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

zones.
    He noted the ongoing violence in Iraq with disgust. The headlines were all the same: bombings, kidnappings, beheadings, and increasing casualties. More soldiers dying, more innocent civilians slaughtered, and all for what? Oil. No one seemed to care that thousands of people die every day in other conflicts throughout the world. Shaking his head in frustration, he closed the webpage and logged onto his email.
    There were two new messages. Bishop’s mood improved instantly as he opened one from his father. His parents had arrived safely in Tel Aviv and were visiting friends. In just over a week they would meet him in Spain, his mother’s birthplace.
    The second email was from Mirza Mansoor. Ever since the incident in Sierra Leone four years ago, the two men had remained in contact, sharing emails and letters. Mirza had gone on to work with the Special Frontier Force, an elite special operations unit of the Indian Army. Bishop’s career on the other hand, had been sidelined. His otherwise perfect record marked with a single count of insubordination.
     Bishop opened the email:
     
I hope you are making the most of your holiday, my friend. Make sure you are taking the time to relax and enjoy life outside of the army.
I have started a new job with a contractor based out of India, good money but a little boring. Thanks again for the job reference. Hope you visit sometime soon.
Mirza
     
    He typed a quick response and hit send. Gathering his belongings, he paused at the counter to settle the account
    “Ah, are you Mr Bishop?” asked the pimple-faced youth behind the till.
     Bishop looked over his shoulder, quickly scanning the other users in the room. None of them looked familiar or particularly threatening. He turned back to the attendant. “I might be. What do you want?”
    “A man left this for you.” He handed over a crisp white envelope.
    Bishop opened it and pulled out a business card.

    He looked around the room again and out the window to the street.
    “Who gave you this?” he asked.
    “An older man: big Black-American.”
    “When?”
    “Umm, hour ago, maybe more. He said to give it to Mr. Bishop, with the brown jacket.”
    Fuck,thought Bishop. Is this a scam? How the hell does he know my name? He looked back at the card. It resembled a military patch, the sort of thing US Special Forces sometimes wore. Sometimes the answer can be found in a book? It felt like a puzzle, a clue to some sort of treasure hunt.
    He took the card back to an Internet terminal and punched the address into Google Maps. It was close, not more than a few blocks away. He rocked back in the chair, trying to make sense of it all. He knew there was no way he could turn his back on this. He threw a few coins on the counter and left the café.
    Walking out onto the busy footpath, he joined the throngs of tourists, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder, searching for a tail. Nothing, no one seemed to be paying even the slightest attention to him.
    Hauling a battered Lonely Planet guide from his leather satchel, he thumbed through the pages. He briefly read the description of Barri Gotic , the gothic quarter of old Barcelona. The route seemed simple enough; a long, pleasant walk through the ancient streets.
     Although Bishop had been staying in Barcelona for a number of days, he hadn’t made any effort to explore the city. So far he’d either been thrashing himself with his vigorous exercise regime, drinking in dimly lit bars or surfing the Internet. Maybe it was time to stop dwelling on things he couldn’t change and make the most of his holidays. At least the cryptic card had given him something to break the self-destructive pattern he’d fallen into.
    Strolling through Barcelona, Bishop began to see the city in a new light. The sheer magnificence of the architecture enthralled him, the ancient buildings steeped in over two thousand years of history. He wandered absent-mindedly, forgetting his mission, drawn away from the