"I'm as good as can be expected."
He swallowed. "I hope my contact was able to answer all your questions regarding Zahir."
"Yes, the meet was very informative. I was able to deduce exactly who was working for who."
"I didn't–"
"Shut it and listen! You and I are going to be seeing each other very soon. You cooperate now and it might go easier on you."
"You don't scare me. If you want to talk to someone go see Zahir." He terminated the call as he spun on his heel. "Hurry up and get that gear loaded!"
All three floodlights exploded, plunging the parking lot into darkness. He panicked and hobbled into the factory as fast as his bad leg would carry him. "We're under attack!"
***
Ice lay alongside Vance on the hill overlooking the factory. He watched through his night vision monocular as four SAS troopers appeared out of the trees. Gaz and his team were now in full combat rig. They wore body armor over their civilian clothes, helmets mounted with night vision goggles, and carried suppressed weapons.
He and Vance had been in position for hours. They had inserted with Mitch and a SAS sniper just after midnight. A couple of hours later, they saw Barishna arrive with his men and trucks. The SAS assault force had responded rapidly. Moving from their van, through the forest, they had waited for the sniper to knock out the lights before closing in on the factory.
An AK barked as one of Barishna’s men fired into the night. He took a volley of 5.56mm to the chest and died gripping the trigger.
Ice watched as Barishna disappeared into the factory with a couple of his men.
The four-man SAS team stacked next to the open front door. A distraction grenade flashed and they flowed in. Ice tracked their movement by the continued detonation of grenades. Minutes passed as they worked from the ground floor up. Then a trooper appeared at the loading dock. The IR laser on his rifle flashed three times.
Mitch and the SAS sniper rose to their feet. “That’s us. You yanks coming?”
“Yep.” Ice followed them down the hill. Vance brought up the rear. They met the trooper at the entrance.
“Morning, chaps. We’ve got a lovely little spread on for you today. Four dead shooters, two drugged girls in the black SUV, a shit load of swag, and the boss has got that wanker you’re looking for upstairs.”
“Two girls?” said Ice.
“Yeah, I think they’re local lasses. Not hookers or anything like that. Might be the girls that went missing up near Mitrovica.”
“We OK to go white light?” Ice asked.
‘Yeah, mate.”
He switched on his headlamp. The factory floor was exactly how Ice remembered it. The heavy machinery was still there. Brass casings were scattered across the floor. Except, now the bodies were Albanian mafia not Serbs.
“You hear anything about missing girls?” he asked Vance as they climbed the stairs.
“Yeah, it was in the morning briefing. Militants kidnapped two Albanian girls from Mitrovica.”
“Why would Barishna have them?” Then it clicked. “He’s trying to re-ignite the conflict.”
Vance grunted. “I bet my left ball Zahir’s behind it.”
The upper level had changed slightly. They passed through a heavy cage door and walked into a prison of sorts. There were mattresses strewn on the floor along with discarded items of clothing. The entire level smelled like urine.
As they walked down the corridor, Ice glanced inside one of the rooms. It was draped in plastic sheets with a stainless steel table in the middle. There was an ice machine in the corner and a stack of foam boxes against one wall. A makeshift surgery. “Sick bastards.”
At the end of the corridor, a SAS trooper waited. He gave them a nod. “Your man’s in here.”
Ice stepped through the doorway. Gaz was standing over the prisoner, his night vision tubes flipped up over his helmet. Barishna sat on a stained mattress, squinting into the powerful beam from the SAS operator’s flashlight.
“You mind if we have a moment alone?”
“No probs, mate.” Gaz closed the door as he left. Vance leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
“You tried to kill me,” said Ice.
“No, it was Zahir who wants you dead, not me. I’ve always thought of you as a friend.” Barishna’s voice was more high-pitched than usual.
Ice turned off his headlamp and squatted so they were face to face. “You’re a liar. You telling me you had nothing to do with it? You telling me you’re not Zahir’s right hand man?”
The criminal nodded eagerly. “I just move the weapons.”
“Just weapons? No body parts, no girls?”
“No, none of that. Just weapons. I don’t even need the money. I work for Zahir because if I don’t, he will kill me.”
“So you don’t know what he’s up to?”
Barishna shook his head.
Ice cocked his head to one side. “Is that right? So you know nothing about the Albanian girls drugged in the back of your car?”
Barishna shook his head again. This time less enthusiastically.
He reached down and grabbed the lapels of Barishna’s jacket. Rage flowed through him and he hauled the little man to his feet. “You’re a goddamn liar.” Effortlessly he lifted the Albanian off the ground, twisting his fists to lock the jacket tight. Vance held the door open as he carried him out the room and strode into the plastic-sheeted surgery.
“Put me down. It hurts!”
He threw him onto the stainless steel table with a crash. “Oh, this’ll hurt alright.” He pinned the man’s throat with one hand, pulled a Gerber Covert knife from his rig and snapped it open.
Eyes wide, Barishna reached up and grabbed the hand clamped to his throat. “Stop, Stop,” he said hoarsely, choking.
Ice slipped the blade under the man’s shirt. Barishna screamed as the razor sharp edge sliced through the garment. It fell open from neck to waist exposing his pale bony body.
Ice smiled as he traced the tip of the blade along his flank. “This is where I’m going in, to get your liver.” He glanced over his shoulder at Vance who was watching in amusement. “I need a bucket of ice.”
“No, no, I’ll tell you everything,” Barishna gurgled.
Ice released the grip on his throat. “What’s that?”
“Zahir, he’s planning to assassinate the leader of the LDK, Daçi.”
“When, how?”
“In the morning. A car bomb outside his office. He’s making it look like the Serbs did it. Just like the shooting in Mitrovica.”
“Mitrovica?”
“Daçi’s town. Zahir’s boys have been causing trouble, but everyone thinks it’s the Serbs. He wants to step in as the strong man. Win votes.”
“You’re going to tell me everything you know.”
Barishna nodded. “I’ll trade you my life for his?”
“You want to kill him?”
“No, I want you to. I’ll tell you everything, but you have to promise to kill him. Otherwise, I’m a dead man and you may as well kill me now.”
Ice pretended to consider the appeal. He had every intention of killing Zahir, but did not need to tell Barishna that. He leaned in close. “It’s a deal. But, if you hold anything back, I’m going to take your balls.”
***
The team gathered in the ground level of the factory. A map lay on top of one of the ammunition crates. It was marked with the locations Barishna had revealed. Ice had just finished using it to brief them on Zahir’s assassination plot.
"That's some heavy shit," said Mitch.
"This fella’s playing for keeps," added Gaz. "So what’s the plan?"
Ice looked at Mitch. “You dealt with VBIEDs before?”
“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”
"Alright, so we need to interdict the bomb before it gets to the city. Can’t trust KFOR to do it, the risk of compromise is too high.”
Gaz nodded. “True, if Zahir gets an inkling, he’ll hide
the bomb, and then we’re buggered.” He inspected the markings on the map and pointed to a rural area to the west of the warehouse. “They’ve got it stashed here, yeah?”
“Yes, it’s a silver taxi. Being assembled at an abandoned Serbian farm on the other side of Brabonic. That’s an hour away from here, and the bomb’s due to be moved early this morning.” He nodded at his partner. “We might not make it in time, so Vance is going back to get one of the agency choppers in case we need to hit it on the move.”
"Do we need to contact Ibrahim Daçi and his crew? An ex-regiment bloke is running his protection detail. I can give him a call."
"Good drills. Keep it general for now. We’ll update them depending on how we go finding the VBIED." Ice glanced at his watch. "OK, it's 0500 now. We're cutting it fine. We need to roll.”
Vance pointed to the black SUV. “Are there keys in the truck?”
“Yeah, mate,” Gaz said. “But there’s also the two drugged-up girls.”
Vance picked up his carbine. “I’ll drop them at the US clinic. They’ll be kept under wraps until it’s over. Ice, when you’re in loc, confirm coords. I’ll get the bird there ASAP. Oh, and Gaz, don’t let him go charging into any gunfights.”
Gaz gave a thumbs-up. “Wilco.”
As Vance drove away in Barishna’s SUV, the rest of the team piled into the van.
“What about limpy?” Gaz asked Ice.
“He’s coming with us.”
CHAPTER 11
Zahir woke well before dawn. It was still dark outside when he pushed the sleeping girl aside and rolled out of bed. Wrapping himself in a gown, he walked down to the living room.
Kreshnik was sitting in one of the armchairs, cleaning his Skorpion machine pistol. “Everything is ready, boss.”
He yawned. "Have you heard from Barishna?"
"He’s dumping the girls now."
"And the bomb?"
Kreshnik checked his watch. "Murat will be leaving with it shortly.”
"Excellent. I have my meeting with the OSCE later this morning. I take it you’ll be leaving soon.”
“In a few minutes. The men are eating.”
"Call me when it’s done.” Zahir turned to the stairs. “I'm going to make sure I'm relaxed.”
As his boss disappeared upstairs, Kreshnik reassembled the weapon, slotted it in his shoulder holster, and threw on his jacket. He marched into the dining room and shot his three men a hard look as they continued to stuff their faces. "Finish up and meet me at the van."
He turned into the kitchen, ignored the two servants and opened the door to the wine cellar. He stomped down the rough-hewn stone stairs and yanked a cord to turn on the light. The bulb illuminated racks of wine bottles on one side, and an arsenal of weapons on the other. He eased a Zastava sniper rifle off the wall and rubbed the wooden stock with his hand. Then he checked the magazine was full, rolled it in a prayer mat and turned off the light.
Walking out of the house, he crunched across the gravel, into Zahir's garage. It housed three cars and a gray van. He pulled open the rear door of the van, laid the rifle in the trunk, and slammed it shut.
He leaned against a workbench and took out a pack of cigarettes. He knocked one from the packet then thought better of it. Pulling out his phone, he punched in a number. “Murat, it's me. Go now. Get it in place early."
His men appeared. “We’re ready,” Imer said.
He put the cigarettes away. “Get in the van. We’re leaving.”
***
The Renault van tore along the rutted track at breakneck speed with a SAS trooper at the wheel and Gaz navigating from the passenger seat. In the back Ice, Mitch, and the other operators clung to the bench seats. Barishna lay on the floor with his hands and feet secured, tape over his mouth.
Mitch gave Ice a slap on his shoulder. “Bit pale there, champ? Not going to be sick are you?” He had a broad grin, the only one who wasn’t feeling carsick in the windowless cabin.
Ice swallowed. “No, I’m good.”
Gaz looked up from his map, turned, and shouted over his shoulder. “Two minutes, lads.”
The troopers made final adjustments to their equipment and checked their weapons. The man closest to the door reached out and grabbed the handle.
“One minute. Double story house and a barn. Team One hits the house. Team Two the barn. Mitch, you and Ice stay with the van.”
Mitch gave Ice a thumbs-up.
“Thirty seconds. Remember, we’re looking for a silver taxi.”
Ice grasped the pistol grip of his Mk18 with one hand and the bench seat with the other. He exhaled, attempting to clear the nausea of riding in the back of the van for an hour.
“Ten seconds.”
The van bumped over a pothole and skidded to a halt.
“Go! Go! Go!”
The side door slid open and the troopers hit the ground running. Ice got out, took a knee behind the corner of the van and covered them.
Gaz, the driver and one of the other troopers were already at the front door of the house. A well-oiled machine, they slapped a charge on the thick wood. A moment later there was a bang and they disappeared through the shattered hole. Ice aimed his weapon up at the second level of the building, covering the windows.
The other three men had moved to the barn. The doors were already open and they approached cautiously before entering.
Ice lowered his weapon and checked a message on his phone.
“Update from Vance?” Mitch asked.
“He’s ETA with the bird in five mikes.”
They waited in silence until Mitch’s radio crackled.
“Both objectives secure,” transmitted Gaz. “Dry hole, no Taxi. Mitch, Team Two needs you at the barn.”
“Roger.”
They jogged over and Harry met them inside.
“What have you got?” Mitch asked.
“I’d say we just missed them. Rigged at least a couple of hundred pounds of bang.” Harry nudged a pile of wax paper with his boot and pointed to a stack of empty wooden crates.
Mitch picked up a piece of the paper and sniffed it. “Semtex.” He looked around the cluttered room and spotted a bench. Turning on a lamp, he inspected the odds and ends strewn across it. “Someone’s wired up a firing circuit.” He held up the remains of a garage door remote. “Radio-initiated, simple but effective.”
“But they got away,” Ice said.
Another of the troopers was inspecting the ground in front of the open doors. “Fresh tire tracks. The tread pattern’s still damp.”
“Mitch, with me.” Ice ran to the van where Gaz and the other half of the team were waiting.
“Any luck?” the SAS leader asked.
“We missed it.” Ice unfolded his map on the seat of the vehicle. He found their location and traced the route to Pristina. He had already studied the map closely and knew the vehicle bomb would not go by the main roads. They wouldn’t risk being stopped at a checkpoint. That meant travelling by back roads, and there were multiple routes. He jumped into the back of the van and tore the tape from Barishna’s mouth. “Which way will they go?”
“I don’t know,” he whined. “Kreshnik planned those details.”
The dull beat of rotors filled the air as Ice cut the tape on the prisoner’s legs and dragged him from the van.
“That our boy?” asked Gaz as a utility helicopter circled the farm.
“Sure is. We’ll intercept the taxi on route.”
Gaz nodded. “Harry and his team will take the van back to Pristina.” He turned to Mitch and the other two SAS troopers. “Righto, lads. Grab your kit and get on the bird. We’re going hunting.”
***
Ice sat in the co-pilot’s seat of the Bell 412 as it followed a back road to Pristina. He had his map on his lap and was switching between tracing his finger along the route and searching out the window. “Our target is a silver Skoda taxi,” he relayed to everyone on headsets.
The pilot banked the chopper, following th
e road Ice had pointed out. “This shouldn’t be too hard. All I saw on the way down were tractors and trucks.”
Vance’s voice came through over the headsets. “Problem is it could already be there by now. Or they might be using a different route."
“Do you want me to radio through to KFOR HQ?” the pilot asked. “Have them lock down the city?”
Ice reevaluated the risk, If KFOR got involved, there was a chance Zahir would be tipped off, and the car bomb hidden. On the other hand, if they could intercept it now, they might be able to keep Zahir and Kreshnik in the dark a little longer. “Give it a few more minutes.”
“OK buddy, but no more,” said Vance.
Ice’s eyes were glued to the landscape. He checked every vehicle as the seconds counted down. He spotted tractors, trucks, and a van, but no silver taxi.
Vance leaned forward from the cabin and tapped the pilot on the shoulder. “Time’s up. Radio it in.”
“Pristina Traffic Control, this is Uniform November Three Four requesting a patch to KFOR HQ, over.”
As the tower responded Ice caught a glimpse of a silver car disappearing into the forest. “Wait, I’ve got visual.”
The pilot brought the chopper in low and banked it onto its side, giving the team on Ice’s side a clearer view.
“You sure? I can’t see shit, mate,” said Gaz. Like the other troopers he sat with his legs hanging out the open side door, leaning forward as far as his helo-strop allowed.
“It’s in there. Bring us to a hover where the road leaves the woods.”
The pilot swung the Bell into an s-turn that took them to the far end of the forest. Ice’s stomach lurched as the chopper flared and dropped into a hover over the asphalt.
In the back of the chopper, Vance grabbed Barishna and held him half out the open door. “Is that it?” he screamed as the car appeared.
Barishna nodded his head vigorously.
“Target confirmed,” Vance broadcast over the intercom.
The pilot turned the chopper and brought it alongside the car. The driver lowered his window and fired a pistol.
PRIMAL Inception (The PRIMAL Series) Page 8