PRIMAL Reckoning (Book 1 in the Redemption Trilogy, the PRIMAL Series Book 5) by Jack Silkstone
Authors: Jack Silkstone
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holes, the windows shot out, and the
woodwork splintered. The Black Jackets stopped bounding forward and started unloading
long bursts into the building. One of them unslung a green tube, knelt, and
aimed it from the shoulder. The rocket left its tube with a thump, screamed
over the building, and disappeared into the distance.
The gunfire
stopped and was replaced by heckling as the gunmen screamed obscenities at the
man who missed. Pershing chuckled. Boys would be boys.
The next
rocket did not miss. It slammed into the front of the house and the thermobaric
warhead detonated with a chest-shuddering explosion. Spurred on, they fired off
the remaining rockets in a few seconds. The roof collapsed and soon the little
house was a burning wreck.
Everything
went quiet. Burro’s men had expended all of their ammunition. Fire discipline
would have to be the next lesson. Pershing finished his coffee and waved a
bulldozer off the low loader parked behind his Chevy.
The dozer
rumbled down the track as the Black Jackets gathered around their trucks. They
cheered as the D7 lowered its blade and demolished the mortally wounded structure
in a single pass.
Pershing knew
the locals would come out to look at the devastation and word would spread. He
smiled. When it came time to clear the next farm, he didn’t expect any
resistance.
***
NEW YORK CITY
The Manhattan Ventures and Investments offices were situated
on the top floor of the Pulvermach building, one block from Wall Street. The
bespoke private equity firm, also known as MVI, had a staff of ten and a board
of four consisting of the chairman, Chief Financial Officer, and two additional
directors. With over two billion dollars in investments, it wasn’t one of the
wealthiest funds in New York, but it was one of the most secretive.
Today,
the directors were assembled in the boardroom for an update on their latest
investment, a gold mine in Mexico operated by the Resources and Environmental
Development Group. At the head of a polished mahogany table sat the chairman
and majority stakeholder, Jordan Pollard. A former military officer turned
businessman, Pollard had been a Brigade commander in the Second Gulf war before
retiring and cashing in on the lucrative security market in war-torn Iraq. But,
unlike most, he’d seen the writing on the wall. As the contracts expired, he channeled
his funds into MVI using his security expertise to exploit investment
opportunities in emerging high threat environments. He gathered a team of
ruthless bankers able to pull in enormous amounts of capital, using companies
like the RED Group to implement the investment.
The mining
operations officer of RED, Brian Kestrel, was briefing the Board from a screen
perched over the end of the long table. He used a laser pointer to indicate the
graphs on the presentation. “We’re currently producing two thousand tons a
month, with an additional five hundred of increased output forecasted by the
end of the month.” Kestrel was Canadian, a hulking bear of a man who’d been
hired for his ability to establish mining projects at break-neck speed.
The
grey-haired chairman clenched his chiseled jaw and fixed him with cold eyes. “Is
there any way we can increase it in the subsequent months?”
“Yes we
can, and we will, sir. We’ve recently brought two more heavy loaders online and
four more dumpers. With these running twenty-four-seven we’ll be able to expand
and increase productivity.” He clicked to a map that showed the current mine
size and the anticipated areas of expansion. The pit was set to more than
double in size.
“So the
only thing holding us back is how quickly we can gain access to these areas?”
Pollard switched his gaze to the director with a shaved head sitting opposite
him. “Charles, is that going to be a problem?”
“Not at
all, sir. Pershing has it well in hand.” A former Special Forces officer, Charles
King also ran Ground Effects Services, a company owned
woodwork splintered. The Black Jackets stopped bounding forward and started unloading
long bursts into the building. One of them unslung a green tube, knelt, and
aimed it from the shoulder. The rocket left its tube with a thump, screamed
over the building, and disappeared into the distance.
The gunfire
stopped and was replaced by heckling as the gunmen screamed obscenities at the
man who missed. Pershing chuckled. Boys would be boys.
The next
rocket did not miss. It slammed into the front of the house and the thermobaric
warhead detonated with a chest-shuddering explosion. Spurred on, they fired off
the remaining rockets in a few seconds. The roof collapsed and soon the little
house was a burning wreck.
Everything
went quiet. Burro’s men had expended all of their ammunition. Fire discipline
would have to be the next lesson. Pershing finished his coffee and waved a
bulldozer off the low loader parked behind his Chevy.
The dozer
rumbled down the track as the Black Jackets gathered around their trucks. They
cheered as the D7 lowered its blade and demolished the mortally wounded structure
in a single pass.
Pershing knew
the locals would come out to look at the devastation and word would spread. He
smiled. When it came time to clear the next farm, he didn’t expect any
resistance.
***
NEW YORK CITY
The Manhattan Ventures and Investments offices were situated
on the top floor of the Pulvermach building, one block from Wall Street. The
bespoke private equity firm, also known as MVI, had a staff of ten and a board
of four consisting of the chairman, Chief Financial Officer, and two additional
directors. With over two billion dollars in investments, it wasn’t one of the
wealthiest funds in New York, but it was one of the most secretive.
Today,
the directors were assembled in the boardroom for an update on their latest
investment, a gold mine in Mexico operated by the Resources and Environmental
Development Group. At the head of a polished mahogany table sat the chairman
and majority stakeholder, Jordan Pollard. A former military officer turned
businessman, Pollard had been a Brigade commander in the Second Gulf war before
retiring and cashing in on the lucrative security market in war-torn Iraq. But,
unlike most, he’d seen the writing on the wall. As the contracts expired, he channeled
his funds into MVI using his security expertise to exploit investment
opportunities in emerging high threat environments. He gathered a team of
ruthless bankers able to pull in enormous amounts of capital, using companies
like the RED Group to implement the investment.
The mining
operations officer of RED, Brian Kestrel, was briefing the Board from a screen
perched over the end of the long table. He used a laser pointer to indicate the
graphs on the presentation. “We’re currently producing two thousand tons a
month, with an additional five hundred of increased output forecasted by the
end of the month.” Kestrel was Canadian, a hulking bear of a man who’d been
hired for his ability to establish mining projects at break-neck speed.
The
grey-haired chairman clenched his chiseled jaw and fixed him with cold eyes. “Is
there any way we can increase it in the subsequent months?”
“Yes we
can, and we will, sir. We’ve recently brought two more heavy loaders online and
four more dumpers. With these running twenty-four-seven we’ll be able to expand
and increase productivity.” He clicked to a map that showed the current mine
size and the anticipated areas of expansion. The pit was set to more than
double in size.
“So the
only thing holding us back is how quickly we can gain access to these areas?”
Pollard switched his gaze to the director with a shaved head sitting opposite
him. “Charles, is that going to be a problem?”
“Not at
all, sir. Pershing has it well in hand.” A former Special Forces officer, Charles
King also ran Ground Effects Services, a company owned
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