PRIMAL Unleashed (2) (32 page)

The big four-wheel drive stopped in front of the main administration building. Dostiger was about to exit the vehicle when his satellite phone rang. He flipped it open, looking at the screen; it was his Iranian client. He had tried to call the senior IRGC commander no less than five times already on the drive down from Kiev and now, eventually, the man had decided to call back. The Ukrainian lifted the phone to his ear, waiting for the encryption to connect.

“So now you have time to talk?” Dostiger’s heavily-accented English became even thicker when he was angry.

“I am a busy man, Dostiger. Some of us have armies to run,” a sinister voice replied.

“Well, if you want your warheads, you must listen. Your arrogance has already cost us dearly.”

“Stop speaking in riddles. What do you want?”

“I want to know who killed my men. I want you to find out which of your countrymen sold me out to the British, but most of all I want
you
to know... the price has doubled.”

“How do you know it was an Iranian?”

Dostiger screamed into the phone. “Because I had a visit from a pretty MOIS agent. Then I watched her help a FUCKING ENGLISHMAN escape from me.”

“Calm down, Dostiger. Think clearly. They are just fishing; they don’t really know what we are doing.”

“My men in Afghanistan are dead, my men in Kiev are dead. My house has been violated and my fucking nightclub is fucking shot to pieces! Are you stupid? Somebody knows exactly what we are doing! Your organization has a leak!”

“Perhaps the leak is at your end, Dostiger. The loyalty of criminals is cheaper than soldiers.”

Dostiger ignored the taunt. “Even with the leak, we have almost extracted the chemical. I’ll have your precious rockets on time, but now the price has doubled.”

“The price stays the same. Remember who you are threatening.” The voice was deadly calm.

“The risk is too high and I have already lost too much. The price must increase.”

“The price is set. You deliver the weapons and when I am running Iran, then you will have wealth beyond your imagination.”

Dostiger paused. The buyer was a ruthless megalomaniac—not an enemy he wanted to make. The Iranian Revolutionary Guards general’s influence had spread throughout the Middle East to include some of the arms dealer’s best customers. If the commander’s plans came to fruition, Dostiger would have a very powerful ally and unparalleled access to weapon markets in the Middle East.

“Very well, but you need to find out who is on to us. They are making us look like fools.”

“I will take care of that. You just have the missiles ready.” The Iranian hung up.

Dostiger got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. His Chief of Security approached, hand outstretched, ready to greet him.

“Yuri!” Dostiger snarled, brushing the man’s greeting aside. “I just spoke to the Iranian; he knows nothing. What do you know?”

“My man in MI6 just got back to me. He assures me that they’re conducting no operations in the Ukraine.”

“What about the CIA?” Dostiger asked.

“Perhaps, but it’s unlikely. The Khod valley site would have been completely destroyed. There would have been no hesitation.”

“You’re right. Whoever this is, they do not have the assets of the US military behind them.” Dostiger paused, scratching his pitted chin. “Perhaps our MOIS agent is no longer working for Iran.”

“You think she might have been turned?”

“I’m not sure, but this sounds like
Mossad’s
work.”

Yuri nodded in agreement. “There’s really no one else who would be so audacious, is there?”

Dostiger smiled. “That means they’ll have very limited assets here in Odessa and in Afghanistan. Contact the Ministry of Internal Affairs. I want the Militsiya presence at the airport doubled. And I want at least a platoon of Alfa commandos on standby. I don’t care what it costs.”

“Yes, boss.” The Chief of Security smirked. With the additional manpower he would have a hundred men at the airport and another fifty here at the facility. His men were well equipped, well trained, and ready to kill.

Chapter 54

Khod Valley

Mirza’s sure-footed pony never faltered as it followed the Hazaran leader’s horse up the mountain. It was the first time the Indian had ever ridden and he clung to the animal’s mane with one hand, the other clutching his AK. The pony’s pace slowed slightly as they hit the steeper terrain higher up the mountain. The stocky animal wasn’t even breathing hard.

He was thankful they followed a slightly different route to the steep gully he had escaped down earlier; he didn’t need to see the remains of his partner. Ice would live on in his memory as the indestructible and ever-poised warrior, not a mangled corpse.

“How far now, Mirza of the mountain?” Syed asked, turning in his saddle to look back at the Indian.

“A little further.” Mirza pointed at the crest a few hundred meters above them. “Across the ridge and then down onto the Taliban.”

“Good, good.” The grizzled warrior grinned, spurring on his horse. Mirza’s pony followed suit, breaking into a trot, the jarring action nearly dislodging him from its bare back. He clung desperately to the little animal, failing to register the approaching helicopter until it thundered overhead and disappeared beyond the crest.

“Hurry, Mirza,” Syed yelled over his shoulder. “Now they know we are coming.”

Mirza was more worried the Taliban would get away, not with the chemical weapon, but with their lives. He wanted to avenge Ice. He wanted to kill every last one of them. He finally understood the rage that had driven Bishop through the refugee camp so long ago.

***

 “Wolf Troop, this is Eagle. I am approaching your position.”

“Acknowledged, Eagle, we have you now. You’re clear to land,” answered one of the Afghans at the air-defense site. They were ready for the approaching helicopter; all three men spread out, facing different directions, with the SA-18 missiles on their shoulders. Now the chemicals had been recovered from the Russian facility, they were at their most vulnerable, and Khan was taking no chances.

The
Mi-17-1M
high altitude helicopter had no problems dealing with the thin air of the mountains. It powered up over the ridgeline surrounding the excavation site, hovering above the camp. One of the Afghans waved it onto a makeshift landing zone. The helicopter followed his directions, slipping sideways before descending onto the pad in a whirlwind of dust. The rotor-wash wrenched one of the camouflage nets from its poles, sending it dancing into the sky like a giant plastic garbage bag before it was caught on a rock high up on the cliffs. The pilot quickly throttled back the turbines, flattening out the blades to minimize the down wash. The side door swung open and the loadmaster jumped out of the helicopter.

Yanuk moved forward from where he was standing with Khan and his shrinking band of Taliban followers.

“Greetings, comrade,” he addressed the loadmaster in Russian, shaking his hand.

“Greetings to you, my friend. I take it you are ready to load?”

“Nearly. We are preparing the cargo for movement now.”

By working their slaves to the bone, they had finally broken through to the secret Soviet facility. Two full canisters of the Novichok agent had been recovered, more than enough to complete their mission.

“I was told to expect a payload of two hundred kilos cargo and thirty persons.”

“No, now we only have seven persons, and at most, one hundred kilos.” Khan’s handful of remaining men would leave all their heavy equipment for the local Taliban.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but at least with less weight we will not have to refuel before reaching the border. I will prepare the hold for your cargo. We will leave when you’re ready.”

Yanuk nodded, turned away from the aviator and walked back towards Khan.

“Oh, one other thing, comrade,” the man yelled after him. Yanuk paused, turning back. “We spotted a large number of horsemen coming up the mountain from the other side. I wasn’t sure if you are expecting them.”

Yanuk’s face went blank. Khan had not mentioned any more Taliban. He rushed over to the Afghan warlord, blurting out in his halting English, “Khan, the helicopter spotted horsemen coming up the mountain.”

Khan’s face turned a livid shade of red. He screamed orders to the group, sending them sprinting away.

The warlord turned back to Yanuk. “Tell your peasants to load the canisters NOW. We have little time, we must—”

He was interrupted by the air-defense position cutting in over the radio. “Khan, we’ve spotted a Russian transport plane on the horizon. Are we free to engage?”

“Engage it. Shoot them down!”

***

Onboard the Pain Train, the atmosphere was tense. The entire crew had heard the desperate call from Mirza, and to a man they had worked relentlessly through the night to get airborne.

Although they knew it might be too late to save the two PRIMAL operatives, they were still focused on the chance they could salvage the mission. The pilots had redlined the Pain Train’s turbines all the way from Kandahar. The hastily repaired engine was running hot and burning oil, but it was functioning.

Tucked in behind his weapons station, Mitch had tracked Khan’s helicopter as it approached and landed at the excavation site. Flashing icons on the digital map showed the release point for the bombs that would seal the excavation site and destroy the Afghan missile position. The time-to-target counter indicated eight minutes to release. In a few minutes he would activate the aircraft’s targeting pod and acquire live video of the actual dig site.

An icon appeared in the menu bar at the bottom of the screen, a flashing blue speech-bubble with a camera in it. Mitch hit the icon and a screen jumped up with the face of Vance.

“Mitch, how ya doing, buddy?” Vance asked.

“Yeah, I’m OK, all things considered.”

“Listen, buddy, we need you to hold fire on your attack run. We’ve established a hundred meter weapons exclusion zone around the excavation site.”

Mitch’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “What the hell, Vance?” He leant in towards the camera. “Ice and Mirza are probably dead and you want us to just—”

“Shut up and listen, Mitch,” Vance snapped. “I know how close you and Ice were, but you have to ditch all thoughts of vengeance. That helo you’re tracking wouldn’t be there if they weren’t ready to load it. We’re too late.”

“Vance, we’re seven minutes out. We’ll bomb the chopper, destroy the target. We’re not too late!” Mitch responded angrily.

The calmer voice of Chua interjected. “Mitch, we can’t do that. I know you’re upset but we have a damn good reason. Dostiger’s men are attempting to recover a nerve agent called Novichok. If you hit the target and the canisters are in the open, you’ll kill thousands of villagers downstream. The entire waterway down from the Khod Valley will be poisoned.”

“You’re kidding me? Nothing’s that deadly!”

“This shit is. It’s ten times more deadly than VX. Blast and heat resistant, and persistent enough to make it downstream in the next rains,” explained Chua.

Mitch wasn’t buying it. He wasn’t prepared to accept they may have lost Ice and Mirza for nothing. “What if it gets away from us? What if it ends up in a city and kills millions, then what? I say we hit it now and take the chance. If it kills a few Afghans, so be it.”

Vance’s commanding voice interjected. “The decision has been made, Mitch. Follow your orders. Bishop is in place to interdict the weapon in the Ukraine. I’m making the call on this. We will not run the risk of killing civilians.”

“So that’s it then, is it, chaps? We’re done?” Mitch sounded defeated.

“Negative,” Vance continued. “Our satellite imagery shows a large ground force posturing to assault the extraction site. We don’t know who they are, but we think Mirza may be with them.”

“You think he’s still alive?”

“We can’t be sure, but there’s a good chance. I want you to abide by the exclusion zone and provide what air support you can.”

“Acknowledged, sir. If Mirza’s down there, we’ll support him, and we’ll track the helo if it takes off.”

Vance nodded. “OK, buddy, good hunting. We’ll leave you to it. Bunker out.”

The video screen disappeared, replaced by the feed from the aircraft’s targeting camera. Mitch could make out the flat area at the top of the valley, remnants of the old Russian experimental weapons facility. A red circle had been superimposed around the site, designating the no-fire zone. He toggled the joystick and the camera panned upwards to the Afghan air-defense position near the top of the mountain, well outside the zone. He smiled.

The pilot’s voice came over the headset. “Mitch, we’re in SAM range. Standby.”

Down on the mountainside, all three Taliban had the missile systems on their shoulders aimed at the rapidly approaching aircraft. As each man activated his weapon’s seeker head, the argon cylinder in front of the handgrip vented, blowing a cloud of freezing gas onto the firer. Mirza’s sabotage was successful. Without the gas to cool the thermal seeker head, the missiles would never lock on to the Pain Train.

As the cargo jet thundered over them, the Afghans scrambled to prepare additional missiles. They were too late. The Pain Train’s fragmentation bombs exploded amongst them. Blast and shrapnel tore them apart.

The Pain Train banked, moving into a holding pattern above the excavation site, allowing Mitch to zoom the targeting pod in on the target.

He cursed to himself as the image of a helicopter came into view. The white-hot plume from its engines was clearly visible through the infrared camera. Mitch could see the rotors gradually turning faster. It was preparing to take off.

Chapter 55

Khod Valley

The wild band of horsemen crested the ridgeline and halted on the small plateau, just a hundred meters from where it dropped down to the extraction site. This was the ground Mirza had covered earlier, He looked back down into the gully that was Ice’s final resting place, then turned towards the Taliban position. Mirza handed his mount to one of the Hazarans as they pegged their horses. He looked around and noticed the body of the Afghan sentry he had shot at dawn was missing; someone had dragged it away.