PRIMAL Vengeance

Chapter 46



H&K G28 Designated Marksman Rifle



Kordofan District, Sudan



"Green light. Good luck, lads," Mitch's voice came over the intercom.

Kurtz was the first out of the door, followed by Aleks and Mirza. Dragonfly was flying at maximum altitude, and at 25,000 feet they were breathing oxygen as they plummeted towards their target. The PRIMAL operatives had practiced this type of insertion hundreds of times. They swiftly stablized themselves as they reached terminal velocity, belting towards the earth's surface at well over a hundred and fifty kilometers an hour.

They tracked in a line as they fell, each of them watching the dial on their altimeter as they approached 'pop' height. Kurtz deployed his chute first, prompting the other two operators to do the same. Under canopy they spiraled down towards the airfield.

"Breaking away!" Kurtz announced as he guided his canopy out of formation and towards his own target.

"As am I," confirmed Aleks.

The pair had identified their positions on either side of the runway with Mirza heading deeper, towards the apron.

Mirza overflew his intended drop zone then cut in sharply, corkscrewing down towards it. At the last moment he pulled down on his toggles and touched down. In a few seconds he had shrugged out of his chute and collapsed the canopy. Working quickly he unslung his rifle and cocked it, applying the safety. A moment later he had recovered his chute, stuffed it all into a camouflaged bag and stashed it in the dry vegetation.

"Mike ready!" he announced over the radio.

"Kilo ready!" Kurtz's voice broadcast over his earpiece.

"Alpha ready," Aleks grunted.

"Roger, team. This is Dragonfly. I have visual on the target convoy, approximately four minutes out. Two trucks, three gun buggies and one SUV." There was a short pause. "Oh, and Kilo, nice landing. I got that on camera. You OK?" At 25,000 feet, Dragonfly was well out of visual range, however Mitch could still monitor the situation through the surveillance pod.

"Screw you, Englander, what kind of dummkopf puts up a fence in the middle of f*cking nowhere," Kurtz replied.

Aleks' laughter filled the airways.

Mirza was lying in a thicket of bush on a small rise near the end of the runway. In his camouflage outfit he was almost invisible, the pattern blending seamlessly with the surrounding terrain. Aleks and Kurtz would be doing the same, searching for the best piece of ground to target the approaching vehicles. All three were armed with semi-automatic sniper rifles and together they covered three sides of the runway and the apron. The only area they did not block was the runway stretching away to the south, but the lack of cover would be fatal for anyone trying to escape that way.

"I have the Fokker on scope. Five minutes before it lands," Mitch said. "Remember, the two detainees are in the SUV." He had used a UAV to monitor the loading of the prisoners at the refinery.

The suppressed barrel of Mirza's G28 sniper rifle peeked through the grass. Through the scope he had a clear view across the hard packed earth of the runway. He glanced down at his iPRIMAL and noted the position of Kurtz. The German was almost directly opposite him. He would need to watch his fire.

"I have visual," reported Aleks looking through his sniper scope.

Within seconds the convoy drove onto the apron. The three gun buggies moved into a defensive posture with the SUV parked in the middle. Machine gunners in the turrets pointed their heavy weapons outwards. Other guards jumped from the trucks and formed a security screen. The Chinese contractors went through the motions but weren't expecting a threat. Any vehicle approaching would be easily detected and apart from a few basic shelters, the airfield was empty. In the distance the engines of the Fokker could be heard.

Mirza scoped the black suburban. Through the heavily tinted windows he could make out the shape of two people in the back seats. Both had hoods on their heads. "Package is in the SUV. Neutralize the gunners first, then drivers, then engines, foot mobiles last. Acknowledge."

Kurtz and Aleks each confirmed.

"Fokker touching down in thirty seconds," added Mitch.

"On my count." Mirza took up the slack in the H&K's trigger. "One, two, three!"

The rifle bucked in his shoulder as the 7.62mm round exited the rifle. Almost simultaneously the guards in the three gun buggies collapsed, their heads exploding.

One of the perimeter guards heard the snap of a round sizzling past his head and dropped to the ground, firing a burst from his weapon.

Still hidden, the three PRIMAL snipers continued to engage. Bullets hit the bonnets and side panels of the three gun buggies. Holes appeared in the driver's side window of the SUV. The airfield became alive with the sound of automatic gunfire as the Chinese guards blasted away, trying in vain to shoot at their hidden attackers.

Mirza switched his fire to immobilize the SUV, punching rounds into the front tires and engine block.

"Aircraft has touched down," said Mitch.

"Switch fire to dismounts." Mirza reloaded another twenty-round magazine.

The PRIMAL operatives started engaging the guards. Two crumpled as they ran towards Kurtz's position looking for cover.

The roar of the Fokker 50's engines filled the air as the pilots reversed the thrust. The sight that greeted them was pure chaos.

Chinese guards lay dead on the runway with the rest trying to find cover behind the crippled vehicles. Suppressed, surgical fire was hitting them from every angle, dropping them as they crouched behind their vehicles.

A quick-thinking buggy driver triggered his smoke discharger. It threw the smoke canisters down range with a loud thunk, then thick grey smoke spread out across the runway. It billowed up and around the Fokker and caught in the propellers. Its crew slammed on the brakes as hard as they could, terrified of what lay beyond the smoke. The engines screamed as they coaxed every ounce of reverse thrust from them.

As bedlam unfolded amongst the smoke, Mirza reached forward and calmly flicked his thermal imager over in front of his scope. It would take a few seconds to adjust.

The PRIMAL fire lapsed as Aleks and Kurtz changed their own scopes. In that time one of the guards managed to reach the heavy machine gun mounted on one of the buggies. He pushed the dead gunner's body out of the way and fired blindly into the smoke.

The 12.7mm armor-piercing rounds were designed to penetrate steel plate and made short work of the Fokker's soft aluminum skin. Two rounds slammed into the outside engine and the third, a tracer, tore a fist-sized hole in its fuel tank.

The wing ignited and a sheet of flame shot into the air as the aircraft came to a complete halt, still a few hundred meters from the smoke-shrouded vehicles.

The PRIMAL operatives' sights came online almost at exactly the same time. All three of them fired through the smoke at the white thermal outline of the gunner. The slugs hit him within the space of a second. His corpse slumped in the turret.

"Finish the rest, I'm heading in," announced Mirza.

"Acknowledged," said Aleks.

"I'm moving," spluttered Kurtz. "Smoke is everywhere."

"What the hell is going on down there, lads? Is there anything that isn't on fire?" asked Mitch.

"Wasn't us!" said Kurtz as he jogged into a new position.

The weight of Chinese return fire had dropped to almost nothing as Mirza left his hide and trotted across open ground, heading for the vehicles. An infrared beacon pulsed on his armor, enabling Aleks and Kurtz to ID him through their sights. The smoke from the canisters was dispersing, replaced with haze and smoke from the burning passenger aircraft.

"That's the last of them," said Aleks as he placed a round through the forehead of the final remaining guard.

"I concur. I can see no squirters," reported Mitch from high above.

As he approached the vehicles, Mirza slung the G28 over his shoulder and drew his pistol. He picked up his pace, moving directly for the SUV. The front window of the vehicle was shattered, the driver dead at the wheel.

When he was twenty meters from the SUV the rear door on his side opened and a black-hooded figure stumbled out. One of the hostages had managed to get free. He could tell immediately it wasn't Bishop.

"JESS! GET DOWN!" Mirza screamed as he sprinted towards her. Behind her, in the SUV he'd spotted another figure armed with a submachine gun.

It happened in slow motion. Mirza was only ten meters away when the burst of fire hit her. She spun as the machine pistol fired at full-automatic. Her body convulsed as bullets thudded into her.

She collapsed before Mirza reached her, his pistol still held at the ready. It jumped in his hand as he pumped the trigger. The .45 slug hit the Chinese guard square in face as he climbed out of the SUV. The JS submachine gun fell from his hands as he toppled forward.

Mirza holstered his pistol and tore the black hood off Jess's face. She smiled up at him, blood oozing from her mouth and nose. "I knew you'd come. Bishop said you would."

"Dragonfly, I need evac now. Jess has been hit," Mirza transmitted as he sliced open the back of her shirt with his hook-knife. Tears formed in his eyes as he surveyed the damage the rounds had inflicted on her body. Blood flowed from no less than three entry wounds in her back and an exit wound in her lower abdomen.

He didn't look up as boots skidded to a halt in the dust next to him. Kurtz's rifle hit the ground with a clatter as the German tore his medical kit from his vest. "Bishop isn't here, Mirza."

"I know." Mirza had already packed the abdomen wound with wadding and was working franticly to stem the flow of blood from the wounds higher up in her back. He was kneeling with the American doctor sitting, slumped forward against him.

"Get a line in, Kurtz, or we're going to lose her."

"The bastards tricked us," Kurtz swore as he opened the medical kit. "This whole show was a diversion." The lanky German inserted the catheter into the back of Jess's hand and hooked an IV bag to the insertion point. He held the bag high, forcing the fluid into her arm. Aleks arrived and held the bag, allowing Kurtz to focus his attention on sealing the other wounds.

"Mirza," Jess whispered between coughing fits. Blood was frothing at her lips. "Mirza, tell him I love him."

"You tell him, Jess. We'll get him back soon."

She shook her head as her eyes glazed over.

"No Mirza, you have to tell him." Her eyes closed and her head slumped forward over his shoulder.

"Kurtz, we're losing her." Mirza laid her down flat and tore an adrenaline shot from his vest. He plunged it into her chest and pressed the plunger home. There was a brief flicker of her eyelids and then nothing.

"Nein, nein, nein!" Kurtz screamed. He pounded her chest with his fist. "Don't f*cking die on us. Don't you dare f*cking die!"

"KURTZ, stop!" Mirza grabbed the German by the shoulders. "She's gone, she's gone."

Kurtz leapt to his feet and stormed across to the SUV. He kicked the corpse of the man who had gunned down a woman he had never even known.

In the background the beat of Dragonfly's rotors could be heard and Mitch broadcast over the radio.

"Team, we've got a large convoy of hostiles heading your way. I'm on the deck in thirty seconds. Can I confirm that Bravo is not in location?"

"That's correct," said Mirza. "Bravo is not in our location. I have the doctor here but she hasn't made it." He made to lift up Jess's body.

Aleks stopped him. "You go, Mirza. I carry her." Mirza nodded his thanks and followed Kurtz to where the tilt-rotor had touched down.

The big Russian slung his rifle and slowly picked up the corpse. He cradled her gently in his arms and walked to the waiting aircraft.

Behind them the Fokker burned, a dozen bodies littered the tarmac and the six Chinese vehicles sat broken and useless, windows shattered and tires shot up. The Fokker's crew had escaped the flames and watched in silence as the three men and the dead body disappeared into the strange-looking tilt-rotor. They shielded their eyes from the dust as it leapt into the air and disappeared over the trees.