PRIMAL Unleashed (2) (15 page)

“Do we take weapons?” asked Miklos, the slightly built sniper. “Your friend provided some pretty serious hardware.” He pointed at the weapons laid out on the floor.

“Yeah, we roll heavy from here on in. Dostiger’s a nasty piece of work and I want to be ready for anything he throws at us,” Bishop replied.

“Alright, tomorrow is going to be a big day, gentlemen, and we’ve got a lot to do. Take the opportunity to prep your kit and get some rest. I’m going to confirm my appointment with Mr Krenkov and tomorrow morning we’ll run over the final details of the mission.”

Chapter 24

Kiev/Gostomel

The BMW was making short work of the distance between Kiev and Gostomel, the home of Antonov’s huge aviation factory and testing facility. Aleks deftly maneuvered the sedan through the capital’s heavy morning traffic before unleashing the powerful engine on the forest-lined highway.

As they tore through the countryside, Bishop mentally prepared himself for the task ahead. Dmitri needed to believe he was a purchasing agent for Gulf Air Logistics, an aviation company Chua had organized to use as a cover. If he couldn’t convince Dmitri, the meeting with Dostiger would never happen.

The PRIMAL operative wore a beautifully cut, three-button suit, dark navy, with a crisp white shirt and silk tie. He had combed his usually unruly brown hair to one side and donned a pair of black-framed glasses.

Almost Clark Kent
,
he thought. Still, one does have to look the part
.

As they approached Gostomel, Bishop dialled the Bunker and waited for the secure connection. “Chua, you there?”

“Got you loud and clear.” The satellite link was good despite the thousands of kilometers between Lascar Island and the Ukraine.

“Ten minutes out. Is our asset in place?”

“Confirmed. The satellite is currently overhead,” Chua said.

“Good. You need anything else from me?”

“Yes, well, Krenkov’s number might save some time.”

Bishop laughed. “OK, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good luck, Aden, I’ll be listening.” Chua hung up, ending the call.

Bishop turned to Aleks. “We’re good to go. Have you heard from Pavel?” Aleks was monitoring the team’s satellite radio communications.

“They’re in place at the telephone junction point. He’ll disconnect the lines once you’re in.”

“Everything’s ready then.”

Aleks grinned and said, “As you say, our geese are in a row.”

Bishop snorted with laughter, “It’s ducks.”

Aleks looked confused.

“It’s ducks in a row.”

The big Russian still looked confused and Bishop couldn’t help but smile. “Never mind. Let’s do this.”

Chapter 25

Antonov Headquarters, Gostomel

Dmitri Krenkov was everything Bishop expected. Well mannered and slick, he was ever the professional salesman. At first glance he seemed charming; well dressed in a single-breasted suit, with an open smile and a friendly demeanor. However on close inspection the suit didn’t sit quite right on the man’s thin frame and the smell of aftershave was a little too strong.

Dmitri’s eagerness to please made Bishop wary. No, I don’t trust this bastard at all,
he thought
.
I’ll be fucked if I’d by a pair of shoes from him, let alone multi-million dollar airframes.

“Ahh, Mr Fischer, welcome to Antonov.” Dmitri met Bishop in the main building’s foyer, grasping his hand as if the two of them were long lost friends.

“Mr Krenkov, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The ever-so-slight Australian twang had transformed into an English accent. He carefully extracted his hand from the small man’s grasp.

“Please, call me Dmitri. It is very good to meet you too. Can I offer you some refreshments or would you like to move straight out and see the aircraft?” Dmitri asked, guiding him in through the foyer.

“I’m fine for now, thank you. I’m actually looking forward to seeing the jet. I’ve heard so much about it.” Bishop pushed his glasses back up his nose with one hand, clutching his slim briefcase with the other.

“Of course, of course, come this way.” The salesman had immediately pegged him as a nerdy office type, easily impressed by shiny aircraft.

Bishop was led through a short corridor that he knew, from his study of aerial photos, joined one of the gigantic aircraft hangars. The company’s website proudly boasted that this was one of two ‘heated hangars’ that allowed maintenance operations to continue all year round.

They pushed through a pair of heavy doors into the wide expanse of the facility. Even his study of the aerial imagery hadn’t prepared him for the vast space inside. The hangar was at least three times the size of PRIMAL’s facility on Lascar Island.

“Very impressive, yes?” Dmitri asked.

“Absolutely. It’s huge.”

“Inside we can service any aircraft, even the ‘Mriya’, which is the largest aircraft in the world.” The Ukrainian puffed his chest out with pride. “It was built here as well.”

Bishop could visualize the entire PRIMAL fleet fitting inside with room to spare. Today, however, the hangar was almost empty, only a single
AN-72
sat in the far corner. He was familiar with the peculiar looking aircraft. The Lascar Logistics fleet operated a number of them and PRIMAL had one in its inventory.

Unlike most commercial jets the AN-72s engines sat on top of its wings, giving the impression it had a massive set of ears. These ‘ears’ created a phenomenon whereby the exhaust gases of the engines blew over the top of the wing, creating lift. This additional lift had earned PRIMAL’s variant of the aircraft the nickname ‘Jumper’.

Dmitri continued talking as they walked across the bare concrete towards the aircraft. “The AN-72 is one of our most successful designs. We have sold them all over the world. Its unique, short take-off and landing capability has made it especially popular with freight companies working in developing nations. Although the original aircraft was designed in the 1970s, we have continued to make improvements to it.”

For a full twenty minutes Bishop listened to Dmitri’s pitch while the salesman led him around the aircraft pointing out its many features. Bishop was particularly interested in the advanced cockpit. With the assistance of a French aerospace company, Antonov had completely upgraded the control systems of what was essentially an outdated aircraft.

“So what do you think?” Dmitri asked as they stood under the nose of the jet.

“It’s even more remarkable than I was led to believe.” Bishop did not have to feign enthusiasm; he really was impressed by the upgrades that Antonov had made to an already capable airframe.

“You mentioned on the phone that your company may be interested in purchasing a number of aircraft. How many do you think they might want?” Dmitri asked. The eager salesman could sense a sale and a sizable commission.

“It will be dependent on price, but I’ve been authorized to purchase up to four aircraft.”

Dmitri’s eyes lit up. A four aircraft sale would earn him at least a six-figure commission. Possibly more, if Gulf Air Logistics could be convinced to base their maintenance operations in Kiev. “I’m sure that we can arrange a very good price for your company, Mr Fischer. Will you be requiring any logistical support?”

“Of course. We expect a five year servicing contract included in the overall quote.”

“Very good, Sir. I will get my people working on a deal right away.” The Ukrainian reached into his pocket and gave Bishop a business card. “This has my personal number. If there is anything you need whilst you are here in Kiev, you need only ask.”

“There is one thing you may be able to help me with, Dmitri.” Bishop reached into his wallet and handed his own card to the salesman.

The smaller man took the card from Bishop’s hand and inspected it. He frowned as he turned it over.

Bishop explained. “A more discerning client, with very deep pockets, has asked that I enquire about the availability of this particular asset.” On the back of Tim Fischer’s business card, in pencil, was written one word, ‘
Krokodile’
.

He waited for Dmitri to read it, then elaborated. “My client wants four platforms, ammunition, fuel and servicing.”

Dmitri spun the card in his fingers, looking at Bishop inquisitively. “So who is this wealthy client, Mr Fischer?”

“I take it you know someone who can provide?” Bishop matched the Ukrainian’s stare.

“I’m not sure I do, Mr Fischer. Antonov does not deal in such merchandise. Perhaps you are mistaken about your inquiry?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. My number is on the card if you hear of anyone who can help me.”

“I will see if there is anything I can do, Mr Fischer, but I am not making any promises. If that is all, I can escort you back now.”

A slightly more reserved Dmitri walked Bishop back out of the building. The two men shook hands once more and Bishop walked over to where Aleks was waiting with the BMW.

“How did it go, boss?” The Russian’s guttural accent was a contrast to the greasy tones of the salesman. Bishop was glad to be back in the company of his driver.

“I think I might have blown it,” he replied, punching Dmitri’s number off the business card into his phone. Chua would now have complete access to Dmitri’s handset through the Bunker.

“
Nyet
, it will be fine. You are judging yourself too harsh.”

“I guess we’ll find out very soon.”

Aleks accelerated the car back onto the Gostomel highway. He could sense that his team leader wasn’t interested in small talk and left him to his own thoughts. Ten minutes later the silence was broken by the ring tone of Bishop’s phone.

“Are we on?” Bishop asked, answering the call.

“The mission was a success.” Chua sounded excited. “Dmitri just finished a call to an unknown he calls boss. I am ninety percent sure it is our man Dostiger. My Ukrainian is a little sketchy but he mentioned ‘Krokodile’ a number of times, and the name Fischer.”

“That’s our man. Did you get a fix?”

“Yes, just pulling up the imagery now.” Bishop could hear Chua typing at his terminal. “Got him. Hmmm, very nice. He lives in Pechersk on the Dnieper River.”

“Good work. How does it look for surveillance?”

“Lots of high-rises close by. I’ll send you a full target pack within the hour. I’m going to see if there are any apartments for rent in the immediate area.”

“Nice one,” Bishop said. Any work Chua could do from back at the Bunker would save the team critical time in Kiev.

“Sending you the address now. Will get back to you within the hour.”

“Thanks, mate. Aden out.”

He looked at his watch, noting it was getting late on the island. Bishop knew the intelligence chief would have been working around the clock. His team covertly monitored many of the world’s most sophisticated communications intercept systems, a lot of work for a handful of analysts. More often than not, it was Chua who worked the longest hours to make sure the teams on the ground had the best support avaialable.

“So?” Aleks interrupted his thoughts.

“What?” Bishop looked at him. “Shit. Sorry, mate. Job’s on. We have his location and now we have his primary phone.”

“
Da
, is good. I told you not to be so hard on yourself, boss. We’ll get this Dostiger, no problems.” The big Russian smiled infectiously.

That’s the easy part done, Bishop thought.  Now we just have to break into the house of the most dangerous man in the Ukraine and thwart his plans to supply a psychotic warmonger. I’d much prefer to park a car bomb in his lounge and blow the shit out of him.

Chapter 26

Petrivka, Kiev

On the other side of Kiev, a different team was also collecting intelligence on Dostiger. Parked by the side of the road, Alfsaneh Ebadi sat in the back of a cheap hire car rubbing her hands to stay warm. Despite the sun outside and her fur-lined jacket, the vehicle’s heater was struggling to keep her warm.

“Turn the heat up a little, please,” she said to the MOIS agent sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, turning the knob, his eyes never leaving the street ahead. The car’s engine was running, ready to pick up Saneh’s source.

They didn’t have to wait long before the voice of her third man was broadcasted over the radio. “Alpha, this is Alpha One.”

Saneh pressed the transmit button of the compact radio on her hip. “Go ahead, Alpha One.”

“Target is entering the pickup zone. He’s clean.”

“Acknowledged. We’re making the pickup now,” Saneh replied.

The driver pulled away from the kerb and drove a block before turning down a small side street.

“There he is,” Saneh said, pointing at a hunched-over figure with a hood pulled low to hide his face, walking along the sidewalk.

They pulled in against the kerb and Saneh leant over and opened the door.

“Get in.”

Saneh’s source slid in next to her. He was a monster of a man, one of Dostiger’s security guards, and barely fitted into the back of the small sedan.

“How are you, Anton?” Saneh asked as the car pulled away.

The Ukrainian source pushed his hood back and scratched at his shaved head. “I’m good now that I’ve seen your pretty face.” He spoke English with a thick Eastern Bloc accent.

“Not as pretty as yours is handsome,” Saneh said with a smile.

His face was far from attractive, dominated by a chunky, pock-marked nose, but his lecherous grin showed he appreciated the compliment.

“So what have you got for me, Anton?”

He fished into his jacket and pulled out a pen and notebook. “I have the address,” he said, carefully writing in the notebook. He ripped out the sheet of paper and handed it over. “You must not forget, Dostiger’s house has the best security in the whole of the Ukraine. You won’t get in without an army.”