Mirza struggled to re-acquire the helicopter. He glanced over the top of the scope and saw the tiny shape in the distance, lower than before. Aiming downwards, he looked through the scope again, lining up a second shot. The helicopter had dropped and was peeling away. Mirza had only a second before it would evade him.
The big rifle bucked once more as the heavy fifty caliber bullet left the barrel. At the same time, the Pain Train dropped forward.
The helicopter shuddered as the second round slammed into the starboard turboshaft. It detonated, sending the spinning titanium engine blades slicing though the engine cowling and into the other powerplant.
With both engines destroyed, the pilot disengaged the drive, trying desperately to bring some form of control to the spinning rotor blades. The additional strain on the damaged rotor head caused it to shear and the spinning disc ripped off, blades and all. Without lift, the fuselage of the aircraft went into a free fall, gathering speed as it dropped towards the earth.
Khan struggled to his feet. He felt the aircraft drop and caught a glimpse of the transport jet through shattered windscreen. He swore at it in defiance as his helicopter slammed into the side of a ravine and detonated in a huge fireball. Khan, his crates of weapons, ammunition, and two million dollars cash were no more.
“Diving now, diving now,” the pilot screamed. He forced the nose of the immense aircraft down, trying to build speed before it fell from the sky. For a moment the aircraft hung in the air, trying to decide whether to fly or plummet to the earth. With a shudder, it tipped forward, winning it’s battle with gravity. The three working engines screamed and it started to build speed. The loadmaster hit the ramp switch, the wind subsided and the hydraulic pistons slammed it shut.
“Nice shooting, buddy,” the loadmaster said, releasing the straps holding the sniper.
Mirza shrugged off the compliment.
Chapter 59
'Jumper'
Ukraine Airspace, Kiev to Odessa
PRIMAL’s Antonov AN-72, known as ‘Jumper’, was not as sophisticated as the Pain Train. It did have one significant attribute that separated it from the larger Ilyushin transport; it could take off and land on the shortest of runways.
The nimble aircraft could land using deployable parachutes and used its own exhaust gases to generate extra lift on take off. It’s unique design allowed it to conduct covert operations from a small stretch of road or an empty field; an impressive capability for an aircraft the size of a small jetliner.
Bishop, Saneh, and the rest of the team had boarded Jumper in Kiev and were flying on a direct bearing to Odessa. As soon as the jet was airborne, Bishop locked himself in the aircraft’s secure communications cabin, leaving Saneh and the men to prepare their equipment. The close-knit team had taken a liking to the beautiful Iranian and Aleks had assumed responsibility for her. Bishop had to laugh; the big Russian was treating her like his little sister.
The communications cabin was located directly behind the cockpit, alongside the aircraft’s toilet and tiny galley. It took a few seconds for the secure link between Jumper and the Bunker to connect, displaying an image of Chua and Vance.
“So, how’s the team, Bish?” Vance asked.
“Good, guys. Ready and raring to nail that fucker, Dostiger.”
“That’s good to hear, buddy, because this ain’t gonna be an easy one.”
Bishop laughed. “Are they ever?”
“That Philippines gig wasn’t too hard.”
Bishop laughed again. “Fuck you, Vance. I got shot.”
It was Vance’s turn to laugh. “Harden the fuck up.” He winked and smiled. “OK, buddy, I’m sending through the plans for the job in Odessa. You’re gonna be working with Ivan on this one.”
“No problems.” Bishop opened the file that came through on the computer terminal. He looked over the first slide of the presentation, an overview of Dostiger's security at Odessa airport. “Hey, Chua.”
“Yes,” Chua responded.
"Are you nuts? This airfield has over one hundred soldiers guarding it! Last time I checked, I've got four men not forty."
Chua looked hurt. "Go to the next slide, look at the plan. I think you can pull it off."
Bishop's look of concern faded as he flicked through the concept of operations. “Mate, this is bold. I mean there are a few bits that are going to be hairy, but overall it’s pretty damn good.”
A broad smile spread across the Intelligence Officer’s features. He and the PRIMAL team leader rarely agreed on anything. “Thanks, Aden. Oh, by the way, there’s something I wanted to raise with you.” Chua was keen to take advantage of Bishop’s good mood.
“Hit me.”
“I’m a bit worried about Saneh. I know we raised this before, but I think you need to cut her away first chance you get.”
“Chua, it’s alright, mate. I’m all over it. I need her source at the moment. When she stops being useful, we’ll drop her.”
Something in Bishop’s voice and the look in his eye made Chua think there was more to it than that. “You know if she’s exposed to too much, we’ll only have one option.”
“Vance, how did Mirza go with Ice?” Bishop redirected the conversation.
“He did a damn fine job. Slick operator. I had a quick word with Mitch before this.”
“Good to hear. I knew he wouldn’t disappoint. What did Ice have to say?”
Vance interjected. “Bishop, you don’t have much time before you hit the ground in Odessa. If you don’t have any more questions, we’ll have to leave you to brief the team.”
“Yeah, good point. One last thing, can you send me through that data on the Novichok agent? It would be nice to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
“Can do. We’ll send it now,” Vance confirmed.
“OK. If anything else comes up, I’ll call you.”
“Roger. Chua and I will be online the whole time. This is our last chance. The whole team back here is going to be behind you. We’ll be monitoring all police and military networks in Odessa. We also have Dostiger’s aircraft on air traffic control radar. It’s still a good five hours from Odessa and should hit the ground at around 2300 hours your time.”
“Right on. We should have a kicking little reception ready for them by then.”
“OK, good luck. Bunker out.”
The link terminated and Bishop took five minutes to familiarize himself with the finer details of the Odessa plan. It was daring, but he was confident that his small team could handle it. He transferred the data file to the LCD screen in the main cargo hold, locked the door behind him and joined the rest of the team.
“Listen in.” Bishop caught their attention, ready to give his orders. The pilots at the front of the aircraft were listening in via a small camera and microphone built into the cabin. Everybody in the aircraft had an important role to play in this plan.
“Team, I’m not going to lie to you. The plan for this is audacious. Saying that, I have the utmost faith that we can pull it off. The simple fact is, if we don’t succeed, there’s a good chance that thousands will die and Dostiger will once again slip through the cracks.”
“Nothing like a little pressure, boss,” Kurtz grinned.
Using the LCD screen, it took Bishop twenty minutes to outline his orders and give everyone their tasks. The plan had a lot of moving parts and he wanted everyone to understand their individual responsibilities and how they fitted into the bigger picture. Once finished, he opened the floor to questions.
“This plan sounds insane, boss,” said Kurtz, tapping the side of his head.
Bishop nodded, smiling. The German kept speaking. “There are a lot of variables, ja. I mean we’re counting on the vehicles being serviceable, the guards don’t set off an alarm, and Dostiger’s men at the airport won’t have heavy weapons. I think there is a lot of things to go wrong.”
“You’re right, a lot of shit can go wrong. But between us we’ll be able to handle it.” Bishop locked eyes with the
tall German, who nodded.
“Ja,” Kurtz said smiling. “As long as I get to blow something up, it’s a good plan!”
The entire team laughed, breaking the tension.
“Right, guys,” Bishop concluded. “We have about twenty minutes till we hit the deck. Let’s do our final checks. I’ll confirm orders again after we hit the ground and the situation develops a little more.”
The team returned to preparing their equipment. Jumper was pre-loaded with everything they would need: a flying arsenal. Full-faced combat helmets, assault vests, submachine guns, tazers and boxes of ammunition filled the overhead lockers.
Bishop rapidly reorganized his own equipment. He grabbed a fresh set of armor and an assault helmet. He reloaded his pistol and submachine gun, checking batteries, ensuring everything was fully functional.
Once Bishop completed the sequence, he looked across at Saneh, who was sitting with Aleks. The big Russian had given her a spare combat helmet and was showing her how to use all it’s functions. Bishop caught her eye and gestured for her to take the seat next to him.
“The British Secret Service is very well equipped,” Saneh said with a slight smile. “I’m impressed!”
“Is your gear good to go?” Bishop asked seriously.
“Yes. Aleks was just showing me how to use it.”
“OK. Come with me.” Bishop got up and led her to the front of the plane. “I want to show you something.”
He opened up the communications cabin and they squeezed in, Bishop letting Saneh sit down while he stood behind her in the cramped space. The Iranian’s brow furrowed as she read the document displayed on the computer screen in front of her.
“Have you seen this before?” Bishop asked. The Russian datasheet on the Novichok agent was originally written in Cyrillic, but PRIMAL HQ had translated it into English.
“No,” Saneh responded, reading intently.
“I want you to know what we are dealing with.”
“I had no idea,” Saneh said quietly. “I thought this was just another chemical weapon. Something that would cause fear more than anything.”
“Now you understand why we can’t let anyone have this weapon,” Bishop said. “What do you think would happen if your government got their hands on this?”
“We wouldn’t use it!” Saneh said adamantly, turning around to face Bishop.
“At the end of the day, that means nothing,” he responded. “What do you think Israel would do if they knew that the Supreme Council could deploy a nerve agent this lethal?”
Saneh paused, looking away. The both knew the answer to that question.
“What will you do if you secure it?” the MOIS operative asked.
“What do you think we should do?”
She looked directly into his eyes. “It should be destroyed.”
“Easy to say, but I think your masters have other intentions.”
“I’m here to keep that weapon out of the hands of the Guards. That’s all!” Saneh snapped back, wondering about Rostam.
Bishop picked up on the tension in Saneh’s voice. ”I don’t doubt you at all,” he said.
The aircraft pitched forward, beginning it’s descent to Odessa.
She continued to look at him. “You actually trust me?”
“I trust you,” Bishop replied. “You wouldn’t be on this jet unless I did.”
“No, I’m on this jet because my source is your only link to Dostiger.”
True, thought Bishop. You’re the only link to that murderous fucking bastard.
Saneh caught a glimpse of fanaticism in the agent’s eyes as she held out her hand. “As they say, the enemy of your enemy is your friend, so I guess we’re a team, yes?”
Bishop grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. “I guess so. Now let’s get strapped in. It’s going to be a bumpy landing.”
Chapter 60
‘The Farm’, Odessa
Jumper approached the rudimentary airstrip under the cover of darkness, the pilots, using night vision goggles, flying with a blacked-out cockpit. The aircraft came in at a little over stall speed, flaps and air brakes extended, creating as much drag as possible. It cleared the tall pines at the southern end of the strip by under a meter, touching down heavily on the freshly mown grass. The wheels failed to grip and the aircraft started to slide sideways until a roar of reverse thrust brought it under control, a small parachute slowing it to a walking pace in front of a group of dilapidated farm buildings.
The pilots clamped the brakes on the left hand rear wheels, spinning the aircraft to face back up the strip as the ramp lowered. From beside the farm buildings a shadow detached itself, running towards the jet. The figure waved the passengers off the ramp, directing them towards a large barn. As the last person left the aircraft, the ramp closed, the pilots engaged full thrust, and the empty plane lurched forward, bouncing down the rough airstrip. It built speed rapidly and within four hundred meters was airborne, disappearing into the darkness.
The barn was a large one, used to house tractors and farm equipment as well as animals during the harsh Ukrainian winters. Kurtz screwed up his nose in disgust. “One five star hotel to another on this trip, hey, Miklos.”
“Very nice: reminds me of home,” replied the Russian.
“You’re joking, right?” said Kurtz.
“No—yes, I am joking, blockhead. It smells like horse shit.”
Kurtz laughed, dropping his heavy equipment bag onto the straw-covered concrete.
As the team started unloading their gear, the man who led them into the barn identified Bishop and pulled him aside.
Clad in blue jeans and a dark leather jacket, he looked like any other middle-aged Eastern European. There was nothing memorable about him, and if Bishop didn’t know his background, he would have assumed he was just some local off the street. He was actually one of Chua’s deep-cover operatives, part of a network that usually worked independently from the other PRIMAL members.
“Mr Fischer, I’m your man here in Kiev. You can call me Ivan.” The Russian’s softly spoken English was impeccable. “There’s a lot to be done so I’m going to keep this brief.”
“Sure”, responded Bishop. He had never worked with Ivan before, but knew him by reputation. The Russian was trained by the KGB in covert operations and fluent in no less than five languages.
“The GAZ here is yours,” Ivan said, pointing at a battered green van.
Bishop raised his eyebrows as he inspected the Soviet utility vehicle. “With our budget, that thing is the best you could do, Ivan?”
“I realize it may not be as stylish as you are used to, Mr Fischer, but I assure you it is reliable. Inside you will find the ammunition for the armored vehicles. I’ve recced the base and the personnel carriers look like they’re in good condition,” Ivan stated confidently.
“How do you know?” Bishop asked.
“I have a little experience with Soviet-era equipment. The unit is part of a quick reaction force. The vehicles are kept in good condition, but won’t have ammo and may require refueling. Standard Red Army procedure.” Ivan walked Bishop over to the corner of the barn where he had constructed a rough model of the camp on the concrete.
“The guards are in this building here”, he explained, using a long stick to point to a small square of wood representing the hut at the main entrance to the base. “They have already started drinking and are likely to be drunk by the time you arrive.”
“How do you know they’ll be drunk?”
“Because I bought them five bottles of vodka. I told them my son wanted to ride in a tank and that I’d be there tomorrow with him,” he stated, matter of fact. “Trust me. They’re soldiers, they’ll be drunk.” He focused attention back to the model. ”The vehicles are in these sheds here. You’ll need to cut the locks on the hatches and you can refuel them here at the diesel point. Once you’ve loaded the ammunition, you should be ready for action.”
“Sounds workable,” Bishop said. “Are there
any other soldiers on the base?”
“No. The base doesn’t house troops, just the guard force. A team of civilian mechanics are employed to keep the vehicles serviceable, but they won’t be there at night,” Ivan added, pulling a small notebook from his pocket. He flicked through the pages to confirm his numbers. “There are five guards on duty tonight with two dogs in the compound.”
Bishop frowned. “Damn, I hate killing dogs.”
“You can probably stun them with tasers. Your choice, Mr Fischer.” Ivan pointed at another part of the model where he had used colored wool to create a map of the wider Odessa area. “We’re currently located here at the farm; the military depot is seventeen kilometers away.” He pointed with his stick. “Odessa airport is another fifteen kilometers down this highway. There are two GPS units in the GAZ with all the waypoints pre-programmed. I’ll lead you as far as the military base, but from there I’ll have to drive on to the airport to deal with the power supply.”
“We’ll have you on the satellite comms?” Bishop asked.
“Of course. I‘ll give you regular situation updates on the airport.”
“Sounds good. My people in the Bunker are also monitoring the aircraft’s approach, but it’ll be good to have eyes on. So once we have the vehicles, how long will it take us to reach the airport?”
“At sixty kilometers an hour, it takes twenty minutes to drive from the military base to the airport.”
“Sounds about right. Hmmm, timing’s going to be tricky here. Can’t get there early but we need to catch them on the ground before they can transfer the cargo. Who knows where they’ll take it,” Bishop thought out loud. “What about Dostiger, where’s he going to be when this is all going down?”
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