Primal Exodus

by Jack Silkstone

  Knife guy turned and she caught a glimpse of a face twisted with hate as she ducked under his wild slash and punched her stiletto into his thigh. He screamed in agony as she snapped her elbow up into his jaw, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

  Spinning she sized up her next opponent and strode toward him. The thick-necked, muscle-bound thug whipped a baton from under his jacket. “You’re going to regret sticking your nose into this, bitch.” He swung the length of tensile steel at her head.

  Saneh slipped the strike and lunged forward with her blade, stabbing for his torso.

  He was quicker than the other man and slid backward, directly into a devastating sidekick delivered by Bianca. His head snapped forward and he collapsed to the ground.

  “Come with me!” Saneh grabbed Bianca’s arm and dragged her to her SUV. “There could be more of them.”

  As the two women climbed into Saneh’s car, neither of them noticed a figure watching them from another vehicle. The man inside waited till they’d pulled out onto the street before following them from a distance.

  CHAPTER 12

  TEL AVIV, ISRAEL

  Manfred Lisker was sipping from a fresh cup of tea in his favorite café when one of his mobile phones rang. He checked the screen before answering the call.

  “Are you trying to fuck me?” said the voice on the other end. It was one of his men, currently on assignment in Egypt.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Where the hell is my equipment?”

  Lisker’s eyes narrowed. “The shipment didn’t arrive?”

  “Oh it arrived all right. Two crates of god damn bandages and not a fucking rocket launcher among it.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “I unpacked them myself. How the fuck am I supposed to run a covert war without any weapons?”

  “I’ll sort it out.”

  “Make it fast. My people here are getting nervous.”

  Lisker terminated the call then removed the sim card from the phone. Paying for his drink he left the cafe, dropping the phone into a trashcan on the way out. His driver spotted him as he approached and opened the rear door of the armored Mercedes. Once inside he dialed Avi on a secure phone.

  “Tariq didn’t deliver the last shipment,” he said when the call connected.

  “And Mantis didn’t kill her target.”

  “What?”

  “The head of security for Lifebright took it upon himself to try and erase her. Mantis intervened.”

  Lisker gazed out of the inch thick glass at the distorted landscape beyond. “We need additional leverage over them both. I want your people to pick up the boyfriend.”

  “You want him brought here?”

  “No, keep it local. Use the Sakkin fund to establish a safe house and have your people standby. If she pushes back on your direction feel free to motivate her. Where are we on the rest of Tariq’s network of operatives?”

  “Close. We’ve identified several possible locations. The properties belong to shell companies associated with Lascar. I’m waiting on 8200 for target fidelity.”

  “Plan for a contracted solution to neutralize it.”

  “That has potential for unintended collateral.”

  “Correct. We’ll make it look like one of Tariq’s shady dealings has gone south. Once we’re finished, Lascar Logistics is going to be looking rotten to the core. The Sheiks will want nothing to do with Mr. Ahmed.”

  “Giving Sakkin the opportunity to acquire his aviation assets.”

  Lisker contemplated the thought. “Enabling future operations. I’ll discuss it with Ginsberg. Let me know when you have Bishop.”

  “Will do.”

  Lisker ended the call as his car passed through the security gates at Mossad’s headquarters and descended into the underground parking lot. In his profession things didn’t always go to plan. The key was to run multiple lines of operation with enough flexibility to adapt to change. That’s what made him a master at the game.

  ***

  NYAGATARE, RWANDA

  “We should move,” said Bianca as she peered out the window of Saneh’s hotel room. “Everyone will know you’re staying here.”

  “Good point,” replied Saneh as she gathered the few things she’d unpacked and stuffed them into her bag.

  “Thank you again for helping me.”

  Saneh managed a nod. “Those men, are they from the medical facility you told me about?”

  “Yeah, kinda confirms my story, right?”

  “They’re definitely pissed about something. Look, I’ve got to make a few calls.” She threw Bianca the keys to her SUV. “Do you want to wait in the car? It’s parked outside. I’ll be two minutes at most.”

  The Canadian nodded. “I’ve got a place just out of town that we can use.”

  As the door snapped shut behind Bianca, Saneh dialed Bishop’s number on a phone she’d bought with cash at the airport. She paced the room as the number rang and rang. After thirty seconds she ended the call before trying again. The outcome was the same.

  “Bishop, where the hell are you?” For a split second she considered calling the Sandpit and talking to Chua or Vance, but that would put even more of her friends in danger.

  She tried again.

  Still nothing.

  Stuffing the phone in her pocket she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She’d try again later. If Lisker wasn’t already aware that she’d saved Bianca from a hit squad then he soon would be. When that happened he’d send his best people after her and Bishop, unless she assassinated Bianca and sent Lisker the evidence. But, that wasn’t an option now. The Canadian was too much like Aden; hotheaded, altruistic and wanting nothing more than to bring a little justice to the world. If Saneh killed her she’d be destroying everything that she believed in.

  She left the room, departed the hotel via a fire exit and joined Bianca in the SUV.

  “OK, so what’s the course of action?” asked Bianca. “You going to help me deal with these assholes?”

  “Let’s start with getting somewhere safe. Then we can come up with a game plan.”

  ***

  TEL AVIV, ISRAEL

  “This another of your secret spots?” asked Keila when she spotted Asher in the lineup at the takeaway window of a trendy café. He’d called her at work and she’d driven across town to meet with him.

  “This one isn’t much of a secret.” He smiled. “Everyone in the organization gets their coffee here.”

  She glanced through the window at the crowd in the cafe. “I hope you guys sweep the place for bugs.”

  He laughed. “We probably should. What are you having?”

  “We doing takeaway?”

  “Yeah sorry, I’ve only got a few minutes.”

  “Soy latte then.”

  Asher placed the order then they stepped away from the line to wait.

  “So, I wanted to give you a quick heads up,” he said quietly. “We broke the network.”

  “Does Lisker know?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Appreciated.”

  “So, does this get me a second dinner date?” he asked as they waited.

  “Definitely.”

  The barista announced their order and they took the cups from the window.

  “You free tonight? I know a great little place a half hour out of town. Best Greek you’ve ever tasted. I could pick you up at eight.”

  “Sounds great.” She smiled coyly as she left him and started back to her car. As soon as she was in the driver’s seat she opened the glove compartment and selected a phone from the dozen inside. What she was about to do was utterly against all protocols and could be construed as treason. She paused with her finger hovering over the keypad. Screw it, she couldn’t let Lisker win them all.

  ***

  REQUENA, SPAIN

  Bishop had only just kicked a pair of battered work boots from his feet when he heard
his burner phone ring from the kitchen table. He lurched inside, stepped over Daisy who was stretched out on the floor, hit answer and pressed it to his ear.

  “Aden, your secure comms have been penetrated. You need to warn your team.”

  He instantly recognized the voice as Keila’s.

  “What…?”

  The call ended and he glanced at the screen. He had three missed calls from a number that he didn’t recognize.

  Daisy let out a bark. He opened the cupboard under the sink and tore a Glock 19 from where it was taped. The dog’s barking gained in intensity as he press-checked the pistol, confirming there was a round in the chamber.

  A gas grenade smashed through the window and bounced off the far wall. The smell caught him by surprise; he expected the sting of tear gas not the bitter sweetness of a sedative. “Daisy, come.”

  Staying low he held his breath and grabbed the dog’s collar, dragging her out of the kitchen into the bedroom where there was a door out to a patio. He’d left it open a few inches to let the evening breeze in. He pushed the dog toward the opening. “Daisy, go run.”

  She let out a low whine then nosed the door open and disappeared outside. A split second later Bishop heard her bark followed by the snap of a suppressed weapon. Diving through the gap, he rolled, raised his pistol and fired four rounds in the direction he’d heard the shots. Bullets hissed past him as he scrambled for the cover of a low stone wall.

  Rounds ricocheted off the rocks and snapped through the bushes. Bishop recognized it as suppressing fire and reoriented. The assault force came from around the corner of the cottage. He hit the lead operative with two rounds to the chest, bowling him over. Another back-peddled as he fired and Bishop hunkered below the stone wall.

  A third man appeared in the doorway that he and Daisy had escaped through. Heavily clad in dark green armor with a riot helmet, he raised a shotgun. Bishop rolled onto his back and fired at the figure’s head. His volley of 9mm bullets slammed into the heavy polycarbonate face shield.

  The figure staggered and the shotgun boomed. Bishop flinched as a baton round bounced off the stone pavers. He fired another two shots then dove over the wall into the orchard below. Bullets slapped the olive and almond trees as he climbed to his feet and sprinted away from.

  “Daisy!” he yelled frantically between breaths as he crashed his way through the orchard. A bullet nicked his thigh and he staggered. Falling he threw out an arm and grabbed a tree trunk.

  He could hear footfalls as he checked his leg. The bullet had gone straight through the meaty outer of his thigh. He ignored the searing pain and pulled out his phone. Punching a memorized number into it he waited for the call to connect before uttering a single word. “Exodus!”

  “Get your hands up!” The shout came from the top of the orchard. Bishop considered making a run for it but didn’t think he’d get far. He pocketed the phone and let the Glock hang from his finger.

  “Drop it.”

  The pistol fell to the ground as a second and third man appeared, all armed with suppressed assault rifles.

  “On your knees, hands behind your head.”

  Bishop winced as he followed the directions.

  “There’s that fucking dog,” one of the men said as they approached.

  “Daisy go!” Bishop yelled.

  “Shut the fuck up!” was the last thing he heard before something hit him in the side of the head and his world went black.

  ***

  TEL AVIV, ISRAEL

  The Sakkin Industries private jet banked gently as it left the runway at Tel Aviv international airport and climbed toward its cruising height. In the main cabin Manfred Lisker sat in a comfortable armchair with a touch screen extended. Behind him a pair of Sakkin technicians sat with their own screens wearing headsets.

  “Manfred, I hope you’re making good use of the jet,” said Ginsberg from the screen. His voice was being projected over a pair of noise-cancelling headphones that the Mossad officer was wearing.

  “Thank you for making it available.”

  “My pleasure. I’ve considered your proposal regarding Lascar Logistics’ specialist fleet.”

  “And?”

  “I did not realize their Priority Movements Airlift wing was so well equipped. I think it would serve Sakkin’s interests perfectly.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Indeed. However, the price would have to be right.”

  “It will be.”

  “Excellent, I’ll be in Tel Aviv in a week. We can iron out the details.” Ginsberg’s face disappeared.

  As the aircraft reached cruising height Lisker’s secure phone rang. The aircraft’s techs had linked his devices to the onboard network.

  “Avi, tell me good things.”

  “They’ve broken the network. The location in Abu Dhabi matches up and I’ve got a contracted asset standing by. I’ve also locked down the 8200 team.”

  “And Bishop?”

  “We’ve got him detained.”

  He checked his watch. “I land in Abu Dhabi in twenty minutes. Is everything in order?”

  “They’re ready for you.”

  “Launch on my command.” Lisker ended the call and eased back into the chair with a smile. The pieces were all in place. Soon Tariq Ahmed and Mantis would both be realigned to his objectives.

  CHAPTER 13

  HANGAR 12A, ABU DHABI

  Tariq Ahmed stepped from the side door of the Lascar Logistics Iluyshin-76 dressed in his usual three-piece suit. The instructions from Lisker had been specific. He was to bring a cargo jet to hangar 12A at the international freight terminal and enter alone.

  He stepped through the hangar door and immediately noticed the private jet parked to one side. Opposite it a cargo lifter waited with two crates atop it.

  “Tariq Ahmed, a pleasure to finally meet you in the person.” A figure stepped from the jet.

  Tariq knew from his research that it was Lisker, head of special operations for Mossad. “All mine.” He extended his hand as they met and matched the man’s icy stare.

  Lisker’s hand felt cold as they shook.

  “Thank you so much for meeting me here,” said the Mossad officer as he walked toward the crates on the lifter. “I thought it important to discuss in person the issues with some of the previous shipments.”

  Tariq’s phone vibrated inside his jacket but he ignored it. “What issues are they?”

  “Certain shipments have not reached their destinations.”

  He feigned surprise. “I find that hard to believe.”

  They reached the crates and Lisker stopped to face him. “You either deliver what I tell you to, or there will be grave consequences.”

  Tariq glanced at the open boxes and saw they were filled with 107mm rockets in metal tubes. “My aircraft don’t deliver weapons.”

  Lisker chuckled as he reached the bill of loading from the crate and handed it to him. “If you don’t smuggle what I want I’m going to ship these rockets into Lebanon and hand them over to Hezbollah. Then I’ll make sure this paperwork hits the Counter-Terrorism desk of every major agency in the western world.”

  He glanced at the paperwork and saw Lascar Logistics details marked from top to bottom.

  Lisker smirked. “It doesn’t get more damning than that.”

  Tariq tossed the bill of sale back on the crates. “What can you possibly hope to gain from destabilizing Egypt? Your country wants secure borders, not another Syria or Libya.”

  “Just do what I tell you and your loyal employees get to keep their jobs.” He took a phone from his pocket and hit a button. “Oh, and your private little army. They’re finished.”

  “Army?”

  Lisker raised the phone to his ear. “Don’t act coy Tariq. I know all about Priority Movements Airlift and your hit squad.”

  Tariq felt his heart drop. “Priority Movements Airlift specializes in delivering aid to war-torn regions. They’re not–”

  Lisker interrupted him
with a raised hand as his call connected. “Kill capture is approved, execute,” he spoke into the phone then pocketed it. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

  Tariq swallowed. “The deliveries will be made.”

  “Excellent, I’m glad we could come to an arrangement. I’ll have my people load these and you can get on your way. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some other pressing matters to attend to.”

  Tariq watched the Mossad officer climb into the business jet and the door closed. Then he dug his own phone from his jacket. A single word flashed on the screen.

  Exodus.

  ***

  THE SANDPIT, ABU DHABI

  Bishop’s initiation of the Exodus protocol had already triggered a flurry of activity. Chua had killed the iPRIMAL servers and triggered a shutdown of their global infrastructure. In multiple locations programs wiped their communications and intelligence servers, destroying every trace of the sophisticated network that had served the vigilante organization for nearly a decade.

  Now he, Ice and Vance took care of the physical evidence. They doused every surface with a DNA destroying solution that dissolved the grease associated with fingerprints. Each man had a grab bag ready, a backpack containing cash, cards, passports and phones. Ice took them from the storage cabinet and carried them through to the operations room.

  “We going to burn this joint down?” he asked as he handed Chua his bag.

  “Just the laptops and iPRIMALs,” Chua replied as he lifted each of the portable computers from their cradles and placed them in a purpose-designed bag. Finally, he dropped in his iPRIMAL and passed the duffel to Ice.

  Ice hefted the bag over his shoulder and crossed the living area to the swimming pool. There was a shovel leaning against the pool’s pump house and he grabbed it on the way to the beach. The sand was damp and he quickly dug out a pit. Then he yanked the igniter sewn into the bag and tossed it inside.

  Mitch Freeman, PRIMAL’s chief technician, had designed the burn bag. Its lining contained thermite, a powder that burned at close to five thousand degrees. In a matter of seconds the laptops and phones were consumed in a brilliant white flame that melted the surrounding sand to liquid glass.