PRIMAL Vengeance (3)

by Jack Silkstone

  Garang did not seem to notice and he moved across to Jonjo and Mirza to inspect the new AK. Jess was left sitting by the fire with Bishop.

  "I hope it's all to your satisfaction." Bishop gestured towards the backpack.

  "Yes. Thank you so much. I don't think I've ever seen a medical kit that comprehensive. I could operate with what's in that bag."

  "Yeah, you can amputate a leg using that kit."

  Jess raised an eyebrow. "But you're not a doctor."

  "Not really. I dabble. More by necessity than choice."

  "I guess in your business you see a lot of suffering."

  "More than any man's fair share."

  There was a pause and Jess stared into the fire. Then she looked up at Bishop and asked, "Do you have a family back home worrying about you?"

  "No, not any more. What about you?"

  "Just my mother. My father died when I was little."

  "How does your mother feel about you being in Africa?"

  "She's always worried, but she knows this is what I want to do."

  "What you're doing, it's a pretty selfless act."

  "Is it? I mean, why are we really here? To fulfill some inner need to justify our existence? To make a difference? The world thrives on selfishness, Aden." She turned her head to watch Garang and the other men. The guards had joined the inspection of the weapon. "Everyone has their motives."

  Chapter 19

  Juba and SFF Village, South Sudan

  Bishop had set up a basic office in the safe house. He sat on a folding chair, his state-of-the-art laptop open on a cheap plastic table. The little shack Mirza had rented suited their needs despite the meager facilities. It had an enclosed garage for the Wildcat and was a distance from the town center and most of the local activity.

  His first business was to email Mitch the equipment order. From Addis Ababa in Ethiopia, Mitch immediately confirmed he had most of the gear and could make the delivery. With that part of the operation in order, all Bishop needed was to wait for Mirza to get back from his search for another vehicle.

  As Mirza scoured the city for a four-wheel drive, Bishop used his laptop to pull up imagery of the coordinates Garang had given them. His computer had already hooked in through the satellite node in the Wildcat and downloaded the latest regional imagery direct from the Bunker's servers.

  The SFF base was a small village on the bank of a river. A dirt track ran through the center of less than thirty grass huts. Bishop noted a football pitch in the middle of the village; the open space would be useful as a landing zone for Dragonfly. The village was isolated enough that the aircraft could approach without attracting undue attention. He sent a quick follow up email to throw in a couple of soccer balls into Mitch's delivery.

  The village's river cut through what looked like half a huge crater. Millions of years ago a meteorite must have slammed into the earth at an angle, creating a huge ridge of high ground to one side. Over the years weather had broken down the other side of the crater until all that was left was a half ring of rocky ground that bumped up against the river.

  Bishop marked the image on his screen, using a program to place defensive symbols on the graphic. The river was a natural obstacle protecting the western flank. The rocky outcrops that horseshoed the eastern flank provided excellent early warning and defense. The only infiltration points into the natural fortress were the openings that the river had cut into the basin and the track that paralleled it. He could see why Garang and his men had chosen this village as their base of operations. A small group of fighters could easily defend it against a larger force.

  Mirza returned after an hour, a brand new Hilux pickup parked outside the front. Finding a decent truck had been easy since he had been willing to pay a premium.

  They went north immediately, Bishop in the Hilux, Mirza in the the Wildcat. They paid little attention to the obvious poverty as they drove out of Juba and and into the African grasslands. This was Africa. Buildings were mostly shacks and the cars on the dirt roads were barely serviceable. There was no sign of oil money in this part of the country.

  Bishop led as they approached the village. His iPRIMAL was mounted to the dash with velcro, keeping him on the route. A kilometer out they rounded a bend on the sandy track and halted at a checkpoint. Armed guards confirmed they were in the right area and they were waved through.

  From the track the high ground that ringed the village was even more dominant. Rock outcrops jutted into the skyline and ran down a ridge towards the river, flattening out where the rough dirt track followed the riverbank.

  Bishop brought the Hilux to a crawl as they drove though the gap between the high ground and the river. He scanned the ridge; sure enough, there were a number of defensive positions covering the approach. He could not see fighters, but he knew they would be there, ready to turn the pass into a killing zone.

  The village looked the same as the others they had passed through. Mud walled huts, thatched roofs, dust, chickens and cattle penned in yards constructed with branches.

  Children gathered to welcome the new arrivals. Twenty or so malnourished kids swarmed the two trucks. Their yells brought some of the locals from their huts. Tall Africans clad in bright robes approached cautiously. For a medium-sized village there were remarkably few people. Bishop guessed that most of the villagers had left the area; those that remained were probably families of the SFF.

  A fighter clad in camouflage pants, boots, bare chest laden with bandoliers and talismans, waved for them to stop. Bishop pulled the Hilux in next to three older, battered pickups and the SFF UNIMOG truck. Mirza parked the Wildcat alongside and both of them got out. Garang, Jonjo, Jess and a few others appeared from the largest of the huts.

  "Two trucks; this is a good sign," Garang greeted them as they alighted.

  Other SFF warriors spilled out of the shacks and joined their leaders. They were a mixed bunch; some wore camouflage uniforms, others were dressed in jeans. Many had talismans hanging from their necks and gold bands around their wrists. They carried the usual weapons: beaten and worn AKs, PKMs, RPGs and G3 assault rifles.

  The PRIMAL operatives carried their AK104s slung. Bishop was wearing a simple chest rig: a handful of magazines and a few grenades. Mirza opted for a lower profile satchel of grenades and magazines. Bishop called it a man bag.

  "One of them is for your men." Bishop tossed the car keys to the SFF leader.

  He caught them with a grin, strode over to the truck and looked into the tray. The smile faded. "Is this a joke? It is empty. Where are the weapons?"

  "Inbound." Bishop pointed out to the east.

  On cue, Dragonfly roared around the ridgeline and swept low over the township. Every set of eyes was on the craft as it circled wide and began its approach.

  Mirza trotted out on to the soccer pitch, smoke grenade in hand. He dropped the canister on the ground and it spewed out a stream of thick green smoke.

  "Your pilot is mad. There's no room to land here," yelled Garang, waving his hands.

  Bishop smiled.

  Mitch brought Dragonfly in hard and fast. The giant blades spun skywards as it crossed the river. The down wash whipped debris into the air as it swooped down onto the soccer pitch. A wall of dust lashed the watching villagers and SFF men. The blades flattened the instant the wheels hit the dry grass of the pitch. Mitch cut the engines and the cloud of dust settled as the black blades gradually spun slower.

  Fighters and villagers alike ran to the edge of the field, cautious of the sinister-looking blades.

  The side door slid open and Mitch jumped down into the dust. He was dressed in a similar fashion to the other two PRIMAL operatives. A compact P90 submachine gun hung from his shoulder, a matching FN Five-seveN pistol on his hip. A cream-colored scarf was wrapped around his neck, the end cast over his shoulder.

  Mirza stepped forward to greet him. "Welcome to Abyei District, Mitch."

  "Thank you, my good man."

  Bishop greeted the bearded PRIMAL
pilot and all round tech head with a handshake.

  Garang and his fighters tentatively walked over to the aircraft.

  "This… this is amazing!" Jonjo broke the ice as he patted the side of the aircraft. "What is it called?"

  "Oh, she's a humdinger alright," Mitch said. "We call her Dragonfly." Mitch shook the young African's hand. "We'll have to get you up for a flight."

  Jonjo shook the pilot's hand, eyes wide with amazement.

  Bishop introduced Mitch to the group, explaining the role that the aircraft would play in their operations against the Janjaweed. Most of the villagers gained enough courage to approach the tilt-rotor but they stood at a respectful distance as the SFF and the PRIMAL men talked.

  Mitch noticed some of the youths creeping closer and he broke away from Bishop's briefing, climbing back into the aircraft. He returned a few moments later with a large cardboard box. Reaching inside he pulled out a soccer ball and rolled it towards the group of children. They squealed in delight and he gestured for them to take the box. Within seconds children were kicking soccer balls around the PRIMAL aircraft.

  "What about our weapons?" Garang asked suspiciously. "Or is it just toys?"

  "Keep your panties on, old chap, we've got your kit," responded Mitch.

  The PRIMAL team quickly unloaded the aircraft, handing the plastic cases and wooden crates out through the side hatch, stacking them on the field. By the time the aircraft was empty there were two piles, one of wooden crates and the other rugged black plastic cases.

  Mirza dragged one of the plastic cases clear of the pile and opened it. The SFF men gathered around as he removed a SA-18 Surface to Air Missile from the protective foam.

  "IGLA-S, very easy to use. Very deadly to all but the fastest aircraft," explained Mirza. "I can teach you how to use it in a matter of hours."

  "A gift from one of our friends in the Ukraine," added Bishop.

  "Can it kill a helicopter?" asked Garang.

  "It'll blow the sucker clean out of the sky," said Bishop.

  "Very good. What else did you bring?"

  "This pile is for you, my good man," pointed out Mitch. "Four PKMs, a handful of RPG launchers, ten new AK104s and a bucket load of ammo. I've got a few bags of gear in the back as well: chest rigs, radios and the like."

  "And the plastic boxes?"

  "Ah, that's something very special." Mitch opened one of the boxes so Garang could see what was inside.

  "Plastic plants?" The SFF leader looked up. "You brought us plastic plants."

  Mitch pulled the 'plant' out of the box. "It's not a plant, it's a UGS: an unmanned ground sensor. This smart little weed uses a whole bunch of sensors to tell us where the bad guys are."

  "So you plant these near roads and they tell you where the Janjaweed are moving?" asked Garang.

  "On the money, champ. Your men do the planting and we monitor them from back here."

  The scientist opened another box and pulled out a laptop. He powered it up and showed Garang the interface.

  "I dropped a sensor in around the border yesterday. This one is pretty similar, a little tree with a sensor-activated camera. It pinged through these images this morning."

  Mitch scrolled through the pictures; the quality was sharp. The sensor had orientated itself towards a river crossing where a track sloped down into the water. The camera was able to capture stills of vehicles as they slowed to ford the shallow creek. The images showed a variety of trucks and four-wheel drives, most of them laden with Janjaweed warriors.

  "Stop!" Garang jammed a finger into one of the images. "It's him! That fucking murderer!"

  The screen showed a heavily armed jeep crossing the creek. In the passenger seat an Arab had stood up to guide the driver. His face could be clearly seen above the windscreen; it was Sagrib, the man who had beheaded the Dinka chief and beaten Garang nearly to death.

  Bishop glanced at Mitch. "We're going to need more firepower."

  "I've got plenty of stock in Addis Ababa. I'll do another run. Got some new toys that should do the trick." Mitch was using a Lascar hangar in the Ethiopian capital to stockpile equipment and fuel for the operation. "In the meantime there's a fifty cal in this lot for the Wildcat."

  "Sounds good, we need to keep it light and mobile. These guys don't have the vehicles to go head to head with that!" He pointed to the heavily armed jeep on the screen. "Ambushing and dismounted ops are going to be the key."

  Bishop looked up and caught the eye of Jess. The doctor had been hanging towards the rear of the group, silently watching the unloading of the weapons of war. "Throw in some medical and humanitarian supplies as well. We need to earn the trust of the villagers. Clean water and some lighting would probably be a good start."

  "Roger. If I get airborne now, I'll be able to come back in under darkness. I'll grab some cam nets and arm up Dragonfly as well."

  "Good call, I think it's going to get a little hairy around here." Bishop looked at Garang; the man was still fixated on the photo of the Janjaweed leader.

  Chapter 20

  SFF Village, Abyei District

  Word of the arrival of new weapons and equipment spread rapidly and Garang's meager force grew as Dinka warriors returned to the village. With over thirty SFF fighters, there were now enough men for the PRIMAL team to train and conduct defensive preparations.

  Over the next few days Mirza took a small group through the deployment of the unmanned ground sensors. It was a simple process of driving the camouflaged camera stem into the ground and burying the seismic sensors. The men were fast learners and soon they were deploying across the countryside to install the devices.

  Next he ran Jonjo and one of the other fighters through the SA-18. They stood on the soccer pitch going through the firing drills as the former Indian Special Forces operative coached them on how to engage aircraft. Once Mitch returned with the tilt-rotor, he would get them to practice tracking a live target. If they were going to go up against an attack helicopter they needed to have their drills squared away.

  As Mirza prepared the men, Bishop and Garang reviewed the village's defences. The SFF had already constructed the basics; machine gun pits sited on the high ground covered the main approaches. Eventually Bishop would get them to dig alternate locations. More important was improving their early warning capability. They deployed a number of the more sophisticated acoustic and optical sensors capable of detecting movement out to the horizon. The high ground around the village provided a perfect vantage point for the solar-powered devices.

  "Will this thing be able to detect a helicopter?" Garang asked as he helped clear an area amongst the rocks for a UGSs.

  "Definitely. The acoustic sensor will pick up any vehicle sounds and slew the hi-res camera to get visual," Bishop explained as he snapped the pole-mounted sensors into the briefcase-sized base station.

  "Impressive, but I think I will still rely on eye balls."

  "That's smart. Nothing is as reliable as well trained men."

  They finished installing the device and started the short trek that would take them down the ridgeline and back into the village.

  "So what brought you to Africa?" asked Bishop as they walked.

  "My father was born here. He moved to America when I was a little boy."

  "Whereabouts?"

  "I grew up in Detroit but never really fitted in. After school I joined the Army. Did a tour in Iraq then got home and didn't know what to do next."

  "Yeah, I know what that's like."

  "I saw a show on Discovery Channel about what was happening here. My father always wanted to come back but he died when I was in Iraq. He told me stories about this land, the people, the wealth. It was only a matter of time until I left the US and returned to help my people claim what is rightfully theirs."

  "So now you've got a cause—and a beautiful woman."

  "Ha! Jess, she's a dreamer and that's all. Women like her are easy come and easy go."

  "Fair enough. You're committed to the cause an
d that's what counts in my book."

  "Yes I am." He paused as they reached the bottom of the hill. "One thing I haven't asked you, Aden. Once this is over and we have won, will the CIA be able to facilitate meetings with the oil companies?"

  "When we have defeated the Janjaweed we will have set the conditions. It will be up to your government to negotiate but rest assured you will not have to look for the oil companies; they will come, hat in hand."

  Garang contemplated Bishop's words in silence as they followed a goat track through the grassland at the edge of the village.

  "More fighters have joined us." Garang nodded towards two old four-wheel drives parked at the edge of the village. "Word of our CIA friends has spread!" He strode ahead to meet the new arrivals.

  Bishop's brow furrowed. In the last day another ten men had arrived, swelling the SFF ranks to nearly forty warriors and six vehicles. His primary concern was how easy it would be for an enemy spy to slip in with these new men and report to the Janjaweed before they were ready.

  His iPRIMAL buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out activating the alert on the screen. It was one of the sensors located ten kilometers to the north! The 'plant' had detected vehicles and gunfire. He scrolled through the images; they showed two white UN vehicles crossing a creek. Windows on both vehicles were shattered.

  Another alert buzzed in! More gunfire. The image showed two heavily armed Janjaweed jeeps.

  He checked the digital map; the UN vehicles were heading south. Whoever was chasing them was not far behind. Within the next twenty minutes they would be forced to cross a river only five kilometers from the SFF camp. Perfect opportunity for a snap ambush.

  He sprinted into the village. "Mirza, mount up! Garang, we've got Janjaweed to the north."

  The SFF leader snapped out a few commands and men clad in their new chest rigs and carrying their new weapons sprinted towards their vehicles. A PKM machine gun mount had already been welded to the roll bar of the Hilux the PRIMAL men had delivered.