Primal Exodus

by Jack Silkstone

  “We’ve got another task for you.”

  For a second Saneh considered fly kicking him in the face and strangling him with the strap of her carry-on bag. But, she knew if anything happened to him, then Bishop was as good as dead. Her only hope was to agree to whatever Avi wanted and hope that Ice came good on the recovery mission.

  “What is it?”

  He smiled. “We want you to kill the man who betrayed you to us.”

  She exhaled slowly and said nothing.

  “Oh come on. You know who I’m talking about. Your old friend, Tariq Ahmed.”

  Saneh had always assumed that Mossad managed to track her down as a result of a mistake she’d made. She had never considered that someone within PRIMAL could have betrayed her.

  “You’re wrong.”

  He smirked. “I was there when it happened. We plucked him from the clutches of an Islamist hit squad and he sang like a canary. Tariq Ahmed was more than happy to sell out an Iranian killer to protect his empire. There’s video evidence if you’d like to see it.”

  Saneh struggled to contain her emotions as her mind raced. Tariq was a close friend and the patron of PRIMAL, but Avi’s accusation rang true. Tariq’s behavior over the last few months, distancing himself from PRIMAL, it now made sense.

  “Of course, he had no idea that you were a double agent. You’ve got twenty-four hours to complete the assignment. If you’re successful, Bishop goes free. If you aren’t…” He ran a finger across his throat before turning and walking away.

  Was it possible that Tariq had sold her out to Mossad to save his own skin? Even the thought of it was like a punch to the gut. She felt physically sick as she slumped onto one of the bench seats that lined the walkway. Tariq wouldn’t have known that she was working with Mossad. He would have surrendered her thinking he was condemning her to death, and now Bishop was facing the same fate. She came to the cold realization that Avi was speaking the truth. Tariq must have sold her out.

  She channeled shock and grief into smoldering anger, focused on the man who’d destroyed the life she had created, the life with the man she loved. She was going to kill Tariq Ahmed and then she was going to kill Avi. The plan was simple, she would keep on killing until Bishop was safe and they were free.

  CHAPTER 19

  LIFEBRIGHT FOUNDATION FACILITY, RWANDA

  Kurtz raised his weapon as the rear doors of the food delivery truck rattled then swung open. The smiling face of the driver appeared in the gap.

  “No problems, morning delivery.”

  Kurtz gave a thumbs up.

  The fifty-year-old Rwandan had reason to be happy. Thirty thousand US dollars had bought his services and would ensure the prosperity of his large family for years to come. He swung the doors wide open, revealing an interior loading dock and a doorway into a commercial kitchen.

  “Let’s go,” said Kruger as he stepped out of the truck wielding his own AK.

  Kurtz turned to Bianca and gave her a nod before following his partner into the large kitchen. He carried his customized AK while Bianca toted an MP7 submachine gun. All three wore dark blue coveralls, the same as the cooks who now stood terrified as the team moved past them. Over the work-wear they’d donned camouflage body armor covered in pouches. Strapped to Kruger’s back were bolt cutters and a hooligan bar for breaching doors.

  As they entered the kitchen Kurtz scanned for any security cameras. On the far side Kruger was paused next to a door. Kurtz spotted the card reader and digital lock as he and Bianca joined the South African.

  “You want me to pop it?” Kruger asked.

  “Do it,” answered Kurtz.

  Bianca let out a soft cough as she leaned forward and swiped a security card she’d taken from one of the kitchen staff.

  The door clicked and Kruger pushed it open, letting Kurtz through into the facility beyond. The tall German emerged into a well-lit corridor with heavy doors on either side. He immediately spotted a security camera at the far end. Raising his AK he snapped off a single suppressed round, shattering it.

  “There goes the element of surprise,” said Bianca as she tried her swipe card on one of the doors. The lock emitted a loud beep and an LED flashed red. She tried once more and an alarm commenced shrieking.

  “Surprise?” Kruger said.

  “Get the door open!” yelled Kurtz.

  The burly South African shrugged the hooligan bar from his shoulder and rammed it into the door jamb. With one heave he popped the lock and shoved the door open.

  Kurtz aimed his weapon into the small cell, scanning for threats. It was empty but there were signs it was recently occupied. A blanket was crumpled on a low bed on each side of the room. “Open them all.”

  As Kruger went to work on the next cell a doorway at the end of the corridor opened and a figure appeared.

  “Who are you?” a voice yelled.

  “Housekeeping,” replied Kurtz as he charged down the corridor.

  Like the kitchen staff the man was a local clad in blue coveralls. His eyes went wide as Kurtz approached. “Please don’t shoot me.”

  Kurtz let his rifle hang from its sling and grabbed the man by the front of his coveralls. “Where are the girls?”

  “In, in, the cells,” he stammered.

  “The first one is empty.”

  “She’s in the surgery.” The man whimpered.

  Kurtz turned and yelled over his shoulder. “Get the girls out of the cells.” He turned his attention back to the worker. “Show me where the surgery is.

  “Kurtz, I don’t think we should split up,” Bianca transmitted over her radio as Kurtz followed the man out of the corridor of cells.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  On the other side of the security door there was another long corridor. This one had only two doors, at the far end. One side of the corridor was wall-to-ceiling frosted glass that blocked his view into the rooms beyond.

  The man swiped him into the room on the left and pointed across a high-tech laboratory to another door. “Over there.”

  As they crossed, Kurtz gave the equipment a once over. It looked to be a highly sophisticated setup with scanners, centrifuges and a range of machines that looked like they’d be at home in a first-world clinic. He paused before a row of fluid-filled vats the size of incubators he’d seen in the children’s ward of a hospital. “What are these?” he asked.

  “It’s where they grow the babies,” the man said.

  The hairs on the back of Kurtz’s neck stood on end. “Grow babies? How do they grow babies?”

  “I just clean. I’m not a doctor.”

  Kurtz aimed his weapon at the man’s face. “They’ll be cleaning you off the floor if you don’t answer.”

  “They take the parts from the girls and put them in there.”

  He fought the urge to pull the trigger as the reality of what he’d said sunk in. Someone was harvesting body parts from the girls to create some kind of artificial womb. “Are they taking parts now?”

  He nodded.

  “Where?”

  “Through that door.”

  Kurtz snatched the swipe card from around the man’s neck. “I would leave if I were you.”

  As he made his way to the door, his earpiece crackled.

  “Kurtz, we’ve found the girls. What’s your status?”

  “RAGE!” he responded as he swiped the card reader and kicked open the heavy door.

  Two masked faces looked up at him as he stepped into the room. He spotted one of the missing schoolgirls strapped to a surgical table. A robed anesthetist held a plastic mask over her face.

  “Who the hell are you?” demanded an elderly male with a foreign accent.

  “Wake her up,” Kurtz snarled.

  “How dare you barge into my surgery. You’re putting my entire project at risk. Where the hell is my damn security?”

  In the facility's security office Elias smirked as the intruder felled Dr. Morrison with a brutal right cross. Now the doctor
would know how he felt. His neck and head still ached from his run-in with the Canadian and her girlfriend. Hopefully both of them were here so he could take his revenge.

  He’d been tracking the man’s progress through the medical center by CCTV and door scanners. Like every good security operative, and Elias considered himself one of the best, he had a plan to deal with this contingency.

  Rather than risk a gunfight inside the lab, which he was paid handsomely to protect, he would wait for the intruders to make their exit and ambush them. The girls would die in the crossfire, but they could be replaced. The expensive equipment and Dr. Morrison’s research were far more valuable.

  “Have the men and drones ready at the northern exit,” he ordered his second-in-command. “I’ll push them out from the south with Henderson and Scott.” As the man left to coordinate the ambush he punched a code into a locker and removed his body armor and pump-action shotgun. He grinned as he fed double-ought buckshot into the magazine; this was what he lived for.

  Back in the surgery Kurtz tapped his foot impatiently as the anesthetist attended to the girl. She’d not yet succumbed entirely to the gasses and was coming to.

  “You’re going to regret this,” snarled the doctor from where he lay on the floor. “You’ve got no idea who you’re messing with.”

  Kurtz fought the urge to put a bullet in the man’s head as he used a knife to cut the girl free from nylon restraints.

  “You’re going to carry her,” he said to the anesthetist. He turned his weapon on the doctor. “And you’re going to make sure we get out of here in one piece. Failure to comply will result in your death.”

  Kurtz shepherded them into the laboratory where he shrugged out of his backpack and took a demolition charge from inside. Activating the explosive device he slid it in behind two of the artificial birthing machines.

  “What is that?” asked the doctor.

  Kurtz ignored him and keyed his radio. “Kruger, I’ve recovered one of the girls. What’s your status?”

  The reply was immediate. “We’ve got another seven. Where are you?”

  He swiped the exit from the lab. “I’m coming to you now.”

  Back in the corridor of cells Bianca held a sobbing child in her arms as Kruger jimmied the last of the doors and peered inside.

  “This one’s empty.”

  A door creaked and she spun, putting the kid behind her as she raised her submachine gun.

  “You’re going to die here, bitch!” She recognized the voice and the face glaring at her over the barrel of a shotgun. It was the head of security, the man who’d killed her informant.

  “Fuck you!” Her weapon spat lead a split second before he fired. .45ACP rounds slapped into his vest. The shotgun blast went wide. Dust, debris and pellets ricocheted off the wall, spraying Bianca. She winced as a chip of cement sliced her cheek.

  Another weapon fired as Kruger moved up alongside her and unleashed a burst from his AK. Bullets splintered the doorframe forcing the security thug back.

  “This way!” screamed Kurtz from where he’d appeared behind them. The German waved them through another door as he held an elderly man with one arm around his throat. “Get the girls out. I’ll cover you.”

  Bianca led the line of seven girls down the corridor. Accurate shots from her weapon destroyed the lock on the door at the other end of the hall and she shouldered it open. “This way.”

  Behind her, Kurtz waited for Kruger to pass with the last girl before he fired another burst along the corridor. Running the mag empty he was forced to release the doctor as he reached for a replacement in his vest.

  The surgeon took the opportunity to escape. He dashed toward his guards. Kurtz felt no sympathy as the doctor ran directly into a shotgun blast. An ounce of buckshot hit him like a sledgehammer, shredding his torso. Kurtz finished his mag change as he turned and slammed the door behind him, hoping like hell it was reinforced.

  As Kurtz fought a rearguard action Bianca had found the motley team a way out. She pushed through a fire exit and emerged into a parking lot. Holding the door ajar she took a quick breath of fresh air as she scanned the half dozen parked vehicles.

  She turned to Kruger who was waiting with the girls and the anesthetist, carrying the semi-conscious girl. “I’ll check it out,” she yelled over the gunfire behind them.

  She propped open the heavy fire door and dashed a few feet to the side of an SUV. Peering around the vehicle she concentrated on the tree line past a security gate. Right as she thought it was clear she saw a glint in the scrub. Narrowing her eyes she spotted the outline of a man’s head and shoulders. “Damn!”

  Gunfire erupted and bullets tore into the vehicle she was using as cover. Glass showered her as the distinct rattle of AKs filled the air. “Guys, they’ve got the drop on us.”

  Kurtz fired into the smoke and dust that filled the corridor they’d escaped along. He was holed up at a doorway that led into a storeroom where Kruger and the girls were seeking refuge. His magazine ran empty and he let it drop from the gun. He was down to his last. What was supposed to have been a straight-forward mission had turned into what Bishop would call a shit show. It was time to enact the contingency plan.

  Bianca was hunkered down behind the engine block of the now hole-ridden SUV. Her ambushers had lowered their rate of fire now they had her pinned. Kruger had managed to fire a few bursts from the doorway, but they also had a bead on his position. The rumble of a diesel engine caught her attention and she spotted a tracked vehicle trundling out of the tree line. A machine gun chattered as the drone opened fire.

  “Guys, what the hell are we going to do?” she transmitted.

  “It’s OK, the cavalry is on the way,” replied Kurtz.

  “Screw the cavalry, we need a tank battalion.” More bullets slapped into the SUV and she screamed in rage. She slid sideways to the rear of the swiss-cheesed vehicle and thrust her MP7 around the tailgate.

  The gun spluttered, throwing bullets into the thick scrub. At that moment there was a roar from above and the bush exploded into a wall of fire as a volley of rockets hit it. Two drones were shredded by the onslaught, their sensors shattered. Trees and shrubs disintegrated in a hail of lead as brass casings rained down on her like scorching hot hail. She glanced up at the underbelly of a helicopter, the morning sun dancing off its spinning blades as it rained down destruction.

  “The cavalry!” she mouthed.

  Back inside the facility Kurtz had expended his last magazine and was down to his pistol. Picking up on the lapse in fire the head of security and his team were pressing home their attack. Shotgun blasts reverberated along the hallway, forcing Kurtz back. “Last mag,” he announced.

  “Chopper’s on the deck and the girls are almost all onboard,” reported Kruger.

  A hail of gunfire announced the security team’s assault. Kurtz backed into the storeroom as he fired the last of his bullets. As the slide of his pistol locked open he dropped it and pulled a remote from his pocket. Glancing at the doorway he spotted a broad-shouldered silhouette of a guard and the gaping barrel of a shotgun.

  Elias realized his target was unarmed and paused. Smiling manically he snarled, “Oh you and your bitches are fucked now. You’re going to die here.”

  Kurtz thumbed the trigger and the demolition charge he’d left in the laboratory exploded. A thunderous shock wave slammed into the guard, throwing him sideways as he fired the shotgun. The blast hit Kurtz in the chest, pitching him rearward as the building collapsed. Lumps of concrete fell from above as he fought for air. Stumbling he landed on his back, facing the crumbling roof.

  Time slowed as he realized he was going to make it. Even though death was imminent, Kurtz felt strangely at peace. He’d rescued the last of the girls, made right on the debt that he had with the world.

  “Wake up dip shit!”

  Kurtz felt himself being dragged out of the building by the scruff of his neck. Soon he was clear of the building and beneath under the spinning rotor o
f Toppie’s helicopter. He let out a groan as he climbed to his feet.

  “Always laying about on the job!” Kruger screamed over the chopper’s engines as he gave Kurtz a solid slap on the shoulder. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  He managed to climb into the back of the helicopter where Booyah and Bianca were handing blankets and juice boxes to the eight girls they’d rescued. Kurtz spotted the girl he’d recovered from the surgery at the front of the helicopter. There was no sign of the anesthetist. As he moved forward, he bumped knuckles with Booyah. “Just in the nick of time.”

  “Just like the time you saved my hand,” said the Somali. “Now we’re even, right.”

  Kurtz checked to make sure everyone was seated and stuck his head into the cockpit. “Toppie, good you finally got to use those rockets. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  The scruffy, bearded pilot gave him a nod before throttling up the powerful turbines, sending the massive helicopter skyward. Glancing out the window Kurtz noted with satisfaction that the Lifebright facility, or what was left of it, was ablaze.

  He felt someone sit alongside and turned to see that it was Bianca. Despite a filthy blood-splattered face, she was grinning from ear to ear. “That was amazing,” she yelled over the engine noise.

  Kurtz shook his head and looked to the back of the chopper to where Kruger was sitting with Booyah. Like Bianca, both men wore broad smiles. The hulking South African shot him thumbs up and Kurtz responded with a nod. Looking past them out the back of the helicopter at the burning facility he wondered how many girls had died within its walls. How many families would never know what had happened to their daughters and sisters?

  He felt Bianca’s hand on his. She wore a concerned expression.

  “Are you OK?” she asked.

  “I’m going to find the people responsible for this.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Let me help.”

  “It will be dangerous,” he replied.

  “Sounds perfect. When can we get started?”

  ***

  REQUENA, SPAIN