PRIMAL Vengeance (3) (29 page)

       "Get a line in, Kurtz, or we're going to lose her."

       "The bastards tricked us," Kurtz swore as he opened the medical kit. "This whole show was a diversion." The lanky German inserted the catheter into the back of Jess's hand and hooked an IV bag to the insertion point. He held the bag high, forcing the fluid into her arm. Aleks arrived and held the bag, allowing Kurtz to focus his attention on sealing the other wounds.

       "Mirza," Jess whispered between coughing fits. Blood was frothing at her lips. "Mirza, tell him I love him."

       "You tell him, Jess. We'll get him back soon."

       She shook her head as her eyes glazed over.

       "No Mirza, you have to tell him." Her eyes closed and her head slumped forward over his shoulder.

       "Kurtz, we're losing her." Mirza laid her down flat and tore an adrenaline shot from his vest. He plunged it into her chest and pressed the plunger home. There was a brief flicker of her eyelids and then nothing.

       "
Nein, nein, nein
!" Kurtz screamed. He pounded her chest with his fist. "Don't fucking die on us. Don't you dare fucking die!"

       "KURTZ, stop!" Mirza grabbed the German by the shoulders. "She's gone, she's gone."

       Kurtz leapt to his feet and stormed across to the SUV. He kicked the corpse of the man who had gunned down a woman he had never even known.

       In the background the beat of Dragonfly's rotors could be heard and Mitch broadcast over the radio.

       "Team, we've got a large convoy of hostiles heading your way. I'm on the deck in thirty seconds. Can I confirm that Bravo is not in location?"

       "That's correct," said Mirza. "Bravo is not in our location. I have the doctor here but she hasn't made it." He made to lift up Jess's body.

       Aleks stopped him. "You go, Mirza. I carry her." Mirza nodded his thanks and followed Kurtz to where the tilt-rotor had touched down.

       The big Russian slung his rifle and slowly picked up the corpse. He cradled her gently in his arms and walked to the waiting aircraft.

       Behind them the Fokker burned, a dozen bodies littered the tarmac and the six Chinese vehicles sat broken and useless, windows shattered and tires shot up. The Fokker's crew had escaped the flames and watched in silence as the three men and the dead body disappeared into the strange-looking tilt-rotor. They shielded their eyes from the dust as it leapt into the air and disappeared over the trees.

Chapter 47

150km northwest of the Refinery, Sudan

       The two four-wheel drives raced along the main highway to Khartoum. Highway was a generous description for what was essentially a single-lane dirt track bulldozed through the Sudanese bushland.

       The lead vehicle slowed as it approached a herd of cattle, the driver leaning on the horn. The cattle herder raised his fist as the SUVs forced their way through his herd. Clear of the obstacle, the driver mashed the accelerator and they resumed their breakneck pace towards the Sudanese capital.

       In the back seat of the lead vehicle Bishop sat with his hands cuffed behind him, a black hood covering his head. It had been well over twelve hours since his capture and his body was letting him know it. His face was badly bruised, along with his torso, where Yang had used him as a punching bag. The gunshot wound to his upper arm throbbed; every bump sent jolts of pain through the injury. He fought hard to suppress even the slightest of moans, intent on depriving Yang of that small victory.

       As he sat in silence his thoughts were preoccupied with Jess. He had not seen her since their arrival at the refinery and he hoped she was in the vehicle behind them. He knew if they had separated them, then she had very little hope of rescue.

       The shrill ring tone of a satellite phone snapped his thoughts back to the present.

       Sitting in the passenger seat, Yang took the call. A short conversation in Mandarin ensued. Bishop listened intently, hoping to pick up a word or two, or even garner the slightest information from his tone.

        Yang terminated the call.

       "It would seem your friends fell for my little deception, Aden. They attempted to recover you from the airfield, but you were not there apparently." Yang laughed. "Very unfortunate for you. It would seem the SEALs are not coming to rescue you anytime soon."

       Yang and the driver laughed. Bishop sat in the back of the vehicle in silence.

       "What, no smart comment? No jokes, Aden?"

       Bishop sat perfectly still, his mind racing. Was Yang trying to trick him? Had the team really fallen for a ruse? Had anyone been killed?

       "I have a joke for you, Aden. What did your girlfriend say to the rescue team?"

       Bishop was silent.

       "Nothing—because she was dead!"

       Yang's words hit Bishop like a kick to the chest. Grief coursed through his body. Tears ran down his cheeks, hidden by the black hood. He tasted blood as he bit down on his lip in a long, silent scream. Forcing his emotions under control he let out a breath and spoke.

       "You're a dead man, Yang!"

Chapter 48

The Bunker, Lascar Island

"Chen, we've got a fix on the number."

       PRIMAL's intelligence officer leapt up from his desk. "Where is he?"

       "Somewhere over central China, current ground speed nearly 800 clicks. Heading west." The intel analyst pointed to the blinking dot on his screen.

       "Zhu's on his way to Sudan," said Chua squinting at the monitor. "He'll be on the ground before we're ready."

       Chua had only been back in the Bunker for an hour. He had hit the office as soon as his flight from Hong Kong had landed.

       "Time to throw out the bait," Chua said as he crossed the operations room floor. He knocked once on Vance's door and stuck his head in.

       "Yes," Vance grunted from behind his desk. The PRIMAL commander looked grave. With Bishop captured and the recovery mission a failure, the stakes had never been higher.

       "Zhu's on his way to Khartoum."

       Vance stood up. "Let's put in the call. What's the latest on the team?"

       They headed for the conference room.

       "I spoke briefly to Mitch. They're taking it hard. Although it's Kurtz who's taken it the worst."

       "Kurtz? Why?" Vance sat down in the conference room. One of the technicians was already at the table with a laptop.

       "Apparently the kid's fallen for a girl in Budapest. She looks a bit like Jess."

       "A girl from their recent job?"

       "Yes, but I'm not across the details yet."

       "What about Mirza?"

       "He's OK. You know what he's like."

       "Yeah, I pity the fucker that gets in his way now." Vance looked to the technician at the end of the conference table. "We good to go?"

       "Yes, Sir," the man replied.

       "Let's get to it."

Chua picked the headset off the table, put it on and gave the technician a nod. The speakers in the room came alive with the sound of a number being dialed. There was a pause, followed by a dial tone. The phone rang three times before it connected.

       "
Zhè shì shuí
?" asked a voice on the other end.

       "Mr Zhu, the question I would ask is not who is this but why are you calling." Chua's voice was digitally altered; through the room's speakers it sounded distant and metallic.

       "You have my son?" Zhu asked.

       "This is correct, and you have one of my men."

       "Yes, and you have already tried to recover him and failed."

       "Zhu, I am not here to discuss the past, I am here to discuss the future. Do you wish to negotiate or would you prefer me to end this discussion?" Chua asked calmly.

       There was a pause. "No, we will negotiate." Zhu said softly.

       "Good. It is not my intent to harm your son in any way. I simply wish to return him to you in good health and receive my man in the same condition. Is this clear?"

       "Do you know who you are talking to? I am—"

       "I do indeed," interrupted Chua. "But do you have any idea who you are talking to?"

       There was another pause before Chua continued. "I didn't think so. Now listen very carefully. Tomorrow morning you will be contacted on this number in Khartoum. You will have my man with you and we will conduct the swap. Is this clear?"

       "Perfectly."

       "Then I will speak to you soon. Have an enjoyable flight, Zhu."

       The technician terminated the call. "Signal strength was strong, Chen. If they managed a trace, they'll be getting a small bed'n'breakfast in St Louis."

       "Good work, team," said Vance. "Let's just hope they take the bait. Chua, I'll leave you to brief Mitch and the boys."

Chapter 49

Khartoum, Sudan

       Zhu sat in the Nile River Cafe of the Corinthian Hotel sipping green tea from his favorite china cup. He gazed out of the windows of Khartoum's only five star hotel, watching a barge nose it's way down the Nile river. Around him a team of suit-wearing bodyguards did their best to remain unobtrusive.

       Yang entered the cafe and crossed the polished marble floor to stand silently at his master's shoulder.

       "This china has been in my family for three generations, Yang." Zhu placed his cup down. "My grandfather took it from the belongings of a British officer in 1901. He passed it to my father who passed it to me." Zhu switched his gaze from the windows to his subordinate's face. "Yang, one day I would like to pass it to my son."

       The Chinese operative nodded. "Everything is ready, Zhu. The Chief of Police has men across the city. Our own people are with them to ensure there are no mistakes."

       "And their man, Aden?"

       "My men have him ready at the embassy."

       Zhu wiped his mouth with the corner of a spotless white napkin. "Has Xinhai been able to make him talk?"

       "No, not without injuring him. You gave strict instructions."

       "Yes, I know. However, if today doesn't go as planned those instructions will change."

       Zhu's phone beeped, indicating he had received a message. He read it and showed it to Yang.

       I hope you enjoyed your breakfast. Please proceed to the roof of the hotel and await further instructions.

       Yang spoke into a radio as Zhu rose from his chair. "Secure the roof. Alert all units that we have contact."

       "I think it would be wise to follow their directions as much as possible," said Zhu as they walked to the elevators.

       "I agree."

       They exited the elevator at the top floor and took the emergency stairwell to the roof. Chinese personnel already manned all the doors and Zhu's four-man security detail escorted them every step. By the time they reached the top of the building, another security team had cordoned off the area. Chinese mercenaries armed with high-powered rifles were positioned on all sides.

       Zhu was breathing heavily from the flight of stairs and he barely had time to catch his breath before his phone rang. He answered, putting it on speakerphone.

       "Listen very carefully." It was the same metallic voice as before. "800 meters southeast of your position is the Souq Arabia market. You are to release Aden at the western entrance in five minutes."

       "And my son?"

       "If you look due east of your position you will see a construction site with a large crane."

       Zhu rushed to the edge of the building and peered out over the city.

       "Yes, I can see the crane."

       "Very good. If you look closely you will see that there are two men on the end of the crane. One of them is your son."

       Sure enough, out on the arm of the crane were two figures.

       The voice continued. "If Aden is not released within the time period, your son will fall from the crane. Four minutes and thirty seconds, Zhu." The voice hung up.

       The two figures on the crane dropped.

       "NOOO!" screamed Zhu in Mandarin, gripping the railing.

       One of the figures fell a short distance before dangling under the crane like a Christmas decoration. The other gathered speed, and like a spider it dropped on a thin line before it disappeared behind a block of apartments.

       Yang took a sniper rifle off a guard, positioned it on the railing and pointed it at the dangling figure. "Is that him?"

       Zhu took Yang's place behind the rifle and lowered his face to the optic. Through the magnified scope he could make out the features of the person hanging by the rope, squirming. "Yes that's him. It's him!"

       Yang issued orders into his radio. "Take the prisoner to the western entrance to the market and wait for my order. Have every other unit form an outer perimeter. No one is to enter or leave the area without my approval." He looked out over the cityscape to the pathetic-looking blob dangling off the crane. "And get the helicopter here immediately."

Chapter 50

Souq Arabic Market, Khartoum

       The white PETROCON van screeched to a halt outside the western entrance to the Souq Market. Two Chinese men dressed in coveralls jumped out and slid the side door open. They dragged the hooded Bishop from the van and stood him at the entry to the market. He was barefoot, dressed in the same torn bloodied shirt and pants that he'd been captured in.

       The sounds and smells of the market washed over Bishop. He could make out traces of spices amongst the smell of unwashed humans, dried meat and smoke. The sounds of bartering in a multitude of languages and dialects mixed with the sound of the city's traffic driving by the entrance. They had brought him to a public place. His pulse quickened. They were going to release him!