely concealed the armor and weaponry he had strapped to his body.

  “White Toyota turning into the car park now,” Kurtz broadcast. The approaching car paused at the boom gate and he hit the button, lifting it for Saneh and her team. “One female and two males,” he added, looking into the vehicle as it passed.

  “Acknowledged. I have them now,” stated Miklos from his hidden position.

  The sedan drove down the short ramp into the parking lot. The entire floor was empty except for a single BMW and a Mercedes van parked in the far corner. Located under a recently constructed office block, the car park was not yet in use. Plastic sheeting, bags of cement and industrial bins full of construction rubbish had been heaped in one corner. The polished concrete floor squealed under the wheels of the Toyota as it weaved between the columns of concrete, stopping two car lengths from where Bishop was standing.

  The door facing away from him opened and a solidly built Iranian got out of the car, his eyes scanning the immediate surroundings. Bishop recognized him as the man outside Dostiger’s residence and gave him a friendly nod. The Iranian lowered his head back into the vehicle and, a moment later, the rear door on Bishop’s side opened and Saneh slid out of the back seat.

  The PRIMAL operative was a little taken aback by just how attractive she really was; the grainy shots on her file barely did her justice. Even in her bulky cold weather jacket she was poised and elegant. She strode toward him with a determined look on her perfectly formed features. Anger flashed in her dark eyes and Bishop knew he had some ground to make up if he was to develop any level of rapport with her.

  He extended his hand and greeted her warmly. “Saneh, it’s a pleasure to meet you face to face.”

  “No, Mr Fischer, the pleasure is all mine,” she replied cordially, shaking his hand and looking him straight in the eye. She seemed completely unfazed by the fact that Bishop held all the cards.

  “Please, call
me Tim. We’re both field agents; there’s no need for formality.”

  “It would seem there is no need for manners either.” Saneh glanced pointedly at the shattered mirror on her car.

  “I apologize for that, but I needed to make sure I had your attention.”

  “Well, now you have it, Mr Fischer,” she folded her arms under her ample chest, “so why don’t you say what you need to say.”

  Bishop smiled. He couldn’t help but like the straightforward attitude of the MOIS agent. “It would seem that when it comes to a certain Mr Dostiger, we share similar goals. I wanted to meet with you so we could exchange contact details. I think there’s an opportunity for us to help each other out.”

  “Are you suggesting that we work together?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes.”

  “How?” Saneh queried.

  “Well, we may find that we have resources that can complement each other.”

  “Does that mean I can continue my surveillance operation on Dostiger?”

  “Given our little demonstration, I think that is better left in the hands of my organization.”

  “Fine, I have other means at my disposal.”

  “I’m sure you do. Your reputation as a resourceful and capable agent precedes you.” Bishop nodded and smiled ever so slightly.

  Saneh was caught slightly off balance by the compliment. “So, is your organization willing to cooperate with mine?”

  “I speak with the full support of my superiors. If you have any queries or any information that would benefit us both, you can contact me on this number.” Bishop passed her one of his Tim Fischer cards.

  Saneh took a mobile phone from her pocket and entered the number. The local phone that Bishop was using buzzed in his pocket. “That’s my number, Mr Fischer. I would appreciate it if you would reciprocate the agreement.”

  “I certainly will,” Bishop said matter-of-factly. “And I hope to hear from you soon.” He gave her a genuine smile as she turned away. As Bishop watched her walk back to the car, he was drawn to the way her hips moved in the tight fitting jeans. Try and keep it professional, he reminded himself.

  Once the Toyota had left the complex, he opened the door of the BMW and climbed in next to Aleks.

  “That seemed to go well, Boss.” Aleks was grinning from ear to ear.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The woman, she likes you. Da?” Aleks said smiling.

  “What? She hates me. I threatened her.”

  “A woman like that, she is not intimidated. She will be impressed.”

  Chapter 32

  Pechersk

  Saneh sat quietly in the back of the Toyota as her team drove back to their hotel. The meeting with the British agent had not gone as she had anticipated. She had expected a confrontation and yet it had been very cordial. The MI6 operative had almost been friendly.She pulled her second mobile from her jacket and dialled Rostam’s office.

  He picked up after a single ring. “Yes.”

  “Sir, it’s Saneh. We have a situation.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “It seems that the British Secret Service are on to Dostiger.”

  “How do you know? Explain,” Rostam demanded gruffly.

  “A British agent compromised our surveillance operation. Sir, before you say anything, it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

  “How the hell can it not be bad?” Rostam snapped.

  “I met with the agent. He’s very well informed but it’s doubtful that he has someone on the inside. He’s fixated on watching Dostiger’s residence, but I have information that it’s a waste of time. My source says Dostiger’s running all his operations from the nightclub.”

  “The one in Kiev?”

  “Yes, Sir, Club Kyiv. I think it might be worth my while to meet with Dostiger.”

  “Considering our other options are fast closing, you might be right.” There was a pause as Rostam weighed up the options. “Tell me more about the compromise. You obviously met with the British agent?”

  “Yes, Sir. He was particularly insistent that we call off our surveillance. He also mentioned that our organizations should share information.”

  “Do you think that MI6 is aware of the Guards’ ambitions to obtain a WMD?”

  “Without a doubt, Sir. Why else would they be here?”

  “Perhaps they are cracking down on arms dealers. No, you are right. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “Perhaps they are not actually MI6, Sir.”

  “Israelis?”

  “And who else would be watching Iranian affairs so closely?” Saneh added.

  “Yes, very true. One thing we can be sure of is that, be they MI6 or Israeli, we can leverage off their strengths. They almost certainly have more assets focused on Dostiger. It seems we can recover from your failing by playing on your one true strength.”

  Rostam couldn’t see the effect his words had on Saneh, her free hand clenched into a fist, her knuckles white. “Yes, Sir.”

  “If the opportunity arises, I want you to seduce this Fischer, whoever he is. Gain his trust. You can use the information about the nightclub if you need to.”

  “Then what, Sir?”

  “If this team recovers the chemical, we’ll use our strike team to snatch it from them.”

  “Sir, if MI6 is successful, then isn’t the mission complete? The Guards will have been denied their goal?”

  “No. I want that weapon, Saneh. I don’t expect you to comprehend this, but that weapon is the key to MOIS finally taking the position it deserves.” Saneh noticed the fanatical edge creeping into Rostam’s voice. “The Guards have had their day in the sun, now it is our turn.”

  “Yes, Sir. I was planning to go to the nightclub. Do you want me to contact Dostiger directly?”

  Rostam pondered the proposition. “Yes. Let him know we’re back on the market for a nuclear warhead. It might give him the opportunity to look for a better deal than the contract with the Guards.”

  “What about MI6? Do you want me to let Dostiger know Fischer is onto him?”

  “Do you listen at all, Saneh? Fischer’s going to work for us. We need him to succeed, not fail.”

  “Yes, Sir. Of course.”

  “Report to me at 2200 your time tomorrow. Oh, and Saneh –– ”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Don’t mess this up. There won’t be a second chance.” Rostam terminated the call.

  Saneh folded her phone and slid it back into her pocket, slumping into the back seat of the Toyota. This mission wasn’t going at all how she had planned it.

  Chapter 33

  Khod Valley

  Mirza and Ice were were powerless to stop the Taliban from exacting a heavy toll on the soldiers trapped in the valley. They’d managed to claim a few kills but their precision fire was ineffective against the fortified enemy positions.

  It had been over twenty minutes since the ambush started and the weight of fire had barely decreased. The Taliban were focusing their mortars on isolated groups of Afghan Army soldiers, forcing them to move from cover, then mowing them down with machine guns. Over half of them lay dead or wounded and most of their commanders had been killed in the initial onslaught. Without leadership there was little they could do other than cower in what cover they could find. They clung to the earth, seeking refuge from the death that lashed them from high on the valley wall.

  Ice watched them through his scope, willing them to fight back. He ejected the empty magazine from his assault rifle, replacing it with another twenty-round clip. Within seconds the weapon was nestled back in his shoulder and he fired five rounds at one of the machine gun pits on the other side of the valley, blowing chunks of rock off their defenses. The barrel of a machine gun was sticking out of a small gap, firing steady bursts of lead down into the valley. Ice leveled his cross hairs on the weapon and squeezed off a single shot. Half a second later he saw a puff of dust as the round ricocheted off the rock.

  Ice closed h
is eyes. Breathing out fully, he opened his eyes, aligning the cross hairs on the target. He waited for the camouflage netting that covered the Taliban position to sag as the wind lulled, then squeezed the trigger. The barrel of the machine-gun flashed as his round smashed into it, silencing the weapon.

  “Ice, this is the Pain Train. We’re two minutes out,” Mitch’s voice came in loud and clear over the radio.

  “’Bout time, guys. Texas 1-3 is getting seriously fucked up down here,” Ice replied, his usual calm drawl replaced with a hint of urgency.

  “Sorry, my good man, refuelling at Kandahar was slow.”

  “Do you have all the targets?”

  “Roger, plus I’ve tagged a couple of extras. I now have seven targets, five bombs each.”

  “Give me everything you’ve got. Kill ‘em all.”

  ***

  The Pain Train came in hard and fast. Mitch had already programmed the thirty-five Viper Strike munitions with their GPS coordinates. Each one would deposit just over five pounds of ‘enhanced blast’ explosives directly onto their designated targets. Compared to conventional bombs, 175 pounds of explosives was insignificant, but when every individual warhead was landing simultaneously and with precision, the effect would be devastating.

  “We’re thirty seconds out. You clear of the ramp?” Mitch asked the loadmaster over the intercom.

  “Roger. Bombs are on the ramp. I’m all clear.” The loadie had moved the Viper Strike weapons pod to the back of the ramp. When Mitch fired the bombs, a small charge would launch each one clear of the aircraft in a single wave of ordnance. Like hounds on the scent of a rabbit, they would home in relentlessly, their GPS smart chips guiding them to their targets.

  Mitch was watching the enemy position through the Pain Train’s targeting pod located under the aircraft’s nose. On his screens he could see the release point rapidly approaching. “Twenty seconds out,” he stated as the pilot made a few final adjustments to their approach.