Primal Exodus

by Jack Silkstone

  Ice turned away and checked his watch as the tech burned. It was ten minutes since Bishop had initiated the Exodus protocol and in that time they’d purged any evidence of PRIMAL’s existence. To an outsider the Sandpit was nothing more than a luxury residence housing a few expatriate businessmen. No weapons or suspicious equipment, nothing to compromise Tariq Ahmed or Lascar Logistics.

  Shielding his eyes he glanced at the pit in the sand. The thermite had reduced the bag to a flaming puddle of metal and plastic. He’d give it a minute more before burying the remains. As he waited he took a moment to consider why Bishop had called Exodus. He assumed that it had something to do with his Israeli contact, Kelia. It would make sense that she’d tip him off to any compromise of their network or systems. Ice just hoped that nothing had happened to him or Saneh.

  Once the thermite had sizzled out Ice filled the hole and returned to the villa. As Ice made his way back through to the living area he thought he heard a noise from the corridor that led to the entrance. He paused alongside the reinforced front door and listened. There was a scratching noise coming from the handle followed by a loud click. He felt a kick of adrenaline; there was no way someone should have been able to bypass their security system.

  The door slowly opened inward. Ice stepped behind it and watched the shadow thrown up against the wall. A single figure crossed the threshold with a submachine gun held ready.

  Ice shouldered the door, smashing it shut on a second intruder. His palm slapped the deadbolt closed as he grabbed the first man with his robotic hand and hauled him rearward.

  The man was strong but didn’t stand a chance. Ice slipped an arm around his throat and cut off the blood flow to his brain. A split second later he was dragging the limp body into the kitchen. “We’ve got company,” he bellowed.

  Vance and Chua appeared as Ice stripped the man’s assault vest. He checked the submachine gun before stuffing spare magazines in his cargo pockets and handing a pistol to Vance. “We need to go.”

  The sound of a sledgehammer on the front door spurred Vance into action. “We’ll get out by boat.”

  Ice aimed his newly acquired submachine gun at the front entrance while Vance led Chua to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors that separated the house from the pool and dock.

  Vance caught a glimpse of armed men through the glass and skidded to a halt. “Upstairs! Upstairs!”

  “Mousehole!” yelled Chua as an explosion at the front door announced the assaulters were inbound.

  Ice’s submachine gun snapped as he fired at the entrance. Weapons crackled in reply and bullets shattered the glass windows.

  Chua grunted and staggered, but continued to the stairs.

  A grenade skidded across the tiles toward Ice. He booted it back down the corridor and fired the last of his magazine.

  Vance lumbered up the stairs following Chua. At the next floor they continued down a long corridor that finished at the building’s outer wall. A seascape print with a thick frame adorned the wall. Vance dashed to the picture and ran his fingers around the frame. He found the tab that Mitch had built into the design and gently eased the igniter from its recess.

  “Ready?” He turned and saw Chua, a few yards away clutching his side, his shirt drenched with blood. “Chua?”

  Chua staggered forward and Vance caught him. “Blow the hole,” he managed.

  Ice appeared and ducked into the hallway as bullets slapped into the plasterboard behind him. “What’s the holdup?” he asked as he held the submachine gun out over the stairs and hosed the landing with lead.

  “Chua’s hit.”

  “It’s nothing,” said Chua. “Blow the damn wall.”

  Vance yanked the igniter. The fuse hissed and smoke filled the corridor as they ducked into the adjacent room.

  The charge detonated with an ear-splitting boom that shook the house to its foundations. Dust billowed into the room as Ice took up position near the staircase. “Get Chua out of the building.”

  Vance threw the wounded man’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him through the gaping hole the charge had blown, and into the adjoining construction site.

  Behind him Ice’s submachine gun spluttered as he kept the assaulting force at bay.

  The house that butted up to the Sandpit was a mirror image and also owned by Tariq. Incomplete, it offered the PRIMAL team an alternative avenue of escape and somewhere to stash a boat and a second vehicle.

  Vance paused alongside a pair of welding bottles. “You doing OK?”

  “Yeah, I’ll live.”

  Ice emerged through the wall. “What the hell are you guys waiting for?” He turned and fired a burst back through the jagged hole.

  Vance hefted Chua over his shoulders and lumbered down the stairs. Behind him he heard a loud clang as Ice tossed the welding set into the wall breach.

  As they reached the lower floor and headed toward the garage the building shook with another massive explosion. Flame and dust washed over them, tossing the two men like rag dolls.

  A moment later Vance rose to his knees. “Chua you with me?” he bellowed over the ringing in his ears.

  Chua coughed from beneath a sheet of plasterboard. “Yeah, yeah, I’m OK.”

  As Vance cleared the debris he could hear the distant wail of sirens.

  “Where’s Ice?”

  Vance climbed to his feet and searched the stairwell. The narrow opening was blocked by shattered cinder blocks and a mangled cement mixer. “Ice!” he bellowed.

  There was no response. The sirens grew louder.

  “Ice!”

  Chua coughed again and Vance turned to see his friend propped against a wall clutching the wound in his side. He was torn between getting him to safety and looking for Ice in the rubble above. The wailing sirens made the choice for him. If he stayed Chua and he would be taken into custody or worse. Whoever had authorized the attack on the Sandpit had to have influence and resources.

  He helped Chua to his feet and they made their way into the garage where a plumber’s van was parked. Once Chua was lying in the back he shut the doors and rechecked the stairwell for any sign of Ice. There was no sound or movement. He tried hauling a chunk of wall out of the walkway, but it was lodged firm. “ICE!”

  With no reply he returned to the van and activated the roller door. As he pulled out of the building he glanced in the rearview mirror. The garage was empty. He continued up the driveway, concealed by the tall wall bordering the property.

  As he pulled out on to the road shared with their former headquarters Vance glimpsed a team of men dragging their wounded and dead teammates into a waiting van. At least Ice had made them pay with blood. “Chua, how you doing back there?”

  “I’ll live.” His voice was faint. “Where’s Ice?”

  A ball of grief in Vance’s throat almost choked him. “We had to leave him behind.”

  ***

  THE SANDPIT, ABU DHABI

  A silver Range Rover wound its way past an ambulance and came to a halt in front of a police barricade. Tariq alighted from the rear of the car, having come directly from the airport.

  As he approached the barricade an officer raised his hand. “You can’t go any further. This is an active crime scene.”

  “I own the building,” snapped Tariq as he peered past the man at the haze of smoke.

  “That doesn’t matter. You can’t go in.”

  “Call your superior. Tell him Tariq Ahmed wants to pass.”

  The officer frowned, the name was familiar to him, but he couldn’t remember why. Relaying the message he soon found out that Mr. Ahmed was a very influential man.

  Tariq moved past the barrier to the front door of the building formerly known as the Sandpit. He ran his fingers along the shattered jamb of the front door. It had been blown inwards by a breaching charge. The people Lisker had sent were capable. As he entered the hallway he noted the bullet holes that pocked the plasterboard. There was blood on the white tiles, revealing that the PRIMAL team had made a
good account of themselves.

  “Is anyone there?” he yelled.

  Moving into the living area he noted the shattered glass that was once the doors to the pool area. If the team were as good as he suspected they would have hit the building from more than one direction, forcing Vance and his team upstairs.

  On the upper level he found more blood and drag marks on the dust-coated floor. At the end of the corridor a gaping hole led into the adjacent building site. He wasn’t privy to the Sandpit’s emergency procedures but he assumed the mouse hole was part of it. The building next door was one of eight that a proxy company of Lascar Logistics owned in the area. It had been kept underdeveloped to enhance the Sandpit’s security.

  He stepped through the breach into what looked like a war zone. An explosion had knocked out internal walls and collapsed a section of the ceiling. There were still smoking remnants of what looked like a gas bottle embedded in a steel pylon.

  Tariq nearly leaped from his skin when a pile of debris moved. There was a loud groan and a metallic fist punched up through a block of concrete splitting it in half. Then, like something out of a movie, a figure appeared from the debris.

  “Ice, you scared the life out of me,” said Tariq as he helped the PRIMAL operative to his feet.

  “Where are the others?” Ice asked. Dried blood matted his short blonde hair and dust covered every inch of his body.

  “I was going to ask you the same.” Tariq took out a phone and dialed his driver. “I need you to box around and pick us up from Al Saduk road.” He turned his attention back to Ice. “Are you injured?”

  Ice flexed his robotic hand as he checked his torso with the other. “I’m good.”

  “We need to get out of here. Police have cordoned the street. They’re most likely awaiting a tactical response element. We can get out on the other side of the island if we move fast.”

  “Any sign of the attackers or Vance and Chua?” Ice asked as he found his go bag and inspected the blocked stairwell to the lower floor.

  Tariq shook his head. “No, is there another way down?”

  “Back through the Sandpit and through the fence.”

  “Lead the way.”

  They jogged down the stairs, out through shattered windows and through a loose section of fencing into the adjoining yard. Ice checked the garage as they passed. “They took the van,” he said with relief. “Vance and Chua got out.”

  Tariq nodded and led them across the building site and out a side gate. His Range Rover was parked on the street, engine running.

  “POLICE, POLICE, POLICE!” a megaphone blared as he and Ice climbed inside and the driver smoothly accelerated away.

  “Exodus has already been called,” said Ice. “Chua and Vance will be carrying out their E and E plan.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “According to protocol we shouldn’t be together.” Ice paused before continuing. “What made you come to the Sandpit?”

  Tariq gazed out the window as they crossed a land bridge flanked by palm trees. “When Exodus was called I monitored the police net.”

  Ice seemed to accept the explanation. “So any idea who hit us? Bishop made the call, he might have got a tip-off from his contact in Mossad.”

  Tariq didn’t respond. Keeping his dealings with Lisker private was the hardest decision he’d ever made, and now he realized he should have closed the Sandpit weeks ago.

  Ice continued, “They looked like contractors to me. Whoever they were, we got damn complacent, Tariq. The old PRIMAL wouldn’t have let those assholes jump us.”

  Tariq shook his head. “Violence isn’t the solution here, James. You need to continue your Exodus protocol. Can I help in any way?”

  Ice shrugged. “I was going to jump a Lascar Log flight out of town and make my way to Spain.”

  Tariq pulled a tablet from behind the seat to his front and checked the aircraft movements application. “We’ve got a cargo jet heading out to Lisbon in twenty minutes. I can have you on it.”

  “Perfect.”

  His driver registered the plan with a nod in the rearview mirror. It was only a short distance to the Lascar Logistics cargo terminal. For the entire ten-minute drive Tariq battled with the torment inside. He wanted, more than anything, to tell Ice that he, Tariq Ahmed, was the reason that the Sandpit had been raided. But, that would only send Ice after Lisker and ultimately that would destroy him and the rest of PRIMAL.

  When they arrived at the airport the driver swiped through the cargo terminal security gate and drove them directly to the hangar where the flight was scheduled to depart.

  Tariq got out of the vehicle and walked Ice directly to the waiting Lascar jet. “Thank you for everything, James.”

  Ice turned and wrapped him in a bear hug. “No, thank you, Tariq. You made it all possible. And god knows it ain’t over yet. Not by a long shot.” He turned and boarded the jet.

  “No, it most certainly isn’t,” murmured Tariq.

  CHAPTER 14

  SAFEHOUSE, DUBAI

  The safe house was a nondescript residence in a suburb on the outskirts of Dubai. It was the first stop in a series of locations that would enable Vance and Chua to exit the Emirates covertly and establish themselves at their final destination.

  Vance backed the van into a garage and waited as the roller door dropped. Once concealed he helped Chua from the back of the van and into the kitchen where he sat him in a chair. A quick inspection of a cupboard under the sink revealed a comprehensive trauma kit.

  Using a pair of medical shears he cut Chua’s Rogue Fitness shirt up the side.

  “Hey, that was my favorite.” Chua grimaced as Vance inspected the wound in his flank.

  “I’m sure you can get another one online. It’s a clean shot. Straight in and out.”

  “There is no online, Vance. That’s why I’ve got no idea who just fucked us.”

  “You don’t think it was Mossad?”

  Chua shook his head. “It’s possible that 8200 compromised iPRIMAL, but the Israelis have no reason to move against us. Not like this.”

  “Hang on, I’ve got to close this.” Vance took a plastic spray from the med kit and sanitized the wound.

  Chua flinched.

  He took a medical stapler from the pack and pressed the sides of the wound together.

  “It just doesn’t make sense,” Chua continued.

  The stapler let out a loud clack and banded the wound.

  “Holy shit!”

  “Oh come on Pogue Fitness, it’s not that bad. Now lean forward so I can fix the other side.”

  Chua did as he was told and Vance finished the procedure. He took an antibiotic injector and shot it into his friend’s arm. “Oh look, there’s a local anesthetic in here,” he teased as he packed the stapler and shears away.

  “You’re an asshole.” Chua grunted as he slumped into the chair. “How long have we got till we need to move?”

  “You can rest up for a bit. We’ll leave tonight.”

  Chua exhaled. “Do you think Ice got out?”

  “Yeah, it would take more than a few hired goons to get the better of him,” he replied, unconvincingly.

  Chua inspected his wound and winced. “I hate not knowing what’s going on.”

  “That’s kind of the point of the Exodus protocol,” Vance said. “Now get some rest. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

  ***

  ABU DHABI

  With Ice on his way out of the country Tariq had his driver take him directly to a secure software development facility he owned. The company was responsible for all of Lascar Logistics and affiliate’s data storage and recovery. It was also the firm that had offered employment to a former member of the PRIMAL team, their chief hacker, ‘Flash’ Gordon.

  The systems engineer and code genius was responsible for attempting to penetrate Lascar Logistics networks, enabling other engineers to patch the weaknesses he found and keep their data secure.

  Tariq met him in the ult
ra-secure room where Flash now worked. The software engineer spun from his terminal, acknowledging Tariq with a cock of his head.

  “Hey boss, you here about the Exodus protocol?”

  Despite the sterile corporate workplace Flash was dressed in a trucker cap and vintage T-shirt emblazoned with, Zero Fucks Given.

  “You’re supposed to be clear. How do you know about Exodus?” As a former PRIMAL director, Tariq was the only retired member who was supposed to receive the notification.

  Flash shrugged. “I built the system. Only seems fair that I know when you guys mess up and it gets compromised, right? You know who hacked it?”

  “From what I understand there are only two organizations that could.”

  “Yeah and we didn’t piss off the NSA.”

  Tariq pulled an office chair from an empty desk and sat, clearing his throat. “Flash, they hit the Sandpit today. Professionals. They got the drop on the team. Somehow they bypassed the security systems.”

  Flash’s features hardened. “How bad?”

  “Vance and Chua got away. I managed to get Ice out, but I fear the others may be in imminent danger. Which is why I’m here.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Mossad has a senior agent who goes by the name Manfred Lisker. He’s been using Lascar Logistics to smuggle shipments of weapons into Egypt.”

  “And you think he’s the one who compromised PRIMAL.”

  Tariq looked him square in the eyes. “I need hard evidence linking him to the arms shipments.” He handed Flash a secure USB stick. “This is everything I know.”

  “I’ll give it a go, but I don’t have all the resources of PRIMAL here.”

  Tariq nodded as he rose. “That’s never slowed you down before.”

  Flash watched as his boss disappeared out the door. He’d already made plans to skip out to Hong Kong where he’d kick off a startup that he’d had in the works. However, he had a feeling the PRIMAL team needed all the help it could get. Hong Kong could wait.