PRIMAL Unleashed (2) (12 page)

“Bottom line is we have to mount an operation in both Ukraine and Afghanistan. We can’t risk the Guards supplying a bunch of Jihad-preaching fuckers like Hezbollah with a WMD. They get their hands on this shit and war is gonna break out in the Middle East!”

Vance looked over the room. Satisfied that he had everyone’s complete attention, he crossed his arms and continued. “Alright, team, these are the initial orders for the op. Our mission is to target Dostiger’s operations in order to deny the Iranian Revolutionary Guards access to a WMD.”

Vance directed his intense gaze at Ice, then Mirza. “Our main effort will be the insertion of a recon team into the ‘Ghan. Task? To locate the Taliban WMD extraction team and use offensive fires from the Pain Train to destroy them before they can recover the weapon. Ice, I need you and Mirza on the ground ASAP. You’ll be fully supported by the Pain Train for both surveillance and fire support: locate the site and Mitch’ll smash it. I’ll give you confirmatory orders once you’re in the air.”

Ice looked across at Mitch sitting opposite him and gave the bearded tech officer a slight nod.

Vance continued. “Remember, Ice, you need to stay out of the shit. These aren’t the same Taliban we fought in 2001. They’re gunned up, well trained, and spoiling for a fight. There are thirty dead Americans that can vouch for that.”

“Acknowledged, boss. We’ll be in and out like ghosts. The Talibs won’t even know we’re there,” Ice said.

“Bish, you’ll take the lead on the Ukraine side of the op. Yeah, Ice is the main effort, but we still need to cover all our bases. We can’t count on MOIS to deal with this Dostiger fucker, so you’re gonna have to fly to Kiev, RV with the FIST, and commence a surveillance operation. Ivan will provide additional covert support if you need it and we’ll position another aircraft in Kiev.”

Bishop nodded. “So if anything goes wrong in the ‘Ghan, I’ll be positioned to interdict the WMD, yeah?”

“Bingo,” Vance said.

Bishop looked across the room to Ice and Mirza. “Mirza, if old man Ice is slowing you down, don’t stress, I’ll take care of things from the Ukraine,” he said with a wink.

“Remember, Bish,” Vance growled, “this is a covert op. No blowing shit up or jazzing up the local law enforcement. If Dostiger realizes we’re on to him, he’ll just get the fuck out of Dodge. Keep this clean, not like that shit-fight in the Philippines.” 

The recent Philippines operation that Vance was alluding to had started as a simple case of surveillance, followed by a precise assassination. Instead, Bishop and his team had taken it upon themselves to sink a people smuggler’s ship, initiating a gunfight with the criminal’s guards and the local authorities.

“OK, OK, I get it.”

“This is strictly low-profile, Bish. Chua has worked up your cover. We’ll discuss it with you immediately after these orders.” Vance cast his gaze over the room before concluding. “OK, y’all, that ends the initial orders for the op. Anyone got any final questions?” The silence was a solid indication that the team was focused and understood their responsibilities.

“OK, team, we’re making this job the highest priority. All other operations have been placed on the back-burner. The Bunker will now commence twenty-four hour ops in support of both teams. Chua will update you as the situation develops and I’ll deliver additional orders on the fly. In the meantime, you all know your duties. Let’s go to it!”

Chapter 17

The Bunker

The Bunker pelted into a flurry of activity. The staff hit their terminals, scanning for information. Others clustered round the wall-mounted monitors, discussing the finer details of the plan. The cavern echoed with staccato keyboard taps and intense discussions. It was business as usual at PRIMAL HQ.

Chua caught Bishop’s eye and nodded to a briefing room. Vance followed.  They huddled at a small table.

“This should be everything.” Chua slid two large manila envelopes to Bishop. “Passports, credit cards, and enough hard currency to buy your way out of trouble.”

Bishop swept the envelopes from the table and slid them into his cargo pants. “Thanks, mate.”

“I take it you’ve already had a look at the initial intelligence package I sent to your phone?” Chua asked.

“Yeah. The new FIST looks good to go.” Chua’s package included photos and biographical details for the members of Bishop’s new Forward Integrated Support Team. PRIMAL used these mercenary teams to do the dirty work. Usually led by an operative like Bishop, these expendable hired guns were the best money could buy. It was a way of ensuring a minimal number of people ever knew about the covert organisation. Only the PRIMAL operatives ever knew who they really worked for.

Chua nodded in agreement. “Ivan always recruits the best.”

“Yeah, he’s certainly got an eye for it,” Bishop reflected. “Alright, so tell me more about this Dostiger character. His file was pretty light?”

Vance leant forward to address him. “Two things I want to cover first.”

“Firstly, Alfsaneh Ebadi. Son, this bitch is one badass intelligence officer. She’s compromised more Mossad agents than the Rainbow Warrior. She’s got brains and she’s got some killer assets that she ain’t afraid to—”

Bishop interrupted. “Look, I get it, Vance. I’ve read her bio and whilst I’d just love to sit here and discuss my track record with women, I do have a plane to catch.”

Vance paused for a moment then his voice took on a deeper tone. “You sit—and you listen, Bish. There is too much at stake here for mistakes. You fucked the Philippines mission up something beautiful and you—”

Bishop cut in. “I got the job done!”

The head of PRIMAL spoke slowly, “Taking out one people-smuggling piece of shit was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be real discreet. The amount of blowback we had to deal with had the potential to compromise all of PRIMAL’s operations. The US Military’s investigation into the incident is still open and they’re still wondering who the hell is running black ops on their turf.”

Bishop said nothing and Vance continued. “If PRIMAL is going to be able to continue its operations, under the nose of the CIA and every other spook agency around, then we need to stay the fuck out of the news. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Bishop replied.

“Look, buddy, I know you’re under the pump. We all need a decent break. I just need to know that you can do this job right.”

“I hear you, boss. I’ll do my best.”

Vance nodded at Chua. “OK, tell him.”

Chua pressed some buttons on his phone before speaking. “Aden, I’m transmitting you the Dostiger file. Our man in Iran milked this out of a source this morning.”

Bishop said nothing.

Chua continued, “According to the Iranians, Dostiger was responsible for supplying the missile that downed Flight 395.”

Bishop stared at him.

“Bish?” Vance exchanged glances with Chua.

“I thought the Israelis followed up all the leads?” Bishop said.

“As far as they were concerned, they did. They bombed a number of Hezbollah facilities and assassinated the Commander they thought responsible. Latest reporting suggests it wasn’t Hezbollah that conducted the attack.”

“So who the fuck did?”

“According to this, it was Dostiger.”

Bishop was stunned. It had been over eight years since his parents were killed in the attack on the Israeli airliner and this news opened up old wounds. The retaliation by the Israeli Air Force had inflicted significant damage on Hezbollah and Bishop had consoled himself with the likelihood that the men responsible for his parents’ death had been brought to justice.

Chua continued. “MOIS are under the impression that Dostiger’s men carried out the attack as a test; a precursor to delivering the missiles to the Revolutionary Guards.”

Bishop’s fists were clenched. The colour drained from his face. He breathed out, forcing an element of calm into his voice. “So Dostiger supplied and fired the missile as a test? A fucking test?” He jumped to his feet. “It would seem that we have some unresolved business with this arms dealer.”

“Indeed,” Vance said. “Look, Bish, you’ll have your chance with Dostiger but for now this operation must be dealt with delicately. Can you handle that?”

Bishop nodded, his eyes hard, his knuckles white as he grasped the back of a chair. “Absolutely.”

Vance stood up. “Good, now get your ass to Kiev.”

Chapter 18

The Pain Train

The Pain Train, South West Pacific

Ice had long ago come to the conclusion that traveling by military transport was for suckers. Cargo aircraft made for terrible airliners. The constant drone of the engines, lack of heating, hard aluminum seats and absence of in-flight services made for a dull and uncomfortable transit. He hoped Bishop was enjoying the Gulfstream jet.

The Pain Train was one of the most sophisticated airborne support platforms in the world but it still failed dismally in the provision of creature comforts. Despite having an impressive 24-meter long internal cargo space, only a small section at the front of the aircraft was free for Ice and Mirza to prepare their gear. The rest was filled to capacity with the munitions pods and UAVs. These remote control drones could be launched out of the cargo hold when they were needed.

As the big Ilyushin winged away from Lascar Island, Ice and Mirza sat silently wedged in the nylon fold-down seating under a red fluorescent glow. They both wore similar clothing; cargo pants, desert boots and dark green polar fleece jumpers. Once they reached the ground they would wear Afghan robes over their equipment. The drab native garb provided good camouflage and would help them blend into the rocky terrain.

The Pain Train leveled out at cruising altitude and Ice slipped on his comms headset, gesturing for Mirza to do the same.

“How ya doing, buddy?”

“Good. Just trying to familiarize myself with iPRIMAL.” Mirza had attached the device to his forearm and was inspecting it closely. The new PRIMAL recruit’s head was still spinning from the last twenty-four hours. Being whisked from Sydney to Lascar Island was enough of a shock, but being sent on a last-minute mission was totally unexpected.

“Once we get on the ground you’ll get it quick enough. It all makes sense when you have live feeds,” Ice said as he pulled a laptop out of a kit bag and opened it.

Mirza nodded, but he was still determined to learn how to use the iPRIMAL before they parachuted in. He was acutely aware of how well trained the PRIMAL team was. Yes, he had over five years combat experience in a premier special operations unit and also jumped HALO into five live missions but that didn’t alleviate the feeling that he was a bit of a random cog, not quite meshed in with the rest. He had a lot of catching-up to do.

Ice continued. “I’ll patch into the Bunker now. Vance wants to talk through the mission.” He activated the laptop and established a video conference.

Vance’s face appeared on the screen, his voice through their headsets. “How you guys doin’ up there?”

Ice replied, “All good. My ass is numb from these damn seats, but we’re good.”

“Stop it, Pollyanna. I don’t hear Mirza bitching.” PRIMAL’s commander gave them a wink before sliding back into a serious demeanor.

“Gentleman, I hate to say it but we’re going in half-cocked on this one.” Vance’s face disappeared off the screen, replaced by a satellite map of the Khod Valley in southern Afghanistan. “Once we find the location of the ambushed US patrol, we’re gonna drop the two of you in somewhere behind this ridgeline.” A small marker appeared on the screen identifying the position. “We’re looking at a covert approach on the Russian facility - before the hostiles evac the package.” A red circle appeared on the likely position of the target. “Once you have eyes on, you’ll call in the Pain Train and waste the tangos. That’s it, nice and simple.” Vance’s face reappeared on the screen. “Any questions?”

Mirza spoke first. “Sir, what sort of backup do we have if this turns into a shooting war?”

“The priority is to remain covert but if the shit hits the fan, the Pain Train will back you up. We’ll have full coverage from the drones so you shouldn’t get caught with ya pants down.”

Ice followed on. “What about the extraction plan. How are we getting out?”

“We’re gonna contract a chopper out of Kandahar,” Vance clarified.

“So what happens if one of is injured?” Mirza asked softly.

“You stabilize the casualty and we’ll get the closest medivac in,” Vance stated. “The US Air Force aero-medical unit at Kandahar Airfield can have a chopper in the area within 90 minutes. Use your false call sign and we’ll worry about the rest after they evac you.”

Mirza looked confused. “False call sign? Won’t the US air controllers pick up the Pain Train and question the call sign?  You’re not going to be able to fly around US-contolled airspace without being detected.”

“We’re registered as a CIA contractor. No one’s going to ask questions. It also means we can dail-up US casualty evac. It’s a pretty standard procedure and it’s worked well in the past.”