PRIMAL Renegade (A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 8) (The PRIMAL Series)

by Jack Silkstone

  The words did little to comfort him. He put his head in his hands, closed his eyes, and attempted to bring his emotions under control.

  “There's nothing more you can do here, Mr. Barnes,” the doctor said using the name he had given. “You should get some rest. If you like, the duty nurse can organize a hotel and transport.”

  Bishop rose. “No thanks.” He felt like a zombie as he walked out of the hospital into the crisp evening air. Glancing at his watch he calculated that only two hours had passed since Christina had driven the shot-up truck into the camp. Kruger was due to arrive at any moment and if they moved fast there was a chance they could track down the men who had shot her.

  The clatter of a diesel engine caught his attention and he squinted as headlights swung into the parking lot.

  A Nissan truck pulled up alongside him. “Get in,” yelled an Afrikaans-accented voice.

  He opened the door and climbed inside. The man at the wheel was what was commonly referred to in the military as a 'unit'. Kruger's spiked brown hair touched the roof of the shabby interior of the truck and his broad shoulders filled the cab.

  “OK, here’s the plan.” Kruger wasn't one to mince words. “Old mate of mine has a light aircraft waiting at a strip nearby. He’s got us weapons and transport to Luangwa and there’s enough room for Princess.”

  “Who is Princess?”

  Kruger turned to him with a frown. “Princess is a Rhodesian-Mastiff cross. She’s the best hunting dog on the continent.” He jerked his head over his shoulder. “They've got a bit of a head start but if you're keen we can track them down.”

  Bishop turned in his seat and spotted a pair of brown eyes and a wet black nose. “I want these bastards dead.”

  Kruger drove the truck out of the parking lot and accelerated down the dark road. “Dead we can do.”

  ***

  NORTH LUANGWA NATIONAL PARK, ZAMBIA

  Thirty minutes later a Cessna Caravan touched down at the dark airstrip behind the ranger camp at Luangwa. Bishop jumped out of the cabin wearing a South African-style chest rig, carrying a worn R5 carbine. He strode across to the waiting Land Cruiser and climbed in the passenger side.

  “Is she OK?” asked Dom from the driver’s seat. He glanced at their weapons.

  “No, she's in a coma.”

  “I'm so sorry, Aden.”

  Kruger climbed into the back of the vehicle and Princess followed, leaping in beside him. He was similarly equipped as Bishop but carried a heavier R1 rifle.

  “Dom, this is Kruger.”

  The massive South African leaned forward and shook the New Zealander’s hand.

  Dom drove at high speed away from the airfield, through the camp, and out onto the track north toward Mwaleshi Falls.

  “How is Christina?” yelled Bishop over the engine.

  “Pretty shook up. They took her by ambulance to Lusaka.” Dom weaved the two-ton truck through a thicket of trees with the finesse of a rally driver. “Look, I can’t send my rangers with you. They’re not trained or equipped to deal with people like this.”

  “That’s OK. We’ve got it.”

  “I don’t think you understand. We’re talking military training and weapons. These guys are hard-core criminals. They’ll gun you down in cold blood.”

  “Not if we get the drop on them,” said Kruger.

  “You’re seriously going after them?”

  “Yep,” replied Bishop.

  “Then I should come with you, you’ll need an extra shooter.”

  Bishop shook his head. “Negative, we'll take care of it.”

  They drove in silence before he caught a glimpse of lights through the scrub. As they got closer he could see there were vehicles parked beside the riverbank.

  “OK, we’re here,” said Dom as he skidded the truck to a halt.

  “Princess, let's go.” Kruger and the dog leaped out of the cab. The South African surveyed the scene with his weapon at the ready.

  “They killed a black rhino on the other side of the river,” said Dom. “Left her calf.” He gestured to the four-wheel drives parked in the long grass. A team of rangers were clustered around the baby rhino, illuminated by the headlights of the vehicles. “Poor little bugger was hysterical. We're lucky we found him before the hyenas or the lions got to him.”

  “You said there were at least four, with one possible casualty?”

  “Correct. And they’ve got at least an eight hour stomp before they’re clear of the park.”

  “Alright, you stay and take care of Christina and the calf. Kruger and I will run with this.” He stepped out of the truck and skidded down the riverbank into the water. It reached his knees as he waded across. Princess and Kruger were already on the other side. He scrambled up the bank pushing his way through the long grass. A flashlight flicked on and he could hear Kruger talking to the dog.

  “What have you got?” Bishop asked as he caught up.

  The light revealed the corpse of the rhino. Its head was drenched in blood. A hole had been hacked in its snout where the horn once was.

  “Fucking bastards,” Bishop said as he stared at the macabre remains.

  There was a snuffle from the bushes and Kruger aimed the flashlight. Princess had her nose to the ground and was moving in circles sniffing frantically. “Find them, girl.”

  The stocky hound gave a loud snort and bounded off into the bush.

  “She's got them. You ready to run all night?” Kruger said switching off the light.

  “I'll chase them to the gates of hell if I have to.”

  “Well, that's exactly where we're going to send these pricks.” Kruger slapped him on the shoulder. “Half moon, plenty of light. Let’s hope we don't run up against anything that wants to eat us.” He laughed heartily as he trotted off into the bush after his baying hound.

  Bishop paused for a second, glanced up at the stars, and said a quick prayer for Saneh. Then he grasped the R5 with both hands and held it close to his chest as he ran after Kruger.

  ***

  ABU DHABI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

  The G450 Gulfstream was powered up and waiting on the tarmac when Vance strode out from the airport’s VIP terminal. Bathed in floodlights, the green cross emblazoned on the aircraft was a poignant reminder of the mission at hand. He made a beeline to where a lone figure stood at the stairs of the jet.

  Dressed in one of his signature Savile Row suits Tariq Ahmed waited with a grim expression. “Do we know any more?” he asked as he shook Vance’s hand. Tariq, who was PRIMAL’s benefactor, had pulled out all stops to organize Saneh's evacuation. As the owner of Lascar Logistics, an airfreight company with a fleet of aircraft, sourcing the aeromedical jet had not been difficult. However his staff had also arranged the best neurosurgeon they could find to accompany Saneh, and had also convinced the world’s foremost expert on coma treatment to fly in from the UK.

  “There has been no change to her situation. She's stable but no sign of waking.”

  “And the child?”

  Vance frowned. “How did you know she was pregnant? It was supposed to be a secret.”

  “Please, you think Mirza can keep a secret?”

  “I would hope so, all things considered.” Mirza Mansoor, Bishop's operational partner, was currently working for Tariq helping to coordinate humanitarian relief flights.

  “Does he know about Saneh?”

  Tariq shook his head. “No, I didn't want to tell him until he gets back. He's got enough on his plate for the moment. I take it you’re not recalling everyone?”

  “That’s right. We’re keeping this low key. Chua and I are concerned that if we spread the word the team is going to converge on Abu Dhabi. We can't afford that sort of visibility at the moment. It seems harsh but I think it's for the best.”

  A voice from the top of the stairs drew their attention. “Gentlemen, we'll be ready to go in a minute.”

  Vance gave the green-uniformed crewmember a nod and turned back to Tariq. “Thanks for pulling
this all together.”

  “We’re a family, Vance, and families take care of each other. Now go get our girl. I’ve got a coma specialist flying in from London and everything will be ready when you return.” He gave Vance's hand a firm shake and walked toward the terminal.

  Vance climbed the stairs into the sleek white interior of the jet. Along one side were two stretchers with a bank of state-of-the-art medical equipment attached to the wall. At the front of the cabin the medical team was already strapped into their seats. He took his place next to one of them as the door closed and the engines spooled up.

  “Are you the father?” asked the middle-aged woman next to him.

  He pulled his safety belt tight and gave her a grim smile. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  “My name’s Lynne. We'll get your daughter home safe and sound.”

  “Thanks.” Vance glanced out the window as the jet rolled forward. While getting Saneh back to Abu Dhabi and world-class medical attention was his focus it wasn't the only thing weighing on his mind. Another concern was how badly Bishop was going to react to the situation. The PRIMAL operative already carried the weight of his parent’s death along with dozens of innocent lives that he held himself responsible for. Saneh was his rock, his beacon of light in a very dark existence. With her life hanging by a thread it was possible he would go completely off the reservation. His only hope, that Kruger could talk some sense into him before he turned renegade.

  ***

  NORTH LUANGWA NATIONAL PARK, ZAMBIA

  Despite the cool night air Bishop's shirt was damp under his chest rig and his hair was matted with perspiration. He caught up with Kruger as the South African paused to inspect the ground with his flashlight.

  “They're moving slowly.” Kruger shone the light on an area of crushed grass. Ignoring the stiffness in his legs Bishop knelt and took a closer look.

  “Stretcher?” he asked.

  “Ja. You can see where they placed it down. Saneh definitely wounded one of them.” The light revealed a patch of bloodstained grass. “Badly!”

  He touched the grass; the blood was dry.

  Kruger moved the beam behind the stretcher. There were fresh paw prints in the sand. “Princess isn't the only one following them.”

  “They're not her tracks?”

  “No, hyenas. They can smell the blood.”

  A single bark penetrated the darkness reminding them Kruger's hound was still hot on the poachers’ scent.

  “Will they attack her?”

  “Yes, we need to catch up. You good?”

  His knees cracked as he rose. “Yeah.” He cradled his R5 as Kruger secured his flashlight in a pouch and took a quick sip of water. The big man reminded Bishop of a lion stalking its prey through the dark savannah; alert, poised, and lethal.

  “Let's go.”

  Princess barked again and they set off jogging in her direction.

  ***

  Barely a mile away Mamba tilted his head and listened. He was moving at the rear of the column pushing the stretcher crew to move faster. Noise traveled far in the cool night air and he clearly heard the bark of a dog. The noise troubled him more than any hyena. It meant someone was hunting them. “Fuck!” He grabbed Colin by the shoulder. “We need to dump the kid.”

  The lack of a rebuke confirmed that Colin also heard the dog. The stretcher was lowered and he unslung his rifle. “The kid will have to take his chances with the rangers.”

  “No, he'll talk.” Mamba slid the machete from the sheath between his shoulder blades.

  “He won't,” Colin said half-heartedly.

  “You want to risk spending the rest of your life in a Zambian prison? You wouldn't last a week, old man.”

  The boy mumbled something from the stretcher. The sweat glazed across his face shone in the starlight.

  “He's almost dead. I'm doing him a favor.”

  “You're a bloody animal, Mamba,” Colin said as he turned and walked away.

  Mamba knelt down and whispered in the boy’s ear. “Nobody likes a thief.”

  The rhino’s thick hide and horn had dulled the machete’s edge. It smashed rather than sliced through the windpipe. A gurgling emitted from the boy’s mouth and he feebly tried to raise his hands. Mamba drew back and swung harder. This time the blow almost severed the slight neck and blood sprayed. In a few seconds the gurgling ceased and the thief lay silent.

  He wiped the blade on the dead youth’s pants before returning it to the sheath. A hasty inspection of the corpse’s pockets revealed a wallet and mobile phone. The hyenas would consume the rest leaving nothing to identify, he thought as he joined the other men.

  “Now we move fast. If we're not at the trucks by dawn you all lose half.”

  “Boss, that's not––” whined Kogo.

  “Shut up and run.”

  They ran through the scrub with the trackers in the lead and Colin bringing up the rear. Behind them the dog barked again, this time louder. Mamba's lip turned up in a snarl, which transitioned to a smile as he remembered the hyenas. Feasting on the corpse the savage predators would hopefully make short work of the dog. Without the hound there was no way the rangers could catch them.

  CHAPTER 3

  NORTH LUANGWA NATIONAL PARK, ZAMBIA

  Bishop struggled to keep pace with the tall South African as he ran over the rugged terrain. The sandy soil had been replaced by loose rock that shifted under foot and thick patches of thorn-covered bushes. His legs were burning and his lungs screamed but the thought that the men who had attacked Saneh and Christina could get away drove him on.

  He was falling behind when Kruger skidded to a halt alongside Princess. The dog’s hackles were raised and she emitted a low, savage growl, sending a shiver up Bishop’s spine. In the darkness ahead he spotted half a dozen canine-like shapes clustered around something on the ground. Moonlight reflected off white teeth and yellow eyes as the hyenas shifted their attention toward the dog.

  “Fucking hyenas,” said Kruger as he drew a suppressed pistol and fired a round at the ground in front of the animals.

  With their hunched backs, flashing teeth, and a hackling snarl, the creatures reminded Bishop of something from a horror movie. He flicked off the safety on his R5 and prepared to follow Kruger's lead.

  Princess stalked forward, her growl increasing in intensity.

  “Hold.” Kruger fired another round. “Get the fuck out of here!”

  The hyenas were unwilling to give up their meal. The largest of the pack, the alpha, lunged forward snapping and snarling. Kruger shot it neatly through the head and it dropped to the ground.

  Spurred on by her master’s actions the Rhodesian-Mastiff cross leaped forward and the remainder of the Hyenas turned tail and fled.

  He exhaled, releasing a breath he didn't realize he held.

  “Didn't want to have to kill one, but they might have hurt Princess.” Kruger strode past the dead pack leader and shone his flashlight at the object they had been feeding on. It was a body. “Christ.”

  Bishop grimaced as he inspected the mangled corpse. It was barely identifiable as human. Most of the clothing had been ripped off and the torso torn apart exposing the bloodied organs contained within. Most of the stomach, intestines, groin, and a leg were missing.

  “This must be the one Saneh wounded, ja. He looks young.”

  “They left him for the hyenas?” Bishop said in disbelief.

  Kruger aimed his light at the body’s neck. It was almost fully severed. “They cut his throat first.”

  The chuckle of a hyena sounded from the bush and Princess growled. Standing a few yards away she stared into the darkness intently, teeth bared.

  “The body’s still warm,” said Kruger drawing Bishop's attention to the steam rising off the gaping abdomen cavity. “They're not far away.” He snapped an order in Afrikaans to the hound and she focused her attention back to their direction of travel.

  Bishop spotted a glint of metal and bent down to find the c
orpse had a cord around what was left of its neck. Underneath the tattered and blood-soaked shirt hung a key. He ripped it off and stuffed it into his pocket.

  “We'll catch these fuckers within an hour.” Kruger switched off the flashlight.

  Bishop's eyes adjusted back to the darkness as they stepped off after the dog. They weren't more than a dozen yards from the body when he heard it being ripped apart by the hyenas. He felt no compassion for the poacher; there was every chance he could be the one who shot Saneh. Before long he would be joined in hell by the rest of his gang.

  ***

  Every poacher heard the excited bark of the dog when it rang through the night air. By Mamba’s estimates it was only a few hundred yards away and gaining fast. He swore; they might not cover the final few miles before the rangers were on them. Fatigue was taking a toll and Kogo and Colin were lagging behind. Waiting till they reached a clearing he called out to halt. Once the men had gathered he spoke. “They're going to catch us. We need to ambush them.”

  “That's risky,” Kogo managed to say between breaths. “We don't know how many there are.”

  “They're moving too fast to be a large team,” said Colin. “One dog and three or four men at most. They’ll be gathering a bigger party to come out at dawn.”

  “We can handle them,” said the younger of the trackers.

  He addressed the Ugandan brothers. “Both of you take care of it and I'll give you the thief’s share right now.”

  The trackers glanced at each other and nodded. Mamba had appealed to the strongest of their desires, greed. “It's a deal.”

  Mamba reached into a pocket, took out a thick wad of bills, and handed half to each man.

  “I'll stay as well,” said Colin.

  The elder of the brothers shook his head. “No, white man, we can handle this. You go with them to the trucks. Up ahead there’s open ground and a ridge. We’ll kill them there.”