PRIMAL Inception by Jack Silkstone

the bench seats. Barishna lay on the floor with his hands and feet secured, tape over his mouth.
    Mitch gave Ice a slap on his shoulder. “Bit pale there, champ? Not going to be sick are you?” He had a broad grin, the only one who wasn’t feeling carsick in the windowless cabin.
    Ice swallowed. “No, I’m good.”
    Gaz looked up from his map, turned, and shouted over his shoulder. “Two minutes, lads.”
    The troopers made final adjustments to their equipment and checked their weapons. The man closest to the door reached out and grabbed the handle.
    “One minute. Double story house and a barn. Team One hits the house. Team Two the barn. Mitch, you and Ice stay with the van.”
    Mitch gave Ice a thumbs-up.
    “Thirty seconds. Remember, we’re looking for a silver taxi.”
    Ice grasped the pistol grip of his Mk18 with one hand and the bench seat with the other. He exhaled, attempting to clear the nausea of riding in the back of the van for an hour.
    “Ten seconds.”
    The van bumped over a pothole and skidded to a halt.
    “Go! Go! Go!”
    The side door slid open and the troopers hit the ground running. Ice got out, took a knee behind the corner of the van and covered them.
    Gaz, the driver and one of the other troopers were already at the front door of the house. A well-oiled machine, they slapped a charge on the thick wood. A moment later there was a bang and they disappeared through the shattered hole. Ice aimed his weapon up at the second level of the building, covering the windows.
    The other three men had moved to the barn. The doors were already open and they approached cautiously before entering.
    Ice lowered his weapon and checked a message on his phone.
    “Update from Vance?” Mitch asked.
    “He’s ETA with the bird in five mikes.”
    They waited in silence until Mitch’s radio crackled.
    “Both objectives secure,” transmitted Gaz. “Dry hole, no Taxi. Mitch, Team Two needs you at the barn.”
    “Roger.”
    They jogged over and Harry met them inside.
    “What have you got?” Mitch asked.
    “I’d say we just missed them. Rigged at least a couple of hundred pounds of bang.” Harry nudged a pile of wax paper with his boot and pointed to a stack of empty wooden crates.
    Mitch picked up a piece of the paper and sniffed it. “Semtex.” He looked around the cluttered room and spotted a bench. Turning on a lamp, he inspected the odds and ends strewn across it. “Someone’s wired up a firing circuit.” He held up the remains of a garage door remote. “Radio-initiated, simple but effective.”
    “But they got away,” Ice said.
    Another of the troopers was inspecting the ground in front of the open doors. “Fresh tire tracks. The tread pattern’s still damp.”
    “Mitch, with me.” Ice ran to the van where Gaz and the other half of the team were waiting.
    “Any luck?” the SAS leader asked.
    “We missed it.” Ice unfolded his map on the seat of the vehicle. He found their location and traced the route to Pristina. He had already studied the map closely and knew the vehicle bomb would not go by the main roads. They wouldn’t risk being stopped at a checkpoint. That meant travelling by back roads, and there were multiple routes. He jumped into the back of the van and tore the tape from Barishna’s mouth. “Which way will they go?”
    “I don’t know,” he whined. “Kreshnik planned those details.”
    The dull beat of rotors filled the air as Ice cut the tape on the prisoner’s legs and dragged him from the van.
    “That our boy?” asked Gaz as a utility helicopter circled the farm.
    “Sure is. We’ll intercept the taxi on route.”
    Gaz nodded. “Harry and his team will take the van back to Pristina.” He turned to Mitch and the other two SAS troopers. “Righto, lads. Grab your kit and get on the bird. We’re going hunting.”
     
    ***
     
    Ice sat in the co-pilot’s seat of the Bell 412 as it followed a back road to Pristina. He had his map on his lap and was switching