PRIMAL Inception Read Free Page B

rescued him. Neither spoke English. Instead he looked out the window, attempting to gauge his location. Using a penlight, he checked the escape and evasion map on his lap. He had identified the RV and traced a path northwest, his route during the chase. The problem was he had no idea how far he had travelled and in the dark it was difficult to see the terrain.
    Sledge looked up as they stopped. They had arrived at a warehouse or factory. The driver switched off the headlights and left the vehicle. The passenger turned and held up a hand before joining the driver. Clearly they wanted him to stay put.
    He looked around as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The blocky gray building must have been a relic from the Soviet era, he thought. Hopefully now it was being used as a base by the KLA. He yawned. It was getting harder to keep his eyes open. His head nodded forward once and he caught himself. His head dipped again as he lost his battle to stay awake.
    Cold air blasted into the cabin. His eyes snapped open. The barrel of a pistol hovered inches from his face.
    “Get out!” a guttural voice ordered.
    “Hey, wait a second,” he said as he was dragged from the car. They tore his vest off and cuffed him.
    “I’m an American pilot,” he protested as he was blindfolded. “Who the hell–”
    The blow caught him off guard. There was a flash of red in his vision then searing pain on the right side of his face. He staggered. The barrel of a weapon jabbed into his back. At that moment reality dawned on him. He had been captured by Serbian militants.
     
    ***
     
    Lying under a tree, Ice’s elbows sunk into soft pine needles as he scanned the old two-story factory with his night vision device. He was on the other side of a clearing, barely fifty yards in front of the concrete structure. For forty minutes, he had watched, waiting. His breath formed a cloud of vapor as he exhaled and focused the image intensifier on a sliver of light escaping between two large sliding doors. It was the only sign the building was occupied.
    It had taken Barishna only an hour to find the missing pilot. One of his contacts, a Serbian business associate, had heard rumors of an American picked up by farmers. The quartermaster had tracked down the two locals and the Wolves had ‘extracted’ the location of the Serbian militia now detaining the pilot. It had not taken much to convince Zahir and Kreshnik to attack. They had their new weapons and now wanted Serb blood.
    Ice’s earpiece squelched. “How you going up there?” Vance asked. “Kreshnik’s getting antsy.”
    He pressed the transmit button. “No sign of our pilot or the Serbs,” he whispered. “Bring them to my position and I’ll move in for a close recon.”
    “Roger.”
    He continued to watch as he waited for Vance to lead the dozen KLA fighters to his position. When he heard the rustling through the trees he tucked away the night vision monocular, cradled his MP5SD and crawled back a few yards.
    Vance knelt next to him. “We’ll cover you from here.”
    He glanced over Vance’s shoulder. The Wolves were stretched out in single file. He watched Kreshnik give some whispered orders and position his men along the tree line. Zahir was nowhere to be seen. As usual the dirty work was left to his second-in-command.
    He handed the night vision device to Vance. “Keep an eye on Kreshnik.”
    “Will do, bud.”
    Ice pulled his balaclava down over his face. Then he shouldered the MP5SD and stalked through the woods. For a big man he moved like a wraith, flitting through the trees as he boxed around the clearing. He paused at the edge of the forest and watched.
    The factory was a long rectangular two-story structure. There was a row of windows on the second floor but no lights. On the front side were two entry points; a doorway on the far right and a set of large metal sliding doors closer to him. The crack of light between the doors revealed they were partially open.
    He moved swiftly across