PRIMAL Unleashed (2) by Jack Silkstone Page B

tablecloth, his ears and face red with shame. For a man who had served his country as a warrior, to be called a mere security guard was a slap in the face.
    “Mirza, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
    The former soldier looked up, his eyes shining. “That’s the problem with you, Aden, you never think.”
    Bishop contemplated his friend’s words for a moment before the awkward silence was broken by the shrill ringtone of Bishop’s phone.
    He pulled it from his jacket, checking the number.
    “Excuse me, Mirza, I have to take this.”
    Mirza nodded and Bishop headed over to the railing on the side of the wharf. He answered the call, the screen of the phone indicating the line was secure.
    “Bishop, it’s Vance. Sorry to call during your break but we have a situation developing.”
    “What’s up?”
    “Getting a lot of reporting that something big is going down in the Ghan with the Iranian Guards. It’s a little sketchy at the moment but I think they’re trying to get their grubby little hands on a WMD.”
    “In Afghanistan?”
    “Yep, the Khod Valley, to be precise.”
    “The Iranian Revolutionary Guards Corps are trying to recover a Weapon of Mass Destruction in Afghanistan? Are you taking the piss, Vance?”
    “Look, Bish, I ain’t gonna go over the details now. Bottom line is we need you back ASAP. I’m recalling the whole team.”
    “Yeah, OK, but what about Mirza?” Bishop asked.
    “Mirza? Damn. I forgot about that. I guess that’s up to you, buddy. If you think he’s ready, we’ll use him. We’re gonna need all hands on deck for this one. “
    “What about transport?”
    “The Gulfstream will be at Sydney airport in a little under an hour.”
    “I’ll be there.”
    “OK, see you soon, buddy. Bunker out.” Vance terminated the call.
    Bishop looked back across to where Mirza was still sitting watching the boats on the harbor. He pocketed the phone and walked back.
    “Walk with me, Mirza, I want to talk to you about something,” he said, taking his jacket from the back of the chair. He left some money on the table and the two men walked down the wharf.
    “Aden, are you alright? The phone call wasn’t bad news, was it?”
    “Huh? No, not at all. I just have a lot on my mind.”
    “You still haven’t told me why I am here.”
    “Mirza, are you happy with what you are doing?”
    “Like I said, it allows me to look after my family.”
    “What if money wasn’t an issue? Would you still do what you do?”
    Mirza stopped and turned to face Bishop. “The truth? No, I wouldn’t. There is no honor in it. I joined the army to be a warrior. To protect women and children, not pipelines and politicians.”
    “I thought as much,” Bishop said, looking him in the eye. “Mirza, I want you to come and work with me.”
    “Doing what? Shipping cargo around the world?”
    Bishop cut him off with a laugh. “Mirza, I don’t ship cargo.”
    “But you said you work for Lascar Logistics?” Mirza looked confused. He had always thought Bishop worked for Lascar, one of the world’s largest air freight companies.
    Bishop started walking again, heading into the adjacent park, distancing them from the tourists on the wharf.
    “Mirza I work for an arm of Lascar Logistics known as Priority Movements Air Lift, or as we call ourselves, PRIMAL.”
    “So you do express delivery?”
    “Not at all. We conduct clandestine operations across the globe targeting those who exist outside the reach of justice.”
    Mirza stopped walking and stared at Bishop for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head in disbelief, “you said targeting those who exist outside the reach of justice?”
    “Yes.”
    “Like who?”
    “Criminals, warlords, drug dealers, corrupt politicians, businessmen—the list is long, Mirza. It’s a full time job.”
    Mirza eyebrows furrowed but his eyes gleamed. “What? Who? I don’t understand. Are you some sort of super government agency? Who do you work for?”
    “PRIMAL