Primal Exodus

by Jack Silkstone

  “Correct.”

  He turned to Ginsberg. “The issue pertaining to that facility has been resolved.”

  “Excellent.”

  “There was an issue?” asked Copeland.

  “A minor security problem,” answered Ginsberg. “Please go on.”

  “Very well. Doctor Morrison has had significant success in both surrogate and artificial birthing.”

  “Artificial?” asked Lisker.

  “Yes, he has been able to remove a womb from a live host and provide it with life support. In the next two to three years he is hoping to print a womb and seed it genetically with zero requirements for a surrogate or host.”

  Lisker was slightly perturbed by the cold manner with which the Doctor discussed what he only assumed was a process that involved live humans. Personally, he didn’t care who died to further their agenda, but he expected slightly more from a Doctor and a potential mother. He wondered if the icy scientist had any children of her own. He assumed not.

  “My own research has advanced significantly. I have been able to isolate many of the genomes responsible for particular attributes and manipulate them accordingly.”

  “We’ve had several fascinating spin-off technologies that include anti-aging treatments and genetic enhancers,” added Ginsberg.

  “So there’s no danger of the Proteus project failing?”

  “You kidding? The life-extension technology alone will pay for the project for the next fifteen years.”

  “Which is how long it might take,” added Copeland.

  Lisker raised his glass. “The long haul it is. A toast to your work, Doctor Copeland, and your ongoing support, Daniel.”

  “Appreciated,” she replied before they touched glasses and drank. Finishing her whisky in one hit Copeland rose from the desk. “I’ve got some matters to attend to. Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.”

  Once she’d left, Lisker turned to Ginsberg. “That woman is ice cold.”

  “She’s a genius, exactly what we need.”

  “No doubt about that.”

  “Well done on having the issue in Rwanda resolved. Were there any difficulties?”

  “A clean job.”

  “Good.” Ginsberg refilled his glass and offered to do the same for Lisker.

  He nodded.

  “My IT security people tell me that someone has been sniffing around in our accounts and shell companies.”

  “You know who?”

  He shook his head and sipped his drink. “I thought you might have an idea”

  “No one springs to mind,” Lisker lied. There was a high probability that Tariq Ahmed was the man behind the intrusion. He had the resources and the motivation to dig around in Lisker’s undertakings. “Could it be related to Intelligent Responsive Systems?”

  “Most likely. Since we procured the company, attempts to compromise our servers have doubled.”

  “But the merger was successful?”

  “More of an absorption, but yes, very successful. Which reminds me. I’ve been meaning to discuss a new position with you.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m looking for someone to head the Global Strategy Branch, assist in driving the company into the future. It’s the perfect role for someone with your insight and leadership. The branch is fully funded with complete autonomy.”

  Lisker nodded. “I have a man who would be highly suitable.”

  “You wouldn’t consider it for yourself?”

  “No, I have a path planned.”

  “Ah, the directorship.”

  Lisker said nothing and sipped his whisky.

  “Let me know if there is anything I can do to assist.”

  “Everything is in place. It is simply a matter of time.”

  Their meeting continued for half the bottle of whiskey before Lisker departed the facility. Back in his car, heading across the desert, he phoned Avi. “I’m on my way to Jordan, have Tariq Ahmed meet me there.”

  “And if he fails to comply?”

  “Where is Mantis?”

  “Back in the UAE.”

  “Do I need to paint a picture?”

  “No. I’ll make it happen.”

  “We’re at a critical juncture, Avi. If the shipments of weapons don’t reach Egypt this week the uprising will fail.”

  “He will be there.”

  Lisker ended the call and closed his eyes, exhaling. Everything was riding on the next forty-eight hours. If things went well, the conditions would be set for him to assume control of Mossad. Once that had been achieved he could work with Sakkin to establish the intelligence agency as Israel’s premier security force.

  ***

  LIFEBRIGHT FOUNDATION FACILITY, RWANDA

  “So you set this up?” asked Kruger as he, Bianca and Kurtz used her hide to observe the Lifebright facility. They’d parked their vehicle three miles away and the former Canadian Special Forces operator had led them through the darkness, directly to the original position from which she’d observed the compound.

  “Sure did, you got a problem with it?”

  “No,” said the South African. “I’ve never met a female sniper before.”

  “It’s an excellent position,” added Kurtz.

  “A few things have changed,” she said. “Those small buggies are new.”

  Kurtz adjusted his night vision binoculars and spotted the vehicles. They were the size of an ATV but lacked the cabin where a driver would sit. Instead, they were crowned with what looked to be a remote weapon turret complete with a machine gun and an array of optical sensors. “It’s some kind of drone.”

  “They’ve enhanced their security. That makes things more difficult,” said Bianca.

  Kruger snorted. “Nah, we just blow them all to hell. Let’s hit this thing hard and leave it a smoking ruin.”

  “I think, considering the girls, a subtler approach might be in order,” she said.

  “Ja, I agree,” added Kurtz. “We can find a gap in their security and slip in. Then we can neutralize their security measures from the inside and escape using a distraction.”

  Kruger rolled his eyes.

  “Sounds good,” she said. “We probably need to do a full recon of the facility to confirm nothing else has changed since I was here last.”

  “You mean since you died,” said Kurtz.

  “That too.”

  “I’ll do a sweep,” said Kruger. “My legs are going to sleep.”

  Kurtz slid a tablet from his combat vest and activated the screen. “We’ll monitor you from here.” His tracking device appeared, overlaid on a Google earth image of their location.

  “So if I get into trouble we go in guns blazing?” Kruger asked.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Got it. All covert ‘n’ shit.”

  The big man disappeared into the night without a sound.

  “You sure he’s not going to start something?” Bianca asked when he was gone.

  “He knows a covert approach is our best chance of recovering the girls.”

  “That means a lot to you both, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s the mission we were hired to complete.”

  “Yeah, but it’s more than the cash, isn’t it?”

  Kurtz made an adjustment to the night vision binoculars mounted on a tripod in front of him. “Too many innocents have died. I’m not going to let them kill more.”

  “Have you been doing this sort of thing long?”

  “A few years.”

  “You, Kruger, Saneh and her partner Bishop, all working together?”

  “When we need a bigger team, Saneh is a very capable operative.”

  “Yeah, I picked up on that.”

  As they talked Kurtz spotted a set of headlights, bouncing as the vehicle approached along the potholed service road.

  “That will be the food delivery,” said Bianca. “A local guy brings it in every morning at this time. I assume it’s for the girls and the staff.”

  “You kno
w where it originates from?”

  “I can find out.”

  He watched as the truck stopped at the security gate and a guard checked the driver’s credentials. A moment later he waved the delivery vehicle through, into the compound. “Then that’s our covert means of entry.”

  CHAPTER 18

  AMMAN, JORDAN

  Tariq Ahmed adjusted his waistcoat as he descended the ancient steps of the Roman amphitheater in central Amman, Jordan. It was mid-morning, and despite being a beautiful day, the ancient site was devoid of tourists. Tariq assumed that Manfred Lisker had emptied the attraction as a form of intimidation.

  Despite being summoned to meet with Mossad’s Director of Special Operations, Tariq was in a good mood. As expected, Flash’s information pack was exactly what he needed. He paused halfway down the theater to reflect on the majesty of the structure. In his imagination he could hear the voices of the actors echoing from the rough cut stone as they entertained Amman’s elite.

  At the rear of the stage he spotted an archway leading into the tunnels where performers once prepared. Tentatively he entered the dark walkway and peered into the shadows.

  Lisker was waiting for him, alone. Like Tariq he was dressed in a well-cut suit. However, the Mossad operative wasn’t wearing a tie, which Tariq put down to the unusual setting for the meeting.

  “Tariq, thank you for coming.”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve been less than happy with the services your company has been providing.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Have you lodged a complaint with our customer relations team?”

  Lisker stepped forward into a beam of light streaming through the archway. A vein in the side of his head throbbed as he clenched his jaw. “Do I need to remind you what will happen if you fail to comply?”

  He shrugged. “You’ll destroy my company. Drag my name through the mud. I assure you, Manfred, that any destruction will be mutually assured. I know where your funding is coming from and I know it’s unauthorized. I wonder what would happen to your career if Director Atzmoni was to find out.” He paused. “Lascar is no longer your plaything.”

  “You’ll fucking regret this,” Lisker hissed through his teeth.

  “Maybe, but if you come after me, you’ll definitely regret it.”

  Tariq turned and walked back toward the amphitheater. Lisker watched him leave with both hands balled into fists by his side. “You motherfucker,” he mumbled as he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Avi.

  “Boss, did Ahmed make the meeting?” Avi asked.

  “Is Mantis back in the UAE?”

  “She touches down in two hours.”

  “Have her kill Tariq Ahmed.”

  Avi took a moment to respond. “If she refuses?”

  “Kill her boyfriend, kill her and have someone else kill Tariq. Use the Sakkin funding and make it bloody.”

  “I’ll get right on it. What do you want me to do about the arms shipment?”

  He exhaled. “I’ll find another way.”

  Lisker pocketed the phone as he turned down a side passage then climbed a short flight of stairs to an exit. By the time he reached his car he was fuming to the point of white rage. He was going to destroy Tariq Ahmed’s legacy, utterly demolish Lascar Logistics and all of its subsidiaries. But first, he needed to find a way to smuggle missiles into Egypt.

  ***

  SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

  “You ever been to Sydney?” asked Chua as he and Vance relaxed in the business lounge at Charles Kingsford Smith International Airport.

  “Yeah, I recruited Bishop here. Seems like a lifetime ago.”

  “Right, I remember that.” He pointed out the window at the city center a few miles distant. A cluster of skyscrapers rose into the air around what looked to be a central tower with a spire. “Is the bridge out that way?” He referred to the iconic Sydney harbor bridge that featured in almost every Australian tourism product.

  “A little past it. When we’re settled in our new location you should come check it out. Sydney is a beautiful city.”

  “I will.” Chua moved across to one of the three computer terminals in the lounge. He logged on and checked a digital nomad Facebook page. Whistling as he scrolled through the posts he didn’t notice Vance watching him over the top of an airline magazine.

  “You breaking protocol?”

  “What?” Chua turned and shot him an incredulous look.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “There’s no hiding from you.”

  “Chua, you wrote the protocols.”

  “True, but Kurtz hasn’t been using iPRIMAL. He’s using an older method we established so he could work in Africa offline.”

  “The Exodus protocol states that you are to have no contact with any past or present members of PRIMAL.” Vance paused. “How are they doing?”

  “They’ve located the last of the girls and they’re working with a local contact to recover them.”

  “That’s good to hear. Have you been in contact with anyone else?”

  “No. But I expect them to start checking in within the next 72 hours. Then I can work out who tried to take us down.”

  “As per the Exodus protocol.”

  “Correct.”

  “And the news?” Vance asked, his brow furrowed. “Anything interesting out of Abu Dhabi?”

  “Hang on.” Chua’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he browsed. “Here it is. Authorities are reporting a gas explosion in the estate. No casualties.”

  “So Ice got out,” Vance said as he tossed his magazine on a table.

  Chua nodded as he wiped the browser history and logged off.

  “How about you? Your wound need dressing?”

  “No, it’s actually feeling a little better.”

  “Good, because I’m over being your nurse.”

  “But you’re so good at it.”

  A bell chimed and a PA system announced that their flight had commenced boarding.

  Vance stood with his bag. “Last leg.”

  Chua did the same. “There better be a gym at this new location.”

  “Trust me, you’re going to love it,” he said as they left the lounge. “It’ll be good to put up our feet.”

  “Yeah, I’m actually enjoying not having Bishop on the other end of a line every ten minutes asking for a new target.” Chua paused. “I hope he and Saneh are all good.”

  “Those two will be onboard their boat making for the French Riviera.”

  “The kids are all grown up and mom and dad can travel in peace.”

  Vance let out a snort. “You do know that you’re mom.”

  “Whatever, everyone knows intel runs the shop.”

  “Keep dreaming little man.”

  ***

  LIFEBRIGHT FOUNDATION FACILITY, RWANDA

  Jamilah knew something was wrong when the orderlies failed to bring her meal the night before. She’d spent the night awake in terror of what the morning would bring. They had arrived in the earlier hours. She’d put up a fight but was no match for their size and the fast-acting sedative. Once again she found herself strapped to a chair in a sterile laboratory fighting to stay conscious.

  Like clockwork the cold-eyed doctor appeared and looked over her charts and the sensors stuck to her skin. Then the freezing showerhead device caressed her stomach and pelvis.

  “She’s ready, prep her for surgery.”

  She faintly registered the words but had no idea what they meant. The doctor and two orderlies left the room, and a moment later the orderlies reappeared with a wheeled stretcher. As they slid her from the chair and lifted her onto the gurney she managed to flail her hand across one of their faces.

  “Bitch!” He slapped her hard.

  The pain cut through the sedative’s fog and tears streamed down her cheeks as the men strapped her to the gurney. Fluorescent panel after panel flashed by as she was wheeled deeper into the facility. The stench of antiseptic and medi
cal supplies stung her nostrils as she was pushed through a set of doors. Powerful lights shone down as they brought the gurney to a halt.

  The two men who’d taken her this far left her alone in the room. Jamilah raised her head to see what was around her. She’d never been to a doctor’s surgery in her life let alone seen a fully equipped operating theatre. The trays of sinister-looking medical tools were terrifying and left her in no doubt that something horrible was about to happen.

  In an adjacent office Doctor Morrison sat at his desk reviewing his notes on subject 173X. He was comparing the results with another subject whose womb had not survived being removed. This new subject was more developed and he hoped that maturity held the key to success. Morrison always scheduled his surgeries for first thing in the morning. Rested and caffeinated, he felt it was when he did his best work. Sipping a coffee he glanced up at the bank of screens on his office wall. He saw that 173X was ready in the operating theatre and that his anesthetist was in attendance. On another screen he noted that the food delivery truck was arriving. He made a note to ask Elias if he could source fresh milk, the heat-treated stuff tasted terrible.

  ***

  INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, DUBAI

  No sooner had the flight to Dubai touched down than Saneh activated a fresh burner phone and texted Ice.

  Any news on our boy?

  As she waited for his response she found a departures board and checked on her flight to Spain. It was boarding in a matter of minutes. Walking swiftly through the sleek modern terminal she navigated her way around large groups of tourists. She was a short distance from her gate when her phone vibrated with a reply.

  We’ve got a lead we’re following up.

  We? Saneh wondered who else was with him. Joining the line at her gate she was midway through thumbing a response when she looked up and caught the eye of someone she knew, Avi.

  He shot her a steely gaze then flicked his head to one side. She glared at him before stepping out of the line and following him.

  “I did what you wanted,” she snapped when they were out of earshot of the other passengers.