PRIMAL Renegade (A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 8) (The PRIMAL Series) (4 page)

“Already on it.”

He took Saneh’s limp body from the truck and laid her gently on the ground. As he frantically checked her vitals Dom appeared with a medical kit and stretcher. She had a weak pulse. He tipped his ear to her mouth; she was breathing.

“Her head, her head, they shot her in the head,” Francis blurted.

A quick check found the wound above her right ear, beneath hair matted with blood. A bullet had creased her skull leaving a half-inch groove. “I need a bandage,” he yelled at Dom.

Bishop bound the wound and they transferred her to the stretcher wrapping a space blanket around her body. “Who did this?” he asked as he monitored her vitals.

Christina sobbed hysterically. “It was poachers. They shot the radio, we couldn’t call through.”

“They killed Melo,” added Francis.

Bishop clenched his jaw. “How long till the medevac arrives?”

“Thirty minutes,” said Dom.

He clutched Saneh's hand. “Hang in there, babe.”

CHAPTER 2

NORTH LUANGWA NATIONAL PARK, ZAMBIA

The hacking laugh of a hyena sent a ripple of fear down Mamba's spine. He knew the predators posed no immediate threat but still aimed his AK at the dark shapes that lingered at the edge of his vision. The pack had been tailing them through the bush for the last few hours. He knew they sensed a meal was coming. They could smell death and it excited them.

“How much further?” he asked the younger of the brothers.

“At least eight miles, we're moving very slowly.”

“No shit.” He glanced back at the two men carrying the makeshift stretcher; it was what had attracted the hyenas. Their guide, the young thief, had taken a shotgun blast to the stomach. Mamba wanted to ditch the casualty but Colin had convinced him otherwise and volunteered to help carry the boy. A body was evidence he’d argued; sign on a trail that might lead the authorities to his door.

The two stretcher-bearers, Colin and the other tracker, lowered the wounded boy to the ground as Mamba strode toward them. There was a half moon in the clear night sky and he could see the shine of sweat on their faces. “We're moving too slow.”

“We're going as fast as we can,” Colin said between catching his breath. He pulled a water bottle from his pack and took few measured sips.

“The thief is as good as dead. We'll leave him for the hyenas.”

“The boy will live if we get him to help.”

“And I suppose you'll drive him to the hospital?” Mamba hissed.

Colin nodded as he stowed the bottle. “If need be, he did his job. I won't leave him to die.”

Mamba slid his finger to the trigger of his AK as he glared at the wounded teenager. It might be easier to put a bullet in both the boy and the old man. He thought better of it. Professional poachers were a tight-knit community and word would spread that he had killed one of their own. What’s more, the Rhodesian was one of the best hunters in the business and quality ivory was getting harder and harder to find.

“Fine, but if we're not out of the park by dawn I'm going to leave you both here.” Mamba turned and re-joined the tracker who was conversing with Kogo. “Let's get going.”

The man glanced back at his brother and Colin. “What about them?”

“If they can't keep up we're going to leave the thief.”

“OK, boss.” The tracker rose and started off into the bush, his weapon held ready.

“We should leave the boy now. Save us some money,” said Kogo.

“Do as you’re fucking told.”

Kogo shrugged and followed the tracker.

Mamba waited for the stretcher-bearers to pass him. Then he turned and peered into the darkness behind them. Despite the gunfight and the rangers escaping it looked like they were in the clear. No one but hyenas followed them.

***

CURE HOSPITAL, LUSAKA

The Special Emergency Services helicopter touched down at the CURE Hospital on the outskirts of Lusaka, the capital of Zambia. The crew rapidly offloaded the gurney carrying Saneh and pushed it across the helipad and inside the hospital. Funded by US and UK charities, the hospital was a beacon of professionalism in a region starved of medical services. Bishop followed the stretcher as far as the swinging doors to the emergency ward where a grandmotherly nurse stopped him.

“You can't go any further, dear. Come with me, I’ll show you to the waiting room,” she said guiding him through a separate door.

Bishop took a seat in the empty waiting area. There had been limited room on the helicopter; he was the only one who had accompanied Saneh. He stared at the wall, trying to contain his emotions. There was a war waging inside him, a battle between grief, rage, and guilt that left him numb. If he lost Saneh he... The truth was he didn't know what would happen if he lost her or their child. He didn't want to contemplate it. What he needed to do was get her the best medical attention possible.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

“Hello,” said the automated voice. “You've reached Telemetry Transport please enter your tracking number for an update on the progress of your shipment.”

He punched in a five-digit code.

“Bish, that you?” The voice belonged to Frank, a member of PRIMAL, the vigilante organization that Saneh and Bishop were part of. His call had connected to their makeshift headquarters in Abu Dhabi where a bare-bones team was monitoring intelligence sources for any sign the organization had been compromised.

“Yeah, it's me. Is Vance there?”

“Sure is, I'll grab him.”

A moment later the PRIMAL director’s deep voice replaced Frank’s. “Bish, what's up, buddy?”

“There's been an accident. Saneh has been shot. She's at the CURE hospital in Lusaka. I need you to coordinate a medical evacuation to Abu Dhabi so she can receive appropriate treatment.”

“What?”

“Poachers ambushed her.”

“Jesus Christ, OK, OK, we’ll organize a medical evacuation for both of you. Tariq's people can arrange care here... Listen, buddy, are you OK?”

“I'm fine, just get Saneh the hell out of here.” He terminated the call and glanced back at the nurse who was now manning the counter. Her friendly smile had turned into a frown.

“I'm sorry,” said Bishop. “It's a lovely hospital.”

“It's fine, dear. I know you must be very worried about your girlfriend but she's in good hands. Now, can I get you a cup of tea? It will make you feel better.”

Bishop managed a nod as he slumped back into his chair. “She's in good hands,” he murmured to himself. Panic welled up inside him and he fought the urge to scream.

“Here you are.” The nurse appeared with a mug of tea.

“Thanks.” Bishop took a sip of the hot, sweet liquid.

“Doctor Anderson is very good,” she said once she’d returned to the counter. “He trained in America and is very experienced in trauma surgery.”

Her words did little to comfort Bishop. However, as he sipped the tea reality dawned on him. There was nothing more he could do to help Saneh. He had taken her to the hospital and now her life was in the hands of the doctor. His skills were better applied at bringing justice to the men who had hurt her. Placing the tea down he reached in his pocket for his phone and made a call. “Kruger, it's Bishop. How far are you from Lusaka?”

***

It seemed like an eternity before Doctor Anderson finally reappeared through the swinging doors guarding the emergency ward. Bishop's heart lurched as he spotted the grim expression on the man’s face. “Is she OK?” he asked softly when the doctor sat next to him.

“She's in a coma.”

“And the baby?”

“At this stage the baby is fine.”

Bishop's throat was dry and he fought the urge to cry. “Will she wake up?”

“It's hard to say. The bullet damaged part of her skull causing trauma to the brain. The bleeding has stopped but she is going to need additional surgery to remove fragments and check for damage. I'm not going to lie, the prognosis is not great. I've seen people recover from injuries like this but I've also had patients who simply never regain consciousness.”

Tears welled in Bishop's eyes and the doctor put a hand on his shoulder. “Your friends have been in touch. There’s a private jet flying in. We’ll help prepare for her transfer tomorrow morning. She is going to have the best care available.”

The words did little to comfort him. He put his head in his hands, closed his eyes, and attempted to bring his emotions under control.

“There's nothing more you can do here, Mr. Barnes,” the doctor said using the name he had given. “You should get some rest. If you like, the duty nurse can organize a hotel and transport.”

Bishop rose. “No thanks.” He felt like a zombie as he walked out of the hospital into the crisp evening air. Glancing at his watch he calculated that only two hours had passed since Christina had driven the shot-up truck into the camp. Kruger was due to arrive at any moment and if they moved fast there was a chance they could track down the men who had shot her.

The clatter of a diesel engine caught his attention and he squinted as headlights swung into the parking lot.

A Nissan truck pulled up alongside him. “Get in,” yelled an Afrikaans-accented voice.

He opened the door and climbed inside. The man at the wheel was what was commonly referred to in the military as a 'unit'. Kruger's spiked brown hair touched the roof of the shabby interior of the truck and his broad shoulders filled the cab.

“OK, here’s the plan.” Kruger wasn't one to mince words. “Old mate of mine has a light aircraft waiting at a strip nearby. He’s got us weapons and transport to Luangwa and there’s enough room for Princess.”

“Who is Princess?”

Kruger turned to him with a frown. “Princess is a Rhodesian-Mastiff cross. She’s the best hunting dog on the continent.” He jerked his head over his shoulder. “They've got a bit of a head start but if you're keen we can track them down.”

Bishop turned in his seat and spotted a pair of brown eyes and a wet black nose. “I want these bastards dead.”

Kruger drove the truck out of the parking lot and accelerated down the dark road. “Dead we can do.”

***

NORTH LUANGWA NATIONAL PARK, ZAMBIA

Thirty minutes later a Cessna Caravan touched down at the dark airstrip behind the ranger camp at Luangwa. Bishop jumped out of the cabin wearing a South African-style chest rig, carrying a worn
R5 carbine
. He strode across to the waiting Land Cruiser and climbed in the passenger side.

“Is she OK?” asked Dom from the driver’s seat. He glanced at their weapons.

“No, she's in a coma.”

“I'm so sorry, Aden.”

Kruger climbed into the back of the vehicle and Princess followed, leaping in beside him. He was similarly equipped as Bishop but carried a heavier
R1 rifle
.

“Dom, this is Kruger.”

The massive South African leaned forward and shook the New Zealander’s hand.

Dom drove at high speed away from the airfield, through the camp, and out onto the track north toward Mwaleshi Falls.

“How is Christina?” yelled Bishop over the engine.

“Pretty shook up. They took her by ambulance to Lusaka.” Dom weaved the two-ton truck through a thicket of trees with the finesse of a rally driver. “Look, I can’t send my rangers with you. They’re not trained or equipped to deal with people like this.”

“That’s OK. We’ve got it.”

“I don’t think you understand. We’re talking military training and weapons. These guys are hard-core criminals. They’ll gun you down in cold blood.”

“Not if we get the drop on them,” said Kruger.

“You’re seriously going after them?”

“Yep,” replied Bishop.

“Then I should come with you, you’ll need an extra shooter.”

Bishop shook his head. “Negative, we'll take care of it.”

They drove in silence before he caught a glimpse of lights through the scrub. As they got closer he could see there were vehicles parked beside the riverbank.

“OK, we’re here,” said Dom as he skidded the truck to a halt.

“Princess, let's go.” Kruger and the dog leaped out of the cab. The South African surveyed the scene with his weapon at the ready.

“They killed a black rhino on the other side of the river,” said Dom. “Left her calf.” He gestured to the four-wheel drives parked in the long grass. A team of rangers were clustered around the baby rhino, illuminated by the headlights of the vehicles. “Poor little bugger was hysterical. We're lucky we found him before the hyenas or the lions got to him.”

“You said there were at least four, with one possible casualty?”

“Correct. And they’ve got at least an eight hour stomp before they’re clear of the park.”

“Alright, you stay and take care of Christina and the calf. Kruger and I will run with this.” He stepped out of the truck and skidded down the riverbank into the water. It reached his knees as he waded across. Princess and Kruger were already on the other side. He scrambled up the bank pushing his way through the long grass. A flashlight flicked on and he could hear Kruger talking to the dog.

“What have you got?” Bishop asked as he caught up.

The light revealed the corpse of the rhino. Its head was drenched in blood. A hole had been hacked in its snout where the horn once was.

“Fucking bastards,” Bishop said as he stared at the macabre remains.

There was a snuffle from the bushes and Kruger aimed the flashlight. Princess had her nose to the ground and was moving in circles sniffing frantically. “Find them, girl.”

The stocky hound gave a loud snort and bounded off into the bush.

“She's got them. You ready to run all night?” Kruger said switching off the light.