PRIMAL Unleashed (2) (42 page)

With a cough and a splutter, she started breathing. Her eyes flashed open, making immediate contact with Bishop’s. His panic subsided as her body convulsed with giant waves of coughing, clearing her lungs.

“This doesn’t make us even,” she rasped.

Bishop couldn’t help but laugh. “Not at all. We were all as good as dead till you showed up.” He carefully helped Saneh sit up.

She glanced around. The absence of gunfire told her she was safe. “Lucky you left me behind, Aden, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to save you.”

Bishop gave her a grin. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Oh, it’s going to take a bit more than that.” She laughed, coughing again.

“If you two are done, Aleks has the truck started, ja,” the lanky German interrupted.

Bishop looked back across the field towards the burning sheds. A rust-streaked farm truck with a canvas canopy was churning across the muddy field towards them, belching out clouds of black smoke. Bishop helped Saneh to her feet and nodded at the tall German, who steadied her with his hand. As they walked, Bishop dropped back and phoned the Bunker.

Vance picked up on the first ring. “Bish, how’s the team.”

“Yeah, Vance, team’s alive, and we’ve still got the canisters. Had a run in with some of Dostiger’s goons. Pavel’s been shot but he’ll be OK.”

“Right, buddy, we need to get you out ASAP!” Bishop could hear Vance issuing commands to the team in the background. It took a few seconds for him to gather all the information he needed. “Bish, you still there?”

“Yep, shoot.”

“First things first. You got wheels?”

Bishop looked across at the battered truck. “Yeah, sort of.”

“Right, that’s good. Plan is you get back to the farm. You lay low till dark and then RV with the Gulfstream at another airfield close to the border.”

“Sounds workable. What about Ivan? Is he meeting us there?”

“Haven’t been able to contact him. Will keep trying, but right now you gotta get moving. The Ukrainians can’t be far away!”

“OK, mate. See you soon.”

The old farm truck slowed to a halt and Aleks greeted them with a broad smile. He’d found a rotten farmer’s jacket and a cap to wear. With the grime of combat smeared across his face, he looked the part of a peasant farmer.

“Canisters are in the back, boss, Pavel will live and Miklos is whinging like a little girl,” Aleks announced.

“Right then,” Bishop said as he helped Saneh clamber up into the back of the truck. “We need to get back to the farm. Head east, Aleks. Try to stick to the back roads.”

Once everyone was under the faded canvas canopy, the Russian took off with a crunch of gears, crossed the field, and turned onto the country lane.

Chapter 69

Enroute to ‘The Farm’

“So where to from here, Aden?” Saneh asked as the truck bounced down the country lanes of Odessa’s rural hinterland. They were sitting in the tray side by side, the rest of the team sprawled around them.

“The canisters will be destroyed and then I’m going to kill Dostiger.”

“Do you really need to kill him?” Saneh asked. “You have the canisters; the mission is a success.”

The PRIMAL operative simply raised an eyebrow.

“You really want to kill him, don’t you?”

Bishop didn’t respond. His thoughts were far away from the truck. He was back in Dostiger’s nightclub, the image of the missile launcher on the office wall searing into his brain.

”Do you trust me at all?” Saneh asked quietly.

Bishop sighed, returning from his thoughts. “Trust was never the issue, Saneh.”

It was the beautiful Iranian’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“OK,” laughed Bishop, “I lie. A little bit of an issue.”

“Oh, please, I’m Persian and I am a woman. Two things you clearly have no idea about.” She elbowed him gently in the ribs.

“Oh, I know about Persians—” The sirens of a passing police car caused him to pause. The wailing faded. “The fact you’re Persian isn’t an issue for me, Saneh. The Persians have a lot to be proud of. It’s the extremists that bother me.”

“Is that how you think of me, Aden? Do you think I am some fanatic willing to die for my religion?”

“No, not at all, Saneh. I think you’re a lot like me.”

“And how is that, Mr Fischer? Jaded and despondent?”

Bishop smiled. “No, you’re a bit of an idealist: someone looking to make a difference.” He leant over and whispered in her ear. “Now’s not the time.” His eyes flicked to the rest of the team sitting in the back of the truck with them. “But if we get out of here, I’ll talk with my superiors. You don’t belong in MOIS, you—“

“Hey, boss.” Alek’s pulled back the cracked glass divider that separated the cabin of the truck from the tray. “Sorry to interrupt but we’re there and it looks like Ivan’s already here.”

Bishop leant forward to look through the windscreen. Ivan’s battered Russian jeep was parked next to the open doors of the barn.

“Drive in,” said Bishop.

Alek’s nosed the truck in through the open doors and brought it to a smooth halt on the straw-covered floor.

As the truck stopped, a voice yelled out from the darkness at the rear of the shed.

“GET OUT! LEAVE YOUR WEAPONS IN THE TRUCK!”

Bishop whipped out his pistol and peered though the front cabin. He caught a glimpse of a man aiming a submachine gun at Aleks.

“This is Iranian intelligence, Mr Fischer,” the harsh accent yelled out. “We have your friend here. If you do not comply, we will kill him!”

So MOIS have decided to join the party
,
thought Bishop, and he looked directly into the eyes of the beautiful woman beside him. “Your friends, Saneh?”

She looked shocked. “I didn’t know. I promise.”

Bishop looked away in disgust. “OK, I’m coming out!” he announced. “I’m not armed.” He dropped his pistol onto the floor of the truck and moved to the back. Kurtz grabbed his arm as he passed. “We can take them!” he hissed. The look on the German’s face was pure rage as he raised his machine gun.

“No,” whispered Bishop and he climbed down from the truck.

Aleks was already out of the cab, his hands in the air, facing a group of Uzi-wielding men.

As Bishop’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could just make out the features of the five men in front of him. They looked like a group of badly-dressed thugs from an Eighties’ action movie, complete with skivvies and poorly fitting polyester suits.

They had to be Iranian, he thought. Not even eastern Europeans wore outfits that bad.

If it wasn’t for the weapons, including the pistol one of them held to Ivan’s head, Bishop probably would have burst out laughing.

The oldest of the men, athletic-looking, with gray hair and cold blue eyes, spoke. “Where is Agent Ebadi, Mr Fischer?”

“She’s in the truck.”

“And the weapon?”

Bishop feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Behind him he could hear the rest of the team disembarking.

“Come now, Mr Fischer, there’s no need to be like that, what with this being a joint operation and all.”

“Like I said, Mr... ?”

“You can call me Rostam.”

“Like I said, Rostam, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that right, Aden?” Saneh walked past Bishop carrying one of the black nylon duffel bags. She unzipped the bag and handed Rostam the silver cylinder.

“So this is the wonder weapon?” the MOIS officer asked as he scrutinized the container.

“So I am led to believe!” Saneh replied.

“My dear girl, you fail to fathom the power that this cylinder represents.” He switched his intense gaze to Saneh. “Just the one?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmmm. A pity. Regardless, this will meet our requirements nicely. I must say, Fischer, to use a British term, you’ve done a ‘cracker’ of a job. Successfully denied the Revolutionary Guards their wonder weapon and delivered it directly to me. Don’t think that MOIS isn’t very grateful for your efforts.”

“You’re making a big mistake, Rostam. The Western world isn’t going to stand by and let you waltz off with that,” said Bishop.

“Do you really believe that, Mr Fischer? Or are you trying to justify your own shortcomings?” Rostam smiled. “The truth is you simply failed and no one, not MI6, nor anyone else, will do anything to stop me. You need to accept that despite all your shiny toys and resources, you were foiled by a pretty smile.” Rostam placed his hand on Saneh’s shoulder. “You’re all the same, my boy, young, hot-headed and driven by your loins and not your brain. All passion and no planning!”

Bishop said nothing, his face searing a hot, bright shade of red.

“I bid you farewell, Mr Fischer. Better luck next time.” Rostam nodded towards the man holding a pistol to Ivan’s head. “Release him!”

Ivan stumbled across the gap between the two parties and Bishop caught him.

“Sorry, old chap, they got the jump on me.”

The Iranians started to file out as the roar of a low-flying helicopter approached. Saneh paused when she reached the door, looking back. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed and then disappeared.

The helicopter’s engine note changed as it touched down briefly, then took off, the clatter of blades disappearing into the distance.

“That treacherous bitch.” Kurtz’s snarl broke the silence. “She played us like a bunch of fucking boy scouts.”

“A bunch of boy scouts caught with our dicks in our hands,” growled Aleks.

“I don’t think so,” Bishop said quietly.

“What do you mean? You saw her; she sold us out!” accused Kurtz.

Bishop turned to him. “I thought the same at first, but I think you’ll find she was as surprised as we were. You should’ve seen her face when that Rostam arsehole told us to get out of the truck.”

“Then why did she hand over the canister?” Aleks asked.

“Because she didn’t have any other choice. She had to play along.”

“That doesn’t change the facts! Now Iran has the weapon and we don’t have shit!” said Kurtz.

“Don’t we?” Bishop asked. “I think if you check the truck, we still have one canister. Not ideal, I know, but better than nothing.”

“Da, you’re right, boss.” Aleks grinned as he pulled the remaining duffel bag from the tray. “Maybe she didn’t sell us out after all.”

“Yeah.” Bishop nodded. “Like I said, she didn’t get much of a choice. You were all there when she saved us in that BTR. She didn’t have to do that. She put her neck on the line for us and I’ll wager she’ll do it again if she gets the chance.”

“If you don’t think she sold us out, how in god’s name did they find us?” Ivan asked.

“It’s probably my fault. I let Saneh send a message to her boss when we landed. I’m guessing her phone had a tracking device in it.”

“Those sneaky buggers!” said Ivan.

“I get the distinct feeling that our friend Rostam is not one for trusting people,” said Bishop. “Even his own agents.”

“A formidable foe,” responded Ivan.

“You still think we’re in the game, boss?” asked Aleks. “Is there any way for us to get the canister back?”

“I’m not sure, mate.”

“Don’t count on the woman coming through. She betrayed us once and she will do it again,” Kurtz said harshly.

Bishop looked at him. “You might be right. Only time will tell. Right now we need to focus on getting out of Odessa and getting Pavel and Miklos medical attention. I’ll contact my headquarters. Let’s plan on extracting at nightfall. Till then we need to rest up. I’ve got a feeling this isn’t over yet.”

“We’re staying here?” Kurtz asked.

“Yes. Moving around the countryside is too dangerous.”

“But this place has been compromised. Shouldn’t we at least move?”

“If Rostam wanted to hand us over to Dostiger, it would have already happened. No, we’ll be safe here until nightfall.” He looked at his watch, “I’ll report in and take first watch. Get Pavel and Miklos as comfortable as you can, then get some shut-eye.”

There were no further objections from the team. Each man was absolutely exhausted, clothing torn and bloodied. They turned their attention to the wounded men and finding comfortable spots amongst the bales of straw.

Bishop climbed the ladder up to the barn’s loft, an excellent vantage point to keep watch. He was not looking forward to briefing Vance and Chua on the incident.

Chapter 70

‘The Farm’

“So let me get this straight, buddy. Saneh rescues you from the crash site and you swing back to the farm?” questioned Vance.

“That’s right,” answered Bishop.

“‘Cept when you get back there, MOIS is waiting?”

“Correct.”

“And now they’ve got one of the canisters and the girl.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

 “And you seriously think that she played no role in this?”

“I do,” Bishop replied. “I firmly believe she had no intention of handing over the agent. I think that MOIS tracked her without her knowledge and I think she may help us recover the second canister.”

Chua’s voice interrupted, “Aden, that’s pretty unlikely. She’s a trusted operative with an extensive dossier of successful missions to her credit. MOIS would have no reason to doubt her integrity, otherwise she would not have been selected for such an important mission.”

“Then why did she leave us the canister?”

Vance added, “Maybe in the heat of the moment she forgot it. Or maybe she felt guilty for playing you like a banjo at a Ku Klux meeting. The truth is, Bishop, I don’t give a shit! At the moment I just want to get you, your men, and that goddamn Novichok agent out of Kiev and out of Dostiger’s grasp. We can worry about the other canister later.”

“Vance is right,” said Chua. “We need to get you safe. Our people are already working up options to retrieve the second canister from within Iran.”

“Iran? Are you kidding me? We have an opportunity to recover the agent now and you want to talk about conducting black ops into fucking Tehran?

“Bishop, you need to snap out of it, buddy,” Vance said. “You’re not thinking logically. You’ve invested too much emotion into this mission. First Dostiger, then Saneh—”