PRIMAL Renegade (A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 8) (The PRIMAL Series) (5 page)

“I'll chase them to the gates of hell if I have to.”

“Well, that's exactly where we're going to send these pricks.” Kruger slapped him on the shoulder. “Half moon, plenty of light. Let’s hope we don't run up against anything that wants to eat us.” He laughed heartily as he trotted off into the bush after his baying hound.

Bishop paused for a second, glanced up at the stars, and said a quick prayer for Saneh. Then he grasped the R5 with both hands and held it close to his chest as he ran after Kruger.

***

ABU DHABI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

The G450
Gulfstream
was powered up and waiting on the tarmac when Vance strode out from the airport’s VIP terminal. Bathed in floodlights, the green cross emblazoned on the aircraft was a poignant reminder of the mission at hand. He made a beeline to where a lone figure stood at the stairs of the jet.

Dressed in one of his signature Savile Row suits Tariq Ahmed waited with a grim expression. “Do we know any more?” he asked as he shook Vance’s hand. Tariq, who was PRIMAL’s benefactor, had pulled out all stops to organize Saneh's evacuation. As the owner of Lascar Logistics, an airfreight company with a fleet of aircraft, sourcing the aeromedical jet had not been difficult. However his staff had also arranged the best neurosurgeon they could find to accompany Saneh, and had also convinced the world’s foremost expert on coma treatment to fly in from the UK.

“There has been no change to her situation. She's stable but no sign of waking.”

“And the child?”

Vance frowned. “How did you know she was pregnant? It was supposed to be a secret.”

“Please, you think Mirza can keep a secret?”

“I would hope so, all things considered.” Mirza Mansoor, Bishop's operational partner, was currently working for Tariq helping to coordinate humanitarian relief flights.

“Does he know about Saneh?”

Tariq shook his head. “No, I didn't want to tell him until he gets back. He's got enough on his plate for the moment. I take it you’re not recalling everyone?”

“That’s right. We’re keeping this low key. Chua and I are concerned that if we spread the word the team is going to converge on Abu Dhabi. We can't afford that sort of visibility at the moment. It seems harsh but I think it's for the best.”

A voice from the top of the stairs drew their attention. “Gentlemen, we'll be ready to go in a minute.”

Vance gave the green-uniformed crewmember a nod and turned back to Tariq. “Thanks for pulling this all together.”

“We’re a family, Vance, and families take care of each other. Now go get our girl. I’ve got a coma specialist flying in from London and everything will be ready when you return.” He gave Vance's hand a firm shake and walked toward the terminal.

Vance climbed the stairs into the sleek white interior of the jet. Along one side were two stretchers with a bank of state-of-the-art medical equipment attached to the wall. At the front of the cabin the medical team was already strapped into their seats. He took his place next to one of them as the door closed and the engines spooled up.

“Are you the father?” asked the middle-aged woman next to him.

He pulled his safety belt tight and gave her a grim smile. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“My name’s Lynne. We'll get your daughter home safe and sound.”

“Thanks.” Vance glanced out the window as the jet rolled forward. While getting Saneh back to Abu Dhabi and world-class medical attention was his focus it wasn't the only thing weighing on his mind. Another concern was how badly Bishop was going to react to the situation. The PRIMAL operative already carried the weight of his parent’s death along with dozens of innocent lives that he held himself responsible for. Saneh was his rock, his beacon of light in a very dark existence. With her life hanging by a thread it was possible he would go completely off the reservation. His only hope, that Kruger could talk some sense into him before he turned renegade.

***

NORTH LUANGWA NATIONAL PARK, ZAMBIA

Despite the cool night air Bishop's shirt was damp under his chest rig and his hair was matted with perspiration. He caught up with Kruger as the South African paused to inspect the ground with his flashlight.

“They're moving slowly.” Kruger shone the light on an area of crushed grass. Ignoring the stiffness in his legs Bishop knelt and took a closer look.

“Stretcher?” he asked.

“
Ja
. You can see where they placed it down. Saneh definitely wounded one of them.” The light revealed a patch of bloodstained grass. “Badly!”

He touched the grass; the blood was dry.

Kruger moved the beam behind the stretcher. There were fresh paw prints in the sand. “Princess isn't the only one following them.”

“They're not her tracks?”

“No, hyenas. They can smell the blood.”

A single bark penetrated the darkness reminding them Kruger's hound was still hot on the poachers’ scent.

“Will they attack her?”

“Yes, we need to catch up. You good?”

His knees cracked as he rose. “Yeah.” He cradled his R5 as Kruger secured his flashlight in a pouch and took a quick sip of water. The big man reminded Bishop of a lion stalking its prey through the dark savannah; alert, poised, and lethal.

“Let's go.”

Princess barked again and they set off jogging in her direction.

***

Barely a mile away Mamba tilted his head and listened. He was moving at the rear of the column pushing the stretcher crew to move faster. Noise traveled far in the cool night air and he clearly heard the bark of a dog. The noise troubled him more than any hyena. It meant someone was hunting them. “Fuck!” He grabbed Colin by the shoulder. “We need to dump the kid.”

The lack of a rebuke confirmed that Colin also heard the dog. The stretcher was lowered and he unslung his rifle. “The kid will have to take his chances with the rangers.”

“No, he'll talk.” Mamba slid the machete from the sheath between his shoulder blades.

“He won't,” Colin said half-heartedly.

“You want to risk spending the rest of your life in a Zambian prison? You wouldn't last a week, old man.”

The boy mumbled something from the stretcher. The sweat glazed across his face shone in the starlight.

“He's almost dead. I'm doing him a favor.”

“You're a bloody animal, Mamba,” Colin said as he turned and walked away.

Mamba knelt down and whispered in the boy’s ear. “Nobody likes a thief.”

The rhino’s thick hide and horn had dulled the machete’s edge. It smashed rather than sliced through the windpipe. A gurgling emitted from the boy’s mouth and he feebly tried to raise his hands. Mamba drew back and swung harder. This time the blow almost severed the slight neck and blood sprayed. In a few seconds the gurgling ceased and the thief lay silent.

He wiped the blade on the dead youth’s pants before returning it to the sheath. A hasty inspection of the corpse’s pockets revealed a wallet and mobile phone. The hyenas would consume the rest leaving nothing to identify, he thought as he joined the other men.

“Now we move fast. If we're not at the trucks by dawn you all lose half.”

“Boss, that's not––” whined Kogo.

“Shut up and run.”

They ran through the scrub with the trackers in the lead and Colin bringing up the rear. Behind them the dog barked again, this time louder. Mamba's lip turned up in a snarl, which transitioned to a smile as he remembered the hyenas. Feasting on the corpse the savage predators would hopefully make short work of the dog. Without the hound there was no way the rangers could catch them.

CHAPTER 3

NORTH LUANGWA NATIONAL PARK, ZAMBIA

Bishop struggled to keep pace with the tall South African as he ran over the rugged terrain. The sandy soil had been replaced by loose rock that shifted under foot and thick patches of thorn-covered bushes. His legs were burning and his lungs screamed but the thought that the men who had attacked Saneh and Christina could get away drove him on.

He was falling behind when Kruger skidded to a halt alongside Princess. The dog’s hackles were raised and she emitted a low, savage growl, sending a shiver up Bishop’s spine. In the darkness ahead he spotted half a dozen canine-like shapes clustered around something on the ground. Moonlight reflected off white teeth and yellow eyes as the hyenas shifted their attention toward the dog.

“Fucking hyenas,” said Kruger as he drew a suppressed pistol and fired a round at the ground in front of the animals.

With their hunched backs, flashing teeth, and a hackling snarl, the creatures reminded Bishop of something from a horror movie. He flicked off the safety on his R5 and prepared to follow Kruger's lead.

Princess stalked forward, her growl increasing in intensity.

“Hold.” Kruger fired another round. “Get the fuck out of here!”

The hyenas were unwilling to give up their meal. The largest of the pack, the alpha, lunged forward snapping and snarling. Kruger shot it neatly through the head and it dropped to the ground.

Spurred on by her master’s actions the Rhodesian-Mastiff cross leaped forward and the remainder of the Hyenas turned tail and fled.

He exhaled, releasing a breath he didn't realize he held.

“Didn't want to have to kill one, but they might have hurt Princess.” Kruger strode past the dead pack leader and shone his flashlight at the object they had been feeding on. It was a body. “Christ.”

Bishop grimaced as he inspected the mangled corpse. It was barely identifiable as human. Most of the clothing had been ripped off and the torso torn apart exposing the bloodied organs contained within. Most of the stomach, intestines, groin, and a leg were missing.

“This must be the one Saneh wounded,
ja
. He looks young.”

“They left him for the hyenas?” Bishop said in disbelief.

Kruger aimed his light at the body’s neck. It was almost fully severed. “They cut his throat first.”

The chuckle of a hyena sounded from the bush and Princess growled. Standing a few yards away she stared into the darkness intently, teeth bared.

“The body’s still warm,” said Kruger drawing Bishop's attention to the steam rising off the gaping abdomen cavity. “They're not far away.” He snapped an order in Afrikaans to the hound and she focused her attention back to their direction of travel.

Bishop spotted a glint of metal and bent down to find the corpse had a cord around what was left of its neck. Underneath the tattered and blood-soaked shirt hung a key. He ripped it off and stuffed it into his pocket.

“We'll catch these fuckers within an hour.” Kruger switched off the flashlight.

Bishop's eyes adjusted back to the darkness as they stepped off after the dog. They weren't more than a dozen yards from the body when he heard it being ripped apart by the hyenas. He felt no compassion for the poacher; there was every chance he could be the one who shot Saneh. Before long he would be joined in hell by the rest of his gang.

***

Every poacher heard the excited bark of the dog when it rang through the night air. By Mamba’s estimates it was only a few hundred yards away and gaining fast. He swore; they might not cover the final few miles before the rangers were on them. Fatigue was taking a toll and Kogo and Colin were lagging behind. Waiting till they reached a clearing he called out to halt. Once the men had gathered he spoke. “They're going to catch us. We need to ambush them.”

“That's risky,” Kogo managed to say between breaths. “We don't know how many there are.”

“They're moving too fast to be a large team,” said Colin. “One dog and three or four men at most. They’ll be gathering a bigger party to come out at dawn.”

“We can handle them,” said the younger of the trackers.

He addressed the Ugandan brothers. “Both of you take care of it and I'll give you the thief’s share right now.”

The trackers glanced at each other and nodded. Mamba had appealed to the strongest of their desires, greed. “It's a deal.”

Mamba reached into a pocket, took out a thick wad of bills, and handed half to each man.

“I'll stay as well,” said Colin.

The elder of the brothers shook his head. “No, white man, we can handle this. You go with them to the trucks. Up ahead there’s open ground and a ridge. We’ll kill them there.”

Mamba smiled. “Let's do this.” He followed the two trackers into the bush. Both of them were experienced fighters as well as poachers. Recruited from his old Army unit they were experienced bush warriors that would make short work of the park rangers following them.

Less than a hundred yards further they reached a dry sandy riverbed. To one side a rocky outcrop of boulders offered excellent cover for an ambush.

“Follow this river all the way to the road,” said the tracker.

“Yes, I remember,” said Mamba.

The two brothers left them in the riverbed and climbed up to the rocky outcrop. A moment later they were hidden among the boulders. Mamba gave the exposed killing area one last scan then led Colin and Kogo along the dried waterway. The men following them would soon be dead. Even if they weren't the ambush would slow them enough for him to reach the vehicles and escape.

***

Bishop sensed something was wrong when Kruger slowed to a walk then paused behind a thorn bush. Following suit he peered through the branches at the dry riverbed illuminated by the soft glow from the half moon. He spotted Princess at the edge of the clearing. She was crouched low with her head canted in the direction of a rocky outcrop.

“They've doubled back and laid an ambush,” whispered Kruger.

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Princess told me.”

Bishop shook his head. He'd seen Military Working Dogs in action but never witnessed the level of communication Kruger shared with his hunting dog; it was uncanny.

“They're up there in the rocks.” Kruger gestured with a gloved hand. “They expect the dog to follow the scent up the river but she's too smart for that shit, fucking amateurs. We're going to hit them from the flank.”

“Got it.” The adrenaline had already started to pump as Bishop eased the safety off on his R5 and they stalked into the darkness. When they reached the edge of the rocky outcrop Kruger gestured for him to move up alongside. They shouldered their weapons, Kruger gave a low whistle, and Princess started barking. Both men caught the slight movement ahead in the rocks and opened fire, their muzzle flashes lighting up the bush.

“Covering!” yelled Bishop as he took a knee and continued to shoot in the direction of the movement.

Kruger moved forward his weapon held ready. He dropped to a knee and they repeated the sequence. “Covering!”

The stench of cordite filled Bishop's nostrils as he flicked the empty magazine out of his rifle and inserted a fresh one. He kept one eye closed, only opening it between shots, an old trick an instructor had taught him to preserve his night vision. He spotted the flash of a muzzle as he dashed forward. A bullet ricocheted off a rock and Kruger retaliated with a half dozen well-aimed shots. One of the ambushers cried out and the firing ceased.

When Bishop reached the position they had seen movement he spotted a crumpled body. He felt zero remorse as he fired two rounds into the poacher then continued to scan ahead. Spotting a figure dash toward the creek he fired again. His bullets went wide as the man disappeared from view.

“Princess, hunt!” bellowed Kruger as he and the dog gave chase.

Bishop took a split-second to check the first poacher was dead before running in the direction of Princess’s frantic barking. Stumbling on the loose rocks he slipped down the bank into the sandy riverbed.

“Son of a bitch.”

Climbing to his feet he realized he'd rolled his ankle. The pain was sharp but bearable. He ignored it as he limped up the riverbed. As he rounded a bend a horrific scream reverberated through the air. Bishop forgot his ankle as he as he caught up with the others.

The poacher writhed on the ground screaming as he held an arm across his chest. Kruger stood over him, the
long-barreled R1
aimed at the man’s face. Princess crouched to one side, her teeth glinting in the moonlight as she emitted a savage growl.

Bishop knelt by poacher’s head. “Do you speak English?” He took a glow stick from one of his pouches and cracked it. In the soft orange glow he inspected their captive.

The poacher looked young, mid-twenties, his face a mask of agony and his shirt drenched in blood. Princess had de-gloved the right arm from midway up his forearm. The skin had peeled back to his knuckles exposing bloodied muscle fibers and bone. He sucked air loudly through gritted teeth.

“Answer the man. Do you speak English?” Kruger barked.

“Yes, yes I speak English. Please, please keep that dog off me. I didn't shoot the rhino, I didn’t shoot it.”

“How many men were with you?” Bishop asked.

“Six, there were six.”

Bishop glanced up at Kruger who nodded. They still had three more to hunt down. “Who's in charge? Who organized the job?”

“Mamba, Mamba Mboya. He's the boss man poacher in Kenya. If you go fast you can catch him.”

“One more question,” he hissed. “Did you fire at the women in the truck?”

The wounded man's pause was all the confirmation Bishop needed. He rose to his feet and held out his hand to Kruger. The South African passed him his suppressed pistol.

“I didn't shoot. I didn't, it was Mamba.”

The snap of the pistol ended his cries as Bishop shot him through the face. He felt nothing as he handed the weapon back and started up the creek. “You heard him, we can still catch them.”

“Princess, hunt,” commanded Kruger and the dog raced off down the riverbed.

Bishop glanced up at the horizon to the east; already the stars had disappeared, replaced with the soft orange glow of a rapidly approaching dawn. He ignored the pain in his swollen ankle and started jogging. If he had his way the men who shot Saneh were not going to see another sunrise. The poacher known as Mamba Mboya was going to die badly.

***

“Come on, you slow shit.” Mamba shoved Kogo in the back as the smaller man struggled to climb the riverbank. He pushed him over the ledge then scrambled up after him to where Colin waited. As he paused to catch his breath he heard the dog bark again. He had assumed the volley of gunfire had killed the rangers and their hound. Clearly he was wrong. “Those fucking idiots.”

“They're dead now,” grunted Colin.

“And we will be too if we don't run.” Mamba pushed past the white poacher and sprinted through the bush. The dog would catch them before they reached the vehicles and he didn't want to be last. Kogo or Colin could battle it out with the rangers; they could be replaced. He managed a smile as he reached the track. His costs for the mission had been cut significantly.

In the soft pre-dawn glow he spotted the trucks a hundred yards away parked off the dirt road. Breathing hard he stumbled in the soft sand at the edge of the track. Behind him the dog barked excitedly. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Kogo and Colin hot on his heels. Grasping his rifle he turned and sprinted for his vehicle.

The dog was louder now, a deep angry bark that shook him as he reached the four-wheel drive. Wrenching open the driver’s door he jumped in and tossed the AK on the passenger’s seat. He pulled the keys from his vest and turned the ignition. It coughed once as the passenger door sprung open and Kogo scrambled in screaming. “The dog, the dog, go, go, go!”

The engine spluttered again. The rear door opened. A savage snarl filled the air and Colin cried out as he dove inside. Mamba glanced over his shoulder as he pumped the accelerator and turned the key again. A massive bull-headed mastiff had one of the poacher’s legs clenched firmly in its mouth.

“Drive, drive!” screamed Colin as the engine finally kicked over.

Mamba jammed the truck into gear and stomped on the accelerator. Checking the wing mirror he spotted two figures crash out of the bush. They were silhouetted by the first fingernail of the orange sunrise. “Get down!”

Bullets smashed through the back window and out through the windshield showering Mamba in glass.

“Jesus Christ!” screamed Kogo as they accelerated up the dirt track.

He held the wheel steady as more rounds slammed against the four-wheel drive. They rocketed along the road until the gunfire ceased. He glanced up at the mirror; a cloud of dust obscured them from the attackers. There was no sign of the dog.

“Mamba, Mamba!” Kogo screamed from the passenger seat.