Primal Exodus

by Jack Silkstone

  Saneh stepped out of the van and watched as it drove away. She’d always been dubious of Keila’s motivations, but it would seem that the Mossad operative had a sense of loyalty that wasn’t dissimilar to her own.

  The marina had an office and a small café inside the front gates. She took a punt that it was where she was going to find Bishop. He wasn’t sitting under one of the umbrellas on a wooden deck, but Ice was.

  The big man rose from his chair with a smile and Saneh fought the urge to cry as she hugged him. “Thank you,” she said when they broke.

  “No problem at all. He’s waiting for you at the end of the dock.”

  “You’re not coming with us?”

  “No, I’ve got a few things of my own to follow up. I’ll catch up with you guys soon.”

  “Keila said to say hello.” She gave him a little nudge with his elbow. “Something going on there?”

  A smile appeared on his scarred face. “Maybe.”

  “You promise we’ll see you soon?” asked Saneh as he made to depart.

  “Real soon.” He winked and headed to the parking lot.

  She smiled as she walked along a floating dock that ran out into wide harbor sheltered by a breakwater of grey rock. There were vessels of all sizes tied up on either side of the walkway, from small power craft to ocean-going sailing boats.

  She found the vessel she was looking for at the far end. The sleek blue hull of the Susurro rocked gently on the swell less than thirty yards distant. There was a familiar figure on the deck of the majestic ketch.

  “Permission to come aboard?” she asked with a hint of apprehension.

  Bishop lifted his head from the rope he was tying and fixed her with a stern look. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Are you going to keep anything from me?”

  Saneh stepped onto Susurro’s polished teak deck and Bishop stepped toward her.

  “I’ll tell you everything,” she managed as he wrapped his arms around her and planted his lips firmly on hers. Tension dissolved from her body as she pressed herself against him. “Everything.”

  It took Bishop less than three minutes to cast off the ketch’s lines and program the automated navigation system that would pilot them out of Israeli waters. The latest radar and optical sensors would steer them clear of any other vessels.

  Steam fogged a brass-lined porthole as Saneh soaked her tired muscles under a jet of piping hot water. The bathroom on the boat exceeded her expectations. Spacious and luxuriously furnished it already felt like home.

  “Is there room for two in there?”

  She turned to find Bishop standing in the bathroom wrapped in only a towel. “Always.”

  He dropped the towel and she opened the shower door letting him inside. He held her close, the warm water cascading over their bodies as she placed her head against his chest.

  “Mossad captured me long before I met you,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “When I joined PRIMAL I thought that was all behind me. But Tariq gave me up to protect the rest of you.” She felt his body tense. “He didn’t have a choice, Aden. It was me or all of you.”

  She ran her hand from his chest down the side of his abdomen to his thigh. “Manfred Lisker is disavowed from Mossad. He can’t hurt Tariq or me now.”

  “I’m going to find him and kill him,” he whispered as her lips found his and they kissed.

  She pressed her body against him and felt the passion building.

  “No more secrets,” he whispered.

  “I’m all yours,” she murmured as he slid his hands under her backside and lifted her up against the wall of the shower. “All yours.”

  ***

  Less than a dozen miles from where the Susurro cruised out to sea an air traffic controller at Ben Gurion international airport was managing the afternoon influx of flights.

  “Tower this is Lima Lima Zero Zero One, please confirm we are cleared for takeoff on runway zero three,” a British-accented pilot asked.

  “Zero Zero One, you are cleared for takeoff.” He glanced at a screen that showed the view from a camera atop the tower. The sleek Gulfstream powered across the runway and climbed into the air like a rocket. “That’s the life,” he murmured before turning his attention back to the radarscope.

  Tariq Ahmed’s private jet passed almost directly over the Susurro on its track northwest toward the European continent. Powerful turbofans pushed it effortlessly skyward and within a matter of minutes it had passed ten thousand feet on its way to a cruising altitude of thirty.

  Back at the Gurion tower the air traffic controller kept one eye on the scope, tracking the jet’s rapid climb. The G650ER was marketed as the most advanced business jet on the market and he believed the hype. The plane climbed at almost twice the rate of any of the commercial aircraft plying the sky.

  Then, as the aircraft’s marker indicated it was at twelve thousand, the dot blinked twice and disappeared. He tapped the touch screen with his finger. After the indicator failed to reappear he activated another screen and queried the aircraft’s transponder. It took a moment for the system to return a negative report.

  He activated his headset. “Lima Lima Zero Zero One, this is Gurion control, over.”

  There was nothing but silence.

  “Lima Lima Zero Zero One, this is Gurion control, over.”

  “Attention on the floor,” broadcast the voice of the tower’s senior watch controller. “Two separate aircraft have reported observing a large explosion approximately a hundred miles north west of us. Please confirm that all aircraft have been accounted for.”

  The controller stood and eleven sets of eyes turned to him. “I have an aircraft missing. Lima Lima Zero Zero One dropped off the scope. They are not responding on any channels and their transponder is offline.”

  The senior watch controller snapped into action. “Action plan red, we have an aircraft down.”

  CHAPTER 23

  ROTOBURN, NEW ZEALAND

  Vance flicked his wrist and sent a tiny lead weight flying across the lush green lawns at the back of the old pub where he and Chua were based. Fly-fishing was something he’d always wanted to try, and in a region abounding with freshwater lakes and rivers this was the place to do it. Fishing, hunting and traveling was how Vance planned to fill his days now he was on permanent hiatus from the world of vigilante justice.

  Teasing out a length of line he practiced making the tiny weight dance across the manicured grass, mimicking the movement of an insect. Once he’d got the hang of the basics he was planning to replace it with an actual fly and practice his casting into the natural swimming pool that Mitch had constructed next to the expansive garage. From there it was off to a stream in the hills.

  Footsteps on the gravel path from the pub hit his ear and he glanced across and spotted Chua.

  “What’s up?” he asked as he reeled in the weight.

  “There’s been an incident.”

  Vance’s heart dropped as he turned. “What sort of incident?”

  “Tariq’s jet exploded over the Mediterranean. Local media are reporting that Saneh is a suspect.”

  Vance shook his head in disbelief. “What! How?”

  “I’ve contacted Saneh and Bishop. They think that Mossad was blackmailing Tariq. Also, it turns out Saneh was being run as a double agent before she started a new life with us.”

  “She was run by Mossad? She kept that from us.”

  “She was trying to protect us. Bishop says she was trying to assassinate her Israeli handler until he stopped her. Bottom line is they’re safe now but Tariq is gone. Saneh sent through a detailed report.”

  Vance wound in his line. “Do you think he’s dead?”

  The lack of emotion on Chua’s face told him the odds weren’t in his favor.

  “Mossad did this?” Vance asked.

  Chua shook his head. “No. Manfred Lisker did this, Saneh’s old handler and the former head of the Kidons.”

>   “Former?”

  “According to Keila, Mossad has disavowed him.”

  Vance turned toward the rolling green hills and the ragged grey mountains. He said a silent prayer for the man who’d financed him and Ice start PRIMAL. He was never what Vance would call a close friend, but there was a respect between the two men that was rooted in their desire to bring justice to the world.

  “Vance, what are we going to do?”

  “Let’s take a look at Saneh’s report. Then get her and Bishop online.”

  ***

  MEDITERRANEAN SEA

  Bishop and Saneh were expecting the call. They were sitting side by side in the Susurro’s lounge when Vance and Chua appeared on a wall-mounted screen.

  “Gentlemen, I wish this was on better terms,” said Bishop.

  Both wore grim expressions. Chua spoke first. “We’re going to miss Tariq Ahmed, but he would want us to continue the work he started.”

  “We’re going after Manfred Lisker?” asked Saneh.

  “We will, but we’ll play a longer game,” added Vance. “Saneh, we read your report.” He paused. “Mossad had you over a barrel and we can understand why you kept your past a secret. It should have died with you in the Ukraine. However, you should have told us after they re-established contact. We could have helped.”

  “With all due respect, Vance, this was bigger than PRIMAL. I had to try and keep you all isolated from Lisker. The man is as lethal as they come. What’s more, he somehow got leverage over Tariq and forced him to give me up. We know now that he was also responsible for the attack on the Sandpit, and kidnapping Bishop.”

  “Do you think that Tariq knew you were a double agent?” Chua asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Only Lisker and his superiors would have known. Tariq would have thought he was sacrificing me to save the rest of you.”

  “Both of you made the fatal decision to keep that from us,” said Vance. “We could have dealt with the threat, as a team.”

  Bishop shook his head. “Vance, we can’t be so naive to think we stood a chance against this guy. He’s been leveraging Israeli intelligence assets to stay one step ahead of us the whole time.”

  “But not Tariq,” said Chua. “He found a way out.”

  “Yes, but it cost him his life,” Saneh said with a trembling voice. Bishop took her hand.

  “Tariq knew the price of doing business with Mossad,” said Vance. “He managed to neutralize Lisker without endangering the rest of us. That’s the Tariq I knew, and the Tariq I will remember.”

  Saneh exhaled. “He offered me a new life and ultimately gave his own, so I could keep it. Now I’m going to avenge him by killing Manfred Lisker.”

  “I think it’s best if you keep a low profile,” said Vance.

  “Your face is on every major media outlet in the world. We need to wait for that to blow over,” added Chua. “That boat is the best place for both of you. At least for the next few months.”

  Bishop gave her hand a squeeze. “There’s been enough killing. Let’s take some time off and work out a way forward.”

  “Which leads directly into another issue that Chua and I wanted to cover with you both.”

  Bishop smiled. “The answer’s yes.”

  Vance scowled. “You don’t know the question.”

  “I thought you guys were going to ask if Saneh and I would come to your wedding. I mean, you’ve bought the farm. I’m only guessing that a dog and a minivan are next. It makes perfect sense, you’re such a close-knit team.” He shot the pair a wink.

  “You’re such a dick,” said Saneh, with a sigh.

  Vance shook his head. “I was going to ask if you guys wanted to take over running PRIMAL, but I guess I need to talk to someone else. Maybe Mirza and Sonia would be interested.”

  “You serious? You guys are actually retiring?” asked Bishop.

  “Semi-retiring,” said Chua.

  “Think of it more as moving from management to an advisory role,” Vance continued. “We’ve leaned out the organization and we think it’s time for us to step down.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Bishop.

  Both men nodded.

  “We’re still going to be involved,” said Chua. “We just think it’s best if you and Saneh take the helm, so to speak.” He paused. “And with any luck, it will keep Bishop out of the field.”

  Saneh laughed. “Fat chance of that.”

  “Worth a try.”

  Bishop ignored the jibe. “Where are we at with the rest of the team?”

  “Kurtz and Kruger are wrapping up their operation in Africa, Mirza and Sonia are settled in London, Miklos and Pavel are back in Spain running their lodge.”

  “What about Mitch? We’re still going to need tech support.”

  “I think you’ll find he’s got that covered,” added Chua. “His new facility in California is pretty impressive.”

  Bishop frowned. “I thought that was a special effects…” His expression changed as realization dawned. “Oh that’s brilliant.”

  Saneh shook her head. “Sharp as a brick. Chua, what about Ivan?” She directed her question to Chua. Ivan was a deep cover agent who had facilitated PRIMAL’s operations in no less than a dozen separate locations.

  Chua shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. He hasn’t popped up in months. If he does, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I’ll send you through the new comms protocols. You can check in with everyone yourself.”

  “Sounds good,” said Bishop.

  “Guys, we’ll be in touch in a few days to sort out a detailed handover and work through how we’re going to support you,” said Vance. “In the meantime, smooth sailing.”

  Bishop and Saneh gave their farewells before disconnecting and moving to the open deck at the stern of the ketch. Bishop had grabbed two beers from the fridge on his way through and handed one to Saneh. Raising it toward the setting sun, he offered a toast. “Tariq.”

  Saneh mirrored the action. “He can’t be dead.”

  Bishop’s brow rose. “What makes you say that?”

  “Tariq Ahmed would never let himself be outmaneuvered by a man like Manfred Lisker.”

  “You think he faked his death?”

  She shrugged as she took a swig from the beer.

  “I guess time will tell.”

  “Lisker still needs to die.”

  “No doubt about it.”

  She reached out and took his hand. “So what are we going to call the new PRIMAL? I was thinking of something subtler.”

  “To reflect our new approach.”

  “New approach?”

  “Yeah, a smaller more nimble organization that leverages off existing networks to find bad guys and deal out a little justice.”

  “What about Susurro?” she said as they gazed at the sun setting over the calm blue waters of the Mediterranean.

  For a moment Bishop was transported back to Barcelona, into the ancient bookshop where he’d found a book that spoke of an organization called Susurro. In Spanish, it meant ‘The Whisper’, a group of vigilantes who appeared from the shadows to protect and avenge innocents targeted during the inquisition. And for that very reason, it was also the name of his boat.

  “Perfect.”

  She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “So where to, skipper?”

  “I thought we could spend a few weeks cruising the Med and then down the East coast of Africa to check on the boys.” He placed his beer on the deck and pulled Saneh in close. “But first we need to drop into Spain and pick up Daisy. We had to leave her at a boarding kennel when I skipped town.”

  ***

  NEGEV DESERT, ISRAEL

  Sand whipped against Manfred Lisker’s face as he hurried across the tarmac toward the Sakkin Industries business jet. Ginsberg’s plane had touched down on the private airstrip five-minutes earlier, less than a half-mile from the Israel-Jordan border.

  Glancing over his shoulder Lisker checked again that no one was watching from the cluster of
weather-beaten buildings where his Uber driver had dropped him. Dressed in jeans with a battered olive drab jacket, baseball cap and a shoulder bag he in no way resembled the same man who’d run Mossad’s assassination teams with an iron fist.

  The aircraft’s stairs lowered as he approached. Entering the jet a stewardess took his bag before directing him into the cabin.

  “There’s my man.” Daniel Ginsberg rose and shook his hand. “Take a seat we’re getting out of here.”

  Lisker took the chair across from Ginsberg and strapped himself in as they began moving.

  “I can’t say I was sorry to hear you’d left Mossad, although I was expecting it to be on better terms.”

  “I still have people on the inside.”

  “And they’re loyal?”

  Lisker nodded as the jet roared and launched skyward. “Have you commenced a takeover of the specialist Lascar assets?”

  “Straight to business. We need to let the dust settle before we make a move. Tariq will have a succession plan in place.”

  “And my role in Sakkin? Is the previously discussed position still open?”

  “That depends. Are you still able to expand our operations?”

  “Of course. I can help you make Sakkin the single largest security provider in the world.”

  Ginsberg shrugged. “I’m going to need more than that. Exactly how do you see it happening?”

  “I’ll create the market and Sakkin will provide the solution.”

  “The market?”

  “Instability, turmoil, violence, destruction, whatever is required. I’ve got the networks and you have resources. Together we can change the global security dynamic.”

  Ginsberg took a moment to consider the offer. “I like it.” He checked his watch. We’ve got ten hours until we hit Cape Town. We can use that time to work through the details. Do you want a drink?”

  “Whisky, on the rocks.”

  He waved over the stewardess. “Two glasses of the Laphroaig.”

  “Talk to me about the Proteus project,” said Lisker.

  “You can visit the laboratory in Cape Town. Dr. Copeland has it up and running and is anticipating the first generation within twenty-four months. You’re going to be impressed.”