PRIMAL Nemesis (Book 2 in the Redemption Trilogy, A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 6) (The PRIMAL Series)

by Jack Silkstone

  “OK, good luck.”

  “You too.”

  Bishop tilted his head sideways to stretch the muscles in his neck. Glancing at the clock he did a quick calculation in his head. Pershing would have had nearly a full six hours on the ground by now. However, Bishop had an advantage. He knew the group the former PRIMAL operative was working with. He hoped like hell that would be enough.

  CHAPTER 21

  KINGSTON, JAMAICA

  Chua shut down his laptop and slid it inside his backpack. It was the last of the PRIMAL equipment left in the hangar. Kruger and the boys were loading the rest of the gear into the Gulfstream. All that he and Flash were going to take on the boat were their laptops, a secure satellite bearer, and some personal effects.

  Kruger stuck his head around the office door. “Chua, we're good to go as soon as Aleks gets here. We’ll wait on onboard Sleek.”

  “Right, his flight just landed so he won’t be long.” He shouldered his backpack and joined the rest of the team in the hangar. Saneh and Mirza were waiting with Flash.

  “You sure about this?” asked Saneh.

  Chua nodded. “Yeah, I've got plenty of experience on boats. We'll be fine.”

  “Speak for yourself, bro. I want to go in the jet,” said Flash.

  Saneh laughed. “Mirza will take you both down to the tender. I'm going to head over and meet Aleks. Stay safe.”

  “I will. OK, let’s go.”

  “Look after him, Flash,” said Saneh.

  The overweight analyst shrugged. “Who’s going to look after me?”

  Mirza helped Flash with one of his bags. “Wesley is already onboard,” he said as he led the two intel guys through the darkness to the beach. “I secured him in one of the cabins, even though he's well and truly on-team. He knows if he screws this he's done for.”

  Mirza pulled up the wire fence and helped them slide their bags under it. As Chua shimmied under he spotted the Nemesis’ RHIB tethered on the beach.

  “The boat’s only a few hundred meters offshore. You can just see it.”

  Chua searched out to sea and in the faint glow of first light he could just make out the dark shape of a hull. “Thanks, Mirza.”

  “Good luck.” With that he disappeared into the darkness.

  “This is a pretty wild plan, man,” said Flash as he dropped his bags in the boat. “Surely we could have jumped a flight back to Hawaii or something.”

  Chua helped him push the tender out past the surf and jumped in. “We can’t take Wesley back to the island. What’s more, staying mobile makes sense when GES are looking for us.” He started the engine and waited for the analyst to climb onboard.

  “Yeah, but seriously, bro. Two intel geeks and a banker in a boat. It sounds like the start of a bad joke.”

  Chua laughed as he spun the wheel and jockeyed the throttle, launching them out of the surf. The sun was starting to peek over the horizon spreading an orange hue over the clear water. It was a beautiful time to be on the sea. For a moment he relaxed and the tension of commanding a multi-faceted covert operation washed away.

  ***

  FOZ DO IGUACU, BRAZIL

  Kurtz woke at six having slept like a log. His lumpy mattress at the hotel in Foz Do Iguacu hadn’t bothered him. For the first time since leaving PRIMAL he felt like he was part of a team again. The work in Rio had been satisfying but was nothing like this. Arnie and his boys were warriors like him and they planned and rehearsed just as professionals should. He dressed, pulled on his boots, and downed the protein shake he'd bought the night before. Grabbing his backpack, he headed downstairs to wait.

  At 0700 sharp two vans, one white and one red, stopped outside the hotel. Arnie got out of the second vehicle and tossed him the keys. “You pumped, mate?”

  Kurtz grinned as he caught them. “Ja, let's do this.” He got in and turned the ignition. Arnie buckled himself into the seat next to him. Two of the other team members were in the back.

  They crossed town and drove onto the road that led to the brothel. As they passed one of the resorts Kurtz noticed a compact white sedan following them. Thinking nothing of it he concentrated on keeping pace with the lead vehicle. As they slowed to turn off the road the car overtook them. Kurtz gave it a cursory glance as it shot past. As the white car disappeared around a corner he parked out the front of the brothel alongside the lead van.

  “OK lads, two minutes in and out.” Arnie pulled a balaclava over his face and leaped out. Kurtz waited with the engine running and watched as the two men in the back followed Arnie. One of them carried a sledgehammer but the front door was open and they streamed in.

  He glanced in the rear-vision mirror and thought he saw the same car that was following them pass by again. He shook his head. White sedans were common with tourists.

  True to his word it only took Arnie two minutes. He and the others reappeared with six terrified young girls and bundled them into the vans. Arnie climbed back in and slammed the door. “OK, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  An SUV screamed into the parking lot and skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust, blocking the way out. A second vehicle pulled in behind the first, armed gunmen pouring from it as it stopped. Within seconds there were surrounded, with assault rifles pointed at them.

  “What the hell?” Arnie reached inside his backpack and pulled out an extendable baton.

  “No, you can't fight them,” said Kurtz.

  “Get out of the vehicles!” screamed one of the gunmen in a US accent.

  “We need to do as they say,” Kurtz said calmly.

  “Fuck that, they're probably one of the sex-trafficking gangs. We get out and they'll kill us.”

  Kurtz shook his head. “No, they're Americans.”

  “Get out of the cars!” The gunman repeated. To reinforce his point he fired a single round into one of the tires of the lead van.

  Suddenly Aleks’s message made complete sense. His former partner wasn't trying to find him for PRIMAL. He had been trying to warn him he was being tracked. Kurtz pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in the number he had committed to memory. He didn't dare lift the phone to his ear so he held it low. “It's me, Kurtz. I'm in Foz Do Iguacu and I've been compromised.”

  Arnie frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You need to get out of the car now, Arnie. Get everyone out. These people won't hurt you, they're after me. Tell them you only just met me. Tell them you need to get the girls to safety.” Kurtz left the phone connected and dropped it in his pocket.

  There was another shot as the gunman blew out another tire on the van.

  Arnie clenched his jaw and opened the door. “Mate, I hope you're right. OK, everyone get out.”

  Kurtz waited till they were all clear. Then he popped his own door, but instead of getting out, he dropped the shifter in reverse and stomped on the accelerator. The van shot backward, smashing a chunk out of the side of the brothel. Bullets hit the back of it as it scraped alongside the building and down toward the river. Kurtz thrust the door open and dived out as it gathered speed. He rolled once and sprung to his feet, sprinting behind the brothel. The van continued down the slope. Bullets shattered the windows as it dropped off the bank and splashed into the river.

  Kurtz sprinted for the dock on the riverfront. A small wooden workboat with a large outboard motor was tethered alongside. He grabbed the line tying it to the railing and jerked it loose. There was yelling coming from the car park and he knew he had seconds before the gunmen were on him.

  The engine started with a single pull. He twisted the throttle and sent the boat roaring along the river. Bullets snapped and hissed over his head, one striking the side of the hull as he crouched low. In a matter of seconds he was a hundred yards up the winding river and out of sight behind the leafy trees that lined the bank.

  Kurtz took a deep breath and pulled the phone from his pocket as he kept the boat pointed up river. “Is anyone there?”

  “Yes, it's Frank. Bi
shop isn’t far away. Where are you?”

  Bishop’s name should have angered him but all he felt was relief. “OK, I'm heading north along the river. My point of departure was a small villa five miles north from the town center.”

  The roar of a powerful engine caught his attention and he glanced over his shoulder to see a silver aluminum-hulled boat gaining rapidly. Crouched in the front was one of the shooters.

  Bullets lashed the water and snapped through the air. He slipped the phone back in his pocket and grabbed the side of the boat as he wrenched the tiller sideways. The little boat banked hard in a ninety-degree turn. The rifle barked again and Kurtz felt the round as it cracked past him. There was an almighty bang and the outboard motor exploded, spraying him with shards of hot metal. The little wooden boat washed off speed. The pursuers blasted past before circling back. A woman was at the helm. The armed man in the bow had his weapon aimed directly at him.

  “Get your hands up!”

  Kurtz felt the warm sensation of blood dripping down his arm. A splinter from the engine had nicked him. “I can't, you shot me,” he snapped back.

  The man slung his rifle as he moved to the back of the boat next to the woman. “You're going to get in this boat and kneel in the bow with your hands behind your back.”

  Kurtz glared at him.

  “Do you understand?”

  He nodded.

  The helmswoman skillfully brought her vessel alongside. As he stepped across he feigned a fall and dropped face first into the aluminum boat. Shielding his hands with his body he slipped the phone under a pile of life jackets. Swearing he picked himself up and knelt.

  A set of flexicuffs were drawn tight around his wrists and a hood was dropped over his head.

  “We got him,” reported the woman.

  Kurtz felt a boot kick him between the shoulder-blades, knocking him face first into the hull. As he lay with his hands bound behind his back, panic and confusion assailed him. Who were these people and what did they want? What would happen if PRIMAL couldn't find him?

  ***

  LASCAR ISLAND

  Thousands of miles away in the operations room of the Bunker, Frank still had Kurtz’s phone on speaker. The audio was muffled. “It's still on the boat.” He glanced across to Vance who was sitting in his command chair.

  As soon as the call had come in over the emergency contact line Frank had called for Vance. He'd managed to talk to Kurtz for a few seconds before the missing operative had gone silent. The audio feed was streaming on the Bunker’s speakers capturing all of the gunshots, the yelling, and the roar of the engines. He had also sent the number of the incoming call to the intel team.

  “OK, so what do we know?” asked Vance.

  “He said he was just outside Foz at a villa five miles from the town center.” Frank placed a bubble on the overhead imagery displayed on the wall.

  “There, right on the river.” Vance used a laser pointer to identify a likely building.

  “OK, let’s say he entered the water at that point then went north in a boat. Judging by the noise I'm guessing at least a 150 horsepower outboard. At full throttle he would have been capable of 30 knots. The time from launch to the engine being shot would have taken him this far.” Frank drew a line on the digital map. “That's when we hit a problem. He was intercepted and cross-loaded. We have no idea which direction he was taken.”

  The dull drone of the boat’s engine coming in via Kurtz's phone stopped and there was a thud followed by the sound of people leaving the boat. Then there were footsteps and silence except for the sound of lapping water.

  “They've offloaded him somewhere with a wooden dock,” said Vance. “Work out the distance they could have traveled in either direction and start searching. Where the hell is Bishop in all this?”

  Frank zoomed the map out. “He's about twenty minutes out of town.”

  “And where is the fix on the phone? Damn, I wish Chua or Flash were here.”

  He opened a comms line with the remainder of the intel team next door. “What have you got guys?”

  “Sorry Frank, without assets on the ground the best we can do is a cell phone tower.”

  Frank recognized the voice as one of Chua's analysts, Nate. “Send us what you’ve got.” A file came through and Flash dragged the overlay onto the digital map. A thick curved band appeared centered on a spot to the north of the city. The edge of it intersected the river for about a quarter of a mile.

  “That's our search zone,” said Vance.

  Frank zoomed in. The banks of the river on the Brazilian side led to lush green fields. In the entire section there were only two piers reaching out into the water. One of them had a boat shed.

  “That's it. Send the location to Bishop,” bellowed Vance.

  “Roger.” Frank’s fingers raced over his keyboard.

  “How long till the CAT is airborne?”

  “Aleks should be at the terminal now. They should be in the air in fifteen minutes.”

  “OK, and Chua, when will he be online?”

  “He and Flash are onboard and underway. Chua has requested we manage all command and control from here. He's focusing on the MVI takedown.”

  Vance nodded. “Right, let’s get some more staff in here. Things are about to get high speed.”

  CHAPTER 22

  KINGSTON, JAMAICA

  Aleks was the first to emerge from under the arrivals sign inside the terminal. He’d landed on the first flight of the day and had beaten the crowds by traveling light. He felt weary and his ribs still hurt from his battle with the American brute in Germany. Business class seats were never able to completely mitigate the jet lag from crossing time zones.

  Saneh caught his eye and flashed him a smile. His mood instantly improved. He strode forward, wrapped his arms around her lithe frame, and lifted her high off the ground. “Saneh, how good it is to see a friendly face.”

  She laughed. “Put me down you big oaf.” He placed her back on her feet and she punched him in the shoulder. “You've been missed, brother bear.” She took a security pass out of her pocket and clipped it to his jacket. “We need to get moving, the others are waiting.”

  “Have you found Kurtz?”

  “We’re close. Bishop has tracked him to the tri-border area.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “As soon as we're onboard Sleek.”

  She led him out the terminal, across the parking lot to the entrance of the general aviation section. As they walked along the access road Aleks noticed two dark-skinned men sitting in a parked car. To his trained eye they were out of place, like plain-clothes police on a sting.

  “Are you OK?” asked Saneh.

  He shook his head. “The two men in the car we passed. They look like police.”

  Saneh glanced back over her shoulder at the vehicle. “You're right. We need to hurry.”

  They showed their identification at the security gate and strode across the taxiway past a parked fuel truck toward a row of rusted hangars. Aleks discreetly glanced over his shoulder as they walked. The men in the car hadn't moved. Out the corner of his eye he spotted flashing blue lights. They were rapidly approaching.

  “Saneh, run! Get the jet ready for takeoff.” Aleks turned and sprinted back to the fuel truck. He wrenched open the door to the cabin and climbed inside. He found the keys in a folder in the center console and started the truck. The police vehicles were almost at the gate; a convoy led by a black armored vehicle.

  Gunning the engine of the truck he accelerated, wrenching the wheel in the direction of the security checkpoint. The gates started to roll open. Aleks honked the horn as he planted his foot on the accelerator. As he was about to hit the gates he pushed open the cabin door and jumped clear.

  The truck hit the gate with a deafening crash. Aleks rolled and staggered to his feet. He sprinted away in the direction of the runway.

  Behind him a megaphone blared. “Stop, stop, or we will shoot!”

  He ignored the
order and continued to run. Bullets snapped off the tarmac.

  “We will shoot you!” echoed the voice.

  He stopped with his hands in the air, looking for Saneh or the PRIMAL jet. The doors of one of the old hangars were wide open and the interior empty. He turned to face the police with his hands held over his head.

  The fuel truck had jammed the gates stopping the police vehicles but a handful of black- clad SWAT operators had squeezed passed and were moving toward him with rifles raised.

  He caught a glimpse of a small object sail over his head and strike the fuel truck. It detonated with a thump and the fuel tank blossomed in a huge explosion. The blast knocked the policemen off their feet and Aleks spun, shielding his face. He looked up to see Sleek taxiing along the tarmac with its boarding stairs down. The scream of jet engines rose in a crescendo as the jet turned onto the runway and prepared for takeoff. Saneh was crouching at the door holding a grenade launcher.

  “Come on, Aleks!” she yelled.

  He sprinted for the jet, ignoring the commotion behind him, and leaped onto the stairs.

  “Nice of you to join us,” said Kruger as he hauled him inside and slammed the door shut.

  “Hold on!” yelled Mitch from the cockpit as they gathered speed with a roar.

  Aleks strapped himself into a spare seat. He smiled broadly as they screamed off the end of the runway. “It's good to be back!”

  ***

  King got out of the Jamaican police car and slammed the door. A hundred yards down the road the fuel tanker was still blazing as a pair of fire trucks doused it with foam. Adrian's local Special Operations Unit had completely bungled the job. Their surveillance had been compromised, they'd selected an obvious infiltration route, and they had no backup plan. They were about as special operations as a bunch of role-playing airsofters. In fact he had seen better tactics at his twelve-year-old son’s paintball tournaments.