PRIMAL Renegade (A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 8) (The PRIMAL Series) (9 page)

“This is the address. We need to ask for a guy called Steve.”

“Steve?”

Kruger shrugged as he strode to the bar. Made from polished hardwood it displayed an impressive collection of spirits on softly lit glass shelves. In an adjoining dining hall there were more benches and patrons enjoying dinner.

Bishop's stomach grumbled. “How about we grab some of those ribs?”

Kruger waved over the bartender, a middle-aged woman with an apron tied around her ample waist. “Can we order a couple of beers and some ribs?”

She smiled. “Sure thing, honey.”

“Can you also tell Steve that Aden and Kruger are here to see him,” added Bishop.

Her smile faded and she focused on pouring them two locally brewed ales.

“Seems Steve's not real popular around here,” Bishop said as they took a seat. He took a sip of the beer and sighed. “God, I needed that.”

“You also need a shower.” Kruger took a swig of his own beer as a waitress appeared with a massive plate of pork ribs. “That was quick.”

They ate with their hands devouring the meat in a matter of minutes. When they were done the waitress reappeared with a bowl of lemon-scented water and hand towels. “Mr. Hanna will see you now.” She led them around the bar through a service door. The staff paid them no attention as they walked through the kitchen and out into a corridor. “Wait here.” She knocked twice on a door before leaving.

Bishop rested his hand on the pistol concealed under his T-shirt.

The door opened and a tall middle-aged Caucasian with thick dark hair waved them inside. “Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen. I hope you enjoyed your dinner.” He had a strong South African accent.

“Top notch,” replied Kruger. “I assume you are Steve.”

“That's correct. Please take a seat.” He sat behind his desk. “I want to apologize in advance for this meeting being short. I have a lot of business to take care of tonight before I go home to see my children. Now, I understand from Toppie you're both ex-South African military and looking for work.”

“
Ja
, we've got a bit of expertise in the bush, tracking and the like.”

Steve scribbled something on a notepad. “Very good, those are skills I can sell.”

“We'd like to make some real money,” added Bishop with a South African accent of his own. “If you get what we mean.”

“Oh, I think I do. Where are you staying?”

Bishop hesitated.

Steve smiled. “No, nothing sinister, I've got someone I want you to meet.”

“We're at the New Palm Tree Hotel,” said Kruger.

“Ah very nice, a friend of mine owns it. Make sure you mention my name when you check out, OK?”

“Sounds good.”

Steve rose, reached out, and shook their hands. “It is very nice to meet friends of Toppie. Him and I go back a long way.”

“He's a good man,” said Kruger.

Steve laughed. “He's a lunatic. Anyway, I hope I can help you to find something. So you know, the deal will be I take twenty percent of everything you make.”

“Fifteen,” said Bishop.

“Twenty is customary.”

“Maybe for criminals and petty thieves. We're neither.”

Steve nodded. “OK, we’ve got a deal, fifteen percent. Gentlemen, it has been short but still a pleasure. Feel free to enjoy more food and drink. Have as much you wish, it's on the house.” He gestured to the door.

Bishop and Kruger left the office and made their way back through the kitchen to the bar. Kruger ordered two more beers and another plate of ribs. They sat in a corner away from the other customers. “What do you think?” he asked Bishop.

“A lot more professional than I expected.”

“Yeah, Toppie had me thinking we were meeting with a crime boss.”

“I get the feeling Toppie lives on a different planet to everyone else.”

“That's true.”

“Let's finish up here and get back to the hotel. I want to take a shower and get my head down.”

“Might be an idea to check in with Vance,
ja
.”

For the first time in the last few hours Bishop's thoughts turned to Saneh. He felt guilty that he’d lost himself in the mission and forgotten about her. “Yeah, maybe.”

***

As Bishop and Kruger finished their beers Kogo ate takeout at the bench in the warehouse. His plans were not progressing well. So far he’d only recruited one new member to the team; a bush meat poacher living in the slums of Likoni. The man could hardly be called capable. His only virtue; he knew every inch of Tsavo. Two men were not enough but he was reluctant to postpone the mission. The idea of disappointing Mamba terrified him.

The phone on the bench rang, interrupting his meal. He snatched it from the cradle. “Hello.”

“Kogo, is that you?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“It's Steve, I've got two men for you. Former South African military, they've got the skills you want, and they're clean.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, they're not police informants. They come highly recommended from a source I trust.”

“You sure?”

“The men are staying at the New Palm Tree Hotel. You can check them out for yourself. They're under the name Aden. Oh, and I get fifteen percent of whatever they make.”

“You will have to discuss that with Mamba.”

“I'm discussing it with you.”

“Fine, if I use them you get fifteen percent.”

“Deal. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“A hundred pounds of ivory.”

Steve laughed. “Your game, not mine.” He hung up.

Kogo contemplated the offer then grabbed his keys. If these men were suitable his mission tomorrow could still go ahead.

***

Bishop struggled to stay awake as Kruger pulled the Mazda into a parking space at their hotel. He checked his watch; it was nearly midnight and they had been on the go for almost 72 hours.

“You look and smell like shit,” said Kruger as he stepped out of the car. “If you don't take a shower soon I'm going to hose you down.”

“Thanks mate, good to know you've got my back.”

As they unloaded their bags of gear Bishop noticed a new model Toyota Land Cruiser parked nearby. The expensive truck was fully fitted out: roof racks, spare tires, jerry can holders, and spotlights. Not a common sight in Kenya.

“Aden?” someone said from the shadows.

Kruger dropped his bag and spun toward the voice with a pistol drawn. “Show yourself.”

“It's OK, I'm a friend of Steve's.” The man walked forward with his hands extended. Lightly built with a shaved head, his coffee-colored skin hinted at a mixed ethnicity. “Can we talk in your room?”

Kruger glanced at Bishop who nodded and they led the man from the parking lot.

“What's your name?” asked Bishop as Kruger opened the door to their room. He knew it wasn't Mamba.

“You can call me Kogo.”

Kruger dumped his bags on the floor and gestured for the man to sit on a bed.

“It's late, Kogo, so feel free to get to the point,” said Bishop as he pulled the door shut. “We already spoke to Mr. Hanna. Is this the second half of the job interview?”

“Yes, he vouched for you but I wanted to meet in person before I offer you work.”

Bishop sat on his bed facing the poacher. “OK. So do you have any questions?”

“Have you hunted elephants before?”

“
Ja
,” said Kruger. “We did some work in South Africa but things got a little hot. That's why we're here.”

“There's a lot of anti-poaching organizations in South Africa,” said Kogo.

“Not so many here,” said Bishop. “Hey, let’s talk money, we don't come cheap.”

Kogo nodded. “The money is good. We’ll give you a five percent cut each of the ivory.”

“We, who is we?” asked Bishop.

“I work for someone, he authorizes all the details.”

“And his name is?”

“You don't need that information at the moment.” Kogo got up from the bed. “I will pick you up in the morning. Do you need equipment?”

“Don't bother, we don't work for people who don't have names,” said Bishop.

Kogo's brow furrowed and he glanced around the room. “OK, OK, I work for a man called Mamba Mboya.”

Bishop fought the urge to grab him by the throat. “Will he be coming with us?”

The poacher shook his head. “No, think of this as a trial. If you prove yourself to me then you will work with Mamba.”

“Fair enough. So, we've got our own gear. Where are we going?”

“I'll give you the location in the morning.” Kogo offered Bishop his hand.

“We don't work like that.” Bishop ignored Kogo's attempted handshake. “You either tell us where we're going or you find someone else.”

Kogo glanced nervously at Kruger then back to Bishop. “Tsavo East National Park. Are you familiar with it?”

“No, but we'll do our research. See you in the morning.”

Kogo nodded. “4.30 am. I'll have another man with me who knows the park.”

Bishop opened the door. “See you then.” He waited for the poacher to leave before moving across to the window and watching him climb into the Land Cruiser.

“You looked like you were going to kill him,” said Kruger.

“Wanted to, that slimy prick was probably at Luangwa.” He left the window. “Can I use your local phone?”

“What’s up?” Kruger handed him the device.

“I'm going to give Dom a call and see if he knows people at Tsavo. I for one will not be shooting any elephants.”

CHAPTER 7

TSAVO EAST NATIONAL PARK, KENYA

It was a few minutes past eight in the morning when Kogo stopped the Land Cruiser and killed the engine. He glanced in the rear vision mirror and made eye contact with Bishop. “This as far as we can drive.”

“Better get cracking then,
ja
.” He and Kruger alighted from the four-wheel drive and joined the third man at the back. He was their tracker; a lean bush-meat poacher familiar with Tsavo who spoke very little English. Bishop shrugged on his chest rig and inserted a magazine into his
R5 assault rifle
. Kruger carried a R1 and had a heavy-caliber double-barreled rifle slung over his shoulder.

“The tracker will lead us to the elephants. He says they will be near the lake a few miles from here.” Kogo took a compact chainsaw from the trunk and locked the vehicle. “Kruger will make the kill. I cut the tusks and we leave as fast as we can.”

“Is this area heavily patrolled?” asked Bishop as he checked his pouches. The South African-style vest he’d bought off Toppie contained the essentials including water, ammo, a compact pair of binoculars, and a medical kit.

Kogo turned to the tracker and asked him in Swahili.

The man shrugged and rattled off a few sentences.

“Not really,” translated Kogo. “There are volunteers patrolling the park but it's big.”

“So there’s a chance we could bump into a patrol out there.”

“It is possible, that’s why you have been hired.”

“I haven't seen any money yet, champ. I'm not about to go in there and get myself shot on the off-chance your mate here can find us an elephant. How about you cough up some cash up-front?”

Kogo shook his head. “I can't do that.”

“Listen, fuckbag, you've dragged us all the way out here because you're desperate. I don't know why but you need tusks and you need them fast. The way I see it you need to pay up-front or cut us in for a bigger slice.” Bishop locked eyes with the poacher.

“I can't make that decision.”

“You've got a sat phone, call your boss.”

Kogo looked to the tracker for support but the man shrugged. He wasn't about to challenge the heavily-armed former soldiers. “OK, fine, I will make the call.” He took the satellite phone from his pocket and dialed.

Bishop watched him intently as he waited for the call to pickup. Turning his back Kogo talked in Swahili.

“Do you have a map?” Bishop asked the tracker.

The man shrugged again.

“Do you speak any English?”

The only response was another shrug.

“I guess not.” He took the opportunity to check the surroundings. It was a lot like Luangwa: dry red earth, scrubby bushes, and tall thorn trees with sparse cover. It reminded him of Saneh, bloodied and wounded, lying in the dust next to the safari truck. Turning back to Kogo he saw the poacher had finished his call.

“I can’t pay you now but we can offer you five thousand dollars each if we return with at least two tusks.”

“And if we don't?”

“Then I can pay you a thousand each for your time.”

Bishop glanced at Kruger who nodded.

“You've got a deal. But, if you try to screw us you're a dead man.”

Kogo swallowed.

“Have you got a map of the area?”

The poacher reached inside his vest, pulled out a folded map, and handed it over. Bishop opened it on the bonnet of the four-wheel drive. “Ask your man where the elephants are.”

Kogo spoke to the tracker who leaned over the map and pointed at a smudge of blue.

“The lake. It’s a good start. Kruger, we need to plan our route so we avoid patrols.”

Kruger pulled out a GPS and checked the map. “We’re here.” He stabbed a finger at the map. “We can use this creek line to minimize the risk of hitting a patrol. They'll be sticking to the vehicle tracks.”

Bishop folded the map and slid it inside his shirt. “I like it. Let's get moving.”

As the local tracker and Kogo led the way Kruger hung back, took out his own satellite phone, and sent a text message.

***

THE SANDPIT,
ABU DHABI

“Vance, we've got a hit,” Flash yelled from the top of the staircase inside PRIMAL's Abu Dhabi headquarters.

“Where is he?” Vance slammed the refrigerator shut and stormed out of the kitchen.

“Kruger just sent a text message over his sat phone. Looks like they’re in Kenya.”

“Do we have an open line of communications?”

“No, the phone’s switched off now.”

Vance climbed the stairs and followed Flash into the intel room. “What are they up to?”

Flash returned to his terminal and showed Vance the message. “Check this out. Kruger sent a grid reference to someone in vicinity of North Luangwa National Park. I bet it’s the ranger Bishop was hanging out with, Dominic Marks. According to the message the boys are hunting elephants near the lake at Tsavo East National Park.”

“And why would they be doing that?” asked Vance.

“It must have something to do with tracking down Mr. Mamba Mboya.”

“Find out who Kruger messaged.”

“Roger.” Flash’s fingers danced over the keyboard.

Vance glanced at his watch. “I'm going to head across to the hospital and replace Tariq.” The two of them were taking turns watching over Saneh. “Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

As he walked downstairs his phone vibrated with an incoming call. “Speak of the devil.” It was Tariq.

“Good afternoon, Vance.”

“Tariq, I'm on my way in now.”

“Doctor Edwards wants to schedule a meeting with us this afternoon. We're running out of time.”

Vance sighed. “OK, I'll be there within the hour.” He stopped in the kitchen and contemplated pouring a scotch.

“Hey, what's up, big man?” Ice walked into the kitchen with a pistol holstered on his hip.

“I’m about to head to the hospital. How’s the training going?” Ice had set up an airsoft range in one half of the villa’s garage and had been spending hours practicing weapon manipulation with his robotic hand.

“Not bad, I was wondering if I could come to the hospital with you.” He took off the pistol belt and placed it on the bench.

Vance shook his head. “We're trying to keep a low profile, brother. Better if you stayed here with the team.”

“Yeah, OK, well if you need to talk I'm always here for you.”

“For sure.” Vance swallowed hard as he grabbed a set of keys from the bench and strode toward the door.

“Oh and Vance, when it comes time to pull Bishop out of the shit, I'm good to go.”

“Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Knocking off a dirt-bag poacher shouldn’t be too difficult for Bishop and Kruger.”

“We both know what Bish is like.”

He managed a smirk. “Yep, goddamn shit magnet.”

***

BAREEN HOSPITAL,
ABU DHABI

Vance walked slowly along the spotless white corridors as he searched for Doctor Edwards’ office. He found it five doors down, exactly where a pretty young nurse had directed him. Pausing with his hand raised to knock on the door he contemplated turning and walking away; leaving the decision that needed to be made to Tariq. In all his years as a paramilitary operative then as the Director of Operations for PRIMAL he had never faced a dilemma like this. Life and death decisions were part of his day-to-day routine but that hadn’t prepared him. His shoulders dropped as he knocked.

“Come in.”

He pushed the door open and nodded to the man behind his desk. “Hey, Doc.”

“Vance.” Edwards directed him to take the seat next to Tariq.

The Arab rose and they shook hands.

“Tariq, good to see you, brother.” Vance sat and placed his clenched fists on his thighs. “So what's the prognosis?” He didn't really need to ask. The grave expression on Doctor Edwards’ face said it all.

“Gentlemen, Saneh's situation has begun to deteriorate. In the last twenty-four hours her brain activity has slowed. I'm afraid we're losing her.”

Vance sighed. “What about the baby?”

“I've been consulting with a colleague of mine who is the hospital’s leading obstetrician. We concur that as long as we keep Saneh's body alive the child could continue to develop normally. But, there will be an increased risk of complications.”

“What kind of complications?” asked Tariq.

“The child could be either mentally or physically impaired. There is also an increased likelihood that Saneh's body might terminate the pregnancy.”

“And the alternative?”

“We begin a revolutionary program to stimulate Saneh's brain.”

“But there will be an impact on the child.”

Doctor Edwards nodded. “The risk remains that, as a side effect of some of the drugs, her body will terminate the pregnancy. This is uncharted territory, I don't know of any other cases where–”

“Can't we use other drugs?” interrupted Vance.

“We can but the chance of recovery is significantly reduced.” Edwards placed his hand on a document on the desk. “These are the release papers authorizing the treatment. I'm going to give you a few minutes to discuss the options.” He rose and left Vance and Tariq in the office.

“I never thought I’d have to make a decision like this,” said Vance.

“You still haven't been able to reach Bishop?”

He shook his head. “No, he's offline still.”

“And we've run out of time.”

“Yes, we both know what needs to be done.”

Tariq's eyes were glassy as he rose from his chair. “We always knew there would be times like this.”

“Seems to be a lot of them recently, bud.”

Tariq placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re doing the right thing.”

“I know.”

***

TSAVO EAST NATIONAL PARK, KENYA

Bishop held up his hand signaling the hunting party to halt. Crouching in a thick patch of grass he surveyed the terrain ahead.

Five hundred yards away a meager herd of elephants foraged on a floodplain next to a shallow lake. Upwind, the majestic beasts were oblivious to their presence. Bishop grimaced as he spotted the massive tusks on the bull. Kogo would want them for sure.

He took binoculars from his vest and scanned the trees beyond the floodplain. There was no sign of human activity.

“What's the plan?” asked Kruger kneeling alongside.

He continued scanning the bush. “They should be here. Dom said he would pass on our message to the Kenyan rangers.”

“Well they're not, so what are we going to do?”

The grass rustled behind them and Bishop glanced over his shoulder to see Kogo approach.

“What’s going on?”

“We're waiting,” said Bishop.

“What for? I can see the big bull. Shoot him, we cut off the tusks, and then we go.”

“You can run out there if you want.” Bishop fixed him with a glare. “Or we can wait and make sure we're not the only ones watching.”

The poacher swallowed and gripped his weapon tight. “No, you're right. We should take our time.”

Bishop wondered if Kogo had been there the night Saneh was shot. Had he been the man who escaped in the four-wheel drive with Mamba? He imagined dragging his knife across the poacher’s throat. Instead he turned his attention back to his binoculars and the floodplain. After a few minutes he turned to Kruger. “How close do you need to get?”

“At least another three hundred yards.”

He looked back at Kogo. “You and the tracker wait here. Once we make the kill come forward and take the tusks. Don't move until we shoot. Got it?”

“Yes, of course.”

Kruger unslung the double-barreled hunting rifle and cracked open the breech. He checked both the high-powered cartridges and snapped it shut. Tucking the weapon under his arm he slung the R1. “I'm good to go.”

“OK, you're on point. I'll hang back a few yards and cover you if needed.”

They left the others at the edge of the floodplain and stalked through the grass toward the elephants. “Where the hell are they?” he whispered to himself.

“What are we doing, Bish?” Kruger hissed as he crouched behind a clump of grass only a few hundred yards from the herd, well within range.

A shout sounded from their flank startling the elephants. Bishop turned and spotted figures emerging from the far tree line. There were at least a dozen green-uniformed men swarming toward them. “Right on time.” He flicked off the safety and fired a burst over the men. They disappeared as they dove to the ground.

“Let's get the hell out of here. Covering!” Bishop fired off a few more shots as Kruger dashed past him. Out the corner of his eye he saw the elephants fleeing from the gunshots. “Run, run, run,” he murmured as he fired again. When Kruger's weapon barked he scrambled to his feet and dashed past. They repeated the process until they reached the spot where Kogo waited.