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

by Jack Silkstone

Chua pressed a remote and a map appeared on another screen. “We’re still developing intelligence on the following potential ops. In priority order. One, ongoing humanitarian violations by the Myanmar junta. Two, exploitation of test subjects by a pharmaceutical company in Angola. Three, a white supremacist gang operating out of Scandinavia, and finally, a Chinese backed poaching syndicate devastating the black Rhino population in Zimbabwe. He looked up from his notes. “Does anyone have any questions or objections regarding any of these collection operations?”

  “Just one,” Tariq asked. “I’m yet to read Mirza’s report from Myanmar. I was wondering how agent recruitment there was progressing?”

  “It’s developing nicely. We have three potential Blades identified. My team’s going through a comprehensive analysis and we’ll select one in the near future.”

  “Good.”

  “OK, that brings us to our operation of opportunity.”

  “Ah yes,” said Tariq. “Gentlemen, when are you going to learn that wherever you send Aden, he’s going to find trouble? The man is a magnet for it.”

  Vance sighed. “Tell me about it. But, it’s a bit cruel to keep him locked up here.”

  “Cruel for me, he’d drive me insane,” said Chua. “I’ve been through a full debriefing with him, and in his defense, what he has uncovered is fairly significant in terms of injustice.”

  Tariq nodded. “From what I’ve read, I concur. If these people are indeed killing farmers and burning their homes, then we’re obliged to scope an intervention.”

  Vance sat up in his chair. “I agree. But I’d like to take a very low-key approach to this operation. We should aim to target them at the corporate level. Expose the corruption and environmental issues, and bring the authorities to bear.”

  Tariq nodded from on screen. “Gentlemen, I have one major concern; what if this is a CIA operation? We might end up exposing PRIMAL to significant risk. Vance, what’s your assessment on this?”

  As a former CIA officer, Vance had an intimate understanding of how the agency worked. “My gut feeling is this isn’t a CIA operation. The days of the Company running little cash ventures are long gone. In saying that, it’s possible one or two of their officers are getting their hands dirty. So I agree that it poses a risk, and Mexico is the motherfucking badlands. So like I said, we need to play this one real careful. No mentoring local militias or any of the kinetic business.”

  A knock at the door interrupted him.

  Chua checked who it was and exchanged some quick words. He opened the door and Flash, PRIMAL’s resident digital intel specialist, entered.

  Chua sat back down. “Gents, we’ve got more information coming in that has a direct impact on our decision here. Flash, the room is yours.”

  The stocky, shaggy-haired analyst looked around the room excitedly. “Hey, so hi, everybody. OK, this is pretty big. The hack that Mirza installed on one of the banker guys’ phones. Yeah, well they found it, and they’re trying to ping it back to us.”

  Vance wore a concerned look. “What does that mean?”

  “It means they know someone’s looking at them but don’t know who. There’s no way they can trace it back to the Bunker or anything like that. But they do know someone with serious capability is sniffing around.”

  “From what I understand, Flash, the hack was well hidden,” Chua said. “Someone had to be doing some serious digging to find it.”

  “That’s right. I backtracked the ping and the source is a Ground Effects Services office in New York. This is interesting because it confirms they’re providing the IT security to MVI.”

  “MVI?” Tariq’s voice came across the speakers.

  “Yeah, they’re the ones who funded the mining operation. Both MVI and GES have offices in the same building.”

  “No indication that NSA is involved?” asked Chua throwing in yet another three-letter organization.

  Flash shook his mop of hair. “Nah, boss, this guy’s good, but he’s using commercial software. I’ve tried to hack into their server but they’re running a very tight ship. If we want to get inside their system we’re going to need to get someone, or something, physically inside the building.”

  “I think that’s as good a place to start as any,” said Vance. “I propose we bring Mitch down from Alaska and start gathering all the intel we can in New York. That way we can establish exactly who we’re dealing with.”

  Chua nodded. “I agree. And once we get more info from Bishop about the mine, we can decide what course of action to take with him.”

  Tariq stroked his beard. “I just need a little clarification on who everyone is. RED is running the mine, GES is providing security, and MVI are the guys bankrolling the operation. Correct?”

  “That’s correct,” Chua said.

  “OK.” He nodded. “I concur. Let’s make it a priority to get as much intel as we can.”

  Vance thumped the table with the palm of his hand. “Excellent, let’s get it happening. In 72 hours I want to know everything there is to know about these fucktards.”

  CHAPTER 16

  CHIHUAHUA

  The jolting of the truck woke Bishop. He found Christina nuzzled in his shoulder, still fast asleep. He checked his watch. Only an hour had passed since they’d left the outskirts of the city. Looking out over the tailgate, he was surprised to see the urban sprawl had been replaced with mountains and a dusty rutted track.

  After they’d escaped from the Black Jackets, Roberto had taken them to a friend’s car yard on the outskirts of town. Despite Emilio’s protests, Bishop had paid cash to swap the battered F250 for a newer, blue, Dodge Dakota pickup. They had stayed overnight before heading off at the crack of dawn.

  The blue Dodge pulled up outside a cluster of stone buildings and the four Mexicans got out of the cab. Bishop gently nudged Christina to wake her. “Hey, I think we’re there.”

  He jumped over the side of the truck and helped her down.

  Their destination was a modest ranch perched on the side of a low hill. It overlooked an inhospitable valley dotted with rocky outcrops, dry brush, and tall spiked plants. The farm buildings were all made of local stone and bare beams. Three small huts were clustered behind a main residence and a large square barn. Bishop guessed the ranch was set up as a bed and breakfast.

  The front door of the farmhouse opened and an elderly gentleman wearing a plaid shirt and jeans appeared. He took one look at Roberto and his men and waved them inside.

  Bishop wandered across to the barn and peered inside. There were stalls along one side, straw on the floor, and a storage room at the end. The musty smell of horses hung in the air. A whinny sounded from one of the stalls and a horse poked its nose out.

  “Aden,” Christina called from outside.

  He walked back to find the Mexicans had returned.

  Roberto pointed to the huts. “We can stay here for the next few days. They’ve given us two huts. The four of us will stay in the bunkhouse. Christina, you and Aden will have the other cabin.”

  “Hey, that doesn’t sound fair.”

  “Do you and Christina want the bunkhouse and the four of us can share a bed?”

  Bishop shook his head. “No, I just thought–”

  “It’ll be fine,” Christina said as she gathered her bags from the truck and made her way to the cabin.

  He watched her for a moment, then pulled his iPRIMAL from his pocket. He wasn’t surprised to find there was no phone reception. It wasn’t useless though; he could still access the stored data and the GPS worked. “How far are we from the mine?”

  “About twenty miles,” said Roberto as he grabbed his jacket from the truck. “But don’t worry. We won’t be walking. My friends have agreed to lend us horses.”

  “Horses? No one said anything about horses.” He followed the rancher down to the cabins.

  “If we go by road the Chaquetas will find us. If you want, you can walk, but it’s a long way through the desert.”

  Bishop opened a mapp
ing app on his iPRIMAL. “The mine doesn’t appear on any of imagery.”

  Roberto looked confused. “How are you getting the internet out here?”

  “The mapping data is cached.” He pointed to their current location. “We’re here. Where is the mine?”

  “North, about twenty miles. We’ll ride through a canyon, past the old gold mine, and across the desert till we hit a creek. Then we climb higher into the mountains.”

  Bishop traced the route with his finger.

  “That’s it there,” said Roberto when a series of jagged peaks filled the screen. “That’s monstruo. Now, please excuse me, I’m going to have a shower and organize dinner.”

  “When are we going to leave for the mine?”

  “Tomorrow night. That gives you all day to get to know your horse.”

  Bishop sat on the rough-hewn bench out the front of his cabin and studied the mountain range Roberto had indicated. It was huge and surrounded by jagged terrain. He didn’t like horses at the best of times but at night, on rocky ground, he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. At least it was tactically sound. The horse was the perfect covert infiltration vehicle and it was unlikely a bunch of cartel thugs or security contractors would be patrolling the desert at night. Nope, only an idiot would be bumbling around out there on a glorified donkey.

  ***

  NEW YORK

  Mitch banked the Gulfstream and leveled out, lining up with the main runway at Westchester County Airport. He dropped the flaps, eased back on the throttle, and touched down with a gentle thud. The tower authorized him to taxi off the strip and onto the apron.

  He spotted the buggy waiting for him. It had a rotating orange light on its roof. He followed it to a clear section of the apron and powered down the engines. He yawned as he pried himself from the pilot’s seat and stretched his legs. It had been a six hour flight from Alaska. Grabbing his bags from the main cabin, he dropped the stairs and stepped out into the pleasant warmth of an afternoon spring breeze.

  The guy in the buggy was waiting. “Welcome to Westchester County, Mr. Henderson.”

  Mitch dropped his bags in the back of the electric cart and shook the man’s hand. “Thanks, mate. Is there anything I need to sort out?” He activated the remote control that closed the aircraft door.

  “No, everything’s good. If you leave me the keys I can have the jet refueled. Your office has arranged for a week’s parking but we can extend that if you need it.”

  Mitch jumped into the passenger seat. “She’s still got plenty of juice. I’ll let you know if I’m going to stay any longer.”

  “Very good.” The man started the cart and drove toward the hangars. “She sure is a beauty. We get a lot of jets here but not many 650s. Is she yours?”

  Mitch laughed. “I wish. She belongs to a very wealthy businessman.” He thanked the driver when they reached the office, signed the parking permit, and walked out the front of the small terminal. There was a yellow cab waiting at the curb. He threw his bags in the back and sat in the front passenger seat. He turned to the scruffy-looking driver. “What, no help with the bags? I hope you don’t think you’re getting a tip, champ.”

  Mirza gave him a big smile. “Mitch, it’s good to see you.”

  “You too, mate.”

  Mirza pulled the taxi away from the curb and they drove out of the airport. “How was the sledding?”

  “Shorter than expected but still a hell of a ride.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  Mitch gave a lop-sided grin. “Not your fault, mate. Tell you what, it’s going to be good to get into the field. You, Bishop, and Saneh have been hogging all the fun recently. So, tell me, what’s been going on?”

  “Did Chua give you an update on Mexico and the phone hack?”

  “Yep, I’m pretty much up to speed on everything except the target building.”

  “It’s not going to be easy to infiltrate. I was invited to a meeting there two days ago. They’ve got twenty-four hour security and the building’s thirty-six stories high.”

  “And the cover you used is blown, right?”

  “Yes, I’d assume so.”

  “I’m guessing the guards are pretty switched on. Not your average bored mall cops?”

  “Correct, and they have very tight IT security.”

  “Yeah, spoke to our man Flash about that. He’s pretty much in love with the guy that tried to ping his bug. Went on about it for at least twenty minutes. Good though, kept me awake on the flight down.”

  Mirza chuckled. “He’s passionate, that’s for sure. Look, if you want a nap now, we’re at least an hour from the apartment in Manhattan.”

  He reclined the seat and closed his eyes. “Good idea. Once we get there I’d like to grab a bite to eat and get eyes on the target.”

  “We can use the cab if you want.”

  “You borrow it from a cousin?”

  Mirza looked embarrassed. “Not all cabbies are Indian, Mitch.”

  “You did, didn’t you!” He laughed. “That’s ace. You’ve got the perfect cover.”

  ***

  Wesley Chambers gazed out the window of his office as he sucked the last drops from a bottle of Gatorade. He had a splitting headache, the result of necking back endless shots of Ciroc vodka the night before. Watching the procession of traffic flowing back and forth across the Brooklyn Bridge, he managed a smile. Last night had been fantastic; an associate had introduced him to two Victoria’s Secret models and after a few drinks in the club they had reconvened to his boat for fun and games. The girl he’d ended up with was a goddess: tall, gorgeous, and with curves that could kill a man.

  A knock at his door interrupted his sordid recollection. “Come in.”

  He spun around as it opened, expecting to see his pretty secretary, Clarissa, with another bottle of Gatorade. Instead, the shaved head and piercing gaze of Charles King greeted him.

  “Working hard I see, Wesley.”

  The investment banker’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

  King strode into the room and looked around. He spotted the framed picture of Nemesis and smiled. “That’s a fancy boat. Must be worth a pretty penny.”

  “More than you’ll earn in a lifetime. I’m guessing this isn’t a courtesy call. What do you want?”

  King lowered his athletic frame onto the plush leather couch in the corner of the office. “I know you think I’m a pain, Wesley, most of you banker types do. All jacked up on your own importance.” He folded his hands in his lap. “You bring in millions of dollars of investment, and that makes you super-important and super-powerful.”

  “Look Charles, I don’t have time–”

  “Shut the hell up and listen,” King snarled.

  He shivered involuntarily.

  “I get it, people like you are vital to the company. It’s the only reason you’re still here. But, what you don’t understand is in this business, there’s a certain need for discretion.”

  “Cut to the chase. What are you getting at?”

  King nodded at the smartphone sitting on Wes’s desk. “Your phone, been having problems with it?”

  “The piece of crap doesn’t work.”

  “That’s because I had it shut down.”

  “What the hell would you do that for? How the hell are our investors supposed to reach me? How am I supposed to work?”

  King rose, walked across, and placed an identical device on the desk.

  “I don’t want a new phone, Charles. I want this one to fucking work. Get your people to fix it and get it back to me, ASAP.”

  King reached into his pants pocket. There was a click as his hand flashed. He punched a black knife through the old phone, pinning it to the polished teak desk. “You let that fat Indian prick hack your phone, you jackass. You’ve compromised our entire Mexican operation because you were off your head on blow.”

  He wished his office chair would open up and swallow him.

  “Clean up your act, Wesley, otherwise you’re goin
g to find out very quickly that Jordan Pollard has no time for you or your antics.”

  He managed a feeble nod as King pocketed his knife and left the office. He slumped back in his chair and wiped his brow with a handkerchief.

  “Excuse me, sir.” His secretary held up another bottle of Gatorade.

  He beckoned for her to enter. His headache had become a whole lot worse.

  ***

  Mitch paid the hawker and took a hefty bite of the hot dog. Disappointment washed over him as his teeth met and the bland processed meat touched his taste buds.

  Mirza chuckled. “I told you. It’s all a scam. Only the locals actually know where to get a decent hot dog.”

  “This tastes like rubber.” He dropped the food into a trashcan.

  They were on the street opposite the Pulvermach building, where both MVI and GES had offices. Mitch looked in through the window of a diner. “Feel like a hot choc?”

  “Sure, why not. You might be able to get something better to eat.”

  The diner was empty and they took a window table. It offered them a good view of the foyer of their target building. Mitch picked up the menu as he studied the foyer. “You’re not wrong, mate. It’s going to be a high risk job to get in.”

  “The only ingress points are the ground floor or the roof. On the ground the CCTV and guards make it next to impossible to get in and out without being detected. The roof has a number of options: air-conditioning vents, fire escape, and a window cleaning gantry.”

  “You think any are workable?”

  “Yes, however, getting onto the roof is a problem. Two options. One, vertical; helicopter or parachute. Two, lateral; rope on from another building. They all come with significant risk.”

  A waitress came over and asked for their order.

  “I’ll have the beef burger and a vanilla milkshake, thanks love,” said Mitch.

  Mirza ordered a hot chocolate. They waited till the waitress had returned to the counter before Mitch continued the conversation.

  “So, Flash is positive he can’t gain access without us physically getting into the actual server?”