PRIMAL Unleashed (2) (43 page)

“Look, that evil bastard will get what’s coming to him, but all in good time. Right now I owe it to Saneh to have a little faith. She’s saved my life three times in the last 48 hours.”

“Buddy, you can have all the faith you want. Hell, you can have a whole goddamn church full of it. The bottom line, we NEED to get you out of there and that’s the priority. You’ve got a whole shitload of angry Ukrainians running around the countryside looking for you guys. Now we’re monitoring their comms traffic and so far so good, but you need to lay low and trust us to get you out.”

“Yeah, OK. So what’s the plan?” Bishop asked, his voice flat.

“There’s an abandoned airfield; Chua’ll send you the coordinates after this. Pick up timing is 1900. Mirza will meet you with the Gulfstream. Don’t be late!”

“Is Ice gonna be with Mirza?”

“No, buddy, he’s not ...  he’s... ”

“He’s what?”

“Look, buddy, there ain't no easy way to tell you this. Mirza and Ice ran into some trouble and Ice didn’t make it.”

There was silence for a moment before Bishop responded. “How’s Mirza?”

“He’s doing OK. You’ll need to keep him focused though. He’s taken it pretty hard.”

“Do you know what happened?” Bishop asked.

“Not really. Details are a little sketchy at the moment. You need to stay focused though, OK? Get your team out and then we can deal with the loss.”

“You’re right, we’re not out of the woods yet. We’ll stay low here and then head to the airfield at the last safe moment.”

“Once you’re on board, we’ll route the jet back to the island via the Emirates. Our people there will take care of your wounded,” Vance explained.

“What about Dostiger? I want to kill that bastard, Vance.”

“I know, buddy, but we’ll have plenty of time to deal with him once half the Ukrainian military stops looking for you.”

“Yeah, OK. Chua, is there any chance we can track Saneh’s phone?”

“Sorry, Bish,” Chua replied. “It’s not transmitting. Last known hit was when she updated her HQ from your current location. If it pops up again, I’ll flash you the coordinates.”

“I’d appreciate that. Look, I’m going to get some rest. You guys got anything else for me?”

“No, that’s it, buddy. Keep your head down and we’ll see you soon,” Vance concluded. Once the call had terminated, he turned to Chua. “How do you think he’s handling it all?”

“Not as badly as I thought he would,” Chua replied, downing a mouthful of energy drink. “After the Kiev debacle, being played by Saneh, and then finding out about Ice…” He looked at Vance and shook his head. “I’m surprised he’s holding himself together. Maybe our boy is growing up.”

***

The rain started at dusk, a light drizzle that turned the narrow roads of Odessa slick with mud and grime. With its bald tires, the battered farm truck maintained a precarious grip on the road as Aleks slowly drove through the countryside. Bishop directed him, using the mapping on his phone to avoid any of the main roads that might bring them to the attention of the authorities. They were still armed, but only with pistols; all of their heavy equipment was now buried under the floor of the barn. Ivan had left them at the farm, disappearing into the night in his rusted Soviet-era jeep.

The truck turned down a disused track, little more than two overgrown wheel ruts winding their way through a thick copse of trees. Within a few hundred meters the truck’s wheels hit concrete. The hard surface was dotted with weeds, growing in the cracks and seams of the abandoned airfield.

“Stop here. Lights off,” ordered Bishop.

Aleks killed the engine and they sat in silence. Bishop checked his phone again: still nothing from Saneh. He kept expecting to hear her voice or at least the rumble of a BTR as she came barreling out of the darkness.

Pull yourself together,
he told himself. She’s not coming back, Rostam’s probably filled her head with lies and she’s moved on.

Bishop was furious that he had let the MOIS officer outsmart him. It was embarrassing to say the least.

“Boss,” Aleks interrupted. “Look. Lights.”

At the northern end of the runway a green light flashed twice.

“Flash the lights three times.”

Aleks obliged and the distant green light responded with another two flashes.

“It’s Mirza. Let’s go.”

As they drove down the edge of the runway, the sleek shape of the Gulfstream business jet appeared out of the darkness. Alek’s pulled the truck in next to the open door of the swept wing aircraft. Mirza was waiting at the bottom of the stairs in the drizzling rain, an assault rifle slung across his chest. The lightly built Indian looked gaunt, dark circles under his eyes visible in light from the truck’s headlights.

Bishop greeted him with a firm handshake, “It’s good to see you, mate.”

“You too, Aden.”

The two men stepped out of earshot as Aleks and Kurtz moved the two wounded men into the aircraft and loaded the canister.

“Vance told me about Ice,” Bishop started. “We all know the risks when we sign up. Ice died doing something he believed in; that’s all a soldier can ask for.”

“You don’t know what happened. I—”

Bishop cut him off. “Right now I don’t need to know, Mirza! Right now I need you to focus. We can mourn Ice later. What I need to know is can I count on you?”

“Aden, you—”

“Can I count on you, Mirza?”

“You know you can!”

“Good. Now let’s get on board and introduce you to the lads. Just remember they’re hired help, though. They still think I’m MI6 and naturally they will assume you are too.”

“Righto, chocks away then, biff biff and all that.” Mirza put on his best British accent.

Bishop laughed and punched him in the arm. “It sure is good to see you, mate.”

The two men climbed up the stairs of the luxury jet and into the cabin, where Bishop quickly introduced Mirza before checking on the rest of the team and ensuring the canister was secure.

As the plane taxied for takeoff, Bishop lowered himself into one of the business jet’s luxurious chairs. He buckled his seat belt as the jet trembled, the engines pushing the aircraft forward. He looked out the window into the darkness of Odessa and doubts assailed his mind.

What if it was all a deliberate trap, he thought angrily. Was Saneh playing me the whole time?

His Ukrainian mobile phone beeped and his pulse quickened as he checked the screen. It was from Saneh.

You should come to Istanbul accommodation is much nicer than Kiev 1/105 Makastar St Uskadar

Bishop activated his phone, the communication device already linked into the aircraft’s satellite communications.

“Vance, it’s Bishop. Saneh has made contact!”

“Roger, it just popped up on our screens. Chua tells me it looks legit.”

“It is. We need to re-route to Istanbul.”

“Affirm, buddy, we’ll send you the details of our safe house. Chua is going to try and buy you some extra time by tipping off the Guards. They’ll shut down every point of arrival into Iran. Should keep Rostam and the chemical in Istanbul a little longer.”

“Good work. We’ll hit the ground running and take down the MOIS location within 24 hours.”

“You’re lucky to get one more bite at this cherry, Bish. Don’t mess it up!”

Chapter 71

‘The Facility’

Dostiger’s head of security paced his office, wracking his brain. He had failed his master twice and both times he had been lucky to escape with his life. After the gunfight at the aircraft crash site, he still had no idea if they were Mossad, CIA, MI6, or Iranian intelligence. Dostiger had returned with only a handful of wounded men and had locked himself in his office with a bottle of scotch. Yuri knew better than to ask more questions.

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” he screamed. If he didn’t come up with answers soon, Dostiger was going to kill him. The only thing keeping him alive was the vague chance that he could use his contacts to stop the hijackers before they made it across the border.

He picked his mobile phone up off the desk, looking at the screen in apprehension. Still no word from any of his contacts. Yuri started to panic. The mobile phone dropped from his hand and he turned to walk out of the office before Dostiger came for him.

The phone’s trill ringtone stopped him in his tracks. He walked back to the desk, hands shaking as he picked it up. The number was blocked. He answered the call.

“Hello, who is this?” he asked.

There was a pause, then a deep voice spoke in Russian, “Is this Yuri Vasyliovych Derkach?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“That’s not important right now, Yuri. What is important is that we know exactly who you are and exactly who you work for, or should I say used to work for.” The tone was ice cold.

“Who the fuck are you?” Yuri demanded, his voice wavering.

“Yuri, Dostiger is finished. Do you want to go down with him?”

Yuri’s hand started shaking uncontrollably.   The man’s voice became a snarl as he continued. “Yuri Vasliovych Derkach, former SBU agent number 238790K, only son of Galina Derkach, answer the question. Do you want to go down with Dostiger?”

 
“No... no, I don’t.”

The man’s voice returned to its frigid tone, “You no longer work for Dostiger, Yuri. Now you work for me. My name is Ivan and you will find that I am a most generous employer. Once Dostiger is gone you will continue to run his empire. You will be provided with guidance, but ultimately it will be in your hands. If you let me down, justice will be swift.”

Yuri was confused. “But isn’t Dostiger still alive? How can I—”

The voice cut him off. “I’ll be in touch, Yuri.”

The line went dead.

Chapter 72

PRIMAL Safe House, Istanbul, Turkey

The PRIMAL jet had made a quick detour to Istanbul, dropping off Bishop, Mirza, Kurtz and Aleks before continuing its journey to Abu Dhabi, where Pavel and Miklos would receive medical treatment.

Bishop navigated as Aleks drove the hire car from the airport; it was the Russian’s first time in Turkey.

As they turned off the highway towards the suburb of Iskanderpasa, Bishop noted with a wry smile that Aleks was wide-eyed in wonder. “The tables have turned since Kiev, eh, Aleks?” The PRIMAL operative had used Istanbul as a base of operations in the past and was familiar with the city and its culture.

“I thought it would be much, much older,” Aleks replied as they approached the capital. “Where is the famous big mosque?” Driving down the main boulevard from the west, the skyline looked like any other big city with high-rises intermingled amongst older structures.

“No time for sightseeing on this trip,” Bishop said as he directed them off the main road. “Tight streets and narrow houses. Just like Kiev.”

“But hotter,” countered Aleks, wishing he had removed his leather jacket. Istanbul was warmer, and colorful in comparison to the drab grey capital of the Ukraine. The bone-white buildings contrasted against red roofs and the occasional park added greenery to the picturesque cityscape.

Kurtz interjected from the back seat. “No complaints from me. Look at the
frauen
!”

A pair of local girls dashed across the street in front of them. Their tight shorts and t-shirts left little to the imagination.

“Are they not Muslims?” Mirza asked in surprise.

Bishop smiled. “They must be very liberal in their interpretation of the Koran.” As the car slowed at an intersection, he indicated a side street. “OK, slow down. The safe house is just down there.” They turned into the lane and Bishop read the house numbers. “That’s the one we’re looking for.” He pointed out a neat, two-story town house. They parked in front of the building and Bishop used his phone to de-activate the alarm system before leading them through the front door.

The team threw their bags on the living room floor and the PRIMAL team leader opened his laptop on the low coffee table.

“Nice place, boss, much nicer than Kiev,” commented Kurtz. The interior of the house was newly renovated, furnished with sleek modern settings.

“Moving up in the world,” Bishop said as he accessed the encrypted PRIMAL wireless network connecting the laptop back to the Bunker.

“So what now, comrade?” asked Aleks.

“The plan is we meet with Saneh, get the info on the safe house. Then hit it and grab the canister. Nice and simple.”

“You’re actually going to meet up with that woman?” Kurtz asked.

“Yes, as far as I’m concerned she’s still a friendly. We’re obliged to get her out of the Iranian safehouse before we bang in,” Bishop replied.

“Aden, I know I have come into this late, but could this perhaps be a trap?” asked Mirza.

“It could be, but to what end? If Rostam wanted to kill us, he would have done it back at the barn. If he wants our canister, he’d sure as hell know ours is miles away from here. No, it’s pretty clear that this isn’t a trap.”

“I still don’t trust her!” said Kurtz.

“Well, I do,” said Aleks. “She saved all of our lives at least once and she got the boss out of the nightclub. So in my book she is alright.”

“Your just a sucker for a pretty face, dummkopf,” said the German.

“That’s rich coming from you, borscht brains,” Aleks shot back. “Miklos told me about the woman in the house. He said you were practically drooling.”

Kurtz blushed and the rest of the team laughed.

They’re a top bunch, thought Bishop. It’s good to see Mirza smiling.

He waited for the banter to die down and the team’s attention to focus back on him.

“Right, lads,” he said, “we need to keep this slick. There’s not much time and this is probably going to be our last crack at the prize. Aleks and I will meet with Saneh in an hour. Concurrently, Mirza and Kurtz, you’ll be doing a close target recon of the MOIS safe house.” He pressed a button on his laptop and the fifty inch flat-screen TV bolted to the wall activated, displaying a satellite image. Chua had already worked up a basic target pack. It contained satellite imagery, street view photos and a floor plan.