PRIMAL Vengeance (3) (24 page)

       Mirza nodded.

       "YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS!"

       "They're very impatient," commented Mirza.

       "Let's not keep them waiting."

       In the car park below the dashboard on the PRIMAL vehicle lit up. A flashing green symbol appeared next to the rev counter and the V8 rumbled to life.

       The four-wheel drive edged forward slightly and bashed into the wall in front of it. Then the gear indicator changed to reverse and it crept backwards, turning away from the wall. The nose was now facing the ramp that led up the street.

       "TEN SECONDS!"

       The big V8 roared and the tires squealed on the cement as the truck lurched up the ramp. It swerved haphazardly and scraped the handrail before bursting out into the street.

       The truck appeared from the side of the hotel, next to the foyer where Bishop and Mirza were hunkered down behind the counter.

       "You're not very good at this, are you?" Bishop jibed as he watched the Wildcat's camera feed on Mirza's iPRIMAL.

       The Sudanese started firing as soon as the vehicle appeared, riddling it with bullets. The firing continued as Mirza drove it in a wide circle.

       As Bishop watched the camera feed, he spotted someone he thought he knew in the group of men clustered around the armored vehicles. On the small iPRIMAL screen it was hard to discern, but it looked like the Chinese operative from the 'Tian Hai'.

       Mirza had finally sorted out the control function on his iPRIMAL. He turned the mortally wounded Land Rover towards one of the armored vehicles and gunned the engine. Men fled as it approached.

       "Allahu Akhbar," he announced as he tapped the touch pad.

       There was a huge explosion and the truck disappeared along with everything else. A cloud of debris and dust filled the street.

       Mirza waited for the blastwave to pass over them and jumped up on one knee. He extended the 66mm rocket launcher, locked the tube in place and aimed it down the corridor towards the rear of the hotel. There was a loud bang as he fired and the rear wall flashed in the dust.

       Bishop led as they scrambled through the debris of the two explosions. He used the tactical flashlight on his weapon to light up the rear wall. There was a hole the size of a large garbage can leading into the adjacent building.

       Squeezing through the hole they appeared in the rear of a clothing store.

       The store was closed but the light streaming through the front windows illuminated rows of women's dresses lining the racks .

       "Not really my style," Bishop said.

       "Perfect." Mirza grabbed a long black garment off a shelf and threw it to Bishop.

       "What is it?"

       "It's a burqha!"

       "You want me to wear a goddamn burqha?" Bishop exclaimed as he examined the garment.

       "Have you got a better idea on how we're going to get out of Khartoum?"

       "No, you're right. This is genius."

       The PRIMAL operatives donned the burqas, the black shapeless outfits completely covering their combat rigs and weapons.

       "Should I take my Oakley's off?" Bishop asked.

       Mirza struggled not to laugh. His friend looked slightly ridiculous in the burqa, the tinted sunglasses completely hiding him from view. "Keep them on, you're looking very fashionable," he replied, knowing their disguises were unlikely to stand up to any close scrutiny.

       Doing their best to look effeminate, they unlocked the front door and walked out onto the streets of Khartoum.

Chapter 37

Khartoum Palace Hotel, Sudan

      
Yang's ears were ringing and a trickle of blood ran down his face where a piece of shrapnel had creased his skull. He was in better condition than the Sudanese SWAT team. Between the two operatives and their car bomb the group had been decimated. Their bodies formed a broken trail from the foyer of the hotel back to the burning wreck of the truck.

       The Sudanese were not letting anyone into the building until they confirmed that the 'terrorists' were dead. Something that Yang knew was highly unlikely. No, these two men would have survived. The truck would have been a diversion and by now they would be long gone.

       Once his hearing had partially returned Yang pulled out his phone and dialed his boss.

       "What is the situation?" Zhu asked as soon as the phone connected.

       "They escaped!"

       "I expected as much, the Sudanese security forces are somewhat limited. So now both Omar and his Janjaweed pet are dead. I fear we have severely underestimated the American resolve to slow our influence in the region."

       "I am not convinced that this is the work of the CIA. From the security camera footage I think these are the same two men responsible for the 'Tian Hai'. They have the same weapons, look similar, and match the descriptions my informant has provided. The 'Tian Hai', and now the assassination of Omar exhibit audacity I would not expect from CIA operatives."

       "You sure it is the same men?"

       "I know it is, and now I know they are also responsible for the recent set backs involving the Janjaweed."

       "This is from our new friend."

       "Yes, he has proven most knowledgeable on such matters."

       "Interesting. So if they are not Americans, then who are they? Mercenaries?" Zhu asked.

       "I assume so but at this stage I don't know. With your permission I would like to find out." Yang's voice was level, but Zhu knew his thirst for revenge was raging.

       "You think the venture should continue?"

       "Yes, Omar and the Janjaweed commander are replaceable. Our infrastructure and time are not. We are also postured to increase our pressure on what remains of the southern rebels. Our new contact will help us destroy what is left of their rag tag militia."

       There was a short pause as Zhu considered his options.

       "Has this become personal, Yang? These two men seem to be one step ahead of you at every turn."

       The Chinese operative struggled to compose himself. The muscles in his neck bulged as he clenched his teeth. From the sinking of the 'Tian Hai', through being shot down in his helicopter, Yang had never experienced such defeat in his life. His injured leg, stiff back, and now scarred forehead, were all constant shameful reminders.

       "If I said no then I would be lying."

       "Good, there is much at stake. You have a personal interest in this now. Go forth and destroy these men, headquarters will provide anything you need!"

       Zhu terminated the call.

       Yang took a moment to focus his thoughts, then signaled for his driver. The young African drove his car to him through the police picket line where he had been waiting. Yang gave instructions to return to PETROCON HQ and the waiting helicopter. He needed to return to the refinery, south was where his two enemies would be heading, south to the oil and the battlefield. Already a plan was forming in his head as to how he would deal with the mercenaries.

Chapter 38

Kaljak Village, Abyei District

      
The battered blue van had cost them ten thousand US dollars. The price was almost the same as the brand new Hilux Mirza had bought in Juba. Mirza had found it on the outskirts of Khartoum and paid the inflated price to convince the driver to part with it on the spot. They had fueled it up from a hawker selling petrol by the bottle at the roadside and driven it south.

       The Bunker's operations team had planned a route for them, avoiding all reported border checkpoints. Bishop had managed to re-establish comms using his iPRIMAL. The data link wasn't strong but it was enough for them to receive GPS waypoints.

       After thirty-six hours of travel, they arrived back at the new SFF village, nearly four days since they had left for the mission to Khartoum.

       "I can't feel my butt." Bishop climbed, stiff-legged, out of the van.

       Mirza didn't look much better. He slowly pried himself from the driver's seat and immediately started stretching.

       A group of SFF fighters watched them suspiciously from the shade of a huge boab tree. Bishop didn't recognize any of them, but he had a good idea where their weapons had come from. Sporting AKs with optical sights and PKMs that looked fresh out of the crate, it was obvious Mitch had been busy bringing in weapons for the new SFF recruits.

       "Mirza! Aden!" Jonjo appeared from another hut and jogged towards the men. He grabbed Mirza in a bear hug and reached out for Bishop's hand, pumping it wildly. "I was starting to worry!"

       "No need to worry. The mission went off without a hitch!" Mirza extracted himself from the youth's grasp.

       Bishop gave Mirza a sideways glance. "Yeah, smooth as silk. We even traded in the Wildcat. How have things been here?"

       The three men walked over to the shade of another tree and sat down on a pile of ammunition crates.

       "Not well. Garang has been away, trying to bring men into the fight. Some have come." He gestured towards the newcomers under the boab. "But not many."

       "And the Janjaweed?" asked Mirza.

       "They keep coming. I have done ambushes while you were away but the more we hit the more there are. Without the other militias to help us we are only delaying our defeat. In a few days we will have to abandon this village and move south."

       "Where is Garang now?" asked Bishop.

       "Recruiting. Should be back tonight."

       "And Jess?"

       "She's with the wounded. We have taken losses." There was a moment of silence before Jonjo continued. "Enough about us, what happened in Khartoum?"

       "Omar is dead," said Mirza, matter-of-fact.

       Jonjo's eyes lit up in excitement. "How? I want to hear about it!"

       As Mirza told the story, Bishop left them and walked over to the hut that served as the medical center. He nodded at the nurse who manned the desk in the waiting area. Without pausing, he continued to the next room, ducked through the plastic sheeting that kept out the dust from the operating table, and found Jess.

       She was working on a soldier who had been shot through the upper arm. The man was heavily sedated and lying on a portable operating table. Bishop noted the bright lighting and other equipment that Mitch had provided. He grabbed a surgeon's plastic gown and put it on. Cleaning his hands from a pump pack of hand sanitizer, he donned gloves and a mask and walked over to the table.

       The slug Jess had pulled from the man's arm hit the tray with a clunk as she looked up from the wound. Bishop noticed the heavy bags under her eyes.

       "You're looking a little tired there, Doc."

       "Aden, you're back." She flicked a stray hair out of her face with the back of her gloved hand.

       Bishop gave her a broad smile. "Wild horses couldn't drag me away."

       For a second the fatigue seemed to lift from her face, then she focused back on the bullet wound.

       "Let me close up for you." Bishop moved around to her side.

       "Would you? I'd love to sit down."

       Bishop took the plastic tray with the needle and sutures from her hand and directed her to a chair in the corner of the clinic.

       "Did things work out in Khartoum?" she asked. The doctor hadn't been privy to the details of the actual mission.

       "Yeah, things worked out OK." Bishop started to close the wound, pressing the sides of the torn flesh together as he sewed. "How have things been here?"

       "Plenty of wounded." Jess answered flatly.

       "What about Garang?"

       "What about Garang? I haven't seen him in two days. When I did see him he completely ignored me."

       "I'm sure he's got a lot on his mind."

       "Don't make excuses for him, Aden. He doesn't deserve them."

       Bishop finished closing the wound and wiped it down. He dropped the sharps in a safety bin and stepped back from the table.

       Jess got up from her chair to inspect the wound. "He's not going to be happy with that."

       "What? Why?"

       "Your stitches are too neat. The worse it looks, the more they like it. You know, boys and scars."

       Bishop laughed and Jess called out for her nurse. She gave a set of instructions and removed her garb. Bishop followed her lead and they walked back into the waiting area.

       "You know, without you most of these men would die," Bishop said.

       "You mean without Mitch! That man's an angel. Everything I ask for he delivers."

       "Without good people equipment is worthless."

       "Tell that to Garang. All he cares about is being the big man. He—"

       Jess's rant was interrupted by Jonjo bursting into the room.

       "Garang called, he wants you and Mirza to come to Juba and meet with the other militias."

       "Trying to rally more support to the SFF flag?" Bishop asked.

       "Yes, he thinks that if you are there the others will join us."

       Bishop nodded and turned to the doctor. "You need anything from Juba, Jess?"

       "Actually I wouldn't mind checking in with the hospital. If I go with you I can also show you where the SFF safehouse is."

       "Sounds good. We'll run it past Mirza."

       They left the clinic and walked over to where the other PRIMAL operative was inspecting a new AK under the shade of the boab.

       "Mirza, it's good to see you again," said Jess.

       "And you," smiled the PRIMAL operative.

       Bishop dropped onto the crate next to him. "What do you think Mirza? You up for a day trip to Juba?"

       Mirza thought for a moment before replying. "I think you should go; any extra support could turn the battle. I should stay here and work with Jonjo and the others."