The Journey of Kyle Gibbs Box Set

by Wayne Marinovich

  Crouching down as the silhouetted shape of the man slowly appeared around the pile of rubble, she exploded forward with all her might, running straight at him screaming at the top of her lungs, her house keys sticking out between her fingers. She swung at his face but he feigned to the left at the last minute, and she collided into him. He dropped slightly and hoisted her over his shoulder and flipped her onto her back, the wind driven out of her lungs with the brutal force.

  ‘Please calm down, Sharon,’ the effeminate voice said. ‘I just want to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘You!’ she whispered, recognising the face from photographs she’d just seen.

  ‘Please get up,’ he said.

  Sharon slowly stood up, her lungs burning for breath. ‘You conniving little bastard. I have nothing to say to you.’

  The man briefly switched his focus to the larger man stalking up behind her, and she took her chance to strike out at him again, driving her fist towards his slim pale face. He dodged at the last second, but one of the keys from her key-encrusted fist slit his cheek to the bone as he screamed in pain. He managed to grab hold of her by the shoulders as she kicked out and screamed.

  The larger man grabbed her from behind in a vice-like grip that stopped all movement, his cigarette-laced breath against her neck, causing her to gag.

  The injured man took out a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and held it against his cheek. ‘I can see why Gibbs is so taken with you. You suit each other quite nicely. Feral creatures who’re suited for scrapping and scavenging around in the slime of this world. I’ll only ask you this once, Sharon. What was in the envelope you disposed of and who did you call?’

  ‘Get fucked, little man.’

  ‘Okay then,’ Kirkwood said.

  He walked away, and in a loud voice said, ‘Shoot her then dump her body in the Thames for the eels.’

  Chapter 33

  HM Prison, Wandsworth, London, UK - 2019

  Gibbs picked at the dirt beneath his fingernails with a piece of cardboard, feeling like he needed a shower. It had been a while since they were allowed out of solitary. Killey dozed on a bench on the other side of the cell while Shredder sat on the edge of a table reading the remnants of an old newspaper. Gibbs was happy to be reunited with his team.

  ‘Any idea who has decided to visit us today?’ Shredder said, breaking the silence.

  ‘Nope. My lawyer was here yesterday so it can’t be him, damn useless bastard,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘Ours is no better, she barely looks eighteen and is as skittish as a mouse in a pet kennel,’ Shredder said.

  ‘She’s not bad looking though. I’d give her one,’ Killey said.

  ‘You’d fuck a cereal box if you had the chance, mate,’ Shredder said to a smiling Killey.

  ‘I guess it must be someone who we all know, I mean, why else would they request the three of us together in one cell?’ Gibbs said.

  The rattling sound of the cell door being unlocked interrupted their banter, and two wardens walked in and went about handcuffing them one by one. They were escorted from the large communal holding cell, out of the cellblock and across a fenced-in walkway to the main building. The wardens instructed them to sit at a large table in the centre of the interrogation room then handcuffed each of them to a large chain that was bolted down across the centre of the tabletop.

  ‘This just got interesting,’ Shredder said. ‘Since when do they restrain us in these rooms?’

  ‘No idea, mate,’ Gibbs said.

  They sat in silence and fifteen minutes later another side door opened. David Kirkwood walked through, a grin on his face. He closed the door behind him and leant his slim figure back against it. Two black rings under his swollen eyes from the broken nose that Gibbs had given him were made worse by the bloodstained bandage stuck to his cheek.

  ‘Now we know why they cuffed us, Shredder. They knew I’d rip this weasel’s arms off and feed them to him,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘And I’d get his legs, boss.’

  ‘No need for all of that, gentleman. Let’s try and have a civil conversation?’ Kirkwood said, taking a seat across from them.

  ‘Shut up, you snivelling little rat. You told me in court that you are the reason we’re all locked up. Are you now admitting that you set me up for Mason’s murder? You know bloody well I didn’t do it.’

  ‘I’m afraid all the evidence against you refutes your claim. The case against you was quite overwhelming, you know,’ Kirkwood said with a grim smile. ‘But I’m sure your barrister pointed that out to you before the trial. He took some persuading, your barrister. You should’ve paid for better representation.’

  ‘I would have, you thieving shit, but you stole the balance of our money. Mason said that he’d paid you in full just after the coup in Angola.’

  Kirkwood looked down at the long chain they were handcuffed to then moved across to a side table to make sure all the installed recording devices were turned off. The metal chair screeched on the ground as he pulled it a little further away from them.

  ‘I hope you’ve all been sitting in your cells wondering why this was happening to you,’ he said. ‘Wondering what you’d done to deserve this.’

  ‘Spare us the bloody amateur dramatics,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘Do you three morons recall someone by the name of Terry Mercer?’ Kirkwood asked.

  ‘Terry “Tracer” Mercer?’ Shredder said.

  ‘One and the same,’ Kirkwood replied.

  ‘Of course we bloody knew him. Terry used to be part of our unit. What does he have to do with Mason?’ Gibbs said.

  ‘My real surname isn’t Kirkwood. It’s Mercer. David Mercer to be precise,’ he said. ‘And the man you left for dead was my twin brother.’

  Visibly shocked, the three prisoners looked at one another.

  ‘But you look nothing like the fighting brute who was our friend,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘Ever heard of non-identical twins, you idiot?’ Kirkwood said.

  ‘What does this have to do with us?’ Gibbs asked.

  ‘Do you always leave your friends for dead, like you left my brother?’

  ‘What?’ Gibbs said. ‘Kirkwood, you obviously don’t have all the facts. He wasn’t left for dead. An Improvised Explosive Devise or IED explosion killed him while we were out on patrol.’

  ‘Don’t feed me the standard military bullshit response,’ Kirkwood said, slamming his hand down on the table. ‘You forget that Mason Waterfield asked me to do multiple reference checks on all of you bastards before he would consider hiring you. He gave me a lot of cash to grease the palms of a few of my contacts in the Ministry of Defence. I was given copies of all of your files going back fifteen years.’

  ‘Don’t talk crap, mate. Those documents are classified,’ Shredder said.

  ‘I’m not your bloody mate!’

  ‘Okay then. Don’t talk crap, you little turd.’

  ‘You three are clueless, aren’t you? I was simply doing what I was paid to do,’ Kirkwood said. ‘And to my utter disbelief, I found out that my brother was part of your team on your first ever mission in command, Gibbs. He didn’t die patrolling dust roads in Iraq, as my family and the press were told, but taking part in a covert reconnaissance mission in Ahvaz, Iran. Isn’t that true?’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘You left him there to die,’ Kirkwood said, his face going red. ‘Try and deny it. It was all in the debriefing notes that you signed.’

  ‘Terry was mortally wounded and chose to stay and fight, thereby buying us valuable time to make our getaway. It was his decision, Kirkwood, not ours. He knew that we couldn’t carry him all the way to safety. None of us would have gotten out of there if it weren’t for his bravery,’ Gibbs said, looking at his hands, remembering the first man he had to leave behind.

  Kirkwood swallowed hard before he replied. ‘You left him there to die. He died all alone, and now you will pay.’

  ‘Let me get this straight. You
think we’re responsible for your brother’s death so to get your revenge, you kill an innocent man and set me up for murder.’

  ‘I don’t waste my time killing people, Gibbs. I arrange for others to do my dirty work for me, usually simple-minded people like you,’ Kirkwood said, a smug look on his face.

  ‘Who the hell did you con into killing Mason for you, then?’ Gibbs said.

  ‘Quite a few events led up to the day you went to the meet with Mason. The Angolan trip was never about a genuine coup as you are now well aware. Nevertheless, it allowed me the chance to tip off the Angolan government that you were leading the whole damn thing. I had hoped that it would result in your team either being killed or at least jailed out there, but unfortunately, you disappeared before that could happen.’

  ‘I guess we were a little too clever for you,’ Shredder said.

  ‘So clever you’re going to prison for a murder that I set you up to commit. Why don’t you just shut your mouth, you bloody idiot? Don’t interrupt me again,’ Kirkwood said.

  ‘Listen, you little runt, I will tear you apart like toilet paper,’ Shredder said, yanking his cuffs against the chain on the table.

  ‘Not from a prison cell you won’t,’ Kirkwood said, and then turned back to Gibbs. ‘You should never have trusted the document forger, Gibbs. He might have given you a second set of false papers, but he owed me so many favours that he came running back to me as soon as he’d taken your money. My contacts notified me the very minute you set foot on UK soil again.’

  Gibbs sat back in his chair, chewing the inside of his lip.

  ‘When your dear friend, John Warren, was stupid enough to let you get away and then returned from Africa with his tail between his legs like a mangy pup, he was more than happy to discuss a plan to eliminate you right here in the UK. We started with your South African friend in London, which was surprisingly easy, I might add. I knew you would react and expected your call to see what I knew of the incident. It was simple after that. I happily admit that I originally wanted you all dead, but this is so much more satisfying, don’t you agree? I now have the satisfaction of knowing that you will rot in a dark prison cell for the rest of your life.’

  ‘You’re one sad little fuck, Kirkwood,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘And you’re a hot-headed and predictable idiot. I knew that you would go over my head and would want to speak Mason directly. I just had to ignore you for a few days, let you reach boiling point then watch you storm off to see him. John and his team were already in place to take you and Mason out.’

  ‘If Mason employed and tasked you to put the teams together, what was there to gain by killing him?’ Gibbs asked.

  ‘Mason gave me orders, but I didn’t work for him. You and Mason were just pawns in a much bigger global game. Expendable and simple pawns,’ Kirkwood said. ‘When Captain Warren called to say he’d dealt with you and Mason, but that you had survived the shooting, I decided to set you up for killing Mason right there and then. Pretty clever, don’t you think?’

  ‘You murdering little toad,’ Killey said. ‘Terry was twice the man you’ll ever be.’

  ‘While you were lying in a coma in the hospital, I tipped off these two loyal lapdogs of yours that John Warren had killed you, and how he had boasted how easy it had been. They dutifully obliged and murdered him and two of his men, unaware that I had already tipped off my contact at the police about the planned attack, and well, here you three idiots sit.’

  Killey, who was shackled at the end of the table, made a desperate lunge at Kirkwood who quickly slid his chair backwards, smiling at him.

  ‘Down, boy, you might hurt yourself,’ Kirkwood said, pointing to Killey. ‘Your blind loyalty to Gibbs has cost you your freedom in the same way my brother’s blind loyalty cost him his life. Your misguided sense of loyalty is of no consequence anymore because, with the help of some very influential people, I have managed to avenge my brother. He can now rest in peace in the knowledge that you were all found guilty and that you are guaranteed to rot in some distant cage for a very long time.’

  ‘I’ll make you pay for this, Kirkwood, you and these so-called influential people. Someday very soon, I’ll make you all pay for this injustice,’ Gibbs said, through gritted teeth. ‘Watch your back because I promise you that you will not see me coming. You won’t get away with this.’

  ‘My dear Gibbs, don’t you see? I have already gotten away with it,’ Kirkwood said, leaning forward. ‘I will now disappear with my new identity to some faraway land to live off all of your money.’

  Even though his hands were still bound to the table, Gibbs lunged at the little man and managed to whip his leg out from under the table. With a roundhouse kick, his boot hit Kirkwood’s head with a sickening thud and sent him sprawling across the dirty floor into the corner of the room.

  He staggered to his feet, shaking his head, blood seeping from a small cut near his temple. Stumbling to the door, looking at the blood pooling in his hand, he started smiling. ‘One last thing, Gibbs. Have you had any news from the lovely Captain Matthews recently?’

  ‘You better not have hurt her, Kirkwood,’ he shouted. ‘I’ll kill you if you have.’

  ‘She was meddling in very dangerous intelligence affairs. Getting way too close to the men who sanctioned all this, so she had to be disposed of,’ Kirkwood said, opening the door. ‘We threw her body in the Thames for the eels to feed off.’

  Gibbs screamed and pulled at the chains with all his might. Kirkwood gave him one last smile and slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter 34

  HM Prison, Wandsworth, London, UK - 2019

  The recreational floor of B-wing was overcrowded, the atmosphere on a knife’s edge. Most of the gangs of London who were mortal enemies outside the stone prison walls had representatives doing time in Wandsworth prison. Someone was always spoiling for a fight.

  Gibbs was sitting on a plastic bench consumed by loss. Memories of his and Sharon’s short time together tore through him, but the regret of being too stubborn to tell her how he felt about her tore at his soul. She was the first person he had ever loved other than his mother, and now he would never get the chance to tell her.

  ‘Hey, boss, you want to play a game of pool?’ Shredder said. ‘It’s been a while since I gave you a thrashing.’

  Gibbs shook his head.

  ‘You’re thinking about Sharon again, weren’t you?’

  Gibbs smiled and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall.

  Across the room, a ruckus broke out as a shiv-wielding member of the Peckham Collective wrestled with a smaller member of the Baghdad Reds. The blue scarf wrapped around the Peckham member’s arm was ripped off during the struggle just as he suddenly freed his arm from the smaller opponent’s grip, and repeatedly stabbed the other gang member in the chest and abdomen with a sharpened spoon handle. As his opponent went limp, he stood up and raised his arms above his head for all the other gangs to see. Loud cheers broke out.

  On the metal gangway above them, a group of prison guards walked in, all dressed in black riot gear with helmets, shields and batons. One of them, armed with a shock shotgun, fired the non-lethal shock shell into the back of the victorious gang member, and the tasered young man started to shake violently as he fell forwards, writhing on the shiny blue linoleum floor.

  The rest of the riot officers moved down the metal staircase, guns at the ready, taking up positions around the two wounded men.

  ‘Everyone back to your business,’ one of the guards shouted.

  Shredder turned to Gibbs. ‘What I’m trying to say is that busy hands and a busy mind might help with the grieving process.’

  ‘Are you suddenly bloody Aristotle, oh wise guru?’ Gibbs said. ‘Thanks, but I attended the same psych training as you did about dealing with grief.’

  ‘Heads up, boys,’ Killey said under his breath.

  The lone figure of a young man dressed in a red tracksuit top and low-cut jeans swaggered over to them from
where one of the other gangs were seated. His shaven head and scowl added menace to his appearance as he glanced around the wing suspiciously.

  Two servicemen who happened to be doing time in the same prison, and had latched on to Gibbs and his men, stood up to intercept the young man before he got to Gibbs. They stood shoulder to shoulder and folded their arms as he got near.

  ‘I am looking for Mr Gibbs,’ he said, peering around the men.

  ‘What do you want with Mr Gibbs?’ one of the soldiers said, taking a step towards the young man.

  ‘I have just been reassigned from H-wing and have something to give him.’

  ‘Give it to us, and we will see that he gets it,’ one of the servicemen said.

  ‘That’s okay, boys, let him through,’ Gibbs said. ‘I don’t think he will try anything stupid. Will you, sonny?’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said, scanning the rest of recreation floor. ‘My name is James, and I am a member of the Richmond Green Vikings. I’m told you know who they are? I was transferred here to give you something from a mutual friend.’

  Gibbs nodded.

  The young man gingerly took out a small square-shaped object wrapped in a dirty white cloth and handed it across to Gibbs. ‘You’ll receive a call later this evening from a mutual friend.’

  • • •

  The narrow confines of the prison cell made for cosy relationships between cellmates as they were forced to bond with each other. Gibbs and Killey had been assigned together and were sitting on the lower bunk of their two-tier bunk bed, playing poker on the rough blue blanket that covered the mattress, roasted peanuts being the currency for the wager.

  ‘I remember when I lost my fiancée to a drug overdose. It took me a long time to make peace with what happened,’ Killey said. ‘This won’t help you now, but time will make it easier.’

  ‘I know, I just keep wishing I’d told her what she meant to me, especially knowing that she died while trying to help us.’

  ‘What I did when my fiancée died was to tell her how I felt every night in my prayers for a year. It helped,’ Killey said.