PRIMAL Unleashed (2)

by Jack Silkstone

  “You’re right, and they’re gonna get the better of Kev and his boys unless they get back up soon. Where the hell are those helos?”

  “I don’t know but I’m getting low on ammo,” Mirza replied as he fired again.

  “Roger, make ‘em count.”

  The Taliban pushed forward as the remnants of Texas 1-3 peeled back to the extraction zone and their wounded men. Ice identified the team’s signaler crouched next to another American, the thin antenna giving him away. He watched as the Green Beret Captain fought side by side with his radio operator, laying down fire as they moved. They constantly changed their positions, going through a routine of firing, reloading and moving.

  “Texas 1-3, this is Nemesis. Any news on those choppers?” Ice broadcast over the American frequency.

  “Negative, Nemesis. We’ve got no comms with aircraft,” replied Jimmy.

  Ice and Mirza had used most of their ammunition and still more Taliban were joining the battle. All along the perimeter, the weight of fire from the Special Forces and their Afghan allies began to wane. Ice could see the Taliban pushing forward harder, sprinting from cover to cover. They sensed victory. He watched as the Green Beret signaler struggled with a jammed weapon.

  “Mirza, cover them,” he snapped.

  A pair of Taliban dashed forward to overrun the Command Team’s precarious position and both snipers fired at once. It took half a second for their bullets to travel the six hundred meters from barrel to target. Both Taliban dropped, their heads torn apart.

  The forward line of Taliban had come within fifty meters of the Green Beret’s outer perimeter when Ice heard the faint beat of rotor blades approaching from the south. All along the defensive line, Kev’s men had their spirits lifted by their imminent rescue. It only made the Taliban more determined to push forward.

  As the first black twin-rotor chopper came into view, a Taliban fighter rose from the ground hefting an RPG launcher to his shoulder. Mirza spotted him moving from cover and shot him cleanly through the head. The dead man fell to the ground but managed to trigger his rocket, launching it sideways. It streaked across the valley and slammed into the mountain less than twenty meters from Ice’s position, showering him in shards of stone and dirt.

  “Ice, you OK?” asked Mirza.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Thank God the cavalry’s here.”

  With a noise like tearing canvas, a six-barreled minigun opened up from above, spraying a lethal volume of fire across the advancing Taliban. They scrambled for cover as a downpour of glowing red tracer ripped up the ground and churned flesh to pulp. Ice looked up to see the MH-47 helicopter circling with both the side-door minigun and back ramp machine gun blazing.

  Behind Kev and his men, on the landing zone a second chopper was already on the deck and medics were rushing to load Texas 1-3’s wounded. Its minigun was also firing bursts, shredding any enemy foolish enough to show themselves.

  From their position high above the evacuation site, Ice and Mirza continued to engage the Taliban, firing at any brave enough to raise their heads above the dirt. The Green Berets were using the covering fire to withdraw rearwards; they needed to board the helicopters as quickly as possible. These last few minutes were critical, the aircraft most vulnerable while on the ground.

  An RPG hissed upward from behind a cluster of boulders, narrowly missing the circling chopper. A savage burst of minigun fire lashed out, shredding the rocketeer. With a roar the second bird lifted off, swapping places with the other helicopter as it landed to pick up the last few soldiers.

  “FALL BACK,” screamed Kev, standing on the helicopter ramp to wave his men onto the helicopter. “FALL BACK!”

  The men raced back in pairs, covering each other as they dashed to the helicopter. Jimmy was the last of the Green Berets; he continued firing to cover the few remaining Afghans who were struggling to carry their wounded comrades.

  The signaler turned to sprint to the waiting helicopter as a volley of RPGs shot into the air. The second helicopter manoeuvred wildly, evading the rockets but giving the Taliban seconds to engage the fleeing Americans. A burst of machine gun fire hit Jimmy, pitching him forward into the dirt.

  Kev dashed straight for the wounded soldier, firing from the hip as he ran. He could almost see the grin on the Taliban warrior who had raised his weapon for the kill. Kev faintly registered the single shot that exploded through the man’s head, negating the threat.

  The Green Beret officer grabbed the loop on the back on Jimmy’s body armor, and like a father scooping his child from the floor, he tossed the wounded man over his shoulder and pumped his legs, sprinting the last twenty meters to the chopper.

  He stumbled as a round slammed into his armor and he fell forward onto the ramp, Jimmy tumbling from his shoulders into the helicopter. His men hauled him inside as the MH-47 leapt into the air with the scream of turbines and a whirlwind of dust. The machine gun on the back ramp spat rounds at the shrinking Taliban as the two helicopters raced away, hugging the valley floor. The aero medics were already working on the wounded and one approached Kev as he lay fighting for breath on the cabin floor.

  “You hit?” the medic screamed over the engines, a concerned look on his face.

  Kev struggled to his feet. “Negative. I’m fine: hit the armor. Look after Jimmy,” he replied and the medic moved off as one of the loadmasters handed Kev a headset.

  “Sir, are you Captain Daley?” the man screamed over the turbines and wind gusting into the cabin.

  “Yes,” he nodded, slipping on the headset.

  “Call sign Nemesis wants to talk to you.”

  “Nemesis-4, this is Texas 1-3.” Kev shielded the microphone from the wind with his hand.

  Ice’s voice responded immediately. “Good to hear your voice, Kev. I thought I saw you go down.”

  “Negative. You saved my bacon again. I owe you big time.”

  “It’s me that owes you. We just mopped up the last couple of Taliban. You guys massacred them.”

  “Happy to oblige, buddy. Listen, you stay frosty out there, OK, and if you get back to Kandahar, look me up."

  “Will do, Kev. Take care. Thanks again,” Ice responded.

  “OK, Texas 1-3 out.”

  Kev slumped back into the webbing seats and looked around wearily. His men lay on stretchers or sprawled on the aircraft’s seating. They looked battered, worn and tired but at least some were still alive.

  Chapter 36

  Khod Valley

  Khan stood at the top of a craggy feature looking down into the valley below. The dry winds tugged at his spotless white robes causing his headscarf to stream out behind him. He looked almost biblical, as if Moses once again stood upon the mountain ready to cast the Ten Commandments onto the rocks below. However, Khan did not look down from the mountain at his people breaking God’s law, he looked down at the remnants of his army.

  On the slopes of the mountain in front of him lay the charred corpses of Khalid and his men. Further along the valley floor, the broken bodies of the other Taliban lay scattered, shot to pieces by the Americans and their helicopters.

  Khan’s forces had been decimated. Now he only had a handful of his own men left and less than half of the local Taliban fighters. Under his weathered exterior, anger seethed, rage burning through his veins like molten lava. He fought the urge to scream at the top of his lungs.

  “Someone has orchestrated this!” he raged. “Somewhere there has been a betrayal.” The Special Forces, the Russian transport aircraft, and the spy plane. It was all too much of a coincidence for him.

  “Yanuk! Come!” Khan yelled at the group of men who had accompanied him. The sullen Russian detached himself from the group, assault rifle cradled in his arms as he swaggered across to the warlord. “Yanuk, call your master. He needs to explain himself.” The Russian didn’t argue. He took the satellite phone from his pouch and dialed Dostiger’s number. One of the bodyguards answered.

  “Khan wants to speak to the boss. Put him o
n.” He handed the phone across to the Afghan.

  “Dostiger, is that you?”

  “Khan, what is happening?” The Ukrainian sounded annoyed.

  “I was hoping you could tell me.” Khan’s voice was like ice.

  “What are you talking about, comrade?”

  “My men are dead!”

  “WHAT?” Dostiger exclaimed.

  “The Americans came and brought their bombs.”

  “KHAN! You told me those bastard Americans and their fucking planes were taken care of. Is the site still intact? Can you finish on time?” Dostiger spoke rapidly, his voice had gained an edge.

  “If we are left undisturbed, we can still recover the weapon within twenty-four hours. If the Americans return, all will be lost.”

  “You promised me the Americans would be focused in the South. You promised me that you could deal with them!” the arms dealer accused.

  “These were not normal Americans, Dostiger, their aircraft was Russian.” Khan’s usual calm demeanor was cold, revealing his anger. “They came looking for us. The operation has been compromised. Someone has betrayed you.”

  “No one could have compromised us. We have taken enough precautions. You’re paranoid.”

  “Be very careful, Dostiger, I think the infidels are watching.”

  “Then we must move faster. Transport has already been arranged. Focus on getting the weapon and contact me when you are ready. Do you have enough men?”

  “I will rely on the local Taliban but my remaining men will be ready with the missiles in case the Americans return.”

  “Use all of your men, Khan. Send for more if you can. Dig all night.”

  “If it is Allah’s will, we cannot fail.”

  ***

  Mirza watched the group of Taliban through the scope of his sniper rifle. There had to be at least forty new fighters standing above the destroyed position, surveying the damage.

  He settled his cross hairs on the one that seemed to be their leader. From well over a kilometer away the sniper could still make out the long flowing robes. He glanced at the range finder in the bottom of his scope; it read 1285 meters. He could probably fluke the shot but there was no point. It would only reveal their position, triggering the Taliban to move into the mountains and hunt them. He lowered the weapon and slid backwards into the cluster of boulders that Ice was using to hide.

  Ice looked up from the map as Mirza moved in beside him.

  Mirza spoke softly. “Still about forty Taliban down there. We sure could use the Pain Train right now.”

  “Still waiting on an update from Mitch.” Ice checked the screen of his iPRIMAL. “Only an hour or so till darkness, then we’ll move.” He slid the map towards Mirza and passed him a pencil. “Show me where you think that missile launched from.”

  Mirza studied the map for a few seconds and then made a mark on the side of the mountain about three kilometers from their current position. “Here, above this flat area.”

  “Hmmm. My guess would be that is where the extraction site is,” Ice said. “That would make sense; then the missiles are just above, in an elevated position that can protect the site,” Mirza concluded.

  “We’ll get a chance to check it out tonight. How’s your ammo and water?”

  “Adequate, I still have another four magazines, grenades, and at least four litres of water.”

  “Good. I don’t anticipate shooting from here on in, but better safe than sorry. Try to get some rest, buddy. We’ll move after sunset.”

  Mirza nodded and took a drink from one of his water bottles. He had already made himself comfortable, lying against his pack.

  Once Ice had folded up the map, he pulled an energy bar from his vest, snapped it in half and threw the other piece to Mirza. “So you got any family, buddy?”

  Mirza unwrapped his half of the bar. “Yes, I have a mother in India.”

  “That all?”

  “That’s all. My father and brother were both killed when I was ten. I have looked after my mother ever since.”

  “Tough gig for a little fella, hey. I know what it’s like; my old man walked out on us when I was eleven.”

  “But you had brothers and sisters?” questioned Mirza.

  “Yeah, a younger sister. Mum was an alcoholic, so like you, I had to run the family.”

  “Your sister, where is she now?” Mirza propped himself up against a rock.

  “She’s married now, to a lawyer. Good guy. She grew up alright, that one.” Ice finished chewing on the bar and slid the wrapper back into his pouch. “She’s a doctor: works in a children’s hospital.”

  “You must be very proud.”

  “Yeah, she’s a great kid. Better person than I’ll ever be.”

  Mirza smiled as he imagined Ice as the man of the house at an early age, forced to grow up quickly and deal with pain and crisis beyond his years. The thought gave Mirza confidence. He was just starting to doze off when his earpiece beeped.

  Ice activated the call.

  “How you tracking, lads?” It was Mitch.

  “We’re OK. How’s the bird?” Ice cut straight to the issue at hand.

  “Not going to lie, team. It’s not looking great. That rocket chewed the old girl up pretty bad. We sustained heavy damage to one of the engines and the hydraulic system.”

  “How long?” Ice questioned.

  “I’ve fixed most of the damage but we’re waiting for a parts delivery. HQs got a jet this afternoon but it could be anywhere between 6 to 12 hours before we’re airborne.”

  “So for the next 12 hours we need to stay out of trouble,” Ice stated. “Problem is if we wait that long we could lose our chance.”

  “Why is that? Chua said we probably have 48 hours till they can move it.”

  “That was before half of NATO joined the party,” Ice explained. “Nope, my guess is they will get it out a hell of a lot faster now. We’ll have to run the gauntlet and take down their air defense tonight.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can get the Pain Train up early tomorrow morning at the latest.”

  “Alright. That gives us all night to take out the missiles.”

  “Just don’t get in trouble, because I’m not going to be there to bail you out.”

  Ice laughed. “It’s Mirza out here with me, not Bishop. We should be just fine.”

  “OK. Good luck, lads. We’ll see you early in the morning.” Mitch terminated the call.

  The sun had just started to dip behind the mountains. The two men prepared for the long night ahead. They changed into their cold weather gear, donning heavy polar fleeces under their assault vests. Mirza knew it would get icy cold this high up in the mountains. It was not going to be a fun night.

  Chapter 37

  The Bunker

  Vance looked up at the main LCD screen in his office waiting for the video link to establish with Bishop. He wearily glanced across at a smaller screen displaying the various times zones around the world. It was 0300 hours here at the Island and 1800 hours in Kiev. No wonder he felt like shit; he had been up for over twenty hours.

  Sitting across from the Director was Chen Chua. Vance marveled at the energy of the Intelligence Chief. Despite being on the go for close to five days and surviving on only a couple of hours sleep, the skinny Chinese-American looked fresh and alert.

  “How the hell do you do it, Chua?” Vance complained. “If I drank that much Red Bull, I’d bounce off the walls for a couple of hours then crash like an Indonesian passenger jet.”

  Bishop’s face flashed up on the screen, startling both men. It was almost as if he was in the room with them. “Vance, Chua, how’s it all going?”

  Vance smiled, greeting Bishop in his deep voice. “How you doing, buddy? Good job on the Antonov gig this morning.”

  “No worries,” Bishop replied.

  Vance picked up his pen. “So how’s it all going? Give us a run down on the last fourteen hours.”

  Bishop took Chua and Vance through a step-by-step re
port of what had happened. He started with his assessment of the team and finished up with the surveillance of Dostiger’s home and his meeting with Saneh.

  “So what’s your take on the Dostiger residence?” Chua asked. “Do you think you can get in and out without being compromised?”

  “My man doesn’t think it’s going to be a problem. We just need to wait for the right moment.”

  “How’s the security?”

  “Yeah, Dostiger has it locked down pretty damn tight, but nothing we can’t handle. When he leaves the house he usually takes most of his goons with him.”

  “So when are you going in?” Vance asked.

  “Tonight. I just took a call from Dmitri Krenkov and he’s arranged a meeting for me with Dostiger at his nightclub in town. Once he leaves the estate our boys will go to work.”

  Chua spoke up. “Aden, we have some information here that may jeopardize the meeting with Dostiger. MOIS have been in contact with him.”

  “When?” Bishop queried.

  “We picked it up three hours ago. The phone number linked to Dostiger was called by the number you provided for Agent Ebadi,” Chua answered.

  “Do we have a cut on the conversation?”

  “Negative. Just a date, time and general location. Both phones were pinging off the same tower in Kiev.”

  Bishop sighed. Chua continued. “Both Vance and I think that this changes the situation significantly. It’s possible that Saneh has sold you out to Dostiger. Remember he’s worked with MOIS before.” Chua glanced at Vance before getting to the point. “We think it might be wise for you to cut the meet away.”

  “Hang on a second. It’s unlikely that Saneh sold us out. At the moment we’re her only ally, and let’s face it, she needs all the friends she can get.”

  “All the more reason for her to sell you out, Aden. She can earn serious kudos with Dostiger,” Chua said.