PRIMAL Unleashed (2) by Jack Silkstone Read Free Book Online

otherwise. Because I do not sell empty promises. I sell weapons that kill!”
    Dostiger stood up as he poured a whiskey from the decanter on his desk. Limping, he turned and walked to the one-way glass that separated his office from the nightclub below. He watched the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor below and sipped his whiskey.
    “How many weapons have I sold you?”
    “But—"
    “And have they not worked as I promised?”
    “Yes, of course. You always deliver.”
    He turned back to face the Iranian. “No! The Revolutionary Guards come to me because no one else can deliver!”
    The Iranian flushed. “Let us buy just one. We will do tests and if we are happy, then we will buy more.”
    The Ukrainian smiled, a twisted grimace of a smile. “And let you copy the technology?” There was a guttural laugh as Dostiger limped back to his desk.
    “We would never—”
     “No? Because that’s exactly what I would do.” Dostiger sat down. “But then I would also want a demonstration.” His lips stretched into a grin.            
    “What…what do you mean by demonstration?”
    “The Revolutionary Guards want to shoot down Israeli planes, yes?”
    “No, not the Guards. Hezbollah!” the visitor replied.
    “Hezbollah, Guards,” he shrugged. “What matters is business and Iran will not part with money unless results are guaranteed. Yes?”
    “That is correct.” The Iranian was sitting up in his chair, his interest sharp.
    “So! I will demonstrate the weapon.”
    “What sort of demonstration?”
    “A display of the missile’s capability against an Israeli aircraft.” Dostiger’s face was impassive but his voice cold. “A passenger aircraft. If the demonstration is successful then Iran will purchase ALL of the missiles.”
    “You would attack an unarmed Israeli passenger jet to ensure the sale?”
    “Correct!” Dostiger‘s eyes glinted.
    “What about reprisals? What about the Americans or Israel? Surely they will hunt even you down?”
    The Ukrainian laughed. His pitted and scarred face looked like a macabre gargoyle. “What are the Jews going to do? They will blame Hezbollah, use it as an excuse to occupy more Lebanese soil, and I will make even more money selling rockets to your comrades.”
    “You’re not worried they’ll come for you?”
    Another laugh. “The Americans will not touch me! The CIA wants Russian technology as much as everyone else. One jet and a handful of Jews are…inconsequential.” 
    “Maybe to the Americans, but Mossad—“
    “Mossad? Israeli intelligence are toothless fools; outside of the Middle East they are nothing. Look around, comrade, I own the Ukraine. Here I am a king. Do you think I should fear Mossad when I am surrounded by the best security money can buy?”
    The Iranian could only nod. Dostiger’s headquarters was indeed a fortress. Heavily armed guards manned all the entrances and CCTV cameras watched every space.
    “My men will conduct the attack and I will continue my business as I always have.”
    “This will need approval from the head of the Guards,” the Iranian said.
    “The decision they need to make is whether or not they want to continue doing business wth me. Tell them to watch the skies over Israel, I will show them what my missiles can do.”
    The Iranian smiled for the first time and stood up. He held his hand out. “You are a cunning man, Dostiger.”
    “Not at all,” Dostiger shook the Iranian’s hand. “I am simply a businessman.”
     
     
     
     

Chapter 6
     
    Barcelona, Spain, 2004
     
    The dingy internet cafe was hardly the most enticing location in the picturesque city of Barcelona. Half a dozen obsolete PCs, cheap plastic chairs, cracked linoleum and the stale stench of cigarettes. It wasn’t the place to be enjoying a holiday but Bishop didn’t notice. While other tourists explored the history and culture of the coastal city, he was scrolling through the latest news from the world’s conflict