Primal Exodus

by Jack Silkstone

  With the rifle dismantled her only weapons were the Taser and her stiletto.

  Avi tipped his head ever so slightly to one side. “Is that a no?” The pistol appeared. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

  “Not as much as me.” In one smooth movement she drew her knife and tossed it as she dove sideways, behind her car.

  Avi’s weapon barked and bullets punched through the car windows as she landed on her side. “You’re so fucking dead!” he yelled. His rage told Saneh that her blade had found purchase.

  She shrugged out of the backpack and gripped her Taser as rounds thudded into the car. Another two shots snapped past her as she sprinted to a stack of steel piping and hid behind it.

  “There’s nowhere you can run,” he yelled.

  She frantically searched for an escape route. Leaping onto a raised dock she rolled in behind a stack of electrical cable spools. Peering through a gap she saw Avi moving deliberately with his pistol held ready. Aiming her Taser she waited till he was in range and fired.

  One barb struck Avi in the arm but the other sailed over his shoulder failing to complete the circuit. She immediately ejected the second cartridge as he fired a volley of shots into the spools.

  Saneh felt a round tug her jacket as she dashed to the next pallet of building materials.

  “You’re just going to die tired!” yelled Avi as he gave chase.

  She leaped through an open door into a section of the building site that had framing and walls constructed. Ducking and weaving through the maze of offices and corridors she hunted for a way out.

  Pausing behind a wall she held the Taser ready. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears as she concentrated on keeping her breathing under control. There was a noise to her right and she adjusted her grip on the weapon.

  The wall alongside her exploded as a bullet punched through the sheetrock. She dove as more rounds punched through the wall. Scrambling across the concrete she lost her grip on the Taser. More gunfire thundered and she rolled sideways into a half-completed room. There was a stack of drums below a gap in the ceiling. She clambered up and squeezed through the gap.

  The space was bigger than she anticipated and she found herself hunched over in the metal framing designed to hold cabling and ducting. Having moved deeper into the space she spotted a worker’s toolbox alongside rolls of cabling. She took a hammer from inside and felt its weight in her hands.

  As she considered moving she glanced down through a light fitting and saw Avi standing below. The Mossad operative was scanning the rooms around him.

  Rage flowed through her veins like hot lava as she focused on the pain that Avi and his boss had caused her. With the hammer clenched in one hand she stepped off the metal framing onto the thin ceiling.

  Saneh crashed through the roof, knocking Avi to the ground in a shower of debris. She landed sideways on top of him, her elbow smashing into the concrete. Rolling clear she swung the hammer at his gun hand. The pistol fired as she smashed his fingers against the floor and he screamed in agony. A second blow dislodged the gun and sent it skidding away.

  He lashed out with his good hand and connected with the side of her head. Vision blurred, she swung the hammer again. He caught her wrist and began to twist the hammer.

  Spinning away she kicked sideways and made contact with his groin. He let out a grunt and hit her with his wounded fist. The blow came with the sickening wet crunch of the broken bones in his hand. Avi bellowed and Saneh scrambled on top of him. She forced the hammer closer to his face as she slid an elbow across his throat and pushed down with all her weight.

  Avi was much stronger and forced his hips up in a Krav Maga move known as bridging. Saneh managed to stay on top but knew she wouldn’t be able to control him for long.

  She ran with a second thrust and let him toss her over his head. Instead of fighting to stay balanced she flicked her feet skyward and rolled across the floor. Spinning her legs like a breakdancer she spun into a crouch and grabbed his pistol from the floor. Avi was almost as fast, launching toward her with his good fist cocked.

  She fired a single round and the Mossad operative collapsed, skidding across the cement. The bullet had torn through his neck leaving his body limp in a spreading pool of blood.

  “I’m out!” she hissed as she wiped her prints from the pistol and tossed it next to his body. “And your boss is next.”

  ***

  Tariq Ahmed stood at the window of his office and gazed down at the flashing lights on the street below. There must have been an incident at the worksite next door. Returning to his desk he continued reading the file he’d printed. It was the work that Flash had completed before leaving the country.

  The report wasn’t as damning as he would have liked, but it did link payment for arms shipments to Sakkin Industries, an Israeli company with defense contracts.

  What Tariq was missing was the connection between Manfred Lisker and Sakkin Industries. He was pretty sure that was a link he was never going to be able to prove. Not with hard evidence. All he could hope for was that Flash’s file was enough to prompt a more detailed investigation.

  He added the printed manifests from the Lascar flights to the folder and slid them into a thin black attaché case before locking it. Then he picked up his desk phone and dialed the Lascar Logistics operations room as he checked his watch.

  “It’s Tariq, can you please have my jet ready for a nineteen hundred departure.”

  “Yes sir, what is the destination?”

  “Tel Aviv, Israel.”

  He ended the call and took the attaché case from his desk. As he left the office he passed his assistant’s empty desk. Friday and Saturday were the weekend in Dubai. On Fridays he handled his own administration including driving himself to the office. Prior to his flight he would dine with his wife and children, before praying. Beyond that, there was no real certainty.

  ***

  LAVRIO, GREECE

  Ice unhooked a mooring line from a rusted bollard and tossed it to Bishop who was standing at the stern of his boat, Susurro. Striding along the floating pontoon, he did the same for the bowline then paused at the edge of the dock. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

  Bishop threw him a mock salute. “Permission granted.”

  They finished stowing the mooring lines before descending the steps into the interior of the ketch.

  “Damn this is nice,” said Ice as they passed through the neat galley into the main living area.

  “Mitch’s handy work,” replied Bishop as he controlled the vessel’s thrusters from the tablet strung around his neck. Electric propulsion pods drew power from banks of solid-state batteries hidden along the keel. He touched an icon and high-resolution screens appeared from behind polished wooden furnishings. They displayed the feed from an array of cameras positioned around the hull and on the mast.

  “That’s some high tech gear.”

  “And that coming from the six million dollar man,” said Bishop as he programmed a route for the yacht that took them out of the marina and into the Mediterranean.

  “So, what’s the go with Saneh and Mossad?” asked Ice when Bishop looked up. He had already updated him on the attack on the Sandpit and their narrow escape.

  “Remember, Keila said her team’s file on Saneh was blocked. Compartmented.”

  “And she implied that someone in her organization was going after her network. Us.”

  “Yeah, but to what end?” Bishop stepped back into the galley, opened a fridge and removed two Coopers beers. He handed one to Ice and they sat on either side of a retractable table. “Thanks for the rescue mate.”

  They touched bottles.

  “My pleasure.”

  Bishop wore a frown as he drank and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think Mossad has leverage over Saneh.”

  “Over a former Iranian intelligence operative?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, someone in the organization has been pulling her strings. You know the guy we were guard
ing in the Emirates?”

  “The tech guy who died?”

  “Someone accessed the building using her security pass. She told me she’d lost hers at the conference.”

  “You think she killed him?”

  “God no. I think someone forced her to give them access.”

  “Is there a link between the tech guy and Mossad?”

  Bishop took another swig as he shook his head. “Not that I can see, but then again we don’t have Chua onboard to sort that out.”

  “You heard from him or Vance?”

  “Not yet, they’re following Exodus to the letter.” He paused. “Ice, I think someone from Mossad kidnapped me to control Saneh.”

  Ice sipped his beer thoughtfully. “Yeah, and if I was Saneh, with you free I’d be looking to cut the strings controlling me.”

  “The question is how?”

  “That part is simple. I’d kill my handler.”

  The realization hit them simultaneously.

  “She’s going to assassinate someone in Mossad,” said Bishop.

  “Not even Saneh is going to get out of that alive,” added Ice.

  Bishop leaned to his right and touched a panel, revealing a rack of rechargeable cordless headsets. “I need to contact Keila. We need to stop Saneh before it’s too late.”

  CHAPTER 21

  ROTOBURN, NEW ZEALAND

  Chua stared out of the window of the Squirrel helicopter as it hammered along a narrow gorge. If it wasn’t for the highway that snaked alongside the crystal blue water of a river he could have been back in Afghanistan. The mountains around them were devoid of trees and had the same craggy outcrops that the Taliban favored for observation.

  The helicopter punched out of the gorge and the river expanded into a lake bounded by more mountains and a valley covered in green orchards and vineyards.

  “The mountain biking here is going to be unbelievable,” he said into his headset.

  “The Pinot Noir is world-class,” added the pilot as they climbed over a mountain range and descended toward an expansive green valley.

  “How long have you had this place?” he asked Vance, who was staring out the window on the opposite side.

  “Bought it sight unseen a few years back. Bishop has spent a bit of time here and said it was the ducks nuts. I think that means it’s good.”

  “OK, that’s our landing zone.” The pilot gestured to a black pickup parked alongside a grass airstrip. There was a figure standing next to the truck.

  The chopper flared before touching down. The pilot helped them unload their bags as the figure from the vehicle approached. Chua recognized the bald head and bushy beard of PRIMAL’s former technician and head pilot, Mitch Freeman.

  “Lads, welcome to Kiwi land.”

  Chua winced as the muscle-bound Brit hugged him.

  “You OK?” he asked as he exchanged back slaps with Vance.

  “He took a bullet.”

  “No shit.”

  “Just a graze,” said Chua.

  The chopper interrupted their conversation as it took off, whipping the grass and dust into a frenzy as Mitch tossed their bags into the back of a Volkswagen pickup. He drove them out of the field onto a sealed road that curved down into a wide valley.

  “There she is.”

  A long white building with a raked iron roof appeared from behind a row of tall lush green trees. With its small wooden-framed windows the building looked turn of the century, a contrast to the antennas and solar panels that adorned the roof. They turned off the main road and an automatic gate set in a rock wall swung open revealing sweeping lawns and a hangar-sized garage. Mitch drove the truck inside and a roller-door closed behind them. As Chua climbed out of the pickup he noted the well-equipped gym at the opposite end, and the tool-laden pin boards and workbenches on either side. There were also a range of vehicles, including a tracked All Terrain Vehicle (ATV), dirt bikes and a Range Rover SUV. He grinned as he spotted a rack of mountain bikes hanging from the roof.

  “Mitch, you’ve outdone yourself,” said Vance as he made a beeline for the gym.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Mitch activated a remote control and the squat rack rose a foot into the air and slid rearward revealing a set of stairs.

  Chua shook his head and descended into a hidden armory.

  “I took the liberty of equipping it with all your favorites,” yelled Mitch from above.

  The space stretched twenty feet under the garage and was eight feet wide. On one side the wall was covered with weapons. The other side had shelves stacked with black cases and boxes of equipment.

  “How the hell did you get this all here?” asked Chua as he climbed back up the stairs.

  “I have my ways. OK, let me show you the pub.”

  “The pub? You bought a pub?” Chua asked Vance.

  “It used to be a pub. Now it’s our safe house.”

  “Slash retirement home,” said Mitch with a chuckle as he closed the armory and led them out of the garage into the backyard.

  “Taste that air,” said Vance as he inhaled deeply.

  Chua took in the sweeping lawns and what looked to be a natural swimming hole. “This is amazing.”

  “There’s a sauna and outdoor bathroom over there,” said Mitch as they walked to the rear of the hundred-year-old hotel. “You’ve got six bedrooms in total, a bar, kitchen, dining room and an office. I’ve been calling it The Hub.”

  “We expecting a lot of guests?” said Chua.

  Vance shrugged. “Hey, when you live somewhere this awesome you gotta share the love.”

  Mitch opened the rear door and showed them into a long hallway with white walls and dark wooden floors. Industrial bulbs hung from the ceiling.

  “Love what you’ve done with the place,” said Vance.

  Chua wore a look of concern. “Vance said this place was a black hole, do we even have Wi-Fi?”

  Mitch let out a snort. “You’re hooked into high speed fiber. Wi-Fi repeaters cover the whole property and then some.” He pressed his thumb to a biometric lock and pushed open a door revealing a well-equipped office. “You’ve got all the systems you need and a few extras. Flash says it’s more secure than anything he’s previously built. Kept banging on about the Dark Web.”

  “Good to know,” said Vance.

  “You heard from any of the others?” asked Mitch as Chua sat behind a desktop. The device registered his face and allowed him to access the operating system.

  “Only Kruger and Kurtz,” Chua replied. “They extracted the last of the girls they were hunting from a human trafficker in Rwanda.” He opened a communication application and found a handle for Bishop. “I’m going to check in with Bish.”

  The application rang and a moment later it connected.

  “Hey, guys.” Bishop’s Australian accent was particularly noticeable. “I’ve got Ice with me here on the Susurro.”

  “Ice, buddy I knew you’d be OK. Vance and I felt terrible about leaving.”

  “All good. At least this time it didn’t take five years for me to surface,” replied Ice referencing his time in a CIA black site. “Tariq helped me with my exfil. Hey, how you doing? That wound looked nasty.”

  “I’m, OK. I’ve got Mitch and Vance with me here in The Hub.”

  “The Hub, is that the name of your retirement home?” asked Bishop.

  “Laugh it up asshole, we’re all retired now,” said Vance.

  “This is true.”

  “Tell us about your E&E? Is Saneh with you?” asked Chua.

  “Not yet. We’re literally heading out to meet her right now and then we’re hitting the high seas. Good to hear from you guys. Drop us a call later on.”

  “Will do, fair sailing.” Chua ended the call and turned to face Vance. “You get the feeling that something’s out of place there?”

  Vance shrugged. “Everyone’s in a state of flux.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “OK guys,” interrupted Mitch
. “I’m going to show you the bar.”

  Vance cracked his knuckles. “Hell yeah, I could slay a beer.”

  ***

  MOGADISHU, SOMALIA

  Jamilah’s throat was dry and her heart pounded as she stepped from the rear of the helicopter that had rescued her and the others. They’d landed on the soccer pitch at the school from where they’d been kidnapped. Past the goals she could see a large crowd gathering. Tentatively she walked forward and the other girls followed her. Then, as someone in the crowd identified a loved one, there were cries of joy and names were shouted. Girls ran into the arms of their mothers, sisters, brothers and fathers.

  “JAMILAH!” the voice was loud and clear over the commotion and it was one she instantly recognized.

  Her younger sister, who she’d last seen when they’d been separated in a rebel camp, burst from the crowd and tore across the pitch toward her.

  Kurtz stepped from the side door of the helicopter and smiled as he watched the reunion.

  “That’s what it’s all about,” said Bianca from behind him.

  “Ja, it is.” He spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Al-Mumit, the pirate king and financier of the operation, was crying as he watched a woman embracing her daughter. Kurtz hadn’t realized that one of the kidnapped girls must have been a direct relative of the Somali gangster.

  “That’s why the money kept coming,” said Kruger as he joined them.

  “I’d do it for free,” said Kurtz.

  “Whoa, you crazy Kraut. We’re not running a charity here,” said Toppie as he stepped out. He tipped his head in the direction of their filthy helicopter. “That thing doesn’t run on thoughts and prayers.”

  The team broke into laughter as Booyah joined them. “What’s so funny?”

  “Kurtz wants to give Al-Mumit his money back,” said Kruger.

  “A noble gesture,” said the Somalian.

  Kruger’s forehead creased. “What the hell? Am I surrounded by idiot altruists?”