PRIMAL Reckoning (Book 1 in the Redemption Trilogy, the PRIMAL Series Book 5) (16 page)

CHAPTER 18

CHIHUAHUA

They left
the ranch just before dusk. Roberto on a muscular quarter horse called Tucson,
Christina on the palomino, and Bishop on Tinkerbell, the flatulent brewery
horse. For the first few hours Bishop enjoyed the ride. The sunset highlighted
the barren landscape in shades of red as they rode across a hard-baked plain of
stunted shrubs down into a shallow canyon.

By the
time the sun disappeared his legs were in agony. Not just the muscles, but also
the hair on the inside of his thighs. The constant friction between his jeans
and the saddle felt like it had wrenched out every single one from its
follicle. Between that and the constant eruptions of gas coming from
Tinkerbell’s rear, the novelty of the horse ride had well and truly worn off.

As the
temperature dropped, they stopped to pull on jackets and rest the horses.
Bishop dismounted with a sigh of relief, and walked bow-legged, trying to shake
the fatigue from his legs.

“How you
doing?” Christina asked.

He was
trying to stretch out his calves. “I’m a bit stiff but doing OK.”

“Thanks
again for agreeing to come.”

“I wasn’t
about to let you go alone, and I owe it to Emilio. After what they did to his
son, I–”

Roberto
interrupted them with a low whistle. “Hey, let’s get going.”

“Just a
minute,” Christina said as she adjusted her saddle.

When she was
ready, they set off along the creek, twisting their way up the valley floor.

He was
surprised at how much light there was in the desert. A sliver of moon shone
down from the cloudless sky bathing everything in a soft metallic glow.

They
plodded along the creek for a few more hours, Tinkerbell with her nose closely
following Christina’s horse’s rear end. Long ago her ears had laid back against
her skull as she decided that lugging Bishop’s two hundred pounds through the
desert was a drag.

She jerked
her head up as Christina reined in her horse. In the moonlight Bishop saw
Roberto had dismounted. He did the same, swinging out of the saddle, dropping to
the sand. He groaned and stretched his legs. There was water flowing along a
rocky creek a few yards away. Bishop reached into his pocket and pulled out a molasses
candy. He had taken a handful of them from the barn. He put it on the palm of
his hand and offered it to his mount.

Tinkerbell’s
ears shot forward as she caught a whiff of the candy. Her whiskers tickled his
palm as she snuffled it up and chewed. She whinnied softly and nudged his hand
with her nose. “Yeah, I’ve got you figured out, haven’t I?”

He gave
the horse a pat and led her to join the others. Roberto nodded at the bank. “This
is called Digger’s Canyon. There’s an old gold mine up there.” He pointed to
the hill that rose into the night sky. “It’s at least a hundred years old but
you can still go inside.”

“There’s
lots of gold in the hills?” Bishop asked.

Roberto
shook his head. “No, it’s all mined out. Now you have to take all the dirt and put
it through machines, whole mountains smashed to pieces. Soon you will see.”

He felt a
tug on the reins and turned to find Tinkerbell trying to walk to the creek.
Roberto grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t let her drink here, it’s poison.”

“What?”
Bishop handed the reins to the rancher and went down to the water’s edge. He switched
on the light on his iPRIMAL and could see the edges of the flowing creek were
caked in a thick orange froth.

“That’s
terrible,” said Christina as she crouched next to him and pulled out her camera.
“Do you think it’s safe for me to use my flash here?” she asked.

“Should
be fine.” He switched off his phone to conserve the battery as she took a photo
of the waste.

Bishop
took his reins from Roberto. “How far down does it go?”

“All the
way from
monstrou
down to the main
river. There it’s not so noticeable because there’s more water. Come, we still
have another hour to go before we reach the mine.”

Bishop
gave Tinkerbell another treat before climbing onto her back. The horse’s ears
were up and she sniffed the air inquisitively. He wondered if she smelled the pollution
in the water.

Over
the next hour they climbed out of the canyon and trotted along a plain at the
base of the mountain. As they rode through rocky outcrops he noticed a glow emanating
from behind the mountain range. He realized it must be the lights from the mine
running twenty-four hour operations.

Roberto
halted them at a creek junction and the base of the mountain. He pointed at the
ridgeline silhouetted by the glow from the mine. “We go by foot from here.” He jumped
off his horse and led it to the water, letting it drink. “This creek is fed
from a spring. It’s clean, for now.”

Bishop
and Christina waited for his horse to drink its fill then took their turn. When
all three horses were watered they tied them to an old gnarled tree. As Bishop
looped Tinkerbell’s reins onto the line the rancher had tied, she nudged him in
the back and whinnied. He turned and scratched her forehead. “Typical woman,
now you can’t live without me.” He gave her another treat and followed the
others up the steep slope.

“This all
used to be part of Emilio’s farm,” said the rancher as they climbed toward the mine’s
glow. “But now
monstruo
eats it all.”

It took
them over forty minutes to reach the crest. They heard the rumble of heavy
machinery as they halted a few feet from the top.

“Make
sure your flash is off,” said Bishop.

Christina
nodded and checked the camera, taking a few shots to check the settings.

“Stay
behind us,” he said as he followed Roberto to the mine’s edge. A few yards from
the lip the rancher unslung his shotgun, dropped to his stomach, and snaked
forward.

Bishop
followed and was shocked at the scale of the operation as it came into view. Massive
front-end loaders were lifting loads of rubble and loading gargantuan dump
trucks. They rumbled across the mine pit like wheeled dinosaurs, shifting
thousands of tons of earth.

Bishop
waved for Christina to join them. Powerful floodlights illuminated the entire
site and would make for good photos. Not only for Christina’s article, but he
would be able to send copies back to the Bunker for vulnerability assessment.

“It’s
huge,” Christina whispered when she was next to him.

He
replied in a normal tone. “It’s OK, they’re not going to hear us.”

Christina
snapped photos as Bishop studied the layout of the mine. There was no way
Roberto and his men would be able to decisively sabotage the pit operation.
With rocket launchers or explosives they might damage some of the gigantic
trucks or loaders, but those could be repaired or replaced.

Roberto
tapped him on the shoulder. “Guards.”

The old-timer
had a good eye. Bishop barely made out the weapons of the men standing next to a
dune buggy. They all wore black jackets. “Chaquetas.”

Bishop
waited for Christina to finish photographing. “Roberto, is there a place where
we can see the mine’s camp?”

“We can
follow the hill around.”

“Let’s
check it out.”

They
scrambled back down the side of the hill and traversed the rocky slope. It
gradually eased off after a few hundred yards. Bishop moved into the lead,
pushing ahead to scout the way.

He
crouched in the cover of an outcrop and scanned the camp below. A road ran
through the center and on the near side was an accommodation and offices
complex made from transportable buildings. On the other side was the mining
infrastructure: a crushing plant, fuel depot, refinery, secure storage sheds
for the unrefined gold, and huge water tanks, filled the level space.

Patrolling
the perimeter were pairs of armed Chaquetas and Bishop’s first thought was to switch
on his iPRIMAL, call in an airstrike, and level the entire complex. However, there
were no assets available, and Vance and Chua would never authorize that option..He
watched as two more of the high-speed buggies rolled out from a shed. He was starting
to feel uneasy at the amount of security. This number of guards, late at night,
was overkill, unless they suspected an imminent threat.

A
crunching of rock behind caught his attention and he turned to see Christina. “Where’s
Roberto?” he whispered.

She
pointed further along the ridgeline. “Over there.”

Bishop
kept an eye on the two buggies. As they followed the track away from the mine,
only their lights were visible, but it looked as if they were conducting a
clearing patrol around the boundary fence.

Christina
snapped a series of photos. Shielding the screen, she checked the exposure
settings.

“How did
they turn out?”

“Not
great. We really need to come back during the day.”

“No way,
have you seen how many men are down there?”

The sound
of the buggies was getting louder.

Roberto’s
gravelly voice sounded from behind them. “We need to get a move on.”

Christina
packed her camera away and all three pulled back from the ridge.

“If
you’re going to hit these guys, night time’s the way to go,” Bishop said as
they scrambled down the rocky slope. “They’ve got no night-vision goggles or
ground sensors. You could sneak in, sabotage, and get out.”

“That’s
what I was thinking too,” replied the rancher.

It took
them twenty minutes to walk back down to where they’d left the horses.
Tinkerbell greeted Bishop with a friendly neigh and he fed her his last
molasses candy. They saddled up and Roberto led them back through the desert toward
the canyon.

Bringing
up the rear Bishop thought he heard something. He cocked his head and listened.
Behind the squeak of leather and soft thud of Tinkerbell’s hooves there was the
faint drone of an engine. It was probably just the machinery at the mine.

CHAPTER 19

NEW YORK CITY

The cab was parked in a back alley with
Mirza at the wheel. Once again, they had chosen to work in the early hours of
the morning. There was less traffic on the road, it was dark, and the cab was
one of hundreds prowling the streets.

He watched
Mitch in the rear vision mirror. “You really think this is going to work?”

Mitch was
holding what looked like a miniature flying saucer. The four-bladed multi-rotor
had been purchased from a hobby store. He’d assembled it, made some
modifications, and was now ready to soar between the Manhattan skyscrapers.

“Of
course it’s going to work. When has anything I’ve made ever not worked?”

“Well,
there was that time in Libya…”

“That
doesn’t count. Bishop broke it before I even had a chance to get it off the
ground.” Mitch shook his head. “That guy’s bloody lethal.”

Mirza touched
the screen of his iPRIMAL and checked Bishop’s status. “He might be lethal but
at the moment he’s in the middle of nowhere with no support. We should be down
in Mexico with him.” The command and control app automatically updated Bishop’s
location via the iPRIMAL’s GPS chip.

“We need
to sort this hacking business first.” Mitch made the final adjustments to the
drone. “So you all good with your part?”

“Yes, I
watch the tablet. Find the right Bluetooth device.”

“Which
is?”

Mirza
picked up the tablet. A piece of tape was stuck to the bottom of it with the
Bluetooth device’s name. “Clarissa’s Fab iPad.”

Mitch
gave a wry smile and shook his head. “I don’t ever want to meet Clarissa. I guarantee
she’s watched every episode of Sex in the City ten times. OK, what then?”

“Then I
connect to it, and it will upload a patch.”

“Correct,
the key is we need to stay in range of the Bluetooth until the upload is
complete. Once we do that, Flash will be able to use the iPad to access GE’s
network.”

“When
it’s plugged into an isolated USB port.”

“That’s
correct. Don’t ask me how he can do it. I just build the toys, he writes the
code. You ready?”

“Are
you?”

“Born
ready. If I can pilot a tilt-rotor I can pilot this thing.” He opened the door
of the cab, reached up, and placed the pizza-box sized drone on the roof. Once
he was back in the cab he donned a pair of oversized goggles.

“You look
like you’re going scuba diving.”

“Just
drive.”

Mirza smirked
as he drove out the alley and parked the cab in a loading zone next to the target
building. “We’re in position.”

Mitch was
now seeing the world through the drone’s camera. In his hands he held the radio
controller for the device. He had a lot of experience with piloting full-size
aircraft but never a hobby-sized copter. He thumbed the stick that controlled
the power input to the four engines. “OK, I’m sending her up.”

On top of
the cab the little drone buzzed like an angry hornet and leaped off the roof,
shooting into the air.

“Whoa,
slow down, little lady.” He slowed the ascent, rotating the copter till it
faced the building. “OK, we’re about five stories up. How we tracking?”

“No Bluetooth
networks yet.”

“OK.”
Mitch increased the throttle and it started climbing. It bucked wildly and
darted forward. Through his goggles the building loomed. He pulled back on the
stick, tipping the nose up. Now he was looking at the skyline. “Shit!” He
dropped the nose and throttled back slightly.

The
little aircraft came within inches of the glass building then dropped. Mitch
managed to recover it by giving it more throttle. He decided it was better to
play it safe and stuck to the middle of the alleyway. The quadcopter rocketed
skyward climbing another ten stories in seconds. “How are we going now?”

Mirza was
watching the screen intently. “Not seeing it.”

Mitch
gave it more power, climbing another half dozen stories.

“Got it.
No, wait. No, it’s gone.”

Mitch
brought the drone to a hover and held it in position. “Did we fly past?”

“Yep. It
was there for a split second. Really weak signal, but it was there.”

“OK, I’m
lowering.” He edged the stick back and the craft slowly descended.

“That’s
it, got it.” Mirza stabbed the tablet with his finger. “Activating now.” He
watched as the Bluetooth transmitter on the drone tried to connect. “It’s not
connecting.”

Mitch had
plenty of experience flying helicopters between building and canyon walls. He
knew how hard it was to fight the updrafts and cross winds in an aircraft that
weighed over a ton. With a two-pound toy it was almost impossible. He inched
close to the glass as the drone was buffeted by the wind.

“OK, nearly
got it.”

Through
the tiny camera Mitch saw the glass wall was only inches away. The slightest
touch would tear off a blade and send the copter spiraling down to the street.

“It’s uploading,”
Mirza announced as the Bluetooth connection initiated and Flash’s program automatically
started transferring the data.

Mitch
sighed. He finally felt like he had the feel of the little drone. A red
indicator flashed in the corner of his goggle’s virtual reality display. “Ah shit,
bollocks.”

“What?
We’re over half way.”

“I’m almost
out of power.” The quadcopter had an automatic landing system once batteries
reached a critical point. Mitch had disarmed it.

“Nearly
there.”

The
PRIMAL technician knew once the red light was on he had no more than twenty
seconds of power left.

High
above them the little craft dropped a few feet.

“She’s
coming down.” Mitch had the throttle stick pushed all the way forward. He
turned off the camera to save power and tore off his goggles. Opening the car
door, he peered up.

After a
few seconds he spotted it, tumbling out of the sky. He ducked back into the cab
as it thumped onto the asphalt. He jumped out, grabbed it, and dived back in.
“Did it work?”

Mirza
held up the tablet.

UPLOAD
COMPLETE

***

FORT BLISS, TEXAS

Howard opened the email as soon as it hit
his inbox. He had been waiting for the initial damage assessment from the IT
security manager at Ground Effects Services. The report was brief and failed to
mention any of the potentially incriminating activity the company had been involved
in. But it did contain a picture of the man GES thought had installed the bug
on one of their phones. Howard sighed. The perp was an overweight Indian and
his face had been caught on a low-resolution security camera. He emailed the
photo to Shelly and Ben. “Team, I’ve got a photo of another player. The guy who
put the bug in the phone.”

“Any
details?” asked Shelly from her desk.

“I’ll
send you the report. He was using some bullshit cover story so it’s probably no
use.”

“OK, I’ll
run it through the system anyway,” she replied. The middle-aged analyst had
spent the entire day trying to find something on Objective Yankee. As yet they’d
been unable to identify him, or his tall blonde-haired associate who they were
now calling Objective Red Sox. “Wow, Terry, this image is worse than the
others.”

“Yeah,
I’m sorry, but it’s all we’ve got.” Howard rubbed his eyes and contemplated downing
another can of energy drink. He checked his watch, the Predator was due online
any minute. It would be in the air for three hours. After that they’d be able
to get some rest. “Ben, how’s our bird tracking?’

“Just
came on-station.”

One of the
screens on the wall flickered and the imagery from the aircraft’s powerful
infrared sensor appeared. The terrain looked like something you’d expect to see
from a Mars space probe. The ground was rugged and undulating with sporadic patches
of dried grass and shrubs.

“They’re
going to start close to the mine and work their way out. That OK?” Ben was typing
in a chat window to the crew of the aircraft.

“Sounds
good. Let me know if they find anything.”

“Boss,
they want to know if they’re looking for anything in particular.”

Howard
shrugged. “Tell them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. You know,
people, vehicles, that sort of thing. He watched the screen as the camera
skirted the mine. The floodlights washed out the sensor, filling the screen with
white so the operator slewed it further south.

“OK,
they’re holding at ten thousand feet,” said Ben.

Howard
returned his attention to the document he was reading on the Sinaloa cartel.
Although he’d fabricated the links to Aden, it was actually possible there was
some truth to it. The Sinaloa cartel was the biggest in the area and
technically the Black Jackets were encroaching on their territory. However,
Pershing had approached the Sinaloa and they’d shown little interest in working
with the mine. As long as the Black Jackets were not impacting on their drug
market, the Sinaloa was happy to keep them at arm’s length. Despite what the
media reported, the cartels actually preferred to avoid conflict. It was bad
for business and attracted the attention of the authorities.

“Terry,
we’ve got something,” said Ben pointing excitedly at the screen. “Three people
riding away from the mine on horseback.”

Howard
looked up with a jolt. He hadn’t expected to pick up anything interesting,
particularly on their first night of dedicated Predator support. Sure enough,
there were three white-hot blobs on the grey background. As the camera zoomed
in he easily identified them as people on horseback.

“That
might be our man moving back from a recon,” said Ben.

 
“Tell the Pred to stay on them.” Howard
pulled out his cell phone and held it under his desk. With the amount of
contact Pershing was demanding he couldn’t leave it outside the secure area. He
sent a text to the GES contractor passing him the frequency for the aircraft’s
video transmission and a brief description of what they’d found.

A moment
later the phone vibrated as a return message arrived.

Keep
tracking them

***

CHIHUAHUA

Pershing was in his office when he
received the text message. He’d been studying a map of the area and planning
how he was going to push the last of the farmers off their land. When his phone
had buzzed he thumbed a response, grabbed his hat and gun belt, and walked over
to the equipment shelter. He found two of the Black Jackets leaning against a
bench, one smoking a cigarette.

“Hey, pal,
what have I told you about smoking in here?” The man stared blankly.

“Stub it
out and find me Burro,” Pershing snarled. He swore that most of these men had
the intellectual capacity of a donkey. Grabbing hold of the roll-cage of one of
the dune buggies, he slid into the passenger seat. He powered up the ROVER screen
and inputted the frequency for the Predator drone. It took a few seconds before
the full-motion video image appeared on the screen. Sure enough, there were
three people on horseback riding away from the mine.

“You
wanted me, Mr. Pershing?” said Burro.

Pershing gestured
to the driver’s seat of the buggy. “Get in, son.” He adjusted the ROVER’s
screen so it displayed a map as well as a smaller view of what the camera was
seeing.

Burro
slid into the driver’s seat. Pershing pointed at the map. “We’ve got some
guests heading toward the old gold mine. I want you to take a couple of buggies
out there and bring them in. Think you can handle that?”

Burro jabbed
his finger at the screen. “We can use the old farm track and cut them off before
the canyon.”

At least
this one had half a brain, he thought as he hauled himself out of the buggy.

Burro was
already issuing orders before Pershing left the shed. As he crossed the road,
V8 engines burbled to life. He watched as the off-road vehicles roared out of
camp, heading toward the front gate and security post. He was about to return
to his office when he changed his mind and walked across to his Chevy. Lifting
the trunk, he turned on the espresso machine. It was a little late for caffeine
but he had an inkling he was not going to be sleeping anytime soon.