PRIMAL Inception Read Online Free PDF Page B

parked 4Runner. On occasion, he still used the battered Toyota. For security reasons, he rotated through a fleet of different cars when he conducted source meets.
    The guide nodded and got in the passenger seat.
    As they drove down from the hills, images of the corpses flashed through Ice’s mind, melding with memories of the execution he had witnessed two years earlier.
    After a few minutes, his guide broke the silence. “Have you heard? Zahir is running for office.”
    He snapped around to face the man. “What?”
    “Zahir is running for office. My brother is the party secretary, and he says he has a good chance of winning.”
    He clenched his teeth.
    “You worked with Zahir during the war didn’t you?”
    Ice didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the road.
    “He is a strong man, Zahir. The Gray Wolves fought when most ran and hid. It’s because of men like him that the war came to an end. He gave Kosovo its freedom.”
    Ice’s white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel went unnoticed. “His second-in-command, do you know him?”
    “Kreshnik? Everyone knows Kreshnik, the hero of Brabonic. They say he killed an entire platoon of Yugoslav Special Forces to rescue a downed US fighter pilot.”
    Ice’s eyebrows rose. “That’s what they say?”
    The Albanian studied his face. “You were there weren’t you?”
    Ice ignored the question. “Do you know what he’s up to now?”
    “He just opened a hotel outside Brabonic. You should go, he does good deals for UN.”
    “What’s it called?”
    “I think it’s called the Smoking Pussy. Yes that’s it. If you take the back road from Brabonic you can’t miss it.”
    Ice pulled the SUV over to the side of the road. “Thanks for the tip.” He opened the glove compartment, took out an envelope, and handed it over. “And thanks for your help.”
    The man opened the envelope and checked the cash inside. “Will you be needing me again?”
    “No, I don’t think so.”
    The Albanian tucked the envelope away and jumped out.
    Ice pulled back onto the road. He glanced at the digital clock on the dash. It was only an hour until nightfall. Enough time to check out Kreshnik’s hotel and get back in time for the nightly update briefing.
     
    ***
     
    The hotel, if it could be called that, was exactly as Ice expected. A seedy dive on the outskirts of town. The words ‘Smoking Pussy’ flashed in red on top of the two-story building. Below the neon words a pink cat with a cigarette hanging from its mouth arched its back suggestively. Ice wondered if Kreshnik was responsible for the tacky, yet slightly witty name. He doubted it. The former KLA fighter and mass murderer had never shown much personality let alone creativity.
    Leaning against his SUV, he opened a packet of chewing gum and studied the building. He was parked behind a beat up dump truck on the opposite side of the road. It was dark, but the lights on the hotel’s gravel parking lot were enough to see who was coming and going.
    He stuffed gum into his mouth as a green Mercedes G-Wagen with KFOR markings pulled into the parking lot. The four men who spilled out were wearing cargo pants, hiking boots, and a mix of jackets. He smiled. Off duty soldiers always dressed the same; function over fashion. The men disappeared through the front door and Ice approached.
    Spotting a security camera above the entrance, he held up a UN ID card as he banged on the door. Seconds later, it swung inward and he ducked inside.
    He was greeted by a thickset bouncer dressed in the typical Albanian mafia uniform of a black jacket, jeans, and gold chains. Ice smiled down at the man. “Booze and girls, yeah.”
    The man nodded and waved him through a set of heavy felt curtains.
    Ice winced as he was hit by flashing lights and euro-techno blasting from crackling speakers. It smelled like a cat had pissed in an ashtray. There was a bar at one end and a raised platform with stripper poles at the other. In between were couches, tables, and