Primal Exodus

by Jack Silkstone

  She nodded.

  Booyah unslung his backpack and took a seat on a worn truck tire. From inside the pack he removed a bag of maize, a bottle of water and some fruit.

  The woman eyed the food as she stirred the meager portion in her pot. “Where are you from?”

  “Luuq,” said Booyah. “I’m looking for my cousin. He’s been fighting with the ONLF.”

  The woman nodded slowly. War was a constant in her part of the world, and everyone had family who’d been killed or was fighting.

  Booyah offered her the maize. “Perhaps if you add this to your misharri we could share.” He reached back into the bag and took out a plastic container. “I’ve got some sugar.”

  She nodded, eyes wide. “We haven’t had sugar in so long.”

  Booyah smiled. “Then it was certainly Allah’s will that I stop here this morning.”

  He watched as she stirred in more maize then added a spoonful of sugar and made to hand the container back. “You can keep it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you have any family?” asked Booyah as he warmed his hands by the fire.

  “Three children.”

  “A husband?” he asked, softly.

  “He was killed in the war.”

  Booyah didn’t bother to ask which one. Wars were so numerous in this region that, for the locals, they had merged into one continuous blur of conflict.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Was he in the ONLF?”

  She shook his head. “He was not a soldier.”

  “Neither is my nephew. That is why I must find him. Do you know if there are any camps nearby?”

  “There is one north of the village. It’s hidden deep in the thickest part of the bush.” She never looked up from the pot as she spoke.

  There was a noise from the shack and the door opened. The woman’s children appeared; a boy and a girl, early teens, by his guess. Dressed in threadbare school uniforms they watched him cautiously. The girl, the eldest, had a toddler on her hip.

  “Come and say hello to our guest.” The woman turned to him. “I’m sorry I should have asked your name.”

  “Booyah. Hello children, my name is Booyah.”

  The children introduced themselves as their mother spooned maize porridge into empty tins. He felt for the family. His own wife and children had known hunger before he’d started working for the Somali pirates. If he hadn’t made that decision they would have surely starved or worse, been sold into slavery.

  Booyah sat quietly and ate breakfast with the family. He made a mental note to return and help them once his mission was complete. He’d asked Kurtz and Kruger for a small amount of money for charity previously and he’d been pleasantly surprised by their generosity. Both men had big hearts, which explained why they were so heavily invested in recovering the missing girls.

  After the breakfast he thanked the woman and her children before continuing his journey. Once he was gone the woman turned to her eldest daughter. “Go and tell Kofi at the store that the man is looking for the ONLF camp. Make sure he gives you some rice as payment before you describe the man.”

  The girl nodded, handing her baby sister to her sibling. Then she took off along a different track to their guest. The woman watched as her child disappeared into the thick scrub. She felt a flicker of remorse for the man. However, since the death of her husband, her only concern in the world was feeding her children and giving them a better life.

  ***

  TEL AVIV, ISRAEL

  “What the hell?” bellowed Keila from her workstation. “I’m locked out of the Lascar files.” She popped up from behind the divider that separated the team’s desks in their Secure Compartmented Intelligence Facility or SCIF. “Does anyone else have access?”

  “I’m locked out too,” answered Abel.

  “Same here,” added Fahim.

  “Just a second,” said Jacinta. “Nope, I’m locked out.”

  “You’re kidding me. Someone has locked us out of our own project. I spoke to the Director four days ago about this and secured funding. Who the hell could have trumped us?”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” said Abel.

  “There’s only one way to find out.” She lifted her desk phone and punched a speed dial button. “Keila Bachman for Director Atzmoni,” she said to the man that answered the call.

  “One moment.”

  “Keila, I meant to call you.” The Director’s voice caught her off guard. She’d expected to be put on hold. “There’s been some progress with the Lascar case.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s why I called. My team has been locked out of all the working files.”

  “Ah yes. The project is being handled by another team. Unfortunately, it now falls under a different compartment.”

  “That I don’t have access to.”

  “Correct. However, I’m sure that won’t hinder an officer of your caliber.”

  “What about the funding?”

  “I allocated that to your team, not the project. I’m sure you’ll put it to good use. However, you are to terminate all engagement with any Lascar Logistics personnel.”

  “Sir, can you at least tell me who is handling the project?”

  “Unfortunately not.” He paused. “Keila, as much as it pains me to say it, this is outside of my control. Now, I’m already late for a meeting with the Director of Special Operations, I must go.”

  “Thank you for your time, sir.”

  Keila returned her phone to the cradle. “Lisker,” she hissed between her teeth.

  “What’s that?” asked Abel.

  “Lisker’s snatched Lascar out from under us.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But we’re going to find out.”

  “You think he’s up to no good?” asked Fahim.

  “Who knows?”

  “We’ve still got all the stuff we’ve been working on in Africa,” said Jacinta. “And you’ve got the new communications protocols that you set up with Bishop.”

  “Correct, we’re just going to have to be very careful with what we report.”

  Abel cracked his knuckles. “How black are our black ops going to get?”

  Keila managed a laugh as she spun a pen in the palm of her hand. “Low key is the term I’m running with.”

  “You want me to look into Lisker’s involvement?” asked Abel.

  “Not directly.”

  Abel winked. “Got it.”

  “Do we know if 8200 have been able to crack the PRIMAL communications network?” she asked.

  Abel shook his head. “Can’t check. We’re locked out.”

  “What about the African connections?”

  Able returned to his terminal and his fingers raced across the keyboard. “We’ve still got access to them. Nope, they haven’t broken into the network. However, they have identified several non-secure entities nearby. I can use our toolset to break them out and see what I can find.”

  “Do it. We’re now focused on the African networks.”

  As Jacinta and Fahim moved across to Abel to coordinate their efforts, Keila pondered the conversation with the director. There was no doubt in her mind that Lascar and Priority Movements Airlift were gone. However, she got the distinct impression that Caleb Atzmoni had been forced to shut her down. If that was the case, then Manfred Lisker had a serious amount of influence. That was something she was going to have to skirt around if she was going to continue working with Bishop. Additionally, she would have to explore other options for keeping tabs on 8200’s access to PRIMAL. If that meant entertaining the romantic approaches of a handsome signals officer, then so be it.

  ***

  CHUHUIV, UKRAINE

  Rain lashed the cockpit windows of the Lascar Logistics Ilyushin-76 transporter as it made its runway approach at night. The pilot, Mike Summer, made a subtle adjustment to the jet’s trim as he lined it up with the barely visible runway lights. A veteran of both Lascar Logistics and Pri
ority Movements Airlift, Mike was comfortable in the adverse conditions. He and his co-pilot, Elaine, calmly set the two-hundred-thousand pound behemoth down on the wet tarmac and brought it to a roaring halt in front of a row of rusted aircraft hangars.

  He turned the jet in a tight circle before throttling back the turbofans to idle. Then he unbuckled his seat harness and rose. “I’ll drop the ramp.”

  As he left the cockpit he contemplated the instructions Tariq had given him regarding the mission. Mike was permitted to leave the cockpit to lower the ramp and then check the incoming load was secure before takeoff. Other than that he was not to have any interaction with the ground crew or the cargo.

  Wind and rain whipped into the empty cargo hold as the clamshell doors opened and the ramp dropped. Mike glanced out into the darkness but saw no sign of activity before he turned and made his way back to the cockpit.

  “All good?” asked Elaine as he dropped into his seat.

  “Shady as…” he murmured.

  “Have you done many gigs like this?”

  “You could say that.” Mike couldn’t help but smile as he recollected the dozens of covert flights he’d conducted for Bishop, Saneh, Mitch and the rest of the PRIMAL team. He had penetrated hostile airspace, conducted hot extracts and delivered resources in some of the most hostile conflict zones on the globe.

  “So this is normal?”

  The aircraft shuddered. Mike glanced at the camera feed from the cargo hold. On screen two men dressed in black with their faces covered by balaclavas guided two pallets of crates off a low loader into the jet.

  “No, not really,” he replied, wondering why Bishop wasn’t on the flight. None of team PRIMAL had been tasked since the Syria job. Instead, Tariq was micro-managing the delivery.

  “What do you think is on the pallet?”

  Mike shrugged. “The manifest says medical supplies.”

  One of the men gave a thumbs-up to the camera then they left the jet, backing the cargo carrier away into the darkness.

  “I think we both know it’s not medical supplies,” said Mike as he climbed out of his chair. “Let’s prep for takeoff.”

  After Mike raised the ramp and closed the doors he inspected the two pallets of alleged medical supplies that now occupied the hold. He shook his head as he lifted the cargo netting to check one of the large wooden crates. The white paint looked fresh and there was an obvious spelling error among the words stenciled haphazardly on its side.

  FIRST ADE BANDAGES

  Mike had seen enough military hardware to recognize the crate as the type used to transport munitions such as rockets and missiles. “Medical supplies my ass.”

  Back in the cockpit he strapped in and turned to Elaine. “OK, let’s get this hog airborne. You have the stick.”

  Elaine deftly maneuvered the hulking aircraft onto the main runway and sent it rocketing down the tarmac. As soon as they were airborne and climbing toward cruising altitude Mike excused himself and made for the communications room. The cramped space behind the cockpit, formerly occupied by the aircraft’s radioman, now served as a galley. Mike turned on the coffee machine before taking a satellite phone from a shelf. Dialing a number he raised it to his ear and waited.

  “Mike, go ahead,” said Tariq Ahmed.

  “We made the pickup. You were right, it’s not what’s on the manifest.”

  “As expected. Can you determine the contents without disturbing the load?”

  “Already have. We’re definitely shipping ordnance. Two pallets of bandages don’t weigh eight ton.”

  “That is suspicious. OK, can you document everything and forward it to me once you have made the drop.”

  “Will do.”

  “Thank you, Mike. I appreciate your discretion with this.”

  “Always, and if you need any additional help…”

  There was a pause as CEO of Lascar Logistics considered the offer. “I think it’s better if I deal with this personally.”

  “Roger.”

  “Safe travels.”

  Mike returned the phone to its place and contemplated the situation as he made coffee. The manifest for this shipment had cited a company that Mike wasn’t familiar with. A quick Google search had revealed a basic website but very limited information, a reasonable indicator that it was probably a shell. That meant that someone was using Lascar Logistics to ship contraband from the Ukraine into the Central African Republic. It certainly wasn’t the first time that he’d been involved in ‘grey’ activities, but it was the first time it hadn’t involved a PRIMAL operative. As he added milk to a coffee he pondered why Tariq was managing this personally. At least his boss seemed to have it well in hand and there weren’t many who played the subversion game as well as the former head of the UAE’s Special Tasks Branch.

  Back in the cockpit he handed a mug to Elaine. “Good take off.”

  “Thanks, skip. So what are we actually hauling to Africa?”

  Mike shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Elaine took the hint and settled back in her seat, autopilot activated and coffee cupped in both hands.

  “So, what made you leave Virgin?” asked Mike.

  “Got tired of trucking planeloads of assholes around the globe.”

  Mike laughed. “Yeah, I can relate to that. No day’s the same flying for Lascar Logistics, that’s for sure.”

  She raised her coffee in a mock toast. “And we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  CHAPTER 6

  ABU DHABI, UAE

  Daisy, the Border Collie, snarled aggressively as Bishop tried to shake a rubber chew toy from her jaws.

  “Let it go you demon,” Bishop said as he lifted her from the floor by the toy.

  “You’re going to pull her teeth out,” said Saneh from the kitchen where she was preparing breakfast.

  “Are you kidding? She’s got a bite worse than yours.” He shot his partner a cheeky grin and was rewarded with a dark look.

  “You can’t still be angry with me.”

  Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed further.

  “Okayeee.” Bishop turned his attention back to the dog. “Well, at least Daisy still appreciates me.”

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t if you decided to buy a cat.”

  “Oh, I see what you did there.” Bishop laughed and from the corner of his eye he spotted an ever so slight smile on Saneh’s face. Dragging Daisy across the polished floorboards he maneuvered her into the kitchen. Finally releasing the toy, he laughed as Daisy escaped with it and bolted for the apartment’s spare room. Turning he wrapped his arms around Saneh’s slender waist and kissed her ear gently. “You know you’re the only woman for me.”

  “I know, I’m the only woman who’ll handle your stupidity.”

  Bishop slid his hands to her hips and kissed his way down her neck, nuzzling into her silky dark hair.

  She let out a soft moan as he slipped a hand under her loose fitting T-shirt and caressed her breast through the sheer Lycra of her sports bra. She turned and their lips touched in a passionate kiss that sent electricity shooting through Bishop’s body.

  Saneh braced her hands against his chest as he cupped her buttocks in his hands, and hefted her onto the countertop.

  “This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.” She panted between kisses.

  “Of course not.”

  At that moment Bishop’s phone vibrated on the counter next to them.

  They both ignored it as he pulled her T-shirt and bra over her head and lowered his lips to her breasts.

  “OK, maybe a little bit forgiven.” She arched her back and gripped his hair with both hands.

  Bishop’s phone stopped vibrating. A moment later Saneh’s rang.

  She glanced sideways. “It’s Tariq,” she exclaimed as Bishop slid his fingers into the waistband of her tights. “He’s got a job for us.”

  “Really, because I’ve already got a job and it’s pleasuring you.”

  “Aden, this might be importan
t.”

  “Fine.” He extracted himself from her clothing, reached for his phone and dialed.

  “Aden, I trust you and Saneh are well,” said the CEO of Lascar Logistics as soon as the call had connected.

  Bishop made a face at Saneh as she slipped her bra back on. “We’re good, what’s up?”

  “I have a task for you both.”

  “Roger, where are we flying?”

  “No, nothing high speed, a simple close protection mission in Dubai.”

  He frowned. “OK, shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Excellent, I’ll send through the client details and his itinerary.”

  “Is there a real threat to his life or is this more of a VIP type treatment?”

  “A little of both. Isaac Jarvis is the CEO and lead engineer of a technology firm working on artificial intelligence algorithms, primarily for autonomous security systems. His company has been the target of several failed hostile takeovers.”

  “Corporate brigands don’t really demand our particular skill set.”

  “I agree. However, he’s concerned that competitors will stop at nothing to acquire his firm, including kidnapping the CEO.”

  “Pretty unlikely scenario, but work is work, and we’re keen to help out.”

  “Appreciated, I’ll send that info through. He arrives on Tuesday, I’ll check in with you before then.”

  “No problems.” Bishop ended the call, tossed the phone on the counter and placed his hands back on Saneh’s waist. “Now, where were we?”

  She planted a kiss on his lips. “What’s the job?”

  “Protection detail for a VIP.”

  She feigned a yawn. “Boring, who’s the client?”

  “Some engineer CEO called Isaac Jarvis.”

  Saneh leaned closer and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” she replied as he wrapped his arms around her. “I was just hoping we could bring the boat over soon.”

  “This job won’t take long. Then we’ll head over and spend two weeks sailing her back.”