PRIMAL Vengeance (3) (28 page)

       Both men had been recruited through proxies on a previous PRIMAL mission. Under the leadership of Bishop they had thwarted the attempts of a Ukrainian arms dealer to deliver a WMD into the hands of Iran's most fanatical leaders. Both men had joined PRIMAL under Bishop's recommendation and they loved him like a brother.

       As Dragonfly climbed into the morning sky, Mirza briefed them on the situation. The newcomers had arrived from a people smuggling mission in Europe, one that had been put on hold given the current situation.

       Aleks poured coffee from a thermos and they clustered around an iPad as Mirza outlined the key locations and events of the last seven days.

       At the end of the brief, the cockpit door opened and Mitch joined them. "Righto, lads, we ready to get this show on the road?"

       "Who...who's flying aircraft now?" A look of concern passed over Aleks' features.

       Mitch laughed. "Keep your alans on, mate. She can fly herself." He pulled a Pelican case out from under one of the seats and sat down on it. Mirza handed him the iPad. He selected the aircraft's network and opened the intelligence package the Bunker had sent him.

       "I wish we were here on better terms, lads, but it's not the case. Let's get right to it. They're holding Bishop at this oil refinery." He zoomed the map in. "Last night we intercepted a call between Yang and his boss indicating they're going to move him today to Khartoum. Their plan is to scoot down to this airfield, marry up with a flight and transport him up north." Mitch traced the route from the PETROCON facility down to a small dirt strip located approximately 15km southwest of the refinery.

       "Do we have any other intel confirming the move?" asked Kurtz.

       "Sure do. There's a flight banging in to the airfield today at 1030 hours." He pulled his iPRIMAL out of the thigh pocket of his flight suit and checked one of his notes. "A
Fokker 50
scheduled for a touch down and then onflight to Khartoum. Matches up with their plans. I'll also have a UAV watching the refinery to confirm any movement of prisoners." He turned his attention back to the iPad. "Intel guys reckon a full road move would leave them exposed. That's why they've opted for a short trip to the airfield. They know that once he's in the air, we've run out of options."

       "That's a valid assessment," added Mirza. "The SFF have ambushed a few convoys on the northern route."

       "
Da,
it makes sense to me," said Aleks. "So where are we going to hit them?"

       "The airfield, chaps. We've got a little under an hour to fine tune the plan and execute it. Not much time, I know, but this will be our best opportunity to free Bishop."

       "Clocks ticking,
ja
. Nothing like a bit of pressure to bring out the best in us," added Kurtz.

       "For Bishop, lads," said Mitch.

       "For Bishop," they echoed.

Chapter 46

H&K G28 Designated Marksman Rifle

Kordofan District, Sudan

       "Green light. Good luck, lads," Mitch's voice came over the intercom.

       Kurtz was the first out of the door, followed by Aleks and Mirza. Dragonfly was flying at maximum altitude, and at 25,000 feet they were breathing oxygen as they plummeted towards their target. The PRIMAL operatives had practiced this type of insertion hundreds of times. They swiftly stablized themselves as they reached terminal velocity, belting towards the earth's surface at well over a hundred and fifty kilometers an hour.

       They tracked in a line as they fell, each of them watching the dial on their altimeter as they approached 'pop' height. Kurtz deployed his chute first, prompting the other two operators to do the same. Under canopy they spiraled down towards the airfield.

       "Breaking away!" Kurtz announced as he guided his canopy out of formation and towards his own target.

       "As am I," confirmed Aleks.

       The pair had identified their positions on either side of the runway with Mirza heading deeper, towards the apron.

       Mirza overflew his intended drop zone then cut in sharply, corkscrewing down towards it. At the last moment he pulled down on his toggles and touched down. In a few seconds he had shrugged out of his chute and collapsed the canopy. Working quickly he unslung his rifle and cocked it, applying the safety. A moment later he had recovered his chute, stuffed it all into a camouflaged bag and stashed it in the dry vegetation.

       "Mike ready!" he announced over the radio.

       "Kilo ready!" Kurtz's voice broadcast over his earpiece.

       "Alpha ready," Aleks grunted.

       "Roger, team. This is Dragonfly. I have visual on the target convoy, approximately four minutes out. Two trucks, three gun buggies and one SUV." There was a short pause. "Oh, and Kilo, nice landing. I got that on camera. You OK?" At 25,000 feet, Dragonfly was well out of visual range, however Mitch could still monitor the situation through the surveillance pod.

       "Screw you, Englander, what kind of
dummkopf
puts up a fence in the middle of fucking nowhere," Kurtz replied.

       Aleks' laughter filled the airways.

       Mirza was lying in a thicket of bush on a small rise near the end of the runway. In his camouflage outfit he was almost invisible, the pattern blending seamlessly with the surrounding terrain. Aleks and Kurtz would be doing the same, searching for the best piece of ground to target the approaching vehicles. All three were armed with semi-automatic sniper rifles and together they covered three sides of the runway and the apron. The only area they did not block was the runway stretching away to the south, but the lack of cover would be fatal for anyone trying to escape that way.

       "I have the Fokker on scope. Five minutes before it lands," Mitch said. "Remember, the two detainees are in the SUV." He had used a UAV to monitor the loading of the prisoners at the refinery.

       The suppressed barrel of Mirza's G28 sniper rifle peeked through the grass. Through the scope he had a clear view across the hard packed earth of the runway. He glanced down at his iPRIMAL and noted the position of Kurtz. The German was almost directly opposite him. He would need to watch his fire.

       "I have visual," reported Aleks looking through his sniper scope.

       Within seconds the convoy drove onto the apron. The three gun buggies moved into a defensive posture with the SUV parked in the middle. Machine gunners in the turrets pointed their heavy weapons outwards. Other guards jumped from the trucks and formed a security screen. The Chinese contractors went through the motions but weren't expecting a threat. Any vehicle approaching would be easily detected and apart from a few basic shelters, the airfield was empty. In the distance the engines of the Fokker could be heard.

       Mirza scoped the black suburban. Through the heavily tinted windows he could make out the shape of two people in the back seats. Both had hoods on their heads. "Package is in the SUV. Neutralize the gunners first, then drivers, then engines, foot mobiles last. Acknowledge."

       Kurtz and Aleks each confirmed.

       "Fokker touching down in thirty seconds," added Mitch.

       "On my count." Mirza took up the slack in the H&K's trigger. "One, two, three!"

       The rifle bucked in his shoulder as the 7.62mm round exited the rifle. Almost simultaneously the guards in the three gun buggies collapsed, their heads exploding.

       One of the perimeter guards heard the snap of a round sizzling past his head and dropped to the ground, firing a burst from his weapon.

       Still hidden, the three PRIMAL snipers continued to engage. Bullets hit the bonnets and side panels of the three gun buggies. Holes appeared in the driver's side window of the SUV.       The airfield became alive with the sound of automatic gunfire as the Chinese guards blasted away, trying in vain to shoot at their hidden attackers.

       Mirza switched his fire to immobilize the SUV, punching rounds into the front tires and engine block.

       "Aircraft has touched down," said Mitch.

       "Switch fire to dismounts." Mirza reloaded another twenty-round magazine.

       The PRIMAL operatives started engaging the guards. Two crumpled as they ran towards Kurtz's position looking for cover.

       The roar of the Fokker 50's engines filled the air as the pilots reversed the thrust. The sight that greeted them was pure chaos.

       Chinese guards lay dead on the runway with the rest trying to find cover behind the crippled vehicles. Suppressed, surgical fire was hitting them from every angle, dropping them as they crouched behind their vehicles.

       A quick-thinking buggy driver triggered his smoke discharger. It threw the smoke canisters down range with a loud thunk, then thick grey smoke spread out across the runway. It billowed up and around the Fokker and caught in the propellers. Its crew slammed on the brakes as hard as they could, terrified of what lay beyond the smoke. The engines screamed as they coaxed every ounce of reverse thrust from them.

       As bedlam unfolded amongst the smoke, Mirza reached forward and calmly flicked his thermal imager over in front of his scope. It would take a few seconds to adjust.

       The PRIMAL fire lapsed as Aleks and Kurtz changed their own scopes. In that time one of the guards managed to reach the heavy machine gun mounted on one of the buggies. He pushed the dead gunner's body out of the way and fired blindly into the smoke.

       The 12.7mm armor-piercing rounds were designed to penetrate steel plate and made short work of the Fokker's soft aluminum skin. Two rounds slammed into the outside engine and the third, a tracer, tore a fist-sized hole in its fuel tank.

       The wing ignited and a sheet of flame shot into the air as the aircraft came to a complete halt, still a few hundred meters from the smoke-shrouded vehicles.

       The PRIMAL operatives' sights came online almost at exactly the same time. All three of them fired through the smoke at the white thermal outline of the gunner. The slugs hit him within the space of a second. His corpse slumped in the turret.

       "Finish the rest, I'm heading in," announced Mirza.

       "Acknowledged," said Aleks.

       "I'm moving," spluttered Kurtz. "Smoke is everywhere."

       "What the hell is going on down there, lads? Is there anything that isn't on fire?" asked Mitch.

       "Wasn't us!" said Kurtz as he jogged into a new position.

       The weight of Chinese return fire had dropped to almost nothing as Mirza left his hide and trotted across open ground, heading for the vehicles. An infrared beacon pulsed on his armor, enabling Aleks and Kurtz to ID him through their sights. The smoke from the canisters was dispersing, replaced with haze and smoke from the burning passenger aircraft.

       "That's the last of them," said Aleks as he placed a round through the forehead of the final remaining guard.

       "I concur. I can see no squirters," reported Mitch from high above.

       As he approached the vehicles, Mirza slung the G28 over his shoulder and drew his pistol. He picked up his pace, moving directly for the SUV. The front window of the vehicle was shattered, the driver dead at the wheel.

       When he was twenty meters from the SUV the rear door on his side opened and a black-hooded figure stumbled out. One of the hostages had managed to get free. He could tell immediately it wasn't Bishop.

       "JESS! GET DOWN!" Mirza screamed as he sprinted towards her. Behind her, in the SUV he'd spotted another figure armed with a submachine gun.

       It happened in slow motion. Mirza was only ten meters away when the burst of fire hit her. She spun as the machine pistol fired at full-automatic. Her body convulsed as bullets thudded into her.

       She collapsed before Mirza reached her, his pistol still held at the ready. It jumped in his hand as he pumped the trigger. The .45 slug hit the Chinese guard square in face as he climbed out of the SUV. The
JS submachine gun
fell from his hands as he toppled forward.

       Mirza holstered his pistol and tore the black hood off Jess's face. She smiled up at him, blood oozing from her mouth and nose. "I knew you'd come. Bishop said you would."

       "Dragonfly, I need evac now. Jess has been hit," Mirza transmitted as he sliced open the back of her shirt with his hook-knife. Tears formed in his eyes as he surveyed the damage the rounds had inflicted on her body. Blood flowed from no less than three entry wounds in her back and an exit wound in her lower abdomen.

       He didn't look up as boots skidded to a halt in the dust next to him. Kurtz's rifle hit the ground with a clatter as the German tore his medical kit from his vest. "Bishop isn't here, Mirza."

       "I know." Mirza had already packed the abdomen wound with wadding and was working franticly to stem the flow of blood from the wounds higher up in her back. He was kneeling with the American doctor sitting, slumped forward against him.