Primal Exodus

by Jack Silkstone

  “I suggest that in the future you email your concerns and refrain from wasting my time.”

  Bianca’s frustration had peaked by the time she reached the street and flagged a cab. There was no doubt in her mind that the Lifebright Foundation was involved in child trafficking and most likely testing. What she needed now was a plan to shut them down.

  ***

  THE SANDPIT, ABU DHABI

  Chen Chua’s iPRIMAL rang as he was halfway through a set of twenty-five chin-ups. The ringtone was barely audible over the heavy metal music blaring from the gym speakers. He touched his chest to the bar attached to the wall of the Sandpit’s garage before dropping nimbly to the ground.

  “Hang on!” he yelled as he answered the phone, fumbling with the stereo remote and killing the music. “OK, go.”

  “Chua, it’s Kurtz.”

  “Hey, how’s the mission going?”

  “We’ve hit a dead end.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help out?”

  “That’s the reason I called. The only lead we’ve got is a satellite phone number for a human trafficker called Krenich. According to a local source he has some of the girls.”

  “How many of the girls have you recovered?” Chua left the garage and climbed the stairs to the kitchen.

  “Fifty-five of the original seventy.”

  “That’s pretty good.”

  “Not good enough. Can you track the number?”

  Chua took a protein shake from the fridge. “We’ve shut down all SIGINT operations now that Flash is working for Lascar Logistics.” Flash was previously PRIMAL’s technical analyst, a genius when it came to all forms of electronic warfare and signals intelligence. “However, I do have a few other options to explore. Leave it with me for a few hours and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Danke.”

  “You guys are doing great work out there. Those girls wouldn’t stand a chance without you.”

  “So Vance isn’t angry?”

  “Not at all. You’re keeping it real discreet and professional. This is exactly the type of operation we’ll be doing going forward. Now, let me chase up that number.”

  Chua pocketed his phone, shook the protein shake and wandered out through the building’s open glass doors into the intense Middle Eastern sun. He spotted Vance and Ice at the far end of the swimming pool. The two men wore only shorts and were finishing a heavy deadlift session followed by a plunge into the icy water. Both were in impressive condition for their age. With extensive scarring across his lean torso and face, plus a prosthetic hand, Ice resembled a muscle-bound cyborg. Vance was even more heavy-set, the culmination of decades of powerlifting.

  “You finished your circuit already?” jibed Vance as Chua approached.

  “We’re not all gorillas like you two. I got a call from Kurtz.”

  “They need backup?” Ice asked, eagerly.

  “No. They need some intel assistance. They’ve got a satellite number that they want traced.”

  “You tell them we’ve shut all our tech down?” asked Vance.

  “Yeah, but what if we get Bishop to hit Keila up for support? She’d have the basic tools at her fingertips.”

  Vance grabbed a towel from the back of a sun chair and used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Does that compromise our operation?”

  “No. The number isn’t linked to the boys and if they run some tight counter-intel drills, it’ll let us know if we can trust Keila.”

  “Well, she does owe Bish one after Iraq.”

  “And the rest,” added Ice. “I’m happy to help the team out if they need it.”

  “Workout’s too tough for you, brother?” asked Vance.

  “Please, I warm up with what you max.”

  Chua rolled his eyes. “So I’m good to pass the number to Bishop?”

  “Yeah, make it happen.”

  ***

  CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA

  As the Sikorsky S-76C business helicopter descended Manfred Lisker adjusted his glasses and peered out the side window at the structure that blocked his view of Cape Town. The skeleton of a modern skyscraper glistened in the setting sun as the light reflected off steel girders and sleek glass panels. Clearly Sakkin Industries wasn’t short on cash, he thought as the chopper touched down.

  Lisker had been attending a conference at the Israeli embassy in Pretoria when the CEO of Sakkin Industries had extended him an invitation to the new facility. He’d expected a low-key complex on the outskirts of the city, not the monolith that towered above him.

  Daniel Ginsberg greeted him as he stepped down the helicopter’s stairs. As usual, the CEO looked as if he’d stepped straight from the pages of a Ralph Lauren catalog. The man never bothered with business attire.

  “Very impressive, Daniel.” He nodded toward the tower. “I didn’t realize you were so heavily invested in Africa.”

  “Africa is the future,” Ginsberg replied. “A continent of boundless opportunities. Let me show you around.”

  He led Lisker across the helipad, down some stairs and into a series of transportable buildings. The first room they entered was brimming with engineers, computer screens and had blueprints, images and diagrams attached to the walls.

  Ginsberg paused in front of an artist’s impression of the completed structure. “The building will house offices, a command center and a technology and research complex. From here we’re going to be able to run our activities across the continent.”

  “Activities?”

  “Sounds less hostile than security operations.”

  Ginsberg tipped his head toward a door at the side of the building. “Through here.” He punched a number into a keypad on the door and led Lisker into his office.

  “How are you tracking with Jarvis?” he said once the door closed.

  “That will be dealt with shortly.”

  “Excellent, in the meantime I’ve got another small problem that I need you to deal with.”

  “What type of problem?”

  “Someone is getting too close to the Proteus project in Rwanda.”

  “Rwanda?”

  “Yes, we’ve got a shell company called the Lifebright Medicine Foundation that has a facility on the border. It’s where Doctor Copeland’s research is being continued. The problem is someone is sniffing around.”

  “Who?”

  Ginsberg took his phone from his pocket and aimed it at one of the screens on the wall. The screen came alive, displaying images of a woman in uniform.

  “Her name is Bianca Paquet and from what little information is available online we’ve been able to deduce that she’s former Canadian military.”

  Lisker adjusted his glasses. “Exactly how much have you been able to find?”

  “Just a handful of images.”

  “No social media?”`

  “No, no banking, no social media.”

  “Then she’s either special forces or intelligence.”

  “Either way, we need her taken care of.”

  “And your people are not up to the task?”

  Ginsberg shook his head. “It would seem not. These situations are the exact reason why I’m funding your capability.”

  “I’ll have it taken care of.”

  “Excellent. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll have the helicopter drop you at the country club. I’ll meet you there in an hour. I’ve got a few things I need to deal with.”

  “I’m happy to wait. I’ve got several calls to make.”

  “You can use my office.”

  “Appreciated.”

  Lisker waited till Ginsberg had left before calling Avi from his secure phone. “Re-task Mantis. I’m sending you the target details. Use another asset to deal with Jarvis.”

  “Got it.”

  “And Avi.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Once Mantis is done, terminate her.”

  “My pleasure.”

  CHAPTER 9

  DUBAI, UAE

  Bish
op took containers of Thai food from a paper bag and placed them on the hotel room’s corner table. “Babe, food’s up.”

  Saneh emerged from the bathroom clad in skin-tight active wear. “I’m going to hit the gym. I’ll eat after.”

  “I thought we could have dinner together?”

  She crossed the room and touched his shoulder. “I’ve been on my feet all day. I need to stretch out.”

  “The food will get cold.”

  She made for the door. “I can always order more.”

  As she reached for the handle Bishop’s phone chimed. She paused as he checked it.

  “It’s from Chua, he wants me to contact Keila.”

  She turned. “Why?”

  “They want a phone number tracked. It’s for Kurtz and Kruger in Africa.”

  “Yeah, well I’m sure you can convince her to do that.” Saneh left the room and walked along the corridor toward the hotel elevators, her fists clenched. Bishop’s willingness to work with the Mossad agent infuriated her. Not because she was jealous, but because she knew they couldn’t be trusted. Her current predicament was evidence enough of that.

  As she strode along the corridor she passed two men dressed in grey coveralls pushing a cleaning cart. Both looked Middle Eastern or at least Mediterranean, not something you usually saw in the Emirates. Pakistani or Bangladeshi migrant workers handled most of the labor.

  The elevator doors opened as she stabbed the button. Stepping inside she selected the gym floor and waited for the doors to close. As they slid shut one of the cleaners glanced over his shoulder at her. Their eyes met and she detected a hint of recognition in them.

  As the elevator dropped, it clicked. They had to be a Mossad team sent to kill Jarvis. Adrenaline kicked in as she reached for the button to the next floor, but something held her back. If she compromised the team then the next assassins would come for her and Bishop, and they wouldn’t stop till everyone they knew was dead. Her hand shook as the floor indicators dropped. Jarvis’s face appeared in her mind and guilt assailed her as she realized she held an innocent man’s life in her hands.

  “Damn it!” She stabbed the button for the floor below. The elevator stopped. Doors opened and she sprinted for the fire stairs. As she climbed her phone let out a high-pitched shriek, Jarvis’s duress alarm.

  It took her under a minute to reach the floor. Bursting out of the elevator she sprinted toward their client’s suite.

  The door was open, the cleaning cart down the corridor. She entered and found Bishop kneeling over a convulsing Jarvis, his palms slamming down on the man’s chest.

  “Med kit.”

  She raced next door to their suite and grabbed a backpack. Unzipping it on her way back to the room she laid it out alongside Jarvis.

  “EpiPen by two.” He grunted between compressions.

  She took two of the 300-milligram injectors from their sleeves, twisted the caps off and jammed them one after the other into Jarvis’s convulsing thigh.

  The CEO’s back arched and he gasped for air as the chemical coursed through his veins into his heart. But, then he slumped back to the ground as Bishop ripped out the leads for the pack’s internal defibrillator.

  Saneh knew the move was a last ditch attempt to restart the man’s heart. If the adrenaline hadn’t worked there was very little that the machine could do.

  “Clear,” Bishop announced, before punching a yellow button.

  It let out a soft whine then sent a charge pulsing through Jarvis’s body.

  “Fuck!” screamed Bishop as it failed to register a pulse and cycled through again. “More adrenaline.”

  Saneh prepped another pen and handed it to him. “You know the risk.”

  He turned to her and she saw the frustration etched into his features. Tears welled in his eyes. “Yeah, I know.” He punched the pen into Jarvis’s leg.

  This time the body barely responded.

  “Aden, he’s gone.”

  The defibrillator let out another warning and delivered an additional shock to the body as they heard shouting from the corridor. Paramedics appeared at the doorway with a stretcher. Bishop must have called them as soon as he found Jarvis.

  “We think he’s been poisoned or had an allergic reaction. He’s had three EpiPens and we’ve attempted resuscitation,” declared Bishop as they entered.

  “We’ve got it from here,” one of them said.

  “OK.” Bishop stepped out of the way, grabbed Saneh’s arm and dragged her into the corridor. “Did you see anything on your way out? The killers could still be in the building.”

  “There was a cleaning crew.”

  “That has to be them. We need to lock down the hotel and check the security footage.”

  “That is being taken care of.” The voice belonged to the hotel’s head of security. “My people are liaising with the police as we speak. I suggest that you return to your suite and be prepared to give a statement.”

  Guilt assailed Saneh as she reached out and took her partner’s hand. “Aden, that sounds like a good idea. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

  Bishop glanced back at the door to Jarvis’s suite. “I need to call Tariq. Then we’re getting out of here.”

  ***

  DUBAI, UAE

  “The cleaning crew you saw, what did they look like?” asked Bishop. He and Saneh had provided statements to the Abu Dhabi police and returned to their suite.

  “Two men, average height and build, Middle Eastern appearance,” replied Saneh.

  “And that didn’t set any alarm bells ringing?” he snapped. “When have you ever seen an Arab on a cleaning crew?”

  Saneh folded her arms. “I’d had a long day and I wasn’t paying that much attention.”

  He shook his head. “We always pay attention.”

  “I wasn’t the one who assessed the hotel as low risk.” The look on his face told her the comment hit hard. “Look, we both need to clear our heads. I’m going for a ride.”

  “Tariq wanted…” Bishop thought better of the comment and stopped. “Good idea. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Tariq had been beyond furious when Bishop had told him Jarvis had been murdered under their watch. He’d immediately suspended them from all Lascar related activity and advised them to stay in their apartment until he sorted things out. That didn’t stop Bishop from wanting to know what had gone wrong.

  Fifteen minutes later and Saneh was gunning her Ducati along a desert highway. Clad in armored leathers and helmet other drivers had no way of telling a woman was piloting the superbike. It gave her freedom in a city where, despite progress, females were still treated like second-class citizens.

  It took her a matter of minutes to cover the fifteen miles between the city and a small outlying settlement. Swerving onto an off-ramp she downshifted, relishing the snarl of the powerful engine as she slowed the bike to a manageable speed.

  She spotted a gas station ahead and turned off the road into the sprawling facility. Cruising past the pumps she pulled in alongside a non-descript SUV and let the bike sit on its stand. Over the ticking of the cooling engine she heard the faint whirr of a power window and turned to face the driver’s side of the SUV.

  “You’ve got a new assignment,” said Avi from inside the air-conditioned comfort of the vehicle. He handed Saneh a printed photo. “Her name is Bianca Paquet and she’s currently located in Nyagatare, Rwanda.”

  She took the photo and studied it from behind her visor, jaw clenched. The woman was pretty in a hard no-nonsense kind of way. She had grey eyes with wrinkles around them that suggested she smiled a lot.

  “Neutralize her.”

  “And then what?”

  “You come back to Abu Dhabi.”

  “So you can task me to kill another person like Jarvis? Some innocent pawn caught up in Lisker’s bullshit plans?”

  “Please, you didn’t have it in you to kill him. You’re slipping Saneh, and it’s going to cost you. Now get this job done, or do you n
eed me to remind you what will happen to your small family if you don’t.”

  Saneh raised her visor so that Avi could look into her eyes. “You go near Aden or his dog and I’ll kill every last one of you.”

  The Mossad operative smirked. “That’s the Mantis we know and love.”

  She scrunched the photo into a tight ball and tossed it through the window of the SUV. Then she dropped her visor and started the bike. Applying the front brake she whipped the rear wheel around in a haze of smoke then roared across the parking lot and back out onto the road. The bike screamed as she sent it blaring back onto the highway.

  Weaving the bike through traffic she hammered south away from Abu Dhabi. Fueled by rage she pushed the bike harder than she’d ever raced before. The edges of her vision blurred, the speed pushing everything from her mind as she clung to the bike. Part of her wanted the motorcycle to clip one of the trucks and end her life. But, she knew that Lisker would terminate Bishop anyway. At this point in time her compliance with his tasking was the only thing keeping them both alive.

  Slowing she turned off the highway, looped onto an overpass and rejoined the gleaming asphalt road back to Abu Dhabi. Traveling just under the speed limit it took her half an hour to return to their apartment complex. Unable to face Bishop she spent another two hours working on the bike in their garage before she finally returned to the high-rise penthouse.

  It didn’t surprise her to find that Bishop and Daisy weren’t there when she opened the door. He often blew off steam by taking the dog for a run around the Marina.

  She found a note on the kitchen counter. It was short and to the point.

  Need some time to think. Have taken Daisy home.

  There was only one place that Bishop referred to as home; his parent’s cottage outside of Requena, Spain. The message hit Saneh like a punch to the gut. She realized she’d been distancing herself from Aden ever since Lisker had blackmailed her into working for Mossad, but she’d never intended to drive him away.

  She tossed the note on the bench as she fought back tears. The death of Jarvis, Lisker’s new task and now Aden leaving had left her emotionally drained.