“You got a confession?” asked Bianca. “That’s awesome. We can take that to the UN and try to get them shut down.”
All three PRIMAL operatives stared at her.
“That’s not really the way we do things,” said Saneh. “Plus, you’re supposed to be dead, remember.”
“We’re thinking a raid,” said Kurtz.
Bianca nodded vigorously. “Hell yeah.” She gestured to Kurtz’s assault rifle. “Can you get more hardware?”
Kruger laughed. “It’s Africa, we can get anything you want.”
While Kruger and Bianca discussed weapons and an assault on the Lifebright facility, Saneh led Kurtz outside.
“I’ve got to head back to the Emirates,” she said as they made their way to the vehicles.
“OK.”
“I need you to look after Bianca.”
“She seems capable.”
“She is. Will make a good addition to K2, you guys need a little less testosterone.”
Kurtz laughed. “Does she know you’re leaving?”
“Yeah.”
“What does she know about PRIMAL?”
“Nothing. I told her you’re a couple of guys working a contract for a Somali warlord.”
“Not completely untrue.”
Saneh hugged Kurtz. “I guess I’ll see you when I see you. Give ‘em hell.” She wiped a tear from her eye as she climbed into her SUV. As she was about to start the engine she paused and lowered the window. “Oh, and Kurtz. When you speak to Chua or Vance, I was never here.”
He nodded and shot her thumbs up. “Got it.”
As she pulled out onto the dusty African track Saneh kept her eyes on the road. There was no glance in the rearview mirror, no final look at what could be the last PRIMAL mission she was ever involved in. She had a mission of her own and there was every chance it could be her last.
***
BEN GURION INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, TEL AVIV
Keila was minutes from boarding her flight to Valencia when her phone rang. It was Abel with an update. “You’re not going to believe this, but Sakkin Industries just procured Intelligent Responsive Systems, the company of the guy who was murdered in Dubai.”
“Allegedly murdered.”
“Yeah, right. I found an interview with Isaac Jarvis in a business magazine from three months ago. He mentioned that IRS was under attack from an entity attempting a hostile take over. Jarvis mentions that he was fighting it with everything he had.”
“And you think it was Sakkin trying to seize control.”
“Without a doubt.”
“To what ends?”
“Autonomous systems. IRS is the leading developer of the AI required for autonomous robots. Robots that can make educated decisions.”
“Perfect for security?”
“Yep and Sakkin already have several platforms capable of providing autonomous border protection.”
“But what does this have to do with Lisker? Have you found anything tying him directly to Ginsberg or Sakkin?”
“Not yet, but I’ll keep digging.”
A first and final boarding call for Keila’s flight sounded.
“Keep at it. I’ve got to run.” As she cleared the gate and entered the air bridge to the aircraft her mind was racing. What ‘skin’ did Manfred Lisker have in the game with Sakkin? Was he a silent partner or was Ginsberg backing the head of Special Operations for a higher position? If Lisker became head of Mossad then contracts would flow to the security contractor. Whatever the relationship, she was sure that Bishop could shed some light on Lisker’s non-sanctioned activities.
***
LASCAR TOWER, ABU DHABI
Emily glanced up as the door to Tariq Ahmed’s office hissed open and her boss appeared. “Emily, can you please join us.”
She frowned as he turned and reentered his office. She was rarely invited into the penthouse office from which Tariq Ahmed ran his empire, and never had she been asked personally. Tariq was a great boss, but he was also intensely private and the office was his inner sanctum. She was always summoned via intercom and always for a specific task.
Following him into the office she noted that Tariq’s lawyer, who had arrived earlier, was standing alongside the conference table on the far side of the room. There was an array of paperwork neatly collated on the black glass.
“Hello, Emily,” the lawyer greeted her.
“Ali.” She turned to her boss. “Did you need something, Tariq?”
“Please take a seat.” He waited for her to sit before joining them at the table. “Emily, Ali and I have been going over the succession plans for my holdings.”
She nodded, they’d brought her in to witness changes to Tariq’s will.
“As you already know in the event that something happens to me, all my holdings go to Fatima.”
Fatima was Tariq’s wife, an intelligent and beautiful woman who Emily had met less than a half dozen times. She had her own company, a tech firm that specialized in web marketing software.
Tariq straightened his suit jacket. “However, what concerns me is that she doesn’t actually have any experience with the firm. As such I would like to appoint you and Ali as her special advisors.”
“That goes without saying, Tariq. Of course, we would help her make the transition.”
“I want a little more from you than that. I am going to allocate you five percent of the holdings, each.”
She could tell by the surprised look on the lawyer’s face that this was the first she had heard of it too. “Tariq, that’s literally hundreds of millions of dollars worth of stock and a significant amount of control. You pay me more than enough for my services. There is no requirement for anything of this scale.”
“I agree, this is beyond generous,” added Ali.
“This isn’t about generosity. It’s about trust and, along with my wife, there is no one I trust more to steer Lascar in my absence and ensure the prosperity of our employees.”
Emily’s brow furrowed. “With all due respect, you’re sounding a little fatalistic. Is everything OK?”
“Fine. I’m simply reviewing my succession plan. It’s something I do annually. All I need is for you and Ali to review the documents and sign them. Then we can all get back to work.”
She shot Ali a sideways glance and the lawyer shrugged. Taking the folder that Tariq handed her she began to read the twenty-page document. Having studied law at university it didn’t take her long to review and sign the papers. Then she excused herself and returned to her desk.
A quick scan of her calendar confirmed her fears. Succession planning had occurred only a few months earlier in June. For a man who stuck to timings almost religiously, this was out of character. Something was going on.
CHAPTER 17
REQUENA, SPAIN
After an hour of watching Bishop’s cottage Ice was confident that it wasn’t under surveillance. However, he also knew that the residence was empty and professionals had hit it.
Through binoculars he’d spotted a broken pane in one of the windows and splintered wood around the door jamb. Someone had launched gas or a flashbang through the window and mechanically breached the front door.
He scanned the hillside opposite for any sign of a stay-behind surveillance team, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. As he lowered the binoculars he spotted a white hatchback driving slowly along the road that passed the cottage. It was the first vehicle he’d seen since arriving.
The car parked a few hundred yards short of the cottage and a person emerged. Adjusting the focus of the binoculars brought the athletic figure of Keila Bachman into focus. Ice had never met the Mossad operative but he’d read her file and knew her from photos taken by Bishop. Her presence implied that Mossad was definitely involved in the abduction.
He watched as she observed the cottage, then returned to the car and continued her approach. The limited surveillance indicated she had insider information and that the threat had long passed. Returning to
his own vehicle, a rented SUV, he drove the half-mile to the cottage through the haze of dust from where Keila had passed.
Sure enough, when the building came into view her car was already parked with the driver’s door open. He stopped alongside her vehicle and stepped out. As he approached the residence she appeared in the doorway, one hand on the splintered frame the other hidden behind her leg. Ice assumed she was concealing a pistol.
“My name’s James.” He stopped a few steps from her. “I’m a friend of Bishop.”
Her eyes narrowed. “James Castle, Ice?”
“My friends call me that.”
“Have you seen Bishop?”
“No, but I’m guessing you know who has, Keila.”
She shot him a hard stare before backing away from the doorway. “Come inside, we can talk there.”
Ice was confident that even if she pulled the weapon he could disarm her without inflicting too much harm. Bishop had reported she was a capable fighter, but his size and mechanical hand would give him the edge.
Inside the kitchen Ice detected a faint smell, inhaling deeply he tried to place the sweet odor.
“I’m guessing it’s a sedative,” said Keila as she surveyed the quaint stone-walled kitchen.
“Standard Mossad procedure?” Ice said with a smirk.
“Not particularly. Did you use it in the CIA?”
“Touché,” he murmured as he left the kitchen and stepped into the bedroom where a sliding door was open. Stepping outside he noticed pistol casings strewn across the flagstones. It looked as if Bishop hadn’t gone down without a fight.
There was a rustle in the bushes behind a low wall.
Keila raised her pistol as she entered the room.
“No need for that.” Ice whistled and the noise stopped. He whistled again and a bolt of black and white fur leaped the wall and dove for his legs. “Daisy, good girl.” Ice bent and scooped the dog from the ground.
The Border Collie ravaged his face with licks and snuffles as he struggled to hold her. “It’s OK, it’s OK.”
“Is that Bishop’s dog?”
“Yeah, she’s an Explosive Detection Dog.”
Keila patted Daisy’s head and was rewarded with licks.
Ice held her till she had calmed slightly then lowered her to the ground.
“So you’ve got no idea where they took Aden?” asked Ice as he resumed his inspection of the property, with the dog and Keila following.
“No, I think he may have been snatched by a contracted team.”
“But you’re not going to tell me why.”
Keila shrugged. “I’m here to get him back.”
Ice’s brow rose. “Right, well I guess we should start by reviewing the surveillance footage.”
“I didn’t see any cameras.”
“There are always cameras.” Ice led her and Daisy back into the kitchen and began inspecting the walls, benches and refrigerator. After less than a minute of searching he paused at an antique wooden drinks cabinet next to the fireplace. The door creaked as he opened it. Removing a dozen bottles of whisky he pressed on the wooden paneling behind them. There was a soft click and the wood slid away. Peering inside he found a thin black box the size of a box of chocolates. It sported an array of stubby antennas. “You got a laptop?”
“Yes, in the car.”
“Get it.”
He disconnected the covert server from its power source as Keila retrieved her computer. When she reappeared he plugged the router into her laptop and accessed the internal drive through a web browser.
“You all use these?” She watched over her shoulder.
“It’s equipment I’m familiar with.”
“And passwords?”
He ignored the comment and checked what covert cameras Bishop had installed as Daisy rested her head on his leg. There were three. One watching the driveway, one covering the back of the house and another located a little over a mile away on the road that led to the cottage.
“The driveway feed will show us any vehicles they used.”
Ice opened the file and scanned through footage at high speed. It didn’t take him long to find a shot of a van arriving. It was white and didn’t have any plates.
He checked the time stamp and switched to the camera covering the front of the cottage. Sure enough, men clad in tactical gear dragged a hooded and cuffed figure into the van before driving away.
“Without plates we haven’t got a hope in hell of finding them,” said Keila.
“Hmmm,” murmured Ice as he switched to another of the cameras. “No one drives around without plates, especially not with a prisoner in the back. If they didn’t have enough time to acquire alternatives they’ll put the old ones back on.”
He found a frame where the van was in the shot. Sure enough, as he had predicted the van was now sporting registration plates.
“Can you use your assets to run it?” asked Ice.
“I can.” She thumbed a message on her phone.
As she did, Ice rose from the table and walked into the kitchen. He scanned the appliances, then turned on a large coffee machine. “How do you have it?” he asked Keila.
“You don’t already know?”
He laughed. “Look, if we’re going to be working together, I need to know how you have your coffee.”
“Working together?”
“Yeah, working together to recover Bishop. I mean that is why you’re here, right.”
“He saved my team in Syria.”
Ice nodded. “Yep, so we’re working together.”
As she continued messaging on her phone he made them both lattes and poured the remaining milk into a saucer for Daisy. “How long will it take your people to track the van?”
“I’m not sure. Depends on how secure the servers are.” She took a cup from Ice. “Thanks. How did you know that Bishop was missing?”
“Saneh called me.”
“Where is she?”
“Taking care of something else.”
“Must be pretty serious if she prioritized it over Aden.”
“She sent me.”
“Did she pull you out of retirement?”
Ice ignored the comment. “So, any idea why a rogue Mossad team snatched a security contractor from his holiday home in Spain?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not discussing company business with you.”
“Fair enough.” Ice sipped from his coffee. “Do you play cards?”
***
INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, DUBAI
“You sneaky bastard,” said Flash Gordon as he sat behind his laptop in a café at Dubai international airport. After days of hacking into what seemed like a hundred different servers and scrolling through thousands of pages of company and banking details, he’d finally found the piece he was looking for. A loophole in the South African taxation system had allowed him to trace the flow of money through several shell companies into the structure that Manfred Lisker was using to pay Lascar Logistics for airfreight services.
The evidence he’d found wouldn’t hold up in a court of law, there was nothing directly tying Lisker to any of the accounts. However, it did show that a single corporate entity was supplying the funding and now he knew what that entity was.
Flash finished collating his findings in a single encrypted PDF then signed onto a one-time use cloud drive and uploaded it. The highly secure program would alert Tariq that the file had been sent.
He clicked on a purge program he’d engineered and watched as the software wiped the hard drive and then corrupted the operating system. Confident the laptop was clean he slid it into his backpack and left the café.
Checking the departure screen he saw his flight to Los Angeles had commenced boarding. Now that his job for Tariq was complete it was time to start a new chapter. Mitch Freeman had offered him a role establishing a special effects company in LA and the film industry seemed intriguing. His Hong Kong plans would have to wait.
Walking through the airport he wonde
red what Tariq would do with the information he’d uncovered. He hoped it allowed the transport tycoon to squeeze out from whatever leverage Mossad had over him.
***
NEGEV DESERT, ISRAEL
It was Lisker’s second visit to the Sakkin Industries medical facility hidden beneath the yellow sands of the Negev desert. A genetic research laboratory it was the home of the Proteus project, a long-term program that Lisker believed would solve Mossad’s manning issues. On his first visit the facility was bustling with activity and he’d been impressed with the progress that Marnisha Copeland, the project head, had made. Today’s visit told a very different story.
He frowned as an aide led him through bare corridors past empty laboratories toward the heart of the facility. Stopping in front of a frosted door he gestured for Lisker to enter. “Director Ginsberg and Doctor Copeland are waiting inside.”
Lisker entered the sleek office where the Doctor was seated behind a desk with Daniel Ginsberg sitting in the corner. There was an open bottle of expensive whisky between them and three glasses.
“Ah, Manfred, join us for a drink,” said the CEO of Sakkin Industries. “Doctor Copeland was just updating me on the progress that has been made.”
The attractive elfin-featured geneticist smiled politely.
“There has been progress? Because it looks to me like it’s all been shut down.”
“Not at all, just moved offshore for security and,” he paused, “political reasons.”
“You mean ethical reasons.”
“Those too.”
Lisker sat and Ginsberg poured him a drink. “So, what progress has been made?”
“Dr. Copeland, if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly, Manfred as you know from your previous visit we were focusing our efforts in two areas, genetic manipulation and artificial birthing. This facility has primarily been focused on genetics with artificial birthing having been moved to another facility under the direction of my associate Dr. Morrison.”
“The Rwandan lab?” asked Lisker.
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