PRIMAL Renegade (A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 8) (The PRIMAL Series)

by Jack Silkstone

  ***

  Ice braced himself against the inside of the helicopter, his machine gun slung across his chest. His robotic hand held the thick rope in a death grip as they descended over the bow of the Zenhai. He stared through the missing rear doors across the ship’s cargo of containers to the superstructure a few hundred yards away. Out to his left he could see the three pirate skiffs. One of them burned fiercely and another had withdrawn from the battle. Glancing down he made sure the foredeck thirty feet below was clear of obstacles. “Hold her steady, Vanko.” As he transmitted he spotted a dark figure crouched alongside a container aiming a weapon. “Shooter!”

  Next to him Kruger unleashed an automatic burst as bullets struck the chopper punching holes in the aluminum tail boom.

  “Break away, break away!”

  Ice grabbed Kruger by the shoulder as the helicopter nosed down in front of the ship. “You get him?”

  “Negative.”

  “Fast rope is not an option,” Ice transmitted to Vanko. “Can you go wheels down on the foredeck?”

  “I can hover in front. You crazy Cossacks can jump.”

  “Good, man, let's do this. People, we're going to jump. Kruger and I will cover you.”

  The team now faced the looming bow of the Chinese freighter as Vanko kept them hovering a dozen feet above the water in front of it. The churning wave thrown up by the bow looked as if it was bearing down on them.

  “OK, take her up.” Ice crouched with his MK48 held ready.

  Vanko hauled up on the collective and they climbed above the ship’s railing. Kruger and Ice didn't take any chances. They laid down a withering hail of fire with their machine guns as the Russian pilot hovered a few feet above the ship’s railing.

  “Go, go, go!” yelled Kruger.

  Chua was first to jump. He leaped out the back, hit the deck, rolled, and found cover behind one of the rusted windlasses used to raise the anchors.

  Vance was a split-second behind him and moved to the opposite side.

  Before Ice and Kruger could jump the chopper lurched away from the ship. “I'm having problems holding her steady. It's the updraft coming off her front,” reported Vanko.

  “Bring her down,” transmitted Ice as he readied himself. He could see Vance and Chua covering from their positions on the deck. The shooter who’d engaged them earlier was nowhere to be seen. The helicopter dropped abruptly, hitting the ship’s railing.

  “Power on!” Ice yelled as Kruger dropped to the deck. The chopper's engines screamed and it soared skyward as he leaped clear, landing heavily on his prosthetic leg. The inbuilt shock-absorbers dissipated the energy and he recovered, shouldering the machine gun as he moved to Vance. Behind him the UN-marked helicopter climbed away.

  “You guys better be quick and find me somewhere to put this thirsty bitch down,” transmitted Vanko over the radio.

  “Will do. Keep us informed on your fuel state,” replied Ice. Using the iPRIMAL attached to his wrist he silenced the channel to the pilot. “OK, team, is everyone ready?”

  “I'm good,” reported Vance.

  “Team one is good to go,” replied Kruger from his position with Chua on the opposite side of the ship.

  “Drone is up.” Chua had tossed the compact quadcopter skyward and it buzzed a few dozen feet above them.

  Ice shouldered his machine gun as the video from the frisbee-sized aircraft appeared in his helmet. “OK, let's roll.” He rose and advanced swiftly down the side of the containers stacked on the deck.

  ***

  Kehua watched intently as a rocket streaked toward the last of the pirate skiffs still engaging the merchant vessel. The high-explosive warhead detonated amidships and the craft exploded in a ball of flame. As the smoke cleared all that remained of the wooden boat was burning wreckage. He turned to the two men manning the Type 98 rocket launcher. “Well done.”

  The Triads were lined up on the side of the ship’s superstructure with their weapons aimed at the fleeing pirates. At the first sign of the attack he'd ordered them to deploy their heavy weapons. Two machine guns and the Type 98 had quickly turned the fight in his favor.

  “They're coming!”

  The yell caught his attention and he turned to see Mamba sprinting up the stairs from the ship’s deck. “They're on board and they're coming.”

  “Who?”

  “Demons,” Mamba managed between breaths. “Black-armored demons. They landed in the helicopter up front.”

  The Chinese gangster had spotted the UN helicopter but he'd assumed it was from the anti-piracy fleet. “How many?”

  “No more than six. I shot at their helicopter.”

  Kehua changed the magazine on his assault rifle and gave Mamba a look of contempt. “This is the second time you’ve brought trouble to this vessel. You’re lucky I don’t hand you to these men. Now, stay out of my way, I'm going to kill them.” He snapped out orders to his men and they leaped into action. The machine guns were orientated toward the new threat and the lower doors accessing the superstructure were secured.

  His plan was simple; ambush the intruders as they tried to gain access to the superstructure. If they made it through the kill zone then they would have to cut their way through the steel doors, that’s if they had the equipment. In the time it took them to breach Kehua and his men would pull back and wait in the stairwells.

  Kehua used his radio to check his fire teams were ready then turned to Mamba. “Go and get the rhino horn. It will be safer with me.”

  “Zhou will get it when I see him and not before. Your job is to protect this ship and the cargo. That's me and the horn.” He turned and disappeared inside.

  The gangster cursed in Mandarin.

  The gunner next to him unleashed a long burst, startling him. He turned and scanned the length of the ship. Spotting a figure duck behind a container he fired his own weapon and waited for the target to appear again. He smiled; the open deck in front of the bridge was a perfect killing ground.

  ***

  Ice spotted the muzzle flash of the machine gun high up on the superstructure. He laid down suppressive fire from behind a ventilation stack as bullets sparked off the deck.

  “Vance, you OK?” His battle buddy had been advancing along the deck when they were hit.

  “Yeah, I'm good but those motherfuckers got me dancing like Fred Astaire on speed.”

  Ice suppressed a laugh as he viewed the drone feed in his heads-up display. Two machine guns were firing from the near the ship’s bridge, one aimed at him and Vance and the other at Kruger and Chua. “How's the port side tracking?”

  “Taking cover, same as you guys. So much for the Pirate King,” reported Kruger.

  Ice glanced out at the ocean and spotted the burning remains of a wooden skiff. The other two vessels were nowhere to be seen. “The pirates may have come off second best,” he said.

  “As will we if we don't get off this deck.”

  Ice had to admit the situation was less than optimal. Using the feed from the drone he held the MK48 out from cover and squeezed the trigger. In his HUD he could see the rounds striking the superstructure where he had spotted the flash from the machine gun. His efforts were met with a long burst forcing him to pull the gun back in.

  “We can't stay here,” Vance transmitted.

  Ice spotted a crane jutting out between a gap in the containers. “Vance, you remember that time in Kosovo?”

  “Gotta be more specific, bud.”

  “Never mind, I'm going to pop smoke, they're going to blast it, and then I'm going to move to the gap in the containers. Once I'm in place you bump forward.”

  “Got it.”

  Ice took a smoke grenade from his vest, tore out the pin, and lobbed it past Vance. It bounced once and clattered to a halt a dozen yards ahead of them where it began belching thick pink smoke.

  “Pink, haven't seen that before,” Vance said as the gunfire from the ship’s defenders focused on the smokescreen. “You get it specially made?”
<
br />   “Couldn’t help yourself could you.” Ice activated his helmet’s thermal sensors while waiting for the gunfire to pause. “I know you swapped them out, Vance. I checked them back at the Sandpit.”

  “I thought you’d like it. I mean, you've always been in touch with your feminine side. Think of it as a welcome back gift.”

  “Thanks, bro, nice to know you care.” Ice ducked out from behind cover and sprinted along the walkway. As he slid into the gap between the containers a machine gun started firing again.

  “They don't let up do they,” said Vance.

  “You're next.”

  “Woo hoo,” Vance said dryly.

  When the firing paused Vance rushed forward and joined Ice.

  The space between the shipping containers housed a massive derrick used to hoist containers when ports lacked the necessary infrastructure.

  The clatter of another machine gun announced the arrival of Chua. He appeared from the other side and a moment later Kruger joined him.

  “How the fuck are we going to get inside?” spat the South African. “Pricks have got the bridge sealed up tighter than a nun’s–”

  “Listen, I've got an idea,” Ice interrupted. “Does anyone know how to operate a crane?”

  “Yeah,” said Chua.

  Vance turned to the intelligence officer. “Where the hell did you learn how to use a crane?”

  “Before I switched to intel I was an army engineer.”

  “You've kept that quiet.”

  “So what exactly are we going to do, Ice?” asked Chua. “We're running out of time.”

  “According to our drone feed their defenses are focused on denying access to the superstructure and the bridge. The crane is going to get me around that.”

  ***

  Thirty-eight nautical miles north east of the Chinese freighter a sleek gray warship knifed through Somali waters on a patrol of the primary shipping lanes. The USS Roosevelt was a nine thousand ton Arleigh Burke-class destroyer assigned to Combined Task Force 151, the international anti-piracy fleet. For the past month she had been patrolling the waters off Somalia with little in the way of action. Boarding attempts by the pirates had all but ceased since the Task Force commenced operations.

  The ship’s captain sat perched on his command chair flicking through a copy of the latest intelligence reports from CTF headquarters. It made for some pretty dry reading. So much so he welcomed the interruption from the officer of the deck.

  “Sir, we've got a distress signal from a Chinese-flagged merchant ship forty nautical miles south,” reported the dark-haired female Lieutenant. “They claim she is under attack from pirates and...”

  “And?”

  “And a UN-marked helicopter.”

  The captain raised his eyebrows. “A UN chopper? Sounds like the Chinese are a little confused.” The only piracy incident they’d responded to in the last month had been a false alarm, a fishing boat that had strayed near a cruise ship.

  “Sir, the Captain of the Zenhai sounds calm and his English is good. Perhaps the pirates have managed to steal one of the UN helicopters?”

  The captain gave her a hard stare.

  “Or maybe the Russian contractors are outsourcing their services.”

  He sighed. “What's the status on our helos?”

  “One bird is down for maintenance. The other is refueling and can be in the air within 30 minutes.”

  The captain looked out through the bridge windows. “I want a SEAL team on board that ship. Have them airborne in the next twenty.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Helmsman, bring us about. I want to close with the vessel at full ahead.” He rose and tossed the intelligence file on his chair. Bracing against one of the bridge consoles he felt the deck slant as they adjusted course. As unlikely as the Chinese captain’s report was it was his responsibility to respond to all distress calls. He smirked as the ship came around; helicopter-borne pirates verged on the ridiculous. Still, at least it added a little excitement to an otherwise monotonous day.

  CHAPTER 14

  INDIAN OCEAN

  Kehua knelt next to one of his machine gunners, scanning the approaches to the superstructure. “Watch the containers, they could try to come over the top,” he said in Mandarin. His men had managed to stop the black-armored figures from advancing but now they had disappeared behind billowing smoke. With the walkways either side of the shipping containers denied he anticipated they would come over the top of the containers and attempt to suppress his positions. Surprise was the only advantage available to the attackers and now they had lost it the battle was all but won.

  He spotted a tiny drone hovering in the air and aimed his assault rifle. Four shots later and the flying robot had dropped out of the sky, bounced off the ship, and fallen into the ocean.

  He smiled. Now the attackers were without both surprise and knowledge. It was only a matter of time before they made their move and his men gunned them down. Thumbing the empty magazine from his weapon he caught a glimpse of movement on the port side walkway. “Get ready, here they come,” he said ramming home a fresh magazine.

  Kehua frowned as he realized the movement he had spotted was of objects not people. More smoke grenades bounced over the stack of containers and down the walkways. With a hiss they spewed thick pink smoke across the ship. “Fire, fire!” he bellowed as he blasted at the top of the containers.

  Gunfire assaulted his eardrums as bullets snapped through the billowing smoke and punched into the steel superstructure. The gunman next to Kehua cried out as return fire clipped his arm. “Ready with grenades,” he ordered as he waited for figures to appear through the smoke. The thick cloud had already started to dissipate as it wafted toward them. Soon the breeze created by the forward motion of the ship would render the smokescreen useless.

  “Up there!” the yell came from one of his men.

  Kehua glanced skyward and spotted a figure sailing through the air. He raised his rifle but bullets sang on the steel railing in front of him and he ducked for cover. Beside him he heard a wet slap followed by a thud. Turning he saw his machine gunner lying face down on the deck, shot through the head. “An intruder is on the bridge,” he transmitted over the radio.

  High above the defenders, hanging from the crane, Ice swung through the air. The steel hook looped through the drag handle on the back of his armor, allowing him to concentrate on firing his MK48. He hammered the lower levels of the superstructure as he soared toward the bridge. The crane jolted to a halt only six feet from the bridge wing. Momentum swung him forward and he reached out with one hand for the steel weather shield. Falling short he swung back.

  “I can't extend the boom any further,” transmitted Chua.

  “Pull me back. Turn it as fast as you can and feed out the cable,” Ice replied between firing bursts from his machine gun.

  “Roger”. Chua swung the crane back then forward again. As Ice sailed through the air and reached the furthest point of the boom he released the cable.

  Ice soared toward the wing and managed to grab the edge of the bridge railing. The weight of the cable jolted him back. With his MK48 hanging from its sling, he used one hand to draw his knife, reach over his shoulder, and slice through the nylon strap cutting the hook free. He sheathed the knife and hauled himself over the weather shield. Hitting the steel decking with a thud he clambered to his feet, weapon ready.

  Through the glass he could see a single figure hunkered down behind the bridge console. Wrenching open the door he stormed in and the uniformed man screamed with fright.

  “You speak English?”

  The terrified Asian nodded frantically. “Yes, yes I speak English.” He wore the gold bars of a ship’s captain.

  “Good, how many armed men are there?” Ice checked the captain for weapons and secured his hands with flexicuffs.

  “Seven... eight if you count the black man.”

  Ice’s eyes darted toward the access door on the opposite side; it was partially
ajar.

  His MK48 spat lead, the 7.62mm rounds punching through the metal. He heard a cry and gave it another burst for good measure. Transferring the machine gun to his back Ice drew his Glock and pulled a teargas-laced concussion grenade from his vest. Dropping it through the shattered window in the middle of the door he braced himself against the wall.

  The explosion threw the door open and Ice charged in, pistol ready.

  Gunfire echoed off the steel walls and he felt a round glance off his armor. The thermal sensors in his helmet gave him near perfect vision through the gas and he shot the gunman in the chest as he stepped over a body. Readying another grenade he dropped it further down the stairwell. It clattered as it bounced down the stairs and exploded with a heart-stopping boom.

  Stepping quietly down the stairs he heard coughing a level below. Taking a Taser from one of his pouches he held it ready under his pistol. In the confined corridor the CS gas hung thick. Despite the filters in his helmet he could taste the metallic tang. Reaching the landing he spotted the thermal signature of a man fumbling for the door handle.

  The Taser’s barbed electrodes shot into the gunman’s back and he convulsed dropping his rifle. It clattered to the deck and Ice released the trigger on the Taser before smashing the butt of his Glock down on the man’s skull. He collapsed to the ground, out cold.

  “I'm on the same level as the gunners,” Ice reported over the communications link.

  “Roger, we've taken out the port side. We can't get a bead on the starboard weapon,” replied Vance.

  The staccato hammering of a machine gun confirmed he was in position to deal with the remaining weapons team. He waited for the gun to fire again and shoved open the door.

  The gunner spotted him and turned. Ice rushed forward and grabbed the smoldering barrel with his robotic hand. With the other he shoved the pistol against the man’s forehead. “Hands in the air.”

  The Chinese gunman let go of the weapon.

  “Kneel.”

  He dropped to his knees next to the body of one of his comrades. Ice secured his hands and feet leaving him lying beside the corpse.