PRIMAL Nemesis (Book 2 in the Redemption Trilogy, A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 6) (The PRIMAL Series) (22 page)

The woman threatening Kurtz screamed as Bishop snatched up his pistol and aimed it directly at her face. “Drop the weapon.”

Kurtz jolted back in his chair. “No,” he mumbled. “No!” His voice raised in intensity. “NOOOO!” Tears streamed down his face as he struggled against his bonds.

“Drop the gun,” Bishop growled.

“You want me to do it?” asked Pavel. The Russian had his pistol aimed at the woman. “She’s going to kill Kurtz.”

The woman was frantic, her eyes darting from Bishop to Pavel and back again. He could see her hands trembling as she gripped the pistol.

“Stand down.” He lowered his weapon, holstered it, and gestured for Pavel to do the same. “Hey, there's no threat here. We're just here for our friend, that's all. I know you didn't do this to him.”

She sobbed hysterically and lowered the gun. Bishop pushed open the door separating the shattered observation room from the cell and walked slowly toward her.

“We don't hurt people like you,” he said as she slumped to the ground. Pavel moved to Kurtz.

He relieved her of the pistol. “Hey, it’s OK. You did the right thing.”

She looked at him with eyes filled with tears. “I tried to stop them from torturing him, I tried.”

Bishop grasped her hand. “Thank you.”

“We’re going to need a stretcher, morphine, and a blanket,” said Pavel.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

“Just a scratch.”

Bishop helped the woman to her feet. “Hey, I need you to open the vault door. Can you do that?”

She nodded. A minute later they had the door open and their full armor back on. He walked her upstairs and sat her down next to the other CIA officer they had spared. The rest of the team was waiting. Aleks was pale, slumped against the wall. “Miklos, find a blanket for Kurtz. Kruger, I need you downstairs with the stretcher.”

“How’s Aleks?” Bishop asked as they jogged downstairs through to the room where Pavel was attending to Kurtz.

“Not good.” Kruger unfolded the stretcher. “He's been shot twice. I think he’s got significant internal bleeding.”

“Damn it, we can't carry them both.”

“No, he can walk.” Kruger helped Pavel move Kurtz onto the stretcher. The German moaned.

“These pricks messed him up good, bro.” Kruger gave a low whistle.

“And they paid for it.”

As they worked on the casualty Bishop rifled through Pershing’s clothes. He found a cell phone and slipped it into his pocket. “OK, let’s go.”

They carried Kurtz out the cellar into the shattered living room. Aleks was still slumped against the wall but managed a grin when he saw Kurtz.

Bishop walked into the next room and dialed Mitch. “Sleek, this is Bish. We need extract immediately.”

There was a hiss then the pilot’s British accent cut through the airways. “Wilco, Bish, be aware you've got red and blues heading to your location. They're going to get there about the same time as me.”

“Team, we've got hostiles inbound! We need to get to the strip, ASAP.”

***

Mitch
checked the fuel gauge as he banked the business jet. He was down to the aircraft’s reserve. Not optimal considering he was about to take off with a full load of gunslingers. He lined up with the grass strip and dropped flaps. Lowering the reinforced landing gear was next, increasing the jet’s drag. He needed to bring her in as slow as possible. The strip was short and he knew it was going to offer little in the way of traction.

He was wearing a pair of augmented reality goggles that were transmitting a feed from the aircraft’s suite of external cameras. Using the same technology as the CAT helmets they gave him an unprecedented view of the rapidly approaching runway.

As the rough surface raced up to meet him he tipped the nose and let the rear wheels kiss the grass. The engines roared as he reversed the thrust and punched a parachute release button. Behind the jet a single-shot parachute blossomed and Mitch was thrown forward against his harness as the jet slowed.

He spotted the team closing in carrying a stretcher. He released the parachute, braked one of the wheels and spun the jet in a tight circle before stopping. Grabbing his
MP7 submachine gun
he ran back, opened the door, and dropped the stairs.

The flashing blue lights of police vehicles reflected off the aircraft’s white skin as the PRIMAL team shuffled across the airfield with the casualty. Behind them the convoy bounced across the field, closing fast. Mitch extended the MP7’s stock and raised the weapon. Before he could fire a line of tracer reached out from Bishop's team and struck the cars. The PRIMAL team skidded to a halt as the stretcher-bearers reached the stairs.

Behind them a broad-shouldered figure with a machine gun continued to engage the police.

Mitch waved Kruger, Pavel, and Bishop up the stairs with the stretcher.

“Aleks, let’s go!” Bishop fired his Tavor at the police cars. The two pickups were now reversing away from them.

The big Russian staggered out of the darkness with Kruger’s machine gun slung across his chest. His face was pale, skin drenched in sweat. “Is Kurtz inside?”

“Yeah, mate.” Mitch grabbed him as he collapsed and dragged him up the stairs. “Lads, I need a hand.”

Bishop was at his shoulder and helped drag Aleks into the cabin. Mitch strode back to the cockpit and jumped in the pilot’s seat. “Hold on, this is going to be rough.” He threw on his goggles and hit the throttles.

The jet screamed as it fought against the brakes. Once the engines were generating enough thrust Mitch released them and pushed the throttle to the stops. Grass raced under the nose camera as they blasted down the short strip. He pulled back on the stick as their speed increased. “Come on, girl.” The jet seemed to stick to the runway for a moment then with a shudder she lifted off with feet to spare. Thick jungle flashed underneath then inky black water as they banked over the estuary. “How we doing back there, lads?”

His question was met with deathly silence. He hit the autopilot and shrugged out of his harness. As soon as he entered the cabin he knew something was seriously wrong. Bishop was kneeling next to Aleks. The Russian's armor was stripped away. His abdomen was smeared in blood.

Bishop’s eyes were misty. “We lost him, Mitch. Aleks is dead.”

Chapter 27

ges facility, virginia

Howard
watched as King stared at his tumbler of whiskey. The man was remarkably calm considering the events of the last twenty-four hours.

“Mr. King, I think we need to assume Pershing and his men are dead.” Howard had received a message from the CIA station in Rio De Janeiro. A police unit had reported to the safe house outside of Foz do Iguacu and witnessed a business jet taking off.

“Same jet we lost out of Jamaica, right?”

“Probably. We haven't got much information other than the safe house was raided and there were two survivors.”

“Pollard is going to lose his shit.” King's eyes remained fixed on his drink.

“He doesn't know?”

King shook his head. “No, he's focused on the Venezuelan deal. Heads down there tomorrow.” He took a sip from the glass. “You can bet Larkin knows all about it already. We can kiss our CIA contracts goodbye.”

“I haven't spoken to him.”

“You should, he's not a man you want to keep waiting.” King finished the whiskey, placed the empty glass on the table and sat upright. “You had better report in. I'm going to call Pollard.”

“Good luck, dude.” Howard rose and made for the door.

“Pass on my regards, Terrance. I've got a feeling I might be needing a job soon.”

Howard walked outside and grabbed his phone. He felt the slightest hint of sadness that Pershing was dead but it was quickly replaced with relief. If the former CIA agent had been neutralized there was no way his Mexico double-dealings were going to be revealed. On the other hand, it also meant he was back to relying on his measly CIA wage. He dialed Larkin; with any luck the contracting director would be able to offer him new opportunities.

***

LASCAR ISLAND

Vance
was sitting at his desk when there was a soft knock at his door and Frank walked in. “What up? We get an update from Bishop and the boys?”

The watchkeeper cleared his throat. “Yeah, they've got Kurtz.”

“Excellent.” He caught Frank’s grave expression and his voice lowered. “He OK?”

“Yeah he's OK. Vance… they lost Aleks.”

He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “When, how?”

“He took two rounds to the stomach, self-treated. The team didn’t know till Kurtz was safe onboard the jet.”

Vance swallowed as he tried to come to terms with the loss. “Is the rest of the team safe?”

“Yes, they're on their way to a Lascar facility in Panama. I've made arrangements for Aleks’s body to be shipped from there on a flight to the UAE. Then he’ll be transferred to his hometown.”

“Yeah, OK.” He swallowed hard. “What’s happening with Kurtz?”

“He’ll travel with Aleks’s body back to the UAE. He’ll be treated there.”

“OK, when he's ready I guess he can make a decision on what he wants to do.”

Frank nodded. “Bishop and the team are going to reorg in Panama, change the aircraft’s markings, then RV with Saneh and Mirza in Venezuela. The intel shop has confirmed the runway Ivan identified is suitable.”

He nodded. “Did they get Pershing?”

“Yes, the GES team was neutralized along with a CIA officer. The mission was a success.”

“Hardly, we lost a good man.”

“Aleks gave his life to get Kurtz out. In his mind the mission was a success,” Frank said before leaving the office.

Vance glanced at his bookshelf. “To fallen brothers,” he whispered and headed out the door back to the operations room. He needed to contact Chua and give him the news. Then he would get on to Mirza and Saneh. PRIMAL was going to make Jordan Pollard pay dearly for the loss of Aleks’s life.

***

PANAMA

The
Lascar Logistics terminal at Tocumen International Airport was one of the global company’s largest. Three huge hangars housed a maintenance facility, freight forwarding warehouse, and offices for thirty staff. In the early hours of the morning the maintenance hangar usually bustled with activity as technicians prepared the Lascar aircraft for the day’s work. However, today the hangar was empty of local staff and the doors closed. Inside, the C-130 that had dropped Mitch over the
Nemesis
, and Sleek, the business jet, were parked side by side under bright fluorescent lights.

Bishop, joined by Pavel, Miklos, and Kruger, carried their fallen brother solemnly up the C-130’s ramp. Kurtz hobbled behind them with Mitch at his side. They laid the stretcher on the floor, said their farewells, and walked back out.

In the front of the cargo hold the Priority Movements Airlift crew waited a respectful distance. Bishop and Kurtz were the last to leave.

“He died because of me, Aden.” Kurtz almost choked on the words.

“No mate, he gave his life to protect us all. If anyone's to blame it's me. I drove you away.”

Kurtz turned to him with tears in his eyes. “This family means everything to me. You brought me back and he gave his life so I could live. I won't ever forget that.”

Bishop wrapped his arm around the taller man’s shoulder, fighting back his own tears. “You're my brother, Kurtz, that will never, ever change.”

The German sobbed, hugging Bishop despite his wounded hands. When they separated he wiped tears from his face. “I want to destroy them, Aden. I want to help you kill them all.”

Bishop shook his head. “You're all sorts of messed up, mate. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“I'm fine. Nothing is broken, just a little singed.” He managed a smile revealing the absence of his front teeth.

Bishop shot him a wry smile. “You sure?”

Kurtz nodded and they walked slowly down the ramp.

“OK, I'd just got a message from Saneh. She wants us in Caracas tonight. We're going to be rolling heavy so you'll have to stay onboard Sleek with Mitch. Once the mission’s wrapped up we’ll get you some serious medical attention. Maybe even some new teeth.”

“
Ja
, I can live with that.”

“OK, let's get loaded.”

Bishop watched as Kurtz walked stiff-legged across to where the rest of the team was sorting their gear. He glanced back into the dark hold of the C-130. “Rest easy, brother.”

***

CARACAS, VENEZUELA

Saneh
’s stomach was twisted with grief. Aleks had been her closest friend within the PRIMAL team. The big Russian had treated her like a sister and he was the brother she never had. She sat at the kitchen table in the Caracas safe house struggling to hold back tears.

Mirza placed a cup of green tea in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

She wiped her eyes and grasped the warm mug with both hands. “Aleks died getting Kurtz back. We need to honor that and finish the people responsible.”

“I agree.” Mirza sat opposite. “We know Pollard is arriving tomorrow. That means we need to move on your plan tonight. Bishop and the team will have to infil just after dark.”

“Yes, I already sent him a warning order.”

They were interrupted by a knock at the front door. Mirza drew his pistol and moved to the entrance. Saneh readied her own weapon.

“It's Antonio.” Mirza unlocked the door and exchanged greetings.

When the student walked into the kitchen he was carrying a backpack. “I’ve got them all,” he said as he placed the bag on the table.

She nodded. “Good work.”

He unzipped the bag and emptied a pile of mobile phones on the table. “I took all the batteries out just like you said.”

“No one asked any questions?”

Antonio shook his head. “No, when I told them the police were listening they were happy to sell them to me.”

“Great work. Do you want a hot drink?”

Antonio pulled out a chair and sat. “That would be nice.”

Mirza made his way across to the kettle as Saneh inspected the phones.

“I don't see how this is going to help find the trident man. Or how this will make his men pay for what happened to my girlfriend, and the others.”

She shot him a grim smile, her grief replaced by thoughts of retribution. “Trust me, he'll pay. They will all pay.” She checked her watch. “In fact, Mirza, we need to get going to pick up the boys.”

“Can I come?' asked Antonio.

“No, I've got a special job for you. I want you to organize a meeting.”