PRIMAL Vengeance (3) (7 page)

       She had started out at the crack of dawn, following what Bishop and the rest of the team called the 'Punisher', a fourteen kilometer obstacle course, sneaker range and endurance run. PRIMAL operators ran it regularly to keep in shape. It was one of many training activities that had been set up on the island, each one designed to challenge a different set of skills.

       Saneh was a recent addition to the PRIMAL team. Formerly an agent of the Iranian Ministry of Intelligence and Security, the alluring operative had been recruited into the vigilante organization more by chance than plan. She had been sold out by her old organization following a mission to secure a biological weapon. Homeless, nationless, and without a friend in the world, PRIMAL offered her a second chance. She was a perfect fit for the clandestine organization; striking, audacious, ruthless, and a bit of an altruist. PRIMAL had appealed to her from day one; a renegade team of former intelligence and Special Forces operators dealing out justice to the world's worst.

       Having caught her breath Saneh stepped off again. She scrambled down the narrow jungle track, her boots cutting into the slick mud, keeping her upright.

       When she hit the bottom she searched for the red arrow that marked the route. It was nailed to a tree, indicating she needed to follow the creek line. The cool water was refreshing as she waded downstream. It rose up to her chest and she held the assault rifle high.

       A hundred meters later, an arrow directed her out of the creek and onto the bank. She clambered up into a small clearing with a track running downhill. A buzzer sounded and she racked the action on her rifle. The sneaker range had detected her GPS transponder and activated the targets. She brought the weapon to her shoulder and started down the track.

       Man-sized targets popped up randomly as she progressed, Saneh firing at them as they appeared. She moved quickly, double tapping and changing magazines on the run. Within minutes she had cleared the course, unloaded her weapon and was jogging down the track towards the ocean.

       Two kilometers later the track finished and she burst out of the jungle onto a pristine white beach. The PRIMAL operatives used this part of the island as a recreational retreat. A small cluster of huts was hidden underneath a canopy of palm trees.

       Saneh downed the last of her water, dumped her equipment on the deck in front of one of the huts and tore off her boots. She struggled to peel her sweat drenched t-shirt from her clammy skin. Dropping it onto a sun bed, she stepped out of her cargo pants and strode down the beach to the water in her underwear, shaking out her long, dark hair.

       As she entered the water, a man appeared in the doorway of one of the huts. Bishop walked out onto the deck and watched her dive into the ocean. Dressed in blue swim shorts, a pair of aviator sunglasses covering his dark brown eyes, he was sipping from a cold glass of iced tea. He watched her for a minute before retiring to one of the two sun beds. Depositing the glass on a side table, he closed his eyes, savoring the sun on his bruised body.

       "Good morning, lover." Saneh stood on the deck in her sports underwear. Water dripped from her dark hair, running down her body to pool on the deck.

       Bishop looked over the top of his sunglasses, drinking in every curve of her voluptuous frame.

       She parted her lips revealing a near-perfect smile. "You're looking a little less battered."

       Bishop sat up and threw her a towel. "Nothing a little rest couldn't fix."

       Saneh caught it deftly and started drying herself.

       "Hey, Saneh."

       "Yes?"

       He took a deep breath. "Look, it's just..."

       "Spit it out, Aden."

"OK. Well, it's just there's something I wanted to talk to you about. Something important."

       She stopped drying her hair and smiled at him coyly. "What?"

       "I, uh, want to talk about us. Wanted to talk about where this is going."

       "I've been waiting for this, Aden."

       "Huh, what do you mean?"

       "I've been waiting for you to bring it up." She sat down on the other sunbed and faced him. "I'm not a giddy school girl, Aden. I'm a highly trained
HUMINT
operative."

       "I know that. I just thought..."

       "You thought? Please, Aden, we both know that thinking's not your strong suit. Mr Shoot-from-the-hip?" She flashed him another smile. "Now, what did you think? That I was in love with you?"

       Bishop looked up at her sheepishly. "Well, yes. I didn't want to be the only one.'"

       Saneh laughed. "Of course I love you, Aden. But I'm also a realist. I know your loyalty is with the team."

       "That doesn't mean—"

       "Yes it does, Aden. You're an idealist with a stupidly big heart. You won't rest until you've saved every last kicked and beaten underdog that exists in the world."

       "I guess we're similar like that."

       Saneh smiled again. "I guess you're right. Although you do seem to get all the good missions."

       It was Bishop's turn to laugh. "That's a lie and you know it. You're the one that bounces straight out of recruitment in Istanbul into an operation in the UAE."

       Both operatives had been redeployed to the Emirates to help deal with a threat to PRIMAL's wealthy benefactor, Tariq Ahmed. The head of UAE intelligence was also the CEO of a significant logistics empire and the founder of PRIMAL.

       "So did you."

       "I had to. I wasn't about to let Tariq down, was I?"

       "Nobody would let that man down; he's handsome, educated and oh so charming."

       The founder of PRIMAL was renowned for being a lady's man. The Sheikh had been rather taken with Saneh and had lavished her with attention.

       Bishop raised an eyebrow and Saneh continued. "You're such a little boy, Aden Bishop. A little boy that doesn't want to share his toys with anyone else."

       He pretended to sulk and Saneh straddled him on the sun bed. She leaned forward and kissed him gently. "It's OK, little boy. I only have eyes for you… for now."

       Bishop's hands slid up the side of her body and around her back until they reached the latch of her bra. With a flick he unsnapped it and the bra dropped from her chest. He took a second to fully appreciate her ample breasts before pulling her even closer to him, kissing her passionately.

       The embrace was interrupted by the buzzing of a pager.

       "Are you shitting me?" Bishop said as Saneh reached across and grabbed the communication device from the side table.

       "You've been recalled to the bunker."

       "Now? That'd be right."

       Saneh jumped off him, scooping up her bra and slipping it back over her shoulders. She cringed as she slid the filthy cargo pants over her legs and gathered up the rest of her gear. Bishop was already inside the hut grabbing his own kit. He reappeared dressed in a t-shirt and carrying a shoulder bag.

       "Here, wear this. Yours stinks." He threw her a spare t-shirt and proceeded to stuff her wet gear into the duffel bag.

       "What do you think is going on?" Saneh asked as she laced her boots.

       Bishop folded the stock on the ARX and strapped the shortened rifle to the side of his duffel bag. "Not sure, but if I had to guess I'd say it's got to do with the Sudan."

       The two grabbed their bags and started off down a track that led from the huts to an open-sided vehicle shed.

       "Mirza's been keeping an eye on the situation. Both he and Chua think its getting worse."

       Bishop's partner had already been moved to Abu Dhabi where he could be closer to the action should intervention be required.

       They reached the shed and threw their gear into the back of Bishop's ATV. Saneh swung into the driver's seat and started the engine.

       Bishop stood next to the powerful buggy with his hands on his hips. "Is that so…?"

       "It certainly is, lover boy. Now get in and I'll show you how it's done."

       Saneh raced the ATV down a short track before they hit the beach. Once the tires hit the sand she unleashed the 1000 cc engine. Sand rooster tailed off the back tires as they rocketed down the beach, heading back towards the airfield.

Chapter 10

PRIMAL HQ, Lascar Island

       Saneh slowed the ATV as they left the beach and bounced onto the apron of Lascar Island's single runway. Checking for aircraft, she accelerated across the tarmac and into one of the two hangars cut into the side of the extinct volcano that towered over the airfield.

       An abandoned Japanese World War Two base, the island now masqueraded as a maintenance and refuelling depot for Lascar Logistics, an international air freight company owned by the founder of PRIMAL. It was here, thousands of miles from any prying eyes, that PRIMAL staged its operations.

       The irony of a covert organization basing itself on an abandoned island with its headquarters deep within the bowels of an extinct volcano was lost on Saneh. Growing up in Iran she had missed out on Bond villains and the Thunderbirds TV series. To her the concept made sense. Where else in the world could PRIMAL hide without being exposed?

       They entered the hangar and drove under the wing of a Lascar cargo aircraft, stopping for a moment at the back wall. There was a whir of electric motors and two portions of the wall separated, wide enough for the buggy to enter.

       On the other side of the doors was a vast cavern the size of a football field. Carved from volcanic rock it once housed Japanese bombers. Now it was the home of PRIMAL's own fleet of aircraft. Present in the hangar was a heavily modified
Il-76 transport aircraft
that the PRIMAL team called The Pain Train. The giant airframe was a surveillance platform, transporter, signals intelligence collector and when required, a gunship. Parked with its nose under the wing of the hulking jet was a Gulfstream business jet. Saneh noted that a number of PRIMAL's latest aircraft were not in the hangar. It was possible they had already been positioned in Abu Dhabi.

       She stopped the buggy at the back of the hangar, in front of a large service elevator. The pair swiped their access cards and rode the lift down. It stopped on the first floor.

       "Make sure you come see me once you're done." Saneh gave Bishop a kiss on the cheek before exiting the lift into the accommodation level.

       "You still going to be wearing those pants?" Bishop quipped, clamping his fingers over his nose.

       "Just for you, soldier boy." Saneh laughed as the doors closed.

       Bishop stepped out of the lift on the third floor, swiped his way through a secure access point and entered the Bunker.

       The actual operations room was almost empty. A few of the staff were sitting in front of their terminals but the primary display screens were all blank. He glanced over at the intelligence team, two analysts were hard at work.

       "Chua and Vance are in the big man's office," the watchkeeper said without looking up from a book he was reading. Clearly there was nothing going on at the moment.

       "Cheers, Tom." Bishop walked across the operations floor to the staff offices. He knocked on the one that boldly declared 'The Boss'.

       "Come in!" Vance, the Director of Operations, bellowed.

       Bishop pushed the door open and stepped into the spartan office. Vance was not one for covering his walls in memorabilia and all that 'crap' as he eloquently described it.

       "Bish, how ya doin', buddy?" Vance jumped up from behind his desk and pumped Bishop's arm vigorously. The former CIA operative was an ox of a man, built like Mike Tyson complete with shaved head and biceps like coconuts.

       "Yeah, I'm OK. Healed up pretty good." Bishop's run-in with the Chinese operative on the 'Tian Hai' had left him battered. He had spent an entire day in the PRIMAL medical bay undergoing a thorough exam by the resident doctor.

       "Hey, Chua," Bishop acknowledged PRIMAL's Chief of Intelligence sitting across the room.

       "Aden," responded Chen Chua.

       "So, what's the go, guys? Things kicking off in Africa?"

       "You picked it, buddy," said Vance. "Chua, fill Bish in on the details."

       "Right away." Chua took a sip from a can of energy drink then activated the LED screen on the wall of the office. A screen saver of Sports Illustrated models was replaced with a map of Eastern Africa.

       Bishop could not help but smile as the map exploded with graphics. Animated icons highlighted important locations, recent activity appearing with call outs denoting the key stakeholders. Chua was a master of all things geeky; the former US Army intelligence officer loved technology. Technology and energy drinks. The Chinese American downed them like he was a college kid knocking back beers in Cancun.

       "Considering your last mission, sinking the freighter, I'm going to jump straight in to the new stuff. OK?" the intel officer asked.

       Bishop gave Chua a nod.

       "In the past week we've been getting a lot of reports from the disputed Abyei district between South Sudan and Sudan actual."

       "Disputed? I thought South Sudan won control of the area through UN run elections? What is there to dispute?" asked Bishop.

       "Khartoum is ignoring the result of the referendum. They're calling the election a sham and as a result they've been increasing their clandestine militia capability in the oil-rich region. I did a bit of a deep dive into the situation and reporting indicates that violence in the area has increased significantly with at least five villages raided. The UN estimates that close to 30,000 refugees have fled south from the border. Media interviews with refugees lead me to believe that the raiding parties are Janjaweed militias."