PRIMAL Inception by Jack Silkstone Page B

gasped.
    “Where were you going to put the bomb, Murat? Tell me and I’ll make sure you live.”
    “In front of the office. Taxi stand.” Bloody froth bubbled from the corner of his mouth.
    “How were you going to detonate it?”
    “Kreshnik. Kreshnik was going to do it.”
    Ice looked in the man’s jacket and found a phone. He checked the messages; nothing. He checked the calls; there was one from an unlisted number an hour ago. They were in luck. The driver hadn’t had the opportunity to warn anyone. He turned to the car where Mitch was inspecting some wiring. “I need an update on that thing.”
    “I can defuse it. No problems.”
    Ice nodded. That meant his plan could work.
    “Gaz, I need you to take this guy back to Pristina in the chopper, then head to Daçi’s office. Link in with his PSD. Take Barishna with you.”
    “Mitch will stay and sort the car, yeah. So we evac this guy and RV with you all in the city?”
    “Correct, keep Barishna detained and out of sight.”
    “Wilco.” Gaz lifted the wounded man. One of his men grasped his legs and they carried him to the waiting chopper.
    A few seconds later, Vance appeared having left Barishna in the hands of the SAS.
    “How’s it going?” he asked Ice.
    “Mitch will have it sorted in a minute. The driver didn’t alert anyone so we’ve still got a chance to get the jump on Kreshnik.”
    “Good, then we need to get moving."
     
    ***
     
    A little over twenty miles away, Kreshnik lit another cigarette as he leaned against the gray van and watched the crowds gather. People were carrying blue flags and signs emblazoned with LDK party slogans. It amused him they had chosen to hold the political rally in the main square of Kosovo’s only university. The institution was once the pride of the Serbs; a glowing beacon of their dominance. Now, the university was closed.
    He looked across the square at a half-finished Orthodox Church that towered over the grounds. Like the university, it had been abandoned. For Kreshnik, the five story, onion-domed building was a reminder that their work was not yet finished. There were still Serbs that needed to be taken care of.
    He checked his watch and looked down the street. Where the hell was the cab? It was nearly midday and the bomb needed to be in front of Daçi’s office across from the university. Zahir wanted the voters to see him die in a ball of fire. When that happened, they would tear the city apart and the last remaining Serbs would be forced out of Kosovo.
    He was about to call Murat when he spotted the silver taxi driving around the ring road. He checked that the garage door opener was still in his pocket. It only had a range of about fifty feet so he’d have to get close to detonate the bomb. He banged on the van and flung open the windowless side door. His three men inside were playing cards. “Imer, come with me.”
    “In a minute, I’m winning,” Imer shot back, never taking his eyes off his hand.
    “Fucking now!”
    Kreshnik left the van with Imer in tow, crossed the busy street, and entered the university grounds. He scanned the crowd, scoping the security presence. British soldiers and Italian policemen stood at most of the entry points to the square.
    They walked across the grass to where a crowd was gathering around a large flatbed truck. Technicians were busy setting up speakers and a microphone. This was where Daçi would give his speech. It was a short walk from his office, down the main road, and past the taxi rank.
    He skirted around the crowd, searching for the car. It was parked in the taxi rank just as planned. A tall man with a beard got out. It was not Murat. He reached into his pocket and pressed the garage remote. Nothing happened.
    “Fuck.” He turned and pushed Imer back into the crowd.
    “What’s going on?”
    “We’ve been compromised.”
    “What? By who?”
    “Move it. We’ve got to get out of here.”
    “What about Daçi? Boss wants him dead.”
    “I fucking know