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

by Jack Silkstone

  “Sir, the Seahawk has eyes on the target vessel and can confirm there is a UN helicopter positioned on the bow. Additionally the vessel shows signs of damage from heavy weapons.”

  “Acknowledged, give the SEAL team leader authority to board.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  ***

  Bishop and Kruger met Chua and Ice at the door that led out to the deck and the waiting UN helicopter. Bishop had the rhino horn tucked under his arm. His was face swollen and covered in blood with a wicked gash on his cheek.

  “Hey, Bish, we need to leave that behind,” said Chua pointing to the bloodied horn.

  Bishop handed it to him. “I’m done with it now.”

  Chua took the horn as Vance appeared on the staircase from the bridge. “Team, we ready to roll?”

  “Give me twenty seconds.” Chua ran up the stairs to the messing hall. He placed the horn on the kitchen bench then checked on their prisoner. Their interrogation victim was still attached to the chair.

  “Chua, hurry the hell up!” yelled Vance. “We've got a US Navy chopper up top and they're not here to deliver pizza.”

  Chua ran back down the stairs and joined the rest of the team at the door.

  “OK, let's get moving,” said Vance as he shoved open the door. The downwash of a hovering helicopter buffeted them. “Shit, they're directly overhead.” He ducked back pulling the door half shut.

  “We can't stay here,” said Ice. “They'll rope onto the bridge then work their way down. We need to move now.”

  ***

  The MH-60 Seahawk hovered over the Zenhai, a thick rope hanging from its side door trailing to the port-side bridge wing. The first member of the SEAL boarding party slid down and hit the deck. A second later another assaulter landed and the pair stormed inside.

  “US Navy, hands where I can see them!” yelled the lead assaulter aiming his MK18 Carbine at the figure behind the helm.

  “Not again,” said the captain as he turned his back to the intruder to show his hands were still secured.

  The rest of the six-man team gathered on the bridge before the helicopter peeled away. SEALs covered all the entry points as the team leader reported in. “USS Roosevelt, this is Team One, we've secured the bridge.”

  The response was instantaneous. “Acknowledged, Team One. Any sign of hostiles?”

  “Negative, just the UN chopper.”

  “We are standing by.”

  The team leader turned to the captain. “Hey, bud, you speak English?”

  The Chinese man nodded.

  “Good, where are the bad guys?”

  He pointed toward the door two of the commandos had covered. “They just left. If you run you might catch them.”

  The SEAL snapped into action. “Harrison, you're on the wing. If they try to escape you are weapons free.”

  “Copy that.” A barrel-chested SEAL carrying an MK46 machine gun made for the side door.

  “The rest of us are going down, let's move.”

  The lead assaulters pulled open the door and entered the stairwell, weapons held ready.

  ***

  Kruger heard the clatter of boots at the top of the stairwell. “They've made entry,” he transmitted to the rest of the team.

  “Roger, let's roll,” replied Ice from where he waited behind the door to the deck. He had consolidated all their remaining smoke grenades in a dump pouch attached to his belt. He tossed the first grenade out onto the walkway that ran the length of the ship.

  It hissed and spluttered spewing a thick cloud of smoke down the side of the vessel. Ice led the team out to the deck and down the walkway. With his thermal imaging activated he could see clearly. He tossed another grenade as they made their way toward the bow.

  A machine gun barked and rounds hit the containers above him. “Keep moving,” he bellowed as he skidded to a halt and turned aiming his MK48 at the bridge.

  The thermal imager in his helmet identified the glowing barrel of the shooter. He stitched the wing with suppressive fire as the others ran past.

  “Last man,” said Kruger as he sprinted to cover. He took up a firing position and yelled, “Go, go, go!”

  Ice gave the bridge one last burst, turned, and ran past Kruger to the base of the containers on which the chopper was perched. He gave Bishop a leg up then they helped Vance.

  “Jesus, what've you been eating,” yelled Bishop as he hauled the PRIMAL director up alongside him.

  “It's the gear,” grunted Vance.

  “It’s the donuts.”

  They repeated the process with Chua then Kruger. Ice was last to climb up the container to the waiting helicopter. While Kruger worked his machine gun Ice leaped into the cargo hold and the Mi-8 powered skyward.

  Ice strode through to the cockpit and spotted a gray US Navy Seahawk through the windshield. It hovered sideways with a machine gunner aiming directly at them.

  “US Navy helicopter this is a UN-flagged airframe operating in international waters. If you do not move we're going to collide,” yelled Vanko over the radio.

  Ice used his iPRIMAL to tune to the frequency and listen in.

  “UN aircraft this is the US Navy, you will land immediately or we will be forced to fire.”

  “Fuck you, comrade!” Vanko hauled up on the collective and the Soviet-era helicopter launched itself toward the Seahawk.

  Ice flinched as the gray helicopter loomed in the windshield before it peeled off to avoid a collision.

  “Yankee pussy,” the bearded South African copilot said as Vanko sent the chopper thundering across the ocean.

  Both men burst out laughing as Ice turned back to the team sitting in the cargo hold. He could see the ship and helicopter shrinking through the open back of the chopper. Without air-to-air missiles there was no way the Seahawk could intercept them.

  “Where did you find these cowboys, Kruger?” he transmitted over the PRIMAL team channel.

  “Mogadishu, where you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.”

  “Yeah, well they're trying to beat the record for the Kessel run.”

  “Will you ladies stop quoting Star Wars and take a look at the slash on Bishop's face,” snapped Vance. “This mission ain’t over till we get back to the Sandpit.”

  ***

  MOGADISHU, SOMALIA

  The Mi-8 touched down at Mogadishu airport with less than fifteen minutes worth of fuel remaining. Vanko taxied in front of his hangar and parked next to Toppie's battered biplane. The team disembarked and filed into the shed to strip down their equipment and pack it away.

  Vance left the group and using his iPRIMAL contacted Frank in the Sandpit. “What's the news on Saneh?”

  “I spoke to Tariq an hour ago. Her brain activity has increased. The doctor thinks she might be coming back to us. Mirza arrived this morning and he's been in with her all day.”

  Mirza was Bishop's closest friend and more times than not his battle buddy. The former Indian Special Forces operative was also close to Saneh; she had asked him to be their child's godfather.

  “That's good news. We've got Bishop and we'll be back later tonight.”

  “Yeah, Chua gave an update in his message. We're chasing down all the leads on the intel he picked up.”

  Vance frowned. “Keep a close handle on Flash, I don't want him hacking any government databases and tipping off the CIA. It's bad enough we've been exposed to the Navy.”

  “We haven't seen any indicators of a compromise. I'll warn Flash to keep it real low-key.”

  “Good stuff, we'll see you soon. Vance out.”

  As he walked back he made eye contact with Bishop who walked stiffly toward him. The wound on his cheek had been sewn shut but he still looked like someone who'd gone twelve rounds with Mike Tyson.

  “Vance, I’m sorry about all this,” Bishop said quietly.

  The PRIMAL director nodded. “You fucked up, Bish. You should have waited for the team. Kruger is the only reason you’re alive.”

&
nbsp; “I know.”

  Vance grasped his shoulder. “No more renegade ops.”

  “OK, boss.” He sighed. “Is there any news on Saneh?”

  “Yeah, good news. The doctors think she's improving.”

  “And the baby?”

  “Too early to tell, bud. You can talk to the doctors when we get back to Abu Dhabi. We’ll be airborne soon. Try to get some rest, you look like shit.”

  Bishop managed a grimace. “Thanks. Hey, can you make sure the guys who helped out Kruger are looked after.”

  “Will do.”

  It didn't take the team long to load their gear into Vanko's truck and he drove them across the runway to where the Lascar Logistics business jet waited.

  Vance watched as Bishop, Chua, and Ice thanked Toppie and Vanko. Once they had disappeared inside the jet he stepped forward with Kruger and opened an aluminum suitcase on the stairs revealing wads of crisp US currency.

  “OK, Vanko, how much more do we owe you?”

  The pilot licked his lips. “A hundred thousand, plus eighty thousand for fuel.”

  “That's not what you quoted,” said Kruger as he folded his arms.

  The Russian grinned sheepishly. “All right, a hundred covers it.”

  Vance took two bundles from the suitcase and handed them to the mechanic come pilot. “Here's a hundred. I'm guessing I don't need to tell you that if anyone asks...”

  “Da, we never met. This never happened.” The Russian's eyes didn't leave the cash as he flicked the bundles. Stuffing them in his coveralls he turned to Toppie. “I'll wait for you in the truck.”

  When the Russian had left Vance reached out and shook the grubby little South African's hand. “You really came through for my people, Toppie.” He handed over a stack of cash. “If there is anything I can do for you, just ask Kruger.”

  Toppie bowed his head as he accepted the bundle of notes. “Thank you, this should cover what we owe Al-Mumit, ja.”

  Vance glanced at Kruger, who nodded. He took another wad of cash from the case. “This is for your help.”

  “No, that wouldn’t be right. Helping out my old Recce mate was enough.”

  Kruger’s eyes narrowed. “You do want something though, don't you, Toppie?”

  The grizzled old quartermaster shrugged. “You know me too well.” He gestured at the ancient biplane sitting in the distance. “Annie is getting a little old and...”

  “I'll get my people on it,” interrupted Vance.

  Toppie flashed his yellow teeth. “Thanks.” He turned and joined Vanko in the truck, leaving Vance with Kruger.

  “You're not coming with us?”

  “No boss, Toppie's going to fly me back to Luangwa. My dog’s up there with Bishop's friends.”

  He offered the South African operative his hand. “Thanks for looking out for Bish.”

  “That's what family does, ja. Plus, I need the excitement. Things have been pretty boring since we shut up shop.”

  Vance shook his head. “It hasn't even been two months.”

  “Exactly, any longer and I would have gone insane. Keep me posted on any work.”

  “Will do.” He climbed the stairs to the aircraft and secured the door. Most of the team was already reclined and fast asleep.

  The pilot’s voice came through over the intercom as they began to roll forward. “Welcome back to Priority Movements Airlift, team. Help yourself to refreshments and make yourself comfortable. Next stop, Abu Dhabi International Airport.”

  CHAPTER 16

  ABU DHABI

  The doors to Bareen Hospital slid open and Bishop spotted Mirza waiting for him in the well-lit foyer.

  The bearded Indian managed a weary smile and stepped forward. “I'm sorry I didn't come earlier.”

  “It's all right, mate.”

  Mirza reached forward and grasped Bishop's shoulders. “She's awake.”

  His heart lurched. “When?”

  “Three hours ago.”

  “Take me to her.” He strode toward the elevator. “Where is she?”

  Mirza caught up as the elevator doors opened. “Level three, ward echo. Look, Bish, she's pretty disorientated, you need to take it easy.”

  He waited for Mirza to step inside, hit the corresponding button, and watched the floor numbers as they climbed. Once the doors opened he raced into the ward, heart pounding. It was late at night and no one manned the nurse’s station.

  “This way.” Mirza directed him down a corridor. “Room 304.”

  He spotted the number on the door from a dozen feet away. Stopping he tentatively glanced back. Mirza gave him a solemn nod. Taking a deep breath he approached and pushed open the door.

  Saneh lay on a bed surrounded by vibrant flowers. Without the tubes and machines attached to her she looked asleep. As he shut the door her eyes opened and he nearly burst into tears. Struggling to speak he managed to blurt out a few words. “I thought I lost you.”

  She blinked away her own tears as he bent down and wrapped his arms around her.

  He felt her body shudder as she sobbed burying her face in his neck. “Where have you been? We lost her, Aden. We lost her.”

  The words hit him like a bullet to the chest. Tears flowed as he wept holding her tightly. Their baby had been a girl and she had never even made it into the world.

  “It's going to be OK,” he croaked. “It's going to be OK.”

  He held her until a nurse came and explained they needed to sedate her. She was still far too weak to deal with the emotion of losing the child. Bishop pulled a chair close and held her hand as the drug took effect and her eyes closed.

  Mirza entered the room silently and put his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

  Bishop stared at Saneh sleeping. “I went after the man who did this, Mirza. I went after him and I killed him. What did it achieve? Nothing. I should have protected her that night. I should have been by her side.”

  Mirza shook his head and took a seat. “You can't beat yourself up over this. You brought justice to the man responsible, that's all Saneh could ask. You need to be thankful you didn't lose her as well.”

  “I started building a home for us in Spain, on my parent’s land.”

  “It can still be your home. She loves you, Bish, nothing is going to change that.”

  He wiped his eyes. “You're right. I need to make sure it's ready for when she leaves hospital.”

  They sat in silence as Bishop held her hand. “So what has Tariq had you working on?”

  “I've been doing some flying for the real Priority Movements Airlift.”

  Bishop managed a smile. “Giving more legitimacy to the cover firm, that's a pretty smart move on Tariq's behalf.”

  Mirza nodded. “We've been delivering humanitarian aid to refugee camps in Syria and Kurdistan. Not exactly taking down bad guys but it fills the void until PRIMAL is back online.”

  “I think I’m done with PRIMAL. I can't stand the idea of losing her. Not after everything that's happened.”

  “You’re not a machine, Bish. No one expects you to keep fighting.”

  He turned to Mirza with tears in his eyes. “Good, because I can't.”

  ***

  Vance pushed open the door to the intelligence cell and dropped into an empty chair. “Saneh is awake but they lost the baby,” he said quietly to Chua and Flash.

  “Oh no,” whispered Flash from where he sat behind his terminal.

  “Are they OK?” asked Chua.

  “Mirza's in with them now. Saneh is still recovering from the treatment. Bishop's doing as good as can be expected. He wants to take her back to Spain as soon as she's released.”

  “Yeah, that's probably for the best. I'll arrange clean passports for both of them,” said Chua.

  “Do you think they'll ever work on the team again?” asked Flash.

  Vance shrugged. “I don't know, bud. I do know we still need to lay low. Our little run-in with the Navy might trigger a response.”
>
  Chua shook his head. “No, we've seen nothing to suggest they're on to us. I think your little CIA charade had them spooked, they kept the incident reporting in-house.”

  He frowned. “It's not like you to talk the threat down.” He studied his counterpart’s face for a moment. “OK, I get it. What have you two got in mind? I'm guessing you want to go after the guys responsible for the ivory on board the Zenhai?”

  “Correct.” Chua gestured to a screen on the wall. Displayed was a link analysis chart, an intricate web of lines joining events, locations, and personalities. “Flash started with the ship and he's tracked every link back through to a number of dummy corporations to a Triad syndicate based in Shanghai. They've got a front man, Zhou. He handles all the smuggling. Our gangster on the Zenhai reported directly to him.”

  “And you want to take him down.”

  “Yes, this is a cause Saneh and Bishop both believe strongly in. It might help them deal with their loss and it’s a just cause in its own right.”

  Vance sighed. “OK, so what's your plan?”

  “It's simple. The Zenhai isn't set to reach Shanghai for another five days. I want to make sure the Chinese authorities are ready and waiting.”

  “And, let me guess, you can't do it without hitting the ground?”

  “I need to make sure the authorities action it. I can't guarantee that if I only send them a tipoff.”

  “Right, and you just so happen to have a contact on the inside willing to help you get to the right people.”

  “I want to go in posing as a member of TRAFFIC. I'm fluent in Mandarin and I'm not going to pop up on anyone's radar. I can be in Shanghai within eight hours.”

  Vance frowned. “There's more isn't there?”

  “Yes, I want to take a media team with me.”

  “Definitely not.”