PRIMAL Vengeance

Chapter 28



Kaljak Village, Abyei District



They had chosen the village of Kaljak as a makeshift base because it was abandoned. The Janjaweed had hit it once and it was unlikely they would return. In the time that had passed since Garang and his men had helped evacuate the village, Mother Nature had conducted a thorough clean up. Hyenas had dragged away the corpses of the dead villagers and vultures had stripped the flesh from the bones of the crucified missionary. It was almost as if she had known the SFF would need a new home now that their crater hideaway had been compromised.

The tilt-rotor had arrived first, dropping two loads of evacuees from the SFF village. Mitch and Jess had left them under the protection of a small security detail before returning to launch their attack on the Janjaweed mortars. Damaged from ground fire, Dragonfly had limped back to the new base, landing heavily. Mitch had immediately gone to work to repair the damage.

It was late afternoon when the Dinka convoy rolled in. Wheels bounced over the old craters carved by Janjaweed mortars as the trucks pulled in next to what used to be the marketplace. Villagers gathered, trying to catch a glimpse of a father or a brother, wanting to know who had managed to get out alive.

Jess appeared from a hut, her hair up and hands covered by rubber gloves. "We're ready for the wounded," she said.

Men carried the critically wounded into the makeshift surgery. There were three that were badly injured, including the man Mirza had saved. Another five or so had superficial injuries that the doctor would treat later.

"Aden, you're OK!" Jess's eyes lit up when she saw him.

"Only because you and Mitch came back for us," said Bishop as she gave him a quick hug.

"It was all Mitch. He insisted," she said.

"Regardless, the two of you saved our lives. If you hadn't cleaned up those mortars, all of us would have died back there."

Two of Garang's men lifted Sagrib from the back of the Wildcat. Jess saw the injured man and gestured for them to bring him into the clinic.

"Not him." Bishop shook his head. "Bring him with me. Mirza find me a chair."

"What are you going to do to him?" asked Jess.

"We're just going to have a chat."

Jonjo and Garang made a move to follow the men. Bishop turned, waving them away. "You make sure your men have secured the village."

"No. I want to watch him die," replied Jonjo.

"You'll get your chance. Garang, keep everyone away, especially Jess. She doesn't need to see this."

The SFF leader nodded.

Two Dinka guards dragged the Janjaweed commander by his shoulders, letting his shattered leg drag in the sand, his hands zip-tied behind him. He hurled abuse at the two men in his native tongue. Bishop led them around the corner to a blood-stained wall, the site of the crucifixion.

Mirza appeared with a wooden school chair and the two men dropped Sagrib onto it. The Arab glared at his captors, slowly scanning the faces of the men in front of him. His lips parted in a toothless grin as the Dinka guards dropped their eyes. His glare focused on Bishop and his grin faded. The white man met his gaze with a cold, unblinking stare of his own.

"So you are the CIA pig who leads these dogs?" He spat his words.

Bishop drew his combat knife from his chest rig and leaned forward driving the blade into Sagrib's injured leg. The Arab screamed as the knife ground against his thigh bone.

"Listen to my words very carefully, scum bag, because this is the first and last time I'm going to tell you. Answer my questions and that is all. Mouth off again and I'll give you more pain than you can ever imagine." Bishop pulled the knife from the man's leg and wiped it on the Arab's pants. "Tell me who you're reporting to."

"F*ck you, CIA pig!"

"I warned you, Sagrib." Bishop turned to his partner sitting against a low wall. "Mirza, can you grab the tool kit from the truck."

Mirza nodded and walked towards the Wildcat. Bishop took a handful of thick zip ties from his rig and laid them on the ground in front of the captive. Mirza returned a few moments later with the emergency tool kit from the Land Rover.

Bishop lay the box on the ground and sorted through it methodically. The kit was designed to keep a truck running no matter what the circumstances. It held all sorts of useful equipment including a micro welder and the tool that Bishop was looking for—a cordless grinder.

"Mirza, zip-tie his thighs." Bishop removed the grinding part from the power tool and replaced it with a sinister-looking cutting blade.

Mirza placed the thick zip ties around Sagrib's legs. The Arab kicked out and Mirza drove his elbow into the thigh, at the same time drawing the improvised tourniquet tight.

Bishop held the power tool up in front of Sagrib's face and thumbed the trigger. It spun up with a sinister hiss.

"The tourniquets will stop you from bleeding to death. Once I've finished cutting off your legs, I'm going to start on your arms. Once I've finished there I'm going to hand you over to the doctor. Now she is a compassionate woman; she will save your life. But then you will be given to the villagers and you will spend the rest of your life groveling for food like a pig, unable to take your own life. You will be forced to live in filth like a dog."

The warrior's eyes grew wide and for the first time in his life he felt fear. According to his faith, if he died fighting the infidel he would be rewarded with unimaginable riches. However, living his life like an animal, groveling for scraps in a Dinka village, would condemn him to an eternity of hell.

Bishop continued. "Answer my questions and I'll give you the death you want. I'll shoot you myself. It will be quick."

Sagrib held his lips firmly shut but his eyes betrayed his growing panic.

"How did you find our camp?"

Bishop started the circular blade and the faint smell of burning ozone wafted up from its electric motor. He moved it closer to the Arab's knee and the blade ripped through the filthy desert fatigues.

Still Sagrib said nothing.

Bishop inched the spinning blade closer and it sliced into skin. Sagrib grunted as his flesh parted. The blade sprayed a fine mist of blood and his resolve dissolved.

"The Chinese operative, Yang," Sagrib hissed.

"How did he know where to find us?"

"The Chinese have agents all through the South. One of them found it. I don't know how."

"Tell me more about Yang. What does he look like?"

"He's Chinese, small, a fighter. I don't know, they all look the same."

"So now you work for the Chinese?"

Sagrib spat in the dust. "No, I work for Omar. The Chinese work for us. They bring us guns and we give them oil."

"How many more Janjaweed does Omar have?"

Sagrib started laughing, cackling like an animal. "That's why it doesn't matter if you kill me. He has thousands more. He fills the Janjaweed pockets with gold and they kill anyone who stands in his way. There are hundreds more men like me, thousands more warriors of Islam. We cannot be beaten. It doesn't matter how many men the CIA sends, it will not be enough."

Bishop stared at the Arab for a few seconds before he wiped the grinder on the man's pants and placed it back in the tool kit.

Sagrib waited, hoping for a gunshot that would end his pain.

Bishop closed the toolbox and made for the exit.

"Shoot me," Sagrib begged.

The PRIMAL operative continued out the door.

"You promised me you'd shoot me!" Sagrib screamed. "I told you what you wanted. Give me the death I deserve."

Bishop stopped and turned back to face him. The Janjaweed commander's face was a mask of hatred mixed with intense pain.

"I lied." Bishop turned to the guards. "Give him to the villagers. Let them decide what to do with him."

He walked away from the screaming Arab.

Mirza stepped in beside him. "So what now?"

"Now we cut off the head."