A name on a file on his desk caught his eye. Grabbing the NAG report, he read for a few minutes, laughing out loud at the name of an old friend who was noted within. One of his sources in Hamburg was doing well getting this report to him. Andrei sat back in the chair and looked at the pretty blonde in his office.
‘Petra, please show the doctor in.’
She smiled and jumped up. The door was at the furthest side of the room, and he watched her as she swished and swayed away from him. Oh, to be young again.
The doctor strode over to the desk and stood before him with a folder held close to his chest. His white coat, with its military rank on its lapel, showing his senior status in the warlord’s army. He had soft brown hair and thick spectacles balanced on the end of his nose as he peered over the top of them. Creased laughter lines showed a man who liked to laugh and drink, as Andrei had found out on too many occasions. There were no smiles now.
‘Warlord Kirilenko. How are you feeling?’ he said, looking down at the full ashtray and the lit cigarette balanced on the edge.
‘Yes, Vitaly. I am still smoking.’
The doctor looked down at the folder and then back at him. He coughed a little, shifting in his stance.
‘How long do I have?’
The doctor blinked and moved the glasses on his nose. ‘We have done a lot of tests and the treatment was extensive as you know.’ Andrei clicked his fingers three times in quick succession to hurry the man along. ‘A normal person might have six months, but I have known you most of my adult life. There’s no way to know how long a stubborn man like you could last. I don’t think the Reaper will get you that easily.’
‘With all the things the FSB had me do, I am sure the reaper is clicking his knuckles with happiness to get his bony fingers into me.’
‘You need to retire immediately, Uncle Andrei,’ Vitaly said. ‘You can live out your remaining time in luxury and comfort with Katya in one of the stately homes.’
Sobbing came from behind the doctor.
‘I don’t think that the NEG will allow me such a lavish retirement.’
Vitaly walked over to a white and gold sideboard. ‘Look at all the medals and photos of your triumphs that you’ve collected in your life. Russia owes you. The world owes you for stopping that mad British lord.’
‘You have your mother’s sentimental nature. It is a foolish notion but brings back fond memories. Thank you for bringing me the news in person.’
The young man bowed. ‘Will we see you for dinner soon?’
‘Katya will call you to set it up.’
Andrei watched the young man leave. He reached down to a drawer on his right. He unlocked it with a small key he kept on him at all times. He could feel Katya’s gaze as he pulled a pack of photos out of a small leather folder. Tapping the photo, he stared down at the colour photos of ten men in uniform. All kitted out in brown fatigues with the London skyline in the background.
‘Katya, book me an army plane to Hamburg, please. To leave tomorrow morning. Then call Chancellor Rolin’s secretary and let her know that I’m coming to spend a few days in the city, to catch up with old political friends. Tell her that I hope the chancellor can spare time at such short notice.’
‘Andrei, you know the chancellor demands all appointments be scheduled a month in advance.’
‘I know. Just tell her what I said. He’ll find the time.’
‘Then will you retire so we can leave this cold place?’
‘Plans have changed, my dear. I’m tired of this bureaucratic life, and I have no intention of festering away in a flat in Moscow for the rest of my days. You’ll be taken care of, Katya.’
‘You are leaving me in Moscow?’’
‘You’ll be fine here, I promise. I’ve made plans to keep you in your lifestyle.’
‘What do you mean?’ she said, blinking the tears away. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I have one last thing to do. I’ve been a warrior all my life and have a last chance to bring justice back to people’s lives. If that means I die outside of my country, then so be it. A warrior should not die all shrivelled up in a cold concrete apartment but out there in a warzone. That is what I intend to do.’
Chapter 10
West of the UMC, Knoxville, Tennessee, USA – 2043
The stench of human waste burned into Gibbs’s sinuses. He’d lifted the scarf over his nose and mouth, but it didn’t help. Standing in front of the large circular concrete pipe that was part of the UMC perimeter wall, he stared through the thick steel bars that had been welded to form a large mesh covering for the hole. The reeking darkness beckoned from beyond.
Gibbs looked at Smithy who was checking the holstered Glocks on his hips. He looked up at Gibbs then stared into the blackness of the tunnel one last time, pressing the magazine in the Glock then holstered it. He ran his hands up to the grey bandana that controlled his shoulder-length light brown hair, and his jaw clenched as he turned to stare at Gibbs. ‘Thanks for this.’
‘Thanks for what?’
‘The boundless joy of world travel you bring into my life. Sunny beaches, ice-cold drinks, bronzed topless women, and crawling through other people’s excrement.’
‘We aim to please. Choose another package holiday company if you must, but no other company will guarantee you the chance to shoot at things more than us,’ Gibbs said.
‘Terrific,’ Smithy said, looking over Gibbs’s shoulder. ‘Incoming.’
Gibbs turned to see Sheryl approaching. She walked past Warren and Stuart, smiling at them. He felt himself holding his breath. She was a tall woman, her height emphasised by the faded jeans tucked into brown boots. She wore one of Gibbs’s old t-shirts, and he hoped the others hadn’t noticed. Her dark hair was loose and hung down the front of her shoulders. The smell of jasmine filled his nostril as she leaned forward, pulled down the scarf from his mouth and kissed him. ‘Stay safe, Gibbs.’
‘I will.’
‘I’m going to miss you tonight. It’ll be lonely in my bed without you.’
A warm glow started at the back of his neck and made its way to his cheeks. The previous evening had been a welcome distraction.
‘Take care out there. You’re a wanted man.’
‘I’ll be back. Don’t worry about that. I look forward to more of your delicious cake.’
‘Gibbs, the boy’s sat right here,’ Smithy said, with a smile, pointing down to Stuart who was sitting on a concrete block. ‘Don’t say things like that in front of him.’
Gibbs flipped him the finger.
‘Temper, temper,’ Smithy said. ‘Sheryl, may I say that you look fetching in that t-shirt. You wear it better than him. It’s far too trendy for old folk.’
She laughed a nervous laugh.
‘Ignore my London friend over there. Jealousy is a nasty thing,’ Gibbs said.
‘I’m scared for you,’ she said, staring into his eyes.
‘Don’t be. It’s a short trip, and I have old Mother Hubbard over there with me.’
She frowned, her head tilting slightly. ‘I worry that your urge to save everyone will get you killed. You cannot protect everyone from the gangs or NAG. You need to think about yourself and the effect your death would have on the people you leave behind.’
‘Quiet in front of the boy, Sheryl,’ Gibbs said, a scowl chiselled across his face.
‘Sorry,’ Sheryl said.
Gibbs placed his hand on her shoulder and then caressed her cheek. ‘We’re doing what’s right here. If we can save one person more than we did the day before, it’s the right thing to do.’
She placed her hand over his hand, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘I’ll be waiting with Stuart and Warren. Go out and do what you have to.’
• • •
The gravel path doubled back on itself and made it impossible to see the two guards walking up towards the escarpment above them. The pink sky of morning above would soon silhouette anyone on the ridge and make them a target to anyone approach
ing from below.
Gibbs looked behind them, taking a second to let his eyes acclimatise to the darkened hillside. The path below was empty.
‘That’s the third group of guards in fifteen minutes.’
‘They’re getting edgy,’ Smithy said. ‘Must be expecting us.’
The two men had disappeared over the top of the ridge. Gibbs and Smithy ran, crouching low, to the next bend in the path before stopping. It was slow going. A few minutes later they were lying between two large scrub bushes, binoculars in hand, focusing down onto the distant valley. The foreground was covered with small scrub, the occasional dried cactus pointing to the cloudy sky. The sun was already baking down on their backs.
‘More than forty tents. Eight battle trucks and countless vans,’ Gibbs said. The eight trucks were parked in a horseshoe shape. Men were milling about carrying boxes and black bags between the vehicles. Two vans came racing along towards the front of the trucks, covering the gang members in a ball of dust.
‘That’s a lot more than we estimated. They must be shitting themselves, I mean, how many men do they need to get that scumbag, Luka, back?’ Smithy said.
‘Those two larger tents, the ones built onto the side of the bigger fusion trucks. I bet you anything that’s his tent.’
‘Look to the west side of the camp. A group of women and children are being escorted by gang members,’ Smithy said, turning the focusing ring of the binoculars. The group walked slowly past a large fire, with a black column of swirling smoke. A few men stood up from their seats and walked over to the group. One started dancing around in front of prisoners, trying to grab one of the women to dance with. She was chained up to the woman next to her and they both tumbled over, angering the man, who kicked out at her with his heavy boot a couple of times before walking back the fire.
‘Can you see her?’
‘No one with white hair.’
In the middle of the scattered camp was a large bonfire with men relaxing and sitting around. The occasional volley of shots was fired into the air as a gang member got up and danced around with a pistol. Other men staggered about, dancing and falling over as the festivities escalated. They were not expecting an attack.
‘She must be inside somewhere.’
‘Shhh…’ Smithy said. Voices on the path behind them.
Turning slowly, Gibbs and Smithy crawled back towards the path, stopping near another large bush. Gibbs leaned across to Smithy. ‘We need a prisoner.’
Three men meandered into view. They were in no rush. Gang members in biker’s leather trousers and gang jackets; one wore a denim jacket, and he reached into a top pocket to pull out a rolled cigarette with a small lighter. He placed the smoke in his mouth and flicked the lighter, drawing in a deep breath. A white cloud enveloped his face as he exhaled.
Smithy nodded. ‘The little one at the back?’
Gibbs gave him a thumbs up and reached down to slip the Glock out of its holster. Adrenaline pumped through him. Twenty-five years of fighting side by side meant no words were necessary. They’d wait until the men were close. Gibbs watched the tall man on the left. Smithy would have locked on to the man on the right. Slow breaths were necessary to keep the anger at bay. Had these men been involved in the altercation that cost them Maddy? He blinked once and focused on his target. The man had greasy black hair, was unshaven and was the one doing the talking. His eyes flicked to the left as he walked and talked, then he looked forward and saw the trap. Eyes widened and his mouth opened to shout, but Gibbs’s Glock was already moving upward.
‘What?’ the man started to say as the first bullet slammed into his heart, then a second next to it. The man next to him barely moved as bullets smashed into him and he fell to his side.
‘Don’t bloody move,’ Gibbs shouted to the shocked smaller man behind. He froze, stunned at the corpses in front of him.
‘Take it easy, buddy. You may just live through this if you cooperate,’ Smithy said, getting to his feet and walking forward. Gibbs had the man’s chest lined up in his sights, Smithy would check him for hidden weapons.
The gang member stood motionless as Smithy approached and holstered his weapon. The short man dropped his arm to the dagger tucked into his belt. Gibbs’s Glock kicked as he fired to the man’s left. He fell backwards screaming, clawing at his shoulder before rolling onto his side.
‘We said don’t move, you moron,’ Smithy said.
Gibbs walked up and knelt next to the man. ‘It’s only a flesh wound. Stop screaming like a baby.’
‘Fuck you, Scavenger.’
Gibbs pulled the man’s dagger from his hip scabbard and pressed it to his throat, while leaning in towards the man’s ear, he whispered, ‘Tell that scumbag Rebus that the Hooded Man is waiting to trade his boyfriend for the little blonde girl called Maddy. No more dicking around. The trade will happen tomorrow afternoon at one, or Luka dies. The exchange will take place outside the main gate of the UMC enclave. He can make the trade then retreat. I will spare his life if he honours this exchange.’
Gibbs leant back, removing the dagger. ‘You understand what I’ve just told you.’ The man nodded. ‘Now go and tell Rebus.’
The man grimaced as he pushed himself up with his good arm, then stood swaying for a few seconds before he turned and jogged off.
Gibbs stood up, throwing the dagger into the ground next to the man he’d shot. ‘You noticed that young bloke was a 38?’
‘Yeah, and these two lugs have Bison patches. Why are they wearing another gang’s colours?’
‘Maybe they’ve formed a coalition.’
‘That would be a first.’
‘I agree, but they’d never be allowed to wear another gang’s patch, so we have to assume it’s a kind of treaty.’
‘That can’t be good. It may account for the size of the camp over the hill,’ Smithy said, glancing back up the path.
‘Let’s get back to the UMC. An attack may be imminent.’
They stepped over the bodies and started walking back down the path, weapons drawn.
‘What exactly did you whisper into that man’s ear?’
Gibbs smiled.
‘Oh great,’ Smithy said. ‘More people bloody shooting at us.’
Chapter 11
University Medical Centre, Knoxville, Tennessee, USA – 2043
The winter wind bit into those placed on sentry duty high up on the UMC perimeter wall. With the icy wind, came the dust storms from the drought. Inside the wall, they had an endless supply of water from one of the last flowing springs in the region. This allowed them to farm vegetables and produce meat on smallholdings in a less protected area of the UMC. They could hold off a siege for years, Gibbs estimated. He looked at the small rise in the distance for movement and the adrenaline started. The first two fusion vans eased over the top and parked. Silver- and red-painted vans decorated with scrap and junk collected by drivers on their marauding. He clenched his fists and rubbed the tips of his fingers.
‘Take your places, men,’ Gibbs said, shouting above the wind to the men on the wall. ‘The scum have arrived. You all know what you have to do.’
The perimeter wall that wound between the main buildings was twelve meters high and consisted of large shipping containers that had been placed on their ends and welded together. Filled with sand and rocks collected out in the floodland, the wall was reinforced with concrete and iron buttresses which made it impregnable to a charging suicide battle truck. Two gates existed in the wall, and Gibbs was standing above the main gate. Buckling up his webbing, he made sure he had all the ammunition he needed.
‘Why aren’t they attacking?’ a young man said, grasping the old M16 across his chest.
‘No need to be nervous, son. I told you the plan is to exchange prisoners, so we hope you won’t have to fire a single shot today,’ Gibbs said, holding his gas mask. ‘The 38s do love to employ smoke and gas to cause more mayhem and panic. You got your mask?’
The man nodded.
Gibbs walked to the metal ladder which scaled the side of one of the containers, and slid down to ground level. Smithy was at the bottom. ‘Pretty boy is all packaged up and ready to go.’
‘Good. Just in time for our guests.’
‘I’m not happy with this trade, boss. We should’ve found out where they’re keeping Maddy and done a good old-fashioned SAS recon and rescue.’
‘They could’ve killed her by then if they haven’t already. You heard what this Rebus character could be doing to her. You’re telling me that you still want to wait?’
‘They aren’t going to do the swap then disappear and leave us. You yourself said that they’re tougher than any gang we’ve tackled before.’
‘They are, and that’s why we must do the exchange quickly. It’s happening right here on our doorstep, on our terms because he values his boyfriend too much. That nutjob could have insisted on having it at his place or someplace where he could have set a trap. They’re here, so let’s trade. We have contingencies in place if they intend to attack afterwards.’
‘And you think he’s going to try something?’
Gibbs smiled then looked to Luka. ‘I am counting on him doing something stupid.’
‘You’re risking Maddy as bait to taunt a madman. Haven’t we all lost enough loved ones to these Butler types?’
‘I care about her just as much as you, but no more than any of the other people here. I didn’t ask to be a shepherd to all these waifs. You, Warren and Stuart are all I care about. The rest are just folks who we offer help to when we can. But, when Butler murdered Christina, I vowed never to allow another madman to take control and terrorise the world like that again.’
‘Rebus is no Butler. He doesn’t have the global clout.’
‘They all start small, and this fucker is getting more powerful in southern America, our home range. He’s now forming alliances with other gangs. We’ve never seen that before, so this boy is ambitious.’
Anhur Page 7