Anhur

by Wayne Marinovich

  ‘There you go telling me what to do again,’ Elijah said. ‘Now run along and get back on that phone that you’re always slinking off to use. I’m sure your boss would like to hear more stories of me ignoring your commands.’

  Elijah grabbed the prisoner by the back of the neck and pulled him to the side. ‘I hope that the information you gave me is correct.’

  ‘Look at my bloody face. The Hooded Man and that goon he calls Smithy did this to me.’

  ‘Okay. Run along now, and I advise you to keep clear of Alonso back there.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Elijah took out a small black notebook from a side pocket and started to dial a number on his phone. He turned to see Alonso talking on his satphone to the side of the group of vans.

  A voice came over Elijah’s phone. ‘This is not a good time.’

  ‘We’re on my timetable, warlord,’ Elijah said. ‘I determine what happens and when.’

  ‘I’m in a meeting at the moment.’

  ‘I don’t care. I represent the people you work for. You’re to use all methods possible to detain Kyle Gibbs a.k.a the Hooded Man.’

  ‘Just hold on a minute.’

  Elijah heard muffled voices and then the sound of the warlord walking on what sounded like a gravel surface.

  ‘Let me be very clear, Bounty Hunter. The Hooded Man and his team have saved my people and me on numerous occasions from the worst gang who’ve tried to breach our walls. He was instrumental in repelling a vicious gang lord, who I’m sure you will soon be charged to capture, that is if the NAG is still on the side of the common man.’

  ‘Calm down, warlord,’ Elijah said. ‘These are orders that we both have to follow. If you want to maintain your lofty position of leadership, you have to comply with those who make the rules of the land.’

  ‘You and the NAG are deluded if you think that I can arrest this man. He will not just walk into my cells, and I will not risk losing able-bodied men to capture him.’

  ‘I have the full authorisation to bring Gibbs in, dead or alive. If he resists, shoot him. I don’t care either way. The NAG and NEG will, however, look more favourably on you if he’s alive. Feel free to shoot him in the leg or something.’

  ‘He has a loyal group of people around him that can do just as much damage. You do understand that?’

  ‘Warlord, you have your orders.’

  ‘Hold on.’

  More rustling and muffled voices.

  ‘Bounty Hunter, you can come in now. I’ve just been told that Gibbs and his men have taken food and ammunition, and have left the enclave. They’re heading down to the southern Floodlands.’

  ‘Are you telling me that as we speak, Gibbs has magically disappeared?’

  Captain Alonso screamed from just behind Elijah, who felt his temper starting to boil to the surface. He hated liars, but sadly lies were part and parcel of the job he did. ‘Warlord, I will interview you and some of your men when I arrive. If you are lying to me, prepare for a world of pain.’

  Elijah pressed the disconnect button and looked at the dissipating dust curtain of the retreating gang.

  ‘Have we missed the bastard?’ Captain Alonso asked.

  ‘It appears so. Don’t worry about it too much.’

  ‘How can you not worry about it? He’s gotten away.’

  ‘Yes, captain, but he’s no more than an hour ahead of us now. We’re in the same state now, so I can call more localised informants to be on the lookout for him. The noose is tightening.’

  • • •

  Dust covered the windscreen as they followed the truck in front of them. Debris flew up and hit the windscreen like hail.

  ‘Pull out to the side of the truck,’ Elijah said, grabbing the arm of his driver. ‘I’ve eaten enough dirt for today.’

  ‘We cannot break convoy, sir,’ Elijah’s driver said.

  ‘I threw the last driver out of this van because he failed to obey my orders. Pull out of the dust stream, or we’ll smash into the back of a truck that’s four times our size. Do you want to die wedged under a nuclear fusion truck, soldier?’

  The soldier pulled out to the left onto a bumpier section of the open plain and sped alongside the truck.

  ‘See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Elijah said as he grabbed the satphone that had started to ring. ‘Jones.’

  ‘It’s me,’ the man said with an American accent.

  ‘What do you want?’ Elijah said.

  ‘I take it that you are near to catching Gibbs?’

  ‘We are closer, yes.’

  ‘That’s good news, but I am sending more help anyway. There’s a Russian diplomat who’s on his way to meet up with you in the next day or two.’

  ‘Say that again?’

  ‘You heard me,’ the man said. ‘He’s a long-time friend of Gibbs and someone who fought alongside him. He claims to be the only man who can bring Gibbs in alive.’

  ‘The deal I have with you was dead or alive,’ Elijah said. ‘I don’t care which. Those were the exact terms that we shook on.’

  ‘That was before this man came to us. He can get Gibbs to give himself up. I believe him and so do all those who want the Hooded Man brought to justice.’

  ‘This is bullshit, Michael. I can get him myself. I don’t need some Russian watching over me.’

  ‘We don’t doubt your success rate, Bounty Hunter, but I believe this is worth a try. We’ve been chasing him for so long that the effort is worth a small delay, especially if it means we can get him alive.’

  ‘You’re making a big mistake here. More delays will put distance between us, and if the Hooded Man decides to stop being the good Samaritan and move on, we might never get a crack at him again.’

  ‘Point taken, but you claim you can find anyone in this country. I will hold you to that promise.’

  Elijah chewed his lip and looked out the side window as they rolled through the scrub-littered desert. It had once been green farmland, and he could see a rusty shell of an old diesel tractor overgrown by bushes that had since died off in the drought.

  ‘If this goes tits up, chancellor, you will double my fee to start looking for him all over again. And then it will only be for his body.’

  The NAG chancellor was silent for a few seconds. ‘Fine, Bounty Hunter. My assistant will text you the coordinates for the small airfield. Make sure you meet him when he lands and treat him with the respect a seasoned warrior like him deserves.’

  ‘Can you tell me more about him?’

  ‘No. Just that we’ll be flying him to the nearest aerodrome to you. That in itself should tell you what an important role he can play.’

  Chapter 19

  NAG Airbase, Baltimore, Maryland, USA – 2043

  The woman in front of Andrei leant to her left and spat out a globule of blood-laced spit. She snorted the bloodstream from her nose and then spat again. Falling back against the chair, she shook her greasy ponytail from her right shoulder to her left. Her black hair matched her dark eyes hidden above her bruised cheekbones. They narrowed as she locked on to his gaze.

  ‘Captain? Can you please leave the room?’ Andrei said to the NAG soldier delivering the beating.

  ‘No, sir. She’s too dangerous to be left alone with a civilian, and I have my orders.’

  Andrei stared at the man and ran his hands through his grey hair. He felt tired and needed a shower. ‘I was a major in the Russian army and spent thirty years with the FSB. I realise you don’t know what that means because you come from wealthy New American parents who probably bribed someone to allow you to play soldiers instead of having to find work out in the real world. Michael Byrdich authorised me to be here to talk to this woman, so unless you take orders directly from him, fuck off out of this room.’

  The woman let out a loud laugh then flinched as the captain raised his hand to strike her again. Andrei jumped up and pushed him back against the wall.

  ‘Get out, captain, before I put you in hospital. Your job here is done.�
��

  The soldier struggled under the sheer force of the ageing Russian. He stared at him and tried to remove Andrei’s grip from his shirt. ‘The door is behind me, captain. Move it.’

  ‘Yes, sir, but keep a close eye on her. She’s a feral animal.’

  Andrei watched the soldier leave and then pulled a chair closer to the interrogation table. He closed his eyes for a second to catch his breath, wincing from the pulled muscle in his back. This was a young man’s game, but he would miss it. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver whiskey flask. Twisting the top off, he took a long swig and held the flask out to her.

  ‘It’s strong, but will help numb the pain.’

  She took it with her bound hands and drank eagerly from it then handed it back to him, her eyes never leaving his. A black strand of long hair was pasted down the side of her face, stuck in drying blood.

  ‘Thanks, mister. That’s some good shit.’

  ‘It is indeed. Now can you tell me what you know about the whereabouts of the Hooded Man?’

  She remained silent, staring at him, a small smirk on her face.

  ‘Just before you were caught, you were telling lovely stories about him on the radio station. You must be an expert for the NAG to take this much of an interest in you.’

  ‘Those stories are all myth and legend. Used by wealthy parents to scare their kids.’

  ‘But the stories about Gibbs are true, are they not?’

  Her eyes widened, and she leant forward. ‘Just who the fuck are you in all of this, Russian?’

  ‘I must apologise. I am Andrei Kirilenko. Warlord of Moscow,’ Andrei said, taking a photograph out of his inside pocket and placing it on the table for her to see.

  Her eyes widened as she looked at the man in the photo.

  ‘You are Sarah Hopkins a.k.a Sharon. DJ, radio host, collector of Hooded Man stories, anarchist and rebel. I know the loyalty he instils in people,’ Andrei said, tapping the photo.

  ‘This his family? I’m sure he’d love to get his hands on this photo,’ she said, looking over his shoulder to the locked door, then up at the camera. ‘He doesn’t have any photos from his past.’

  ‘I intend to give it to him personally, so I need you to help to arrange a meeting.’

  Sarah still looked at the camera. ‘They know everything I know. You need to speak to them.’

  ‘They’re hesitant to speak to me because I have a different agenda,’ he said, getting up from the table. Rummaging around in his pocket, he produced a six-inch switchblade. He flicked it open as he walked to the door and reached up to cut the cable to the camera.

  Sarah laughed. ‘They’re going to go nuts.’

  ‘Probably, so we don’t have very long. I’m begging you to help me find Gibbs. They think that I am here to help bring him to justice, but I have something that can help exonerate his name. He’s an innocent man and I can prove it.’

  Sarah looked down at the photo again. ‘They were a good-looking family. I would have loved to have known her.’

  ‘She was an incredible woman, and I’d be happy to tell you all about her someday. We grew up together, so I knew her well. But first, will you help Gibbs and me?’

  ‘Get me out of here, and I’ll tell you everything I know, including how to get in touch with him.’

  Andrei bowed slightly then walked towards her. He grabbed her under the armpits and eased her to her feet. Using the knife, he slit the plastic tape that bound her hands.

  ‘How are you going to get me out of here? They won’t let me go anywhere.’

  ‘Yes, they will, Sarah. Just keep your mouth shut, don’t show any emotion and don’t do anything to provoke them.’ He grabbed her by the arm and walked her to the door, banging on it loudly until it swung open.

  The NAG captain was standing there, two well-built soldiers standing behind him with machine guns hanging across their chests. ‘What the hell? Why have her restraints been removed?’

  ‘Extended hypnotherapy. An old FSB interrogation technique I’ve used many times. She’s been subdued in a trance so she cannot fight back. She wants to kill us all but cannot. I needed to remove the tape to instil a level of trust in her. She fell for it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Out of my way, captain. I am taking her back to the radio station where she will be more comfortable, and then I can hypnotise her properly to get all the details from her.’

  The man looked around at one of the men behind him, who shrugged his shoulders. The captain took a step forward and looked at Sarah. ‘Will it work?’

  ‘Didn’t they show you how to hypnotise people when you were in training?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Andrei shrugged his shoulders. ‘Let’s go to your van. You’ll have to drive because I cannot drive and keep her subdued.’

  ‘I’ll have to check, sir.’

  ‘We don’t have time for that, captain. We only have one crack at this, and if she wakes up, she will not trust me again. Think of how pleased your superiors are going to be when you bring back all the intelligence they want. Many men have tried and failed. You’ll be a hero. They will give you a promotion.’

  The man stared at Andrei and then at Sarah. She stared at his chest. A blank stare.

  ‘We’ll all have to come with you.’

  ‘As I said before, she is about to talk to me and cannot be threatened. Your men with all their guns will make her retreat into her psyche again, and we will lose her forever. And there goes your chance to go to your bosses and deliver what nobody could. The Hooded Man.’

  The captain looked down to the ground for a second, then turned to his men. ‘Stay outside the interrogation room until I return. Don’t let anyone in. I’ll make it worth your while when I get back.’

  The men nodded and walked to the sides of the doorway.

  ‘Okay, sir. Let’s go and get the information, but if anything goes wrong, this is on you,’ the captain said and turned to walk down the grey corridor.

  Five minutes later, they reached the van. Andrei dropped back a step and waited until the captain had unlocked the van. A quick kick to the back of the knee sent the man down to his right, then a chop to the left side of the man’s exposed neck triggered a spasm and rendered the man unconscious.

  Andrei reached down for the keys. ‘Can you drive?’

  ‘Yes, I can,’ she said.

  ‘Good. I’ll take notes of all the contact details that you have, then you can drop me off near to the Baltimore NAG Airbase. Feel free to start talking.’

  Starting the van, she turned to him. ‘I’ve met Gibbs many times over the years but lost contact. I’m taking you to see my father, Professor Paul Hoskins. No one knows more about the Hooded Man than him. He has an old satphone number for Gibbs.’

  Chapter 20

  University Medical Centre, Knoxville, Tennessee, USA – 2043

  ‘You don’t have long, Hooded Man. An hour or two at best.’

  Gibbs looked at the warlord standing in front of him. Ravages of time and war had taken their toll on the man. He could have been in his forties, or simply old before his time. Grey stubble and deep creases in his face aged him even more, his missing arm making him look ill-fitted for the task at hand. But in his eyes, you could sense wisdom, experience, toughness and even compassion.

  ‘How can you be so sure, warlord?’ Smithy asked.

  ‘I’ve had a few calls from the NAG men who are on their way here. One of our outriders was captured by them, another made it back to tell me that they were parked up on the distant escarpment. I’d hoped that they might have gone after Rebus when he withdrew, but they’re moving towards us,’ said the warlord.

  ‘We’re all packed up, and your lovely ladies in the canteen have given us enough food for a few weeks. We could, however, use a top-up of ammunition. I’ve seen how much you have and it will serve you for a few years more,’ Gibbs said.

  The tired man turned to walk down the dust enclave main road. ‘Follow m
e,’ he said.

  ‘I appreciate it,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘Take what you need and then you need to get the hell away from here.’

  Gibbs studied the man as he led them to a concrete reinforced building. The warlord limped slightly and favoured his right side that still had an arm. Reaching forward, he tapped a code into the keypad, and the bolts on the inside of the door ground back. He stood back and ushered them in, just as his phone started to ring. Looking down at the number, the man walked to the side.

  ‘Take what you need. I have to take this.’

  Gibbs stood back and let Smithy and a few young teenagers walk in. Looking at the warlord, he heard a muffled, ‘I’m in a meeting at the moment.’

  The interior of the ammunitions bunker was dry and cool but had the smell of sealed air. It looked small from the outside, but there was a five-meter-square concrete floor just inside the doorway. Beyond that, it dropped away to a disused underground parking area for the old hospital. On metal shelving were rows upon rows of green crates, cases and military-style plastic boxes.

  ‘Get stuck in, gentlemen. You all have your shopping lists. Get it done as fast as you can. We’ll have company soon which I’d rather avoid,’ Gibbs said and descended the concrete stairway leading to the floor of the armoury. He walked over to a pile of old green boxes he recognised from a time long past. Releasing two of the silver clasps on the top case, he opened it up and whistled out loud.

  ‘They’re old pineapple grenades,’ the warlord said behind Gibbs.

  ‘I haven’t seen them for nearly twenty years. Are they still operational?’

  ‘Everything in here is,’ the warlord said and threw a dirty brown cloth bag on the top of the grenades.

  Gibbs picked it up and looked inside. ‘Money is not necessary, mate.’

  ‘Those are all the NAG vouchers we can afford to pay you. A deal is a deal. You’ve saved us on numerous occasions and went the extra mile. People here have a reason to keep fighting now. I despise the word hope, but you have brought some of it back to the UMC.’