Mamba smiled. “Let's do this.” He followed the two trackers into the bush. Both of them were experienced fighters as well as poachers. Recruited from his old Army unit they were experienced bush warriors that would make short work of the park rangers following them.
Less than a hundred yards further they reached a dry sandy riverbed. To one side a rocky outcrop of boulders offered excellent cover for an ambush.
“Follow this river all the way to the road,” said the tracker.
“Yes, I remember,” said Mamba.
The two brothers left them in the riverbed and climbed up to the rocky outcrop. A moment later they were hidden among the boulders. Mamba gave the exposed killing area one last scan then led Colin and Kogo along the dried waterway. The men following them would soon be dead. Even if they weren't the ambush would slow them enough for him to reach the vehicles and escape.
***
Bishop sensed something was wrong when Kruger slowed to a walk then paused behind a thorn bush. Following suit he peered through the branches at the dry riverbed illuminated by the soft glow from the half moon. He spotted Princess at the edge of the clearing. She was crouched low with her head canted in the direction of a rocky outcrop.
“They've doubled back and laid an ambush,” whispered Kruger.
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Princess told me.”
Bishop shook his head. He'd seen Military Working Dogs in action but never witnessed the level of communication Kruger shared with his hunting dog; it was uncanny.
“They're up there in the rocks.” Kruger gestured with a gloved hand. “They expect the dog to follow the scent up the river but she's too smart for that shit, fucking amateurs. We're going to hit them from the flank.”
“Got it.” The adrenaline had already started to pump as Bishop eased the safety off on his R5 and they stalked into the darkness. When they reached the edge of the rocky outcrop Kruger gestured for him to move up alongside. They shouldered their weapons, Kruger gave a low whistle, and Princess started barking. Both men caught the slight movement ahead in the rocks and opened fire, their muzzle flashes lighting up the bush.
“Covering!” yelled Bishop as he took a knee and continued to shoot in the direction of the movement.
Kruger moved forward his weapon held ready. He dropped to a knee and they repeated the sequence. “Covering!”
The stench of cordite filled Bishop's nostrils as he flicked the empty magazine out of his rifle and inserted a fresh one. He kept one eye closed, only opening it between shots, an old trick an instructor had taught him to preserve his night vision. He spotted the flash of a muzzle as he dashed forward. A bullet ricocheted off a rock and Kruger retaliated with a half dozen well-aimed shots. One of the ambushers cried out and the firing ceased.
When Bishop reached the position they had seen movement he spotted a crumpled body. He felt zero remorse as he fired two rounds into the poacher then continued to scan ahead. Spotting a figure dash toward the creek he fired again. His bullets went wide as the man disappeared from view.
“Princess, hunt!” bellowed Kruger as he and the dog gave chase.
Bishop took a split-second to check the first poacher was dead before running in the direction of Princess’s frantic barking. Stumbling on the loose rocks he slipped down the bank into the sandy riverbed.
“Son of a bitch.”
Climbing to his feet he realized he'd rolled his ankle. The pain was sharp but bearable. He ignored it as he limped up the riverbed. As he rounded a bend a horrific scream reverberated through the air. Bishop forgot his ankle as he as he caught up with the others.
The poacher writhed on the ground screaming as he held an arm across his chest. Kruger stood over him, the long-barreled R1 aimed at the man’s face. Princess crouched to one side, her teeth glinting in the moonlight as she emitted a savage growl.
Bishop knelt by poacher’s head. “Do you speak English?” He took a glow stick from one of his pouches and cracked it. In the soft orange glow he inspected their captive.
The poacher looked young, mid-twenties, his face a mask of agony and his shirt drenched in blood. Princess had de-gloved the right arm from midway up his forearm. The skin had peeled back to his knuckles exposing bloodied muscle fibers and bone. He sucked air loudly through gritted teeth.
“Answer the man. Do you speak English?” Kruger barked.
“Yes, yes I speak English. Please, please keep that dog off me. I didn't shoot the rhino, I didn’t shoot it.”
“How many men were with you?” Bishop asked.
“Six, there were six.”
Bishop glanced up at Kruger who nodded. They still had three more to hunt down. “Who's in charge? Who organized the job?”
“Mamba, Mamba Mboya. He's the boss man poacher in Kenya. If you go fast you can catch him.”
“One more question,” he hissed. “Did you fire at the women in the truck?”
The wounded man's pause was all the confirmation Bishop needed. He rose to his feet and held out his hand to Kruger. The South African passed him his suppressed pistol.
“I didn't shoot. I didn't, it was Mamba.”
The snap of the pistol ended his cries as Bishop shot him through the face. He felt nothing as he handed the weapon back and started up the creek. “You heard him, we can still catch them.”
“Princess, hunt,” commanded Kruger and the dog raced off down the riverbed.
Bishop glanced up at the horizon to the east; already the stars had disappeared, replaced with the soft orange glow of a rapidly approaching dawn. He ignored the pain in his swollen ankle and started jogging. If he had his way the men who shot Saneh were not going to see another sunrise. The poacher known as Mamba Mboya was going to die badly.
***
“Come on, you slow shit.” Mamba shoved Kogo in the back as the smaller man struggled to climb the riverbank. He pushed him over the ledge then scrambled up after him to where Colin waited. As he paused to catch his breath he heard the dog bark again. He had assumed the volley of gunfire had killed the rangers and their hound. Clearly he was wrong. “Those fucking idiots.”
“They're dead now,” grunted Colin.
“And we will be too if we don't run.” Mamba pushed past the white poacher and sprinted through the bush. The dog would catch them before they reached the vehicles and he didn't want to be last. Kogo or Colin could battle it out with the rangers; they could be replaced. He managed a smile as he reached the track. His costs for the mission had been cut significantly.
In the soft pre-dawn glow he spotted the trucks a hundred yards away parked off the dirt road. Breathing hard he stumbled in the soft sand at the edge of the track. Behind him the dog barked excitedly. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Kogo and Colin hot on his heels. Grasping his rifle he turned and sprinted for his vehicle.
The dog was louder now, a deep angry bark that shook him as he reached the four-wheel drive. Wrenching open the driver’s door he jumped in and tossed the AK on the passenger’s seat. He pulled the keys from his vest and turned the ignition. It coughed once as the passenger door sprung open and Kogo scrambled in screaming. “The dog, the dog, go, go, go!”
The engine spluttered again. The rear door opened. A savage snarl filled the air and Colin cried out as he dove inside. Mamba glanced over his shoulder as he pumped the accelerator and turned the key again. A massive bull-headed mastiff had one of the poacher’s legs clenched firmly in its mouth.
“Drive, drive!” screamed Colin as the engine finally kicked over.
Mamba jammed the truck into gear and stomped on the accelerator. Checking the wing mirror he spotted two figures crash out of the bush. They were silhouetted by the first fingernail of the orange sunrise. “Get down!”
Bullets smashed through the back window and out through the windshield showering Mamba in glass.
“Jesus Christ!” screamed Kogo as they accelerated up the dirt track.
He held the wheel steady as more roun
ds slammed against the four-wheel drive. They rocketed along the road until the gunfire ceased. He glanced up at the mirror; a cloud of dust obscured them from the attackers. There was no sign of the dog.
“Mamba, Mamba!” Kogo screamed from the passenger seat.
“Shut the hell up.” He peered through what remained of the windshield as he drove the vehicle around a bend in the road.
“Colin's dead.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the crumpled body. A bullet had punched through the old Rhodesian’s skull and blood and gore were spread across the back seat.
Mamba grinned manically. “Do you want to split his share?”
***
Bishop lowered his rifle as the four-wheel drive disappeared in a cloud of thick dust. Searching frantically he spotted another truck parked among the bushes. Sprinting to the other vehicle he reached for the key he’d taken from the dead poacher. It didn't fit. “Fuck!” Then he saw the scooter dumped alongside the road. The key worked and the tiny engine spluttered to life. Twisting the throttle he lurched into the dust cloud behind the escaping vehicle.
The little bike hiccupped and coughed like a drunken smoker as it plowed through the soft sand. He squinted, struggling to maintain visual on the escaping truck. Dust stung his eyes and as the road turned his front tire slid. The bike was dumped on its side throwing him over the handlebars. Rolling in the dirt he leaped to his feet and shouldered his weapon. Dust filled the air blocking his view. He lowered the weapon. Mamba was gone and he had failed Saneh.
Princess appeared out of the haze. She walked slowly toward him with her tail between her legs.
“I know the feeling, girl.” Bishop reached out and patted the dog’s head.
Kruger jogged up behind him. “I'm sorry, Bish. I really thought we had them.”
“Me too. But, we're not done yet. We're going to find Mr. Mamba Mboya and I'm going to kill him.”
Kruger nodded as he took a satellite phone from his chest rig. “First we have to get out of here. You need to call Dom.”
CHAPTER 4
NORTH LUANGWA NATIONAL PARK, ZAMBIA
Bishop handed Kruger back his satellite phone before collapsing against a tree. “It’s going to be a few hours before they get here.”
“Ja, best get some rest then.” Kruger had removed his boots and lay in the grass using his assault vest as a pillow. Princess was sitting under a tree panting, having drunk her fill from water sloshed into the South African’s bush hat.
He unlaced his boots, wincing as he freed his swollen ankle from the leather. The sprain wasn’t severe but had already turned a dark shade of purple. He took a roll of medical tape from his vest and strapped it. Then he leaned against his gear hoping to get some rest.
The adrenalin was long gone from his system but his mind still raced. He looked over at Kruger who had his damp bush hat pulled low over his eyes.
“Kruger?”
“Ja.”
“I should’ve been with her when it happened.”
Kruger lifted the hat from his eyes. “First poaching incident in years, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You couldn’t have predicted that.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand. She’s pregnant and I let her put our child at risk. Two rangers with shotguns and a cheap shitty drone isn’t security against gunned-up poachers.”
An awkward silence passed before Kruger spoke. “Look, I know a guy in Mombasa that’s got his ear to the ground. We’ll deal with Mamba first, then Saneh will get better, and after that we’ll talk to Vance about helping Dom and his boys out.”
“Thanks, brother.” Bishop closed his eyes.
The morning sun had crested the trees and was shining fiercely by the time one of the rangers picked them up. Once they’d piled into the safari truck, Kruger and Princess promptly fell asleep. The hound and her owner snored heavily as they drove along the pot-holed dirt road around the perimeter of the national park.
As exhausted as he was Bishop couldn't sleep. He stared out the window at the bush but his mind wasn't on the wilderness. All he could think about was Saneh. The image of her lying unconscious in the dust was a memory he would take to his grave, but not before he put Mamba in one of his own.
As they pulled into the camp Bishop spotted Dom at the entrance to the lecture hall. The New Zealander strode across to the truck as it slowed and yanked open the door.
“Are you guys OK?”
He climbed out and stretched his legs, testing his sprained ankle. “Yeah, we got four of them. The others escaped.” As he spoke Christina appeared from the building. She looked haggard with dark bags under her eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asked, managing a half smile.
“I'm OK. I just spoke to the hospital.”
“Any change?”
Tears formed in her eyes as she shook her head. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. “I'm so sorry, Aden,” she sobbed.
“Hey, it's not your fault.” Bishop fought back tears of his own as he hugged her. He felt something brush against his leg and glanced down to see Kruger's dog leaning against him. “Hey, have you met Princess?”
The dog greeted Christina with a wet lick that brought a smile to her face and a flurry of pats in return. Bishop managed a smile as he watched the savage hound reveling in the attention. He glanced up at Dom who watched with a sad expression on his face. “Hey, bud, can we talk?”
The New Zealander nodded and led him into the lecture hall. Kruger joined them as Dom opened the refrigerator and offered them each a beer.
Bishop waved it away. “Does the name Mamba Mboya mean anything to you?”
Kruger took a beer and twisted the top off. “Tall black guy,” he added.
Dom nodded. “Yeah, I've heard of him. He's a poacher out of Mombasa; ex-military with access to heavy-duty hardware. You think the boys who did this were his?”
“Not think, we know. Mamba was there, we just missed him.”
“Jesus, that's not good.”
“I need to find him. Kruger and I are heading to Mombasa.”
Dom shook his head. “Maybe it's best to let it go, Aden. These people are killers.”
Kruger snorted into his beer. “We're not exactly Boy Scouts.”
Bishop shot a frown at the PRIMAL operative. “Dom, we need to bring this evil piece of shit to justice. He could have killed Chris and he may have killed Saneh.”
“I've got some contacts down there in the anti-poaching community. They might be able to help.” He picked up his beer and led them outside. “I want you to see something.”
Bishop followed him out the back across the open area to where they had tested the drone. Behind the clearing the rangers had constructed a makeshift pen. Inside lay the baby rhino. The calf rested in the shade of a tree bleating pathetically for its dead mother.
“Poor little fella,” said Bishop.
“His mother was one of three breeding-age females on Luangwa. Now, without her, the program is likely to fail. I can almost guarantee the black rhino will be extinct in Zambia within five years.” He took a swig from his beer.
“Once Kruger and I are done, I can guarantee Mamba will be the one who ends up extinct,” said Bishop.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I can take you down to Mombasa and introduce you to my anti-poaching contacts. You're going to need an extra set of hands.”
He shook his head. “No, Kruger and I will take care of this. You need to stay here with Christina, she needs you.”
“Yeah, and Saneh needs you.”
“I can't do anything for her here. She would want me to hunt Mamba down.” He placed his hand on Dom’s broad shoulder. “I’m not putting anyone else’s life at risk. Can you give us a lift to Lusaka?”
“Yeah, of course.”
They walked to the front of the lecture room where Christina continued lavishing Princess with attention.
“Hey Dom, can I leave the hound here wit
h you guys?” asked Kruger. “I'll come get her when all this is done.”
“Sure, Chris will be happy with that.”
“I'm going to grab some gear. I'll meet you back here in five.” Bishop left the two men watching Christina with the dog and made his way across to the accommodation. He hadn't been back since the accident and the single room bungalow was exactly how he and Saneh had left it the previous morning. Their clothes were still strewn on the bed, dirty dishes in the sink. On the bedside table sat the only photo she traveled with, a picture of them at the beach. Stripping off his khaki ranger shirt and camouflage shorts he dressed in jeans and a plain T-shirt. Sitting on the edge of the bed he grabbed a backpack and stuffed some other clothes inside. As he finished packing his phone rang.
It was Vance. “Hey, buddy, how you doing?”
Bishop could tell from the background noise that the PRIMAL Director of Operations was calling him from an aircraft. “Yeah, I'm OK.”
“Hey, I just wanted to let you know we'll be on the ground in Lusaka at 1330 hours local. We’ll transfer Saneh direct to the medevac bird and get you both back to Abu Dhabi. You at the hospital now?”
“I’m not far away. I'll be there.”
“OK, see you then.”
Bishop terminated the call and grabbed his bag. He left the bungalow and strode across to where Dom and Kruger were waiting next to one of the camp’s hardtop Land Cruisers. “They're going to transfer Saneh at 1330,” he said tossing his bag in the four-wheel drive.
“We better get a move on if we're going to be there in time,” said Dom as he climbed in with one of his rangers.
“You talk to Vance?” asked Kruger when the others were out of earshot.
“Yeah.”
“You tell him we’re going after Mamba?”
“No. He wants me to go back with Saneh.”
“Do you think he’ll authorize a mission?”
“Unlikely, not with PRIMAL on lock down. We leave now and Mamba’s trail goes cold.”
“Fuck that. You and me can have that prick wrapped up within a few days.”
PRIMAL Renegade (A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 8) (The PRIMAL Series) Page 5