PRIMAL Unleashed (2) by Jack Silkstone

chapters before hitting the nightlight, he became so engrossed that when he finally put it down, the faint glow of dawn lit up his hotel window.
    The book was the history of a secret society known as Susurro : the whisper. It existed outside the law, a private army using clandestine methods to protect the people of Valencia from the horrors of the Spanish inquisition. Bringing justice from the shadows.
    The concept resonated with Bishop. Now there’s a worthy cause,he thought. Fighting for the weak! Bringing some justice to the world!
    For the next few days Bishop continued to explore Barcelona. The book never left his mind, nor the means by which it had entered his life. Despite his training, he never identified a tail; he never felt like he was being watched. Slowly the suspicion began to ebb.
    A week later the book was a distant memory as Bishop travelled by high-speed rail to Valencia. Even though his grandparents were no longer alive, it was still a favorite holiday destination and he missed his parents.
    The train sped across the Spanish countryside and Bishop relaxed, gazing out the carriage window. Suspicion and unease were chased away by memories of childhood vacations and old family friends. Finally he’d left behind the worries of the world and was starting to enjoy his holiday.
     
     
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    El Al Flight LY395, Tel Aviv to Barcelona, 2004
     
    Mark and Estela Bishop boarded the Israel Airlines flight eagerly. After a pleasant few days visiting old friends, they were flying from Tel Aviv to Spain to spend a week with Aden. One short week: not nearly long enough. It had been six months since they’d last seen their son.
    Despite the years of separation imposed by military service, the bond between the Bishops and their only child was strong. They tried to talk to Aden at least once a week, no matter what far flung country he was stationed.
    Estela hated the photos of him with guns and riding in tanks; Aden was her little boy, her adorable, mop-headed angel who’d clung to her on his first day of school.
    Mark always remembered him as the young officer in his ceremonial uniform. Nothing had made Bishop senior more proud than the day he watched his son graduate from military college.
    The Bishops still traveled regularly, despite retirement. Years of working as journalists had gifted them with friends to visit all around the world. As the 737 took off, they relaxed, used to the cramped economy seats. They laughed as they scrolled through photos on their camera, Estela’s head resting on Mark’s shoulder.
    In the cockpit the pilots bantered with the flight engineer as they monitored the autopilot guiding the aircraft towards its 35,000 feet cruising height. The skies over the Mediterranean were clear; it was going to be a pleasant flight.
    As the jet passed through 10,000 feet, the tranquil silence of the cockpit was shattered by a blaring alarm. Red lights flashed across the flight controls and the pilots stared at each other in disbelief. The plane’s missile warning system had detected a launch!
    Far below the aircraft, a predator had initiated its hunt. Like the nose of a wolf, a thermal seeker sniffed out its quarry. The missile leapt into the sky, accelerating to three times the speed of its lumbering prey.
    The aircraft’s automated system reacted instantly, forcing the aircraft into a tight turn and throwing flares from a dispenser in its tail. Burning at over a thousand degrees, the flares hung under parachutes in an attempt to confuse the heat-seeking warhead.
    The hunter couldn’t be fooled; a sophisticated computer identified the flares and discarded them as targets, locking back onto the signature of the engines.
    It took five seconds for the shoulder-launched missile to cover the distance from the firing tube to the aircraft. It detonated in the jet’s right engine. The warhead’s explosive sent fragments slicing through the 737’s thin aluminum skin. White-hot shrapnel