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

by Jack Silkstone

  Bishop thanked the waiter when she delivered their drinks. “God no. Even if I was allowed to share the information with the CIA, most of the time they couldn’t do anything.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because even they have to seek authority from their masters and Washington doesn’t want to piss off all its friends.”

  “But someone’s doing something,” Christina said between sips of coffee. “Have you read my article on South Sudan?”

  “The one about Chinese influence in the region?”

  “That’s it. But, more importantly, it was about a team that helped balance the conflict. I found witnesses near the border who had seen strange aircraft and well-equipped soldiers.”

  “And you think they were an element from within the CIA?”

  “Yes, villagers recognized American accents. They told me it was a small team, very capable, and very well equipped. And there’s more. I’ve found another five actions that may have been conducted by the same group. One in the Ukraine, one in Hungary, two in Libya, and one in Russia.”

  “And all of them are the work of this theoretical CIA black ops unit?”

  She nodded over her cup.

  He scratched his chin. “Interesting theory. The CIA certainly gets involved in lots of places you don’t read about in the news. Could even be JSOC, or a joint task force. Is that what you’re working on at the moment?”

  “No, I’m still trying to garner interest in my Mexico piece.”

  “Yes, I read your article in REMA and I’m interested in knowing a little more.”

  She placed her cup on the table. “What do you want to know?”

  “You mentioned an American mining company was employing cartel gunmen to push farmers off their land.”

  “Yes, and they’ve also committed mass murder. I saw them burn down a church with people inside it.” She pulled a tablet from her bag and placed it on the table. “I’ve got some photos. They’re not great but they tell the story.” She opened the tablet and brought up the images. The first few were grainy but they showed the burning church and the figures in front of it. “I know they’re bad quality, but trust me, they’re cartel guys.”

  As she swiped through photos she watched his face. He studied each one intently, his brown eyes scanning every inch. She got to the shots from the farm. They were clear and focused. “These guys came to the ranch I was staying at. They forced the farmers off their land at gunpoint.” She paused on the picture of Pershing. “This is the American running the show. The little scumbag next to him is his cartel sidekick.”

  “This is very interesting. Can I get a copy of those photos?” He reached into his jacket and handed her a memory stick.

  She considered the request. It wasn’t usual for a journalist to share unpublished material, however this man might actually help Roberto and the ranchers. “Sure. I’ve also got other photos of the farmers I interviewed, but wasn’t able to get close to the mine.” She plugged the memory stick into her tablet.

  While the photos copied, she continued. “The locals call it monstruo, it literally means monster. The mine operators are Resources Environmental Development Group which is a joke because not only are they forcing people off their land, but they’re poisoning the waterways.”

  “Have you sent any of this information to the authorities? It’s a US mining company, right? You could make an application to the Environmental Protection Agency. Or talk to someone in the Department of Justice. Even go to the FBI.”

  “No, I haven’t got enough evidence. RED, that’s what they call themselves, has a lot of money behind it so I need to tread carefully.”

  He nodded.

  “I have to go back and get more information. Need more photos and witness statements.” She handed him the memory stick and looked him in the eye. “Do you think the UN would be interested in sending someone with me?”

  He sighed. “Seems like a worthy cause but our resources are pretty stretched right now.”

  “So that’s it then? These bastards get to continue raping these people’s lands and murdering them?”

  “If you give me your email, I’ll let you know if I find anyone able to help. Maybe the UN Chronicle would be interested, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

  She put the tablet back in her bag and handed him a business card. “You can call me. Do you have a card?”

  “Sorry, I was running late this morning.”

  She had the feeling Aden wasn’t going to be much help but that wasn’t surprising. The UN were a huge bureaucracy driven by political agendas. If she wanted to make a difference, she knew she would have to get back on the ground with Roberto and gather compelling evidence. An article in a world-class publication might generate enough interest for the US authorities to take notice and hold the mining company to account. As charming as Aden was, he probably wasn’t going to make that happen. Still, the off-chance that he could was good enough reason to flirt with him a little.

  Bishop paid for the coffees. He felt it was the least he could do all things considered. The UN was never going to see her article, at least not from him. At least Chua’s bullshit task was completed. The intelligence officer’s concerns she was getting close to PRIMAL were unfounded. She wasn’t actively pursuing a story linking their activities and had no clue that an independent, altruistic team of operatives was actually doing the missions. Now, he was going to focus on relaxing and enjoying his holiday in New York.

  As they headed for the exit, he noticed the two men sitting near the door were still at their table. One of them glanced up as he held the door open for Christina.

  Bishop put on his Ray-Bans as she unchained her bicycle. “So what are your must-dos for an out-of-towner? I haven’t had time off in the city in, well, in forever.”

  “What are you interested in? Museums? Parks? Galleries?”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I could show you around.” Her smile was warm. “I’ve got some things to do today, but I was planning on taking tomorrow off.”

  Bishop returned her smile. “That sounds great.”

  “OK, how about we meet back here at ten tomorrow?”

  “Sounds good. I’ve got a friend coming in tonight so it will have to be the three of us.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to impose.”

  “Not at all. He’s a good guy, and we’d appreciate the local knowledge.”

  “OK, see you then.”

  Bishop pecked her on the cheek and walked off. As he strolled, his instincts told him to double back. He crossed to the other side of the road and swung back in Christina’s direction.

  He caught up quickly. She was wheeling her bike as she fiddled with a tangled set of earphones. The two guys from the café were following her.

  Bishop watched them from the other side of the road. They were tailing her but there was no way they were going to keep up once she was on her bike. That meant one of two things: either they had a mobile unit they were working with, or they were going to target her before she started riding.

  He scanned the road. The slow moving traffic included two vans and half a dozen cars. Any of them might be working with the guys following her. He pulled the brim of his cap down low and ducked between a van and a cab. The men had almost caught Christina and he was still a dozen yards away.

  A white tradesman’s van caught his attention. It was parked a few car-lengths down the road from Christina. He felt strangely vulnerable, missing the pistol usually holstered on his hip. The only weapon he had was the single-shot flashlight Mitch had given him. He pulled out the stubby cylinder and increased his pace.

  The men made their move as Christina jumped on the bike. One of them wrapped his arms around her and the other wrenched open the door on the van. Her bike hit the pavement with a crash.

  Bishop grabbed the hair of the man who held her and wrenched his head back. He slammed his fist into his temple, dropping him with a single punch.

  Christina stumbled to her
knees. The second man turned to face Bishop and was blasted with a blinding light. He grunted, covering his eyes with his hands.

  “Nighty night!” Bishop said as he jabbed him in the temple with the stubby tube and shouldered him through the open van door. The dazed thug collapsed onto a third man who’d been waiting in the van.

  Bishop grabbed Christina’s hand and hauled her off the ground. “Run!” They sprinted down the street and around the corner.

  “Who are they?” she asked between breaths.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  They ran along the sidewalk, weaving between the crowds until they hit a crossing. The pedestrian light was red. “We need to get off the street.” Across the road Bishop spotted one of the green signs to a subway entrance.

  He glanced back. Two of the thugs were in pursuit. He grabbed Christina by the hand and dragged her into the busy morning traffic. Horns blared and tires screeched as they dodged cars. A yellow cab missed Bishop by an inch. The driver hurled an insult through his open window.

  They reached the other side as the crossing light changed, giving their pursuers a clear run. “Into the subway.” He pulled Christina around the railing and down the steps.

  “Shit.” There was a queue at the ticket booth and no way through the wall to ceiling turnstiles. Behind them the two heavies shoved people out of the way as they barreled down the stairs.

  Bishop looked for a transit cop. Aside from the geriatric manning the ticket booth there was no one else in uniform.

  “You coming or what?” Christina was on the other side of the turnstile. She held a MetroCard through the bars. He grabbed it, swiped the sensor, and pushed through the rotating bars.

  Someone grabbed his shoulder. Twisting back, he looked directly into the face of one of the men chasing him. He broke the man’s grip as the turnstile locked with a clunk. The thug swore as he tried to shoulder the heavy gate. It didn’t budge. Bishop gave him a wink and followed Christina down to the subway platform.

  She led him past the waiting crowd, all the way to the end. “It won’t take them long to get a ticket.” She pointed at the screen that showed the arrival of the next train. One minute and thirty seconds.

  Bishop watched as the subway timer counted down the final thirty seconds before the next train arrived. If the guys chasing them made it onto the platform they would have to push their way through the hundred-plus waiting people. He took off his Yankees cap and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.

  Twenty-five seconds. He saw the two men charging down the steps that led to the platform.

  Twenty seconds. He dragged Christina down into a crouch. “They’re at the other end of the platform.”

  Ten seconds. A rush of wind and noise was followed by the train screaming into the tunnel. The doors opened. Bishop and Christina jostled their way in.

  Seconds passed, the doors hissed shut, and the train was away. He dragged Christina to the end of the carriage.

  “They’re probably the same guys who beat up David,” she whispered.

  “Who’s David?”

  “My editor. He got warned not to publish my Mexican article.”

  “You didn’t say anything about that before.”

  “Yeah, well it didn’t seem relevant then.”

  “Well, it is now. The guys who tried to grab you arrived at the café before you did. That means they knew exactly where to find you.”

  The doors at the end of the carriage slid open and a pair of metro cops walked in. She let out a sigh of relief. “Should we tell them?”

  He shook his head and put his baseball cap back on. Their two pursuers had entered directly behind the cops. They stood at the opposite end of the car glaring. Bishop took out his phone and snapped a photo.

  At the next stop the doors opened and the metro cops stepped onto the platform. Bishop led Christina out behind them. He maneuvered around the police, pushed through the exit turnstile and ran through the tunnel up to the street.

  Behind them the two men gave chase.

  “Damn.” Bishop spotted the white van as it pulled to the curb in front of them. “In here.” They burst into the foyer of a twenty-four hour gymnasium. Ignoring the protesting attendant, they continued through a door marked STAFF ONLY.

  “Where are we going to go now?” Christina latched onto his arm.

  “We’ll head out the back. But not till I’ve slowed these bastards down.” He pulled a fire extinguisher off the wall, yanked out the pin, and turned to face the door.

  As the two men entered he sprayed them with the chemical extinguisher. The stream of fine powder hit them in the face, blinding them. He threw the heavy canister. It hit the lead man in the head with a thud, knocking him to the ground.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here.” He pushed open an emergency exit and stepped into a back alley. They walked between bags of garbage and onto the street where he hailed a cab.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Not to your place, that’s for sure. You need to get rid of your phone and stay low.”

  Christina took the phone from her bag, looked at it reluctantly, and tossed it down a drain. “What else do I need to do?”

  He guided her into the cab. “We can lie low at my hotel.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Bishop opened the bottle of bourbon he had picked up at the airport and splashed some into a tumbler of ice. “Drink this, it’ll calm your nerves. You’ll be safe here.” They were in his modest hotel room, not far from where they’d jumped into the cab.

  Christina’s hands were shaking. “They were trying to kidnap me, weren’t they?”

  “My guess is they want to scare you into dropping your story on the mine.”

  “David was right. These people are serious. I need to go to the police.”

  He poured himself a drink. “And tell them what? You’ve got no evidence and these people have some pretty serious assets if they’ve been targeting your emails. We need to do a little digging before going to the authorities.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and held the glass with both hands. “Do you think they would’ve killed me?”

  He shook his head. “No. This is New York, not Mexico. They might have hurt you, but they probably wouldn’t have murdered you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m not so sure. When I was in Mexico, one of the narcos tried to rape me. A farmer, my friend Roberto, he stopped it. They burned his farm to the ground.” She sobbed and wiped her eyes. “Then I watched them torch a church full of people, they killed them all. That’s why I have to go back. That’s why this story needs to be told.”

  He sat next to her on the bed. “That’s some serious motivation.”

  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and wiped her cheek. “God, I’m so sorry. You just saved my life, and I haven’t even thanked you.” She put her glass down on the bedside table and hugged him.

  There was an awkward moment where Bishop didn’t know what do. Then he wrapped his arms around her and returned the hug. “It’s OK, anyone would have done the same thing.”

  She sighed and released him. “Most people would have panicked. You stayed calm.”

  “Most people don’t have training to fall back on.”

  She gave a weak smile. “Having you around would be pretty useful in Mexico.”

  “Nice try.” He laughed. “Alright, I’ve got a lunch meeting, and after that I’ll do a little snooping around. I don’t want you going home till I get a little more info about these RED guys. OK?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll come back here and we’ll do dinner at seven.” He downed his drink and made for the door. “I’ll also sort you out a room of your own.”

  “Who’s going to pay for the room?” Christina asked. “I can’t really afford to stay here.”

  “Compliments of the UN. I’ll see you at seven.”

  ***

  Bishop rode the elevator down to the hotel lobby and walked into the bar.
He spotted Mirza waiting at a table with his bag on the floor. The former Indian Special Forces operative rose to meet him.

  The pair had been friends for years, ever since they had met on a UN operation in Sierra Leone. It was Bishop who’d recruited Mirza into the covert vigilante organization and they’d been partners ever since. Despite embodying the fearsome fighting spirit of his Nepalese forefathers, Mirza was in fact the more deliberate of the two. His cool-headed demeanor balanced Bishop’s hot-headedness perfectly.

  “Good to see you with a beard again, mate.” Bishop embraced the smaller man in a bear hug. “I didn’t want to tell you, but that moustache of yours was getting a little creepy. How was Myanmar?”

  Mirza had just finished a preliminary operation in the military dictatorship. His mission was focused on establishing contacts in the underground for a future operation. These contacts would be cultivated into agents, or Blades as PRIMAL’s chief of intelligence called them.

  “It was hot and sticky.”

  “Well you’re not going to get any of that here. New York in the spring is like heaven compared to South East Asia.”

  Mirza grinned. “I’ve been looking forward to it. So many things I want to see.”

  “And see them you will. There’s just one small thing we need to take care of before we hit the sights.”

  Mirza’s smile dropped. “What are you talking about?”

  They sat at the table and Bishop explained the task Chua had given him. He then outlined the series of events that led to the attempted abduction of Christina.

  “I’ve never met anyone who attracts trouble like you do, Aden. It’s like I spend my time running around with Dirk Pitt.” Mirza was an avid fan of Clive Cussler’s early work.

  “This one isn’t my fault. Chua dumped me right in the middle of it.”

  “But you completed the mission. The girl’s problems are not yours.”

  “Really, is that how you feel?”

  Mirza sighed. “No. What’s the plan?”

  Bishop pulled out his iPRIMAL and showed him the photo he had taken on the train. “I flicked this through to Flash. He ran it through the system and managed to track these bozos down on the web.” Flash was PRIMAL’s digital intelligence specialist. The former NSA analyst was a genius when it came to exploiting communications and computer networks. He worked in the Bunker with the rest of the PRIMAL support staff.