PRIMAL Renegade (A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 8) (The PRIMAL Series) (3 page)

“I've been meaning to ask,” said Christina as they turned onto another track. “How did you two meet?”

“He caught my eye in a restaurant.” Saneh wasn't about to explain that she had first crossed paths with Bishop when she was a covert operative in the
Iranian intelligence service
. Nor did Christina need to know that she had saved Bishop's life on the streets of Kiev while dressed in heels and a particularly revealing cocktail dress. It all seemed so long ago. A tear formed in the corner of her eye as she remembered her friend and former comrade, Aleks. She had met him the same day she met Bishop, but now he was dead.

“Are you OK?”

Christina's voice snapped her back to reality. “I'm fine.”

“We're nearly there,” interrupted Francis from the front of the truck. “One of the rangers saw Kitana around the next bend earlier today.”

“Excellent, can we go slow so we don't spook her?” Christina asked before turning to Saneh. “The two of you are a great couple. He's going to make an awesome father.”

She shook her head. “Yes, I know Aden's going to be a great dad. I just, well… Something reminded me of an old friend. Someone I cared about very much who passed away, that's all.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Christina reached inside her backpack, pulled out binoculars, and handed them to her. “But hey, I need your eyes tear-free and ready to spot a two thousand pound momma and her four hundred pound bubba.”

“God, I hope I don't get that heavy.” Saneh managed a smile as she hung the binoculars around her neck.

***

Mamba sat against a tree cradling his AK assault rifle. He sipped from a canteen as he watched the remaining members of his hunting party resting in the shade. They had walked for a half a day to reach the banks of the river. All were seasoned bushmen but the heat had made it hard going. The walk back in the cool of the night would be easier. He squinted and scanned the scrub for any sign of their young guide and one of the trackers. The pair had been sent forward to locate the rhino and check for rangers. “Kogo, where the hell is that little thief? He better not have sold us out.”

Kogo lay in the shade half asleep. “He'll be back. The rangers can't pay him what we can.”

“Maybe, but I still don't trust him. You know what they say, you can't buy a Zambian, you rent them.”

Colin, the grizzled Rhodesian, laughed from where he was assembling his dart gun. The weapon resembled a hunting rifle complete with a scope and long barrel. In place of gunpowder it used compressed gas to propel a poisoned projectile out to a range of seventy yards. That meant the hunter had to stalk very close to the target and a rhino was not an animal you wanted to anger. It was a job requiring steely nerves and a crack shot; Colin was both.

A rustle in the bushes alerted the men. Safety catches clicked to fire. The thick grass parted and the young former ranger appeared with the tracker. Both were sweating heavily as they dropped in the shade.

“Well?” demanded Mamba.

“We found her,” reported the tracker. “She and the calf are not far from here. They're sleeping in the shade of a big thorn tree.”

“Good, we'll make the kill now and recover the horn.” He glanced up at the darkening sky. “By the time we finish it will be nightfall.”

“Solid plan.” Colin slid a dart the size of a cigar tube into the gun and closed the bolt. “Ready when you are.” The projectile contained nearly an ounce of pure cyanide, more than enough to kill a full-grown rhino. He had three more like it secured in his hunting vest.

Mamba tucked his water bottle back into a pouch. “Lead the way, little ranger boy.”

The youth scowled and set off back into the bush with the others in tow. They followed a game trail along the riverbank to a thicket of saplings. The teenager held up his hand then pointed. Mamba knelt and peered through the branches. It took him a second to spot the massive animal. She resembled a granite boulder in the fading light.

“She's a big one, eh
,
” whispered Colin as he cradled the dart gun. “Good thing I brought extra darts. Might not go down with just one.”

“Just get it done.”

Colin slid forward on his chest, tucked the weapon against his shoulder, and aimed through the scope.

Mamba crouched behind him watching the massive beast as she rested on her belly. He couldn't see the head but he had no doubt the horn was impressive.

The gun emitted a pop not unlike an air rifle and the dart struck the thick hide with a thud. A loud bellow reverberated as the rhino struggled to her feet and turned toward them, nostrils flaring.

Now Mamba could see the long curved horn as well as the sheer size of the fully-grown rhino. She bellowed again and he caught a glimpse of the calf cowering behind its mother. Mamba shouldered his assault rifle as the one-ton animal lowered her horn. He swore it was staring directly at him.

Colin had already reloaded the dart gun and fired once more hitting her square in the chest.

“Jesus Christ!” Mamba yelled as the rhino charged.

She halved the distance between them in under a second. As she was about to plow into the thicket where they hid she skidded to a halt and stood panting not a dozen feet away. Mamba raised his AK and aimed at her head.

“Steady.” Colin pushed the barrel of the assault rifle down. “She's done.”

The rhino wheezed and convulsed. Her eyes grew wide as her front legs crumpled and she dropped to her knees. It took mere seconds for the huge dose of cyanide to cripple her respiratory system. Her powerful heart was the next to go. It beat slower and slower before finally, as the flow of oxygen ceased, it stopped and she toppled over.

“Good work.” Mamba pushed through the thicket and approached tentatively. He ran his hand over the horn. It was impressive measuring as long as his forearm. The animal lifted her head and gave one last bellow. The forlorn cry for help startled Mamba and he fell backward in the long grass.

“She was a beautiful animal,” Colin said staring with sad eyes.

“Don't get all soppy on me, old man. You've killed more than most.” Mamba scrambled to his feet and pulled the razor sharp machete from its scabbard. With deft blows he hacked at the flesh around the horn. A pathetic bleating sound interrupted his butchering and he turned to see the rhino calf standing a few yards away. It was as big as a large dog with a tiny horn the size of a golf ball.

“Can I shoot it?” asked the ex-ranger.

“No, you idiot. It will grow and then we come back for the horn.”

As Mamba worked to hack the horn free the other men faced outward with their guns. The teenager, sulking, moved down to the riverbank.

Mamba sweated as he worked. His preferred method of removing horns and tusks was a chainsaw. However, with the threat of rangers he couldn't risk the noise. As he continued to hack at the base of the horn the kid called out.

“Hey, hey, can you hear that?” The teen scrambled through the tall grass back to the carcass.

He paused and listened. Over the bleating of the calf he could hear a faint noise. It took him a moment to identify it as the clatter of a diesel engine. “Fucking hell.” He handed the machete to Kogo. “Finish this.”

He gestured to the others as he unslung his AK. “We'll check it out.” With the rifle held at the ready he patrolled through the thick grass until he could see down into the riverbed and across to the other bank.

A cut-down safari truck appeared a few hundred yards downstream on the opposite bank. He knelt and watched as it crept toward them. Whoever was in it was searching for something, probably the rhino and her calf. Mamba took a compact monocular from his vest and focused it on the vehicle. There were two green-uniformed rangers in the front seats. Shifting his focus he spotted two women in the back. One of them was holding a long-lensed camera. The other, a strikingly attractive brunette, had a pair of binoculars slung around her neck.

“What are we going to do?” the youth whispered as he caught up.

“Nothing, unless they see us,” Mamba said as he flicked the safety off his AK.

***

The Land Cruiser slowed and came to a halt at the river. It gave the occupants a clear view of both the rocky riverbed and the opposite side.

Saneh looked up, searching the sky for Bishop’s drone. Maybe he would spot the rhinos first, she thought.

“Was this where she was last seen?” asked Christina.

“Yes, it was a hot one today. She will stay close to water,” replied Francis as he switched off the engine.

Saneh scanned the far bank with her binoculars. Searching the thick grass she caught a glimpse of what looked like a man crouched behind a clump of foliage. Beyond the figure a flash of movement caught her eye and a heart-wrenching bleat filled the air. “Oh my god, it's Kitana's calf.”

The bark of an AK-47 sounded in the still air jolting her into action. “Get down!” She shoved Christina out of the vehicle and leaped after her. They landed in a heap as bullets thudded against the vehicle.

Her training kicked in and she assessed the situation. Realizing the only weapons were in the front of the vehicle she wrenched the driver’s door open. Francis rolled out into the dust. His shirt was covered in blood, his face pale, eyes wide.

She fought the urge to check him for wounds. The only aid in a gunfight is self-aid, she reminded herself as she grabbed a pump-action shotgun from between the front seats. A quick glance told her the other ranger had been hit. He was slumped forward against the dash. Bullets slapped the bonnet of the truck as she pulled the weapon free and took cover with Christina.

“Are they poachers?” asked Christina.

“Yes, there are three shooters,” Saneh said as she pumped the fore grip of the shotgun. “I need you to check Francis.”

Christina was staring at her with her mouth open. “What… how?”

“Chris, focus. If we're going to get out of here we need to work together. I'm going to try to buy us some space. You need to look after Francis.”

“I'm OK,” the driver stammered from where he lay in the dust. “I think Melon is dead.”

Saneh crab-walked to the front of the truck and peeked around the bumper. Spotting a muzzle flash she pulled back and took a deep breath. She knelt, grasped the shotgun firmly and leaned out sideways. The 12-gauge bucked in her shoulder as she fired two rounds where she had seen the flash. She heard a scream as she pulled back. “One down. Chris can you get to the radio?”

The bursts of gunfire intensified as she shuffled backward. Popping up over the front of the truck she searched for another target. Darkness was closing in and she could barely make out the opposite bank. She snapped off a single shot. The scrub exploded with muzzle flashes. Bullets snapped through the air and slammed into the side of the Land Cruiser. Saneh kept firing the shotgun until, as the trigger clicked on an empty chamber, she registered a flash of pain and felt herself falling. As she collapsed she realized her life was not the only one that could be lost. “I'm sorry, Aden,” she whispered as she slipped into a black pool of nothingness. “I'm sorry.”

***

Bishop swatted an insect the size of a fist away from his face as he squinted at the laptop screen. The sun had long dropped behind the horizon and the bugs were going nuts over the glow of his equipment.

“Aden, might be time to call it quits.” Dom offered him a cold beer.

He glanced up and took the bottle. “Thanks, you might be right. I can't get the damn ground station to sync with the updated autopilot software. Keep getting the same error message.” He slammed the laptop shut in frustration and took a swig from the beer.

“All good, we'll have another look tomorrow.”

He nodded. “I know someone I can call. He’s all over this sort of stuff.”

“You've got a lot of interesting friends.”

“Wait till you meet Kruger.”

“The guy that’s coming up tomorrow?”

“Yeah, former South African Recce. You two will get along just fine. Hell, you might be able to convince him to stay and help out.”

“Could definitely use another hand.”

Bishop packed the laptop and the compact drone inside a purpose-built case.

“Can you hear that?” Dom asked.

He tipped his head. There was a slight breeze that carried the sounds of the river. Faintly, in the background, he thought he could hear the sound of a car horn.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” added Dom.

The horn got louder and soon it blended with the roar of an engine.

“Yeah, sounds like one of our Land Cruisers.” Dom placed his beer down and ran toward the lecture rooms.

Bishop's heart was pounding before he even started sprinting. He passed the New Zealander, dashed through the building and out to the track. The safari truck roared toward him with the horn still blaring. He spotted Christina at the wheel as it skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust. Francis, the driver, was in the back cradling someone in his arms. It was Saneh. Bishop fought the panic welling up inside him. “Dom, we need a medevac.”