Primal Exodus

by Jack Silkstone

  “That’s a big word for you,” said Bianca.

  “I read it in a Batman comic.” Kruger turned to Kurtz. “So what next?”

  “I will distribute the profits. I’m happy for Bianca to have half of my share.”

  “No, I mean what’s the next mission?”

  “Next mission?” Kurtz asked.

  “I’m in,” said Bianca.

  Kurtz shook his head. “No. I meant there is no mission. We’re shut down.”

  “Who says?” asked Toppie. “Kurtz, you’ve got your own show here. We can do whatever we want.”

  “Yes, I am in too,” added Booyah.

  “If you don’t have a mission in mind, I’ve got some ideas,” said Bianca. “I’ve got contacts in a few areas focusing on people smuggling and exploitation.”

  “I like your thinking,” said Kurtz. “But like Toppie said, we need funding and Al-Mumit’s cash will only go so far.”

  Toppie laughed. “I’m taking the piss. I was an arms dealer, got plenty of cash.”

  Kruger snickered. “Was?”

  The disheveled pilot spat in the dust. “Yeah, I’ve got a new occupation now, idiot altruist.”

  ***

  TEL AVIV, ISRAEL

  Saneh exhaled as she slumped into the rear seat of a taxi at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv.

  “Tough day?” the driver asked in Arabic.

  “Sorry?” she answered with an American accent, despite understanding the man.

  “You have a tough day?” he asked in English.

  “Long flight.”

  She pulled her baseball hat a little lower as she ran over her plan. She’d flown into the country on a US passport that she’d squirreled away for such an occasion. Her research had revealed that there was an Aerospace conference in town and she’d booked herself a ticket. According to her entry visa she was an aviation consultant with a small software firm based in Seattle. The cover story was thin at best, but it had gotten her into the country.

  “Don’t I know you?”

  The comment startled Saneh and she quickly shook her head. “No, I’ve never been to Israel before.”

  “No, not from here, on TV.”

  Saneh chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure.”

  The driver nodded but continued to study her in the mirror, making Saneh feel uneasy.

  When he dropped her at a hotel a few minutes later, she waited for the taxi to disappear before walking the few hundred yards to her actual booking. It was another precaution that was probably unnecessary but helped calm her nerves.

  Checking in under a separate fake identity she carried her small suitcase into her room and immediately confirmed the view out the window. The building diagonally opposite looked unassuming, a grey office block with an entry point for sub-level parking. Saneh knew from her time in MOIS that this was where Mossad housed their analytical teams and bureaucracy. This was where Manfred Lisker would have his office.

  Content that she would be able to surveil the building she unpacked. Opening the suitcase on the bed she removed two phones she’d recovered from Avi, along with a laptop modified for cell phone exploitation. Then she tore the inside lining of the suitcase to reveal what Mitch called the covert kill kit. It was a single sheet of nanotech composite that doubled as the wall of the case. However, like a children’s activity set the stiff black material was pre-cut, allowing her to push pieces from it. It took her less than ten minutes to construct a dagger, compact crossbow and three razor-sharp bolts.

  The equipment was rudimentary, but it met her needs. It was undetectable by airport security, yet lethal. She knew from training that the crossbow was accurate to around fifteen yards, similar to the range she would expect from a suppressed pistol. However, unlike a pistol bullet, the thin nanotech blades on the end of the pencil length shaft would slice straight through even the most advanced covert armor. What’s more, the toxin Mitch had ingrained in the point was fast-acting. When she punched one of the darts into Lisker’s body she’d have the pleasure of watching him die.

  CHAPTER 22

  BEN GURION INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, TEL AVIV

  A little under three miles from Saneh the man she had previously planned to kill, Tariq Ahmed, sat in his private jet staring out the window at a passenger aircraft loading at a terminal.

  He wondered how many of the hundreds of people traveling had faced a decision with as far-reaching consequences as the one he had made. Glancing down at the black attaché case containing his file on Manfred Lisker he thought of his wife, children and the thousands of employees that depended on him. Exhaling he rose, adjusted his waistcoat and jacket, grasped the case and walked to the front of the plane. He opened the door and lowered the aircraft’s stairs.

  Stepping down onto the tarmac he spotted a black SUV parked in front of a maintenance hangar. A figure waved him over. As he got closer he identified the man as a bodyguard. Broad shoulders and an ill-fitting jacket hid what Tariq assumed was probably a small arsenal and body armor.

  The man smiled politely and opened the rear door of the vehicle so that Tariq could enter.

  There was a younger man inside, Tariq guessed his age at early thirties. Unlike the guard he had a slender build and wore an expensive suit over a crisp white shirt.

  He offered Tariq his hand. “Mr. Ahmed, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Dean. I’ll be your liaison while you’re in Tel Aviv.”

  Tariq almost laughed out loud. He’d come to Israel with evidence that his company was directly involved in the smuggling of weapons into Egypt. He knew that he’d be fortunate to leave alive.

  The man gestured to the attaché case. “Is that the information you promised?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I see it?”

  Tariq smiled. “Are you the director of Mossad?”

  The man frowned.

  “My terms were very specific. If you don’t like them, then I’m happy to board my aircraft and return to Dubai.”

  “I think we both know that we’re well past that.”

  “Then I suggest you take me to Director Atzmoni.”

  ***

  “OK, what have we got?” Keila asked as she wheeled her office chair alongside Abel.

  “She has to be going after Manfred Lisker,” he said.

  Keila shook her head. “Why would a Lascar Logistics operative go after Lisker?”

  “Because he’s the one who’s running her. He’s the one who kidnapped her boyfriend as a mechanism of control.”

  “You think that Lisker is trying to run her?”

  He shook his head. “No, he’s been running her for years. Think about it. We know Saneh is Persian and we know she’s been hanging out with a bunch of paramilitary types in the Emirates. We also know her boyfriend is a former Australian Army intelligence operative with a bent for social justice.”

  “Not to mention she’s got friends that are supposed to be dead,” added Keila. “The guy that helped me rescue Bishop is former CIA. His real name is James Castle and, according to our files, he died in Abu Dhabi in 2008.”

  “No shit. So, we can assume she’s a badass, probably MOIS.”

  “Double agent?”

  “Yeah, that would explain why Lisker’s got so much leverage over her and it would explain the sealed file.” He paused. “Seriously Keila, the guy’s out of control. Why don’t we just let her get it done?”

  “Because she won’t make it out of Israel alive and we owe it to Bishop.”

  Abel nodded. “OK, fine. So how are we going to find her?”

  “Keila.” Jacinta interrupted their conversation. “You’ve got a message from Director Atzomi’s office. He wants to see you, immediately.”

  Her brow rose. “Did they say why?”

  “No, just that you were to report immediately.”

  “That’s not good. You think Lisker is on to us?” asked Abel.

  Keila shrugged. “I guess I�
��m about to find out.” She rose from the chair.

  “I’ll go back over everything and make sure it’s all above board,” said Abel.

  “Appreciated.”

  “You want me to hold off on Saneh?”

  “No, get Aaron out on to it. Tell him to tail Lisker, ultra discreetly.”

  “Will do. Good luck.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  As Keila left her office she felt as if she was walking into an ambush. If Manfred Lisker had blown their activities she was probably looking at being ejected from Mossad or worse. She’d already decided that she’d take full responsibility. The others may face administrative action, but it was unlikely they would be sacked. As she made her way through the building she couldn’t help but wonder if Bishop had an opening on his team.

  ***

  Manfred Lisker stabbed his finger at the cancel call button and tossed the phone onto the car seat next to him. He’d tried to contact Avi no less than a dozen times. It had been over six hours since they last spoke and he wanted an update on the Mantis’s mission. With any luck both she and Tariq Ahmed had been terminated.

  Another of his phones rang and he glanced at the screen as he answered. “Daniel, what can I do for you?”

  “You can start by finding out who hit our facility in Rwanda,” said the CEO of Sakkin Industries. “Someone went through the place like a fucking hurricane.”

  “What, who?”

  “Isn’t that what I’m paying you for?”

  “You’re paying me to establish a capability not protect your assets. Now, what exactly happened?”

  “Someone broke in, killed everyone and blew the place sky high.”

  “Sounds like a local security problem.”

  “They had a god damn attack helicopter. They murdered the project lead and stole our test subjects.”

  Lisker’s eyes narrowed. “That’s specific targeting. I’ll have my people look into it. Did we lose any information from the Proteus project?”

  “The loss of Doctor Morrison is a setback, but Marnisha assures me that his research is backed up on a remote server.”

  “And you have an alternate laboratory.”

  “Yes, in South Africa.”

  “Then all is not lost.”

  “Do you think this is related to the Canadian we had neutralized?”

  Lisker felt his Mossad phone vibrate in his pocket. “I’m not sure. Like I said, I’ll have my people look into it. Daniel, I have to go. I’ll call you back as soon as I find something.” He killed the call and tossed the phone on the seat. Pulling a third device from his pocket, he checked the screen. Director Atzmoni wanted him in his office as soon as possible. He sighed; Caleb was getting more risk-averse by the day. Lisker was continually reporting to his office to verify that an assassination that made the news wasn’t one of his. It was an inconvenience he wasn’t going to have to endure for much longer. Once he was Director he wouldn’t have to put up with such trivialities.

  “Take me to headquarters,” he told his driver as he picked up a phone and once again tried Avi’s number.

  ***

  Lisker took thirty minutes to make his way to Mossad HQ. Not enough time to seem tardy, but enough to let Atzmoni know he wasn’t a dog to be whistled to his side. On arrival he made directly for the door to the director’s office.

  “Sir, please, if you’ll take a seat.”

  He spun and shot the assistant an icy stare. Never before had he been denied entry to Caleb’s office.

  “He’s got someone in with him.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  The comment was telling. It meant that whoever was in there had entered via the private elevator. He thought to call Avi before remembering that every communication device within the building was strictly monitored. Even powering up the phone would flag it.

  “The director will see you now.”

  Lisker didn’t bother to acknowledge the assistant as he pushed through the door.

  Caleb was sitting at his desk with another man to his right. Lisker immediately recognized the lean features of Benjamin Sharett, the former Director of Mossad and current Chairman of the Subcommittee for Intelligence and Secret Services, the governing body of all Israeli intelligence. “Chairman Sharett, Director Atzmoni.”

  “Manfred, please take a seat.” Caleb gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

  “What’s this about?” he demanded as he sat.

  “Some allegations have been made against you.”

  “By whom?”

  “What operations are you running in Egypt?” asked Caleb.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t seem to remember approving an operation to arm dissident elements in Egypt.” He lifted a manila folder from his desk and gave it a nonchalant wave. “And yet here I am reading that you’ve been doing exactly that.”

  “Sir, this is some kind of smear campaign–”

  “No, I think you’ll find the evidence is quite compelling,” added Chairman Sharett. “What’s more, I’ve heard the testimony of one of your own intelligence officers confirming as much.”

  Lisker clenched his fists. “Hearsay and speculation,” he spat. “If you think for even one second that I’d work outside of my mandate, you would have to be a fool. I’ve been loyal to Mossad and Israel for my entire twenty-three year career.”

  “No, you’ve been a self-centered, egotistical sociopath clambering over the bodies of good officers you’ve stabbed in the back,” the director stated. “And now you’re done. Manfred Lisker, you are immediately relieved of your duties and status as a Mossad intelligence officer. From this point forward you are disavowed. All resources belonging to this agency are to be immediately surrendered, and all access control is hereby revoked.”

  He rose. “You can’t do this to me.”

  “The other option is a full trial that will certainly find you guilty and result in your incarceration,” added Chairman Sharett. “The choice is yours.”

  Lisker struggled to contain his rage as he rose from his chair. “You’re going to regret this.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “These men will escort you to the street,” said the Director.

  The door opened and two burly security guards entered. Lisker turned and strode out between them.

  A moment after he was gone, Chairman Sharett spoke. “That man’s not going to fade away quietly.”

  Caleb Atzmoni sighed. “He’s going to be a thorn in my side till the day he dies.”

  “Always an option.”

  ***

  Saneh couldn’t believe her luck. She’d been standing on the opposite side of the Mossad building wearing a headscarf and sunglasses with a coffee in hand when Manfred Lisker had exited from the pedestrian security gate.

  She’d left the crossbow in her room while she was conducting her reconnaissance, but she had the carbon dagger inside her jacket. Narrowly avoiding a minivan as she crossed the road, she dropped her coffee in a trashcan and placed her hand on the hilt of the weapon.

  Lisker’s pace suggested he was in a hurry and she was forced to increase her stride to close the gap. She’d only met the Israeli spy on two occasions, but every detail was burned into her memory. He was the man who’d forced her to betray her country, her friends and the man she loved.

  Time slowed as she focused on the point between her enemy’s shoulders. The other people on the street blurred, blending with the streetscape. Taking the razor-sharp carbon blade from her jacket, she cocked her wrist, so it was concealed against her forearm. Mentally she rehearsed the move that would drive the point through his spine, paralyzing him. That would give her enough time to whisper in his ear before a final stab at the base of his neck that would penetrate his brain and snuff out the puppet master’s life.

  As her body tensed, ready to strike, she felt a hand on her shoulder and the barrel of a gun in the small of her back. Panic assailed her as she realized she�
��d succumbed to the rookiest of errors. Fixation on her kill had given her tunnel vision and she’d missed his security detail.

  She sensed there was more than one operative behind her. They’d be working in a pair with a standoff between them that meant even if she killed the one behind her the other would cut her down.

  A van pulled into the curb and she shot one last glance at Lisker who was a dozen feet away, oblivious to what was happening.

  “Inside,” a voice ordered.

  Reluctantly she ducked into the vehicle. The hand on her shoulder guided her into a chair before slamming the door shut.

  “God I’m glad we found you,” said Keila from the driver’s seat of the van.

  Saneh glanced around and saw she was alone with the Mossad agent.

  “If you had have killed him you’d never have gotten out of Israel.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “Aden worked out what was going on. I just joined the dots to Lisker.”

  “So you know who I am and what I’ve done?”

  The two women locked eyes in the rearview mirror. Saneh thought she saw an element of respect in Keila’s expression.

  “I’ve got an inkling.”

  “And you’re going to let me go?”

  She nodded. “I’m not going to forget the debt I owe your people.” She paused. “And as much as I’d like to see Manfred Lisker face down in a gutter, I promised Aden that I’d get you out alive.”

  “He knows?”

  “Yes.”

  Saneh gazed out the window as they turned toward the Mediterranean coast. “How’s he going to forgive me?”

  “Well, if you lay it all out I’m sure he’ll understand. As far as Manfred Lisker goes, tell Aden he’s been disavowed from Mossad. As long as he’s outside of Israel, he’s fair game.” Keila pulled the van into the parking lot of a large marina. “This is far as I go.”

  Saneh leaned forward and placed her hand on Keila’s shoulder. “Thank you. Not just for this, but for helping us find Bishop.”

  Keila smiled. “You tell Aden we’re squared and give my best to Ice.”