Anhur

by Wayne Marinovich

  Chapter 45

  Chapman Highway, outside Knoxville, Tennessee, USA – 2043

  The fly crawled along Gibbs’s brow and down over his closed eyelid. Walking along the dried row of eyelashes it stopped at the corner of the eye, its proboscis dabbing rapidly at the last of the moisture. The upward flicker of the eyelid sent it into flight and away from the face, in time to miss the flailing hand.

  Blue sky with bunching white and grey clouds had appeared overhead. A rumble of distant thunder came from the south. That was where their rain showers came from. It wasn’t the rainy season yet. A shake of the head helped to open the other eye and to concentrate on a single turkey buzzard that flew overhead, ever-circling and dropping over to his left. As he turned his head to the right, his vision swirled with black columns of smoke that drifted into the sky. Rebus was dead. He remembered the flying man and his corpse buddy.

  Rolling onto his side, a flash of pain ripped through his core. It surged up his right side, and something stopped him rolling over. The pain spread down his leg and forced him to grit his teeth. Shaking his head to clear his groggy brain, he tried to sit up. There would be more Roadsters approaching soon. His hand dropped to his Glock on his right hip. It was still there. Pulling his hand back to wipe his face, it hit a protruding object, and the pain spiked again.

  A lift of the head was all it took. He had a three-inch piece of metal protruding from his gut, and judging by the pain, it went in deep. It was to the right of his navel and just above his belt. Rolling to the left, he saw the van that he and Enyo had been in. It was overturned, and the force of landing had crushed the back where he’d been standing.

  ‘Enyo?’ he said with a rasping voice. He opened and closed his mouth to get the saliva going.

  Forcing himself up onto his left knee, he grimaced as the metal moved. With a final push, he got to his feet, and he tried to stand upright. It was like a bullet had hit him. He’d enough of those scars. Looking down at the long thin metal shard, he saw it looked like part of the back door release mechanism.

  ‘Gibbs?’

  The soft voice came from the other side of the van. He took a step forward and then another, the pain would be manageable. Rounding the wreckage, he noticed that the ground had been scraped clear leaving silver paint lines in swirling patterns in its wake. One of the wheels had made a bid for freedom and rolled off into the scrub and sand. A plastic box full of empty 9mm shells had been ripped open and strewn across the road like confetti. He staggered forward and saw her lying near the front fender, her leg wedged inside the gulley by the twisted driver’s door. Gibbs swallowed hard.

  Gibbs slowly knelt beside her, and she grabbed his hand, fear in her eyes. ‘Look inside the wreckage for the satphone. It has a number written on a label on the back. Take the phone with you. Elijah gave it to me, and he will know that I gave it to you when you see him. He will believe your story. Trust him.’

  ‘They’ll be here soon enough. You can bloody give it to him yourself,’ Gibbs said and shifted on his knee. The pain tore through him again.

  ‘The bullet went into my side, and I can feel it burning in my gut. I won’t last long. Please stay with me,’ she said, her face a grey colour.

  ‘Sure thing, kid. Let me try and get the phone and the medical bag I saw in the back.’

  ‘There should be three water bottles in that black duffel bag. I’m so damn thirsty. Mind the explosives though,’ she said, trying not to laugh.

  Gibbs smiled as he walked around the back of the van to the crumpled doors. Nothing was inside. A little further along the dusty verge of the tarred road was the bag. Limping over, he opened it. All the contents were still inside. Picking it up, he nudged the metal shard in his side and bent over with pain. Morphine or something similar was needed if he was to get on top of the situation. Limping around to the front of the van, he crouched into the mess of metal and found the large compartment that was in front of the passenger seat. It snapped open with a sharp pull, and he removed the black box. Dragging the bag behind him, he walked over to Enyo and knelt next to her, giving her water.

  ‘Thanks, Gibbs. You look hurt.’

  ‘It’s a flesh wound.’

  ‘Should you be bouncing and dragging that bag all over the place?’

  ‘It’s all safe. The explosives need to be primed, and the detonators set properly,’ he said and then stopped. ‘Naudeh.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Naudeh, Afghanistan. We were in a similar situation. I might have a way to stop the rest of the gang from getting to us,’ he said and looked down. Enyo’s eyes were drooping and then closed. She groaned a little, squeezing his hand. It went limp. ‘Enyo,’ he said, reaching forward and feeling for a pulse. It was faint and slow. Then it wasn’t there. He felt for a neck pulse but got nothing.

  ‘Damn it,’ Gibbs said in a low rasping voice. He cupped her cheek in his left hand. She may have had her flaws and done some despicable things to survive Rebus, but she was a good person for sure. He squeezed his eyes closed as the tears formed.

  Gibbs walked back along the road towards Rebus’s van. In front of it were two crispy smouldering corpses. A smile spread across his face at the three buzzards that were quietly standing guard their next meal.

  Rebus’s van was still in the gulley that spanned halfway across the road. The vans that were following would be arriving at speed and would have to swing around it. Placing his foot into the gulley, he rummaged in the bag and pulled out four blocks of explosives, placing them on the dust-covered tarred road. Rewiring them together, he primed them with detonator caps and the length of wire looking across the two-metre span of tar. It would just make it. Struggling to get out of the gulley, he got onto his knees to rest and sucked in deep breaths to control the pain. Then he saw them. Silver flickers on the horizon of the approaching vehicles. The rest of the 38 Roadsters.

  He pushed himself up and walked across the road, placing the last four blocks in a shallow hollow. Reaching for a large rock, he dragged it towards him and placed it in front of the explosives. This would be a crude job, but he hoped they wouldn’t be too careful about approaching. Priming the explosives, he linked the wires to the receiver unit and flicked the small switch. The little red LED flashed into life. Stumbling back, he reached into the bag and grabbed the remote detonator box, flicking the small switch, the red light went on. Turning around, he looked at the approaching dust plume.

  The M4 was lying near where he’d found the bag, but the muzzle was bent. He walked around to where Enyo was lying, looking inside the driver’s compartment again. Her old 9mm Beretta was wedged in between the seats. He pulled it out and checked it. Eight rounds and working.

  Reaching for the medikit, he saw there was no morphine left. But Enyo had packed two ketamine nasal inhalers. One dose a piece. Gibbs looked at them in his hand then pocketed them. If there was internal bleeding as he knew there probably was, he would need them later, despite the side effects. Fight first, pain management second.

  Walking back onto the road, he could see the three vans through the shimmer of the drifting black smoke from the nearby van. They had stopped a few meters before the first of the two wrecks. 38s were out and walking between the burning vans. Gibbs walked backwards until he was in line with his own van, then drew the Beretta and cocked the hammer. Taking a breath, he aimed at one of the vans and squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit the windscreen and cracked it. He emptied the rest of the magazine into the other vans, watching the men drop to their stomachs or dive behind the vans.

  One reached out the side window and fired back without aiming. Nothing came close to Gibbs as he walked to his van, stepping down into the gulley. He pulled his Glock out. It was full, and he had three other magazines. Firing one round at the lead vehicle which was racing towards him, a Roadster climbed out of the passenger window with an M4, aiming in his direction.

  Gibbs didn’t have long to wait until they passed Rebus’s van, the second one on their tail. He duc
ked lower and flicked the detonator toggle-switch across. It felt like a volcano erupting as the ground shook from the subterranean shock wave, and the sound wave blew past him. The pain from his stomach pierced through him, but he stayed put, metal landing around them followed by a curtain of dust.

  A few minutes later, Gibbs was standing looking at the mangled metal and scorched landscape where the bomb crater now was. Black blast marks radiated outwards on the road, old tarmac torn up or melted. The third van had turned around and was driving off. Gibbs reached into his top pocket and took out the ketamine inhaler. Not the best painkiller because it would leave him dizzy and nauseous, but the pain would be gone.

  He grabbed the duffel bag and put the water in it. Looking up and down the road, he saw it was all clear. It was about noon, but he didn’t care, he had to get walking. On either side of the road was clear land with dust and semi-desert shrubs for as far as he could see. He focused to the north and saw a truck racing along a road that ran parallel to the one he was on. Maybe it was a better road to be on. The Roadsters might regroup and begin searching the wreckages.

  Stepping into the dust, he started walking. The pain evaporated, and he stumbled a little with the effects of the drug. Looking down, he saw that the wound had started to bleed again and had stained his right pant leg. Dust clung to the moisture. Christina was going to moan about him being shot again. She hated that. Stopping, he shook his head and tried to focus. She was dead, and Stuart was his responsibility. He’d promised to get back and look after them all. He was the Hooded Man.

  Stumbling and twisting between the knee-high bushes was hard work. Throwing the first empty water bottle away, he dropped the duffel bag and started to drag it. The road was getting closer. Or was it? He turned to look at the burning vehicles, and they were further away. He fell forwards, face-first onto the ground crashing through a dust-covered bush. He lay there, pain from his gut waking him up. A crack of thunder rolled across the open plain. Stuart’s face appeared near him. He couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  ‘I’m coming. Hold your horses,’ Gibbs said, slowly getting to his feet. He noticed the metal shard had been driven further into his gut. ‘That’s going to hurt later.’

  He started walking faster towards the road. More thunder rolled in from the south. He had to get to Andrei so that they could get to Stuart. After a few minutes, he reached the tarmac road and knelt for a sip of water. ‘Oh, Gibbs, you fucking idiot. It’s all you had to remember. The damn bag,’ he said and lay on his back. ‘I’ll get it later.’

  He looked up at the moving clouds, grey and thick with rain. It was like his home in Scotland. His eyes closed.

  Chapter 46

  Chapman Highway, outside Knoxville, Tennessee, USA – 2043

  The rapid sound of gunfire jolted Andrei back from his thoughts, and he looked across to the NAG troops who were firing after a fusion van that had arrived and swiftly retreated. Focusing on the miles of scrubland to the side of the road, he couldn’t see Gibbs anywhere. Two wounded gang members had been executed by the Bounty Hunter’s men already. Walking between the mass of wrecked vans, scarves had to be worn across their noses and mouths against the fumes of burning rubber, plastic and paint. The thunder was getting louder as they walked past two bodies that had been incinerated.

  ‘Is that them?’ Elijah asked, stopping to watch one of his men chase off a buzzard. The man shrugged. ‘Damn it. How are we supposed to find them in all of this carnage? It must have been some battle.’

  ‘At least we know that he was here,’ Andrei said, flicking his cigarette at a smouldering wreck.

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘This is his work. I’ve told all of you this is what happens if you try to corner Gibbs.’

  Elijah smiled a little. ‘They’re either amongst the dead or have already moved off. Enyo will call.’

  ‘You said that she’s not answering.’

  Elijah nodded.

  ‘Boss.’

  Andrei looked up at one of Elijah’s men, who was walking further up the road. He was waving to them from another wreck. Adrenaline and fear swirled through the Russian, and he had a hollow feeling in his stomach. He lit another cigarette and upped his pace to keep up with Elijah.

  ‘Thanks, corporal,’ Elijah said as they rounded the van and he caught sight of Enyo, lying buckled and bent. The buzzards had already started their work.

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Andrei said, following him down to the body, scanning the wreckage for Gibbs. ‘You okay?’

  Elijah nodded. ‘She’s done her job well, but it’s sad that I won’t get to know her better,’ he said, poking his head into the van. ‘Gibbs is not here.’

  ‘Look at all the ripped medical packaging and bloody strips of cloth. He’s injured.’

  ‘Or he got into another van and is gone. Maybe he’s one of the burnt corpses. We should keep moving.’

  ‘Elijah, she’s family. She helped you a lot if what you’ve told me is correct. You cannot leave her for the coyotes. Get your men to bury her while we check over the wrecks again.’

  Elijah leant on the wrecked van with his hand, nodding his head. ‘Get me Nastas,’ he shouted to two men who were standing on the road. ‘And three more men to bury this body.’

  A minute later a man came running up the road towards them. Jogging with the grace of a thoroughbred, he carried a shotgun strapped across his back. With an eagle-hooked nose, small eyes and thin lips, he had long black hair pulled back and secured with a green headband. A single black wing-feather was bound into the long hair which flowed down his back. He jogged down to their position.

  ‘Nastas. The man we’re chasing was travelling with this woman. He’s wounded so look for tracks to see if he got into a vehicle or is dead nearby.’

  The man bowed over a little and started looking around. He walked around the vehicle and up onto the road. Walking for a few meters towards Rebus’s corpse, he turned and walked back.

  ‘He is wounded. Drops of blood all over, although the ravens have been eating a lot of it.’

  ‘So he is not here then?’

  The man remained silent for a few seconds. ‘He knelt with this woman. Two or three times. Got in and out of this van too. Then walked up to the road.’ Turning on his heels, he took large strides back up to the road and stood still.

  ‘What is it, Nastas?’

  ‘The rain is coming, boss. It’s early this year. Our target is wounded. He is favouring his right side.’

  ‘Did he get into another car?’

  The man walked to the opposite side of the road. He went down onto his haunches, looking at the ground then pointed ahead. ‘He walked off across that plain. Maybe to that road down there.’

  Elijah turned to face another of his men. ‘Leave a van with two men to bury Enyo. The rest of you double back to that last intersection we passed and get across to that road. Check the maps. We will meet you down there.’

  ‘Should we not go with them?’ Andrei said.

  ‘I want to go after Gibbs on foot. He might be lying somewhere out there.’

  Nastas started walking down the roadside verge and onto the dusty plains. Andrei looked up at the blackening clouds and realised why they had to hurry. Taking a sip of water from a metal bottle, he followed the men.

  It was a stop-start affair as they traced Gibbs’s movement as he zigzagged around the bushes, a permanent frown etched on Elijah’s face.

  ‘He’s a tough soldier. We’ll find him,’ Andrei said.

  ‘Nastas found this,’ Elijah said, handing him a small nasal spray container.

  ‘This is strong stuff.’

  ‘It will mess with his mind. He must have taken it earlier. Why else wouldn’t he walk along the other road towards us? We could have rescued him sooner and treated him,’ Elijah said.

  ‘You mean surrender to the men chasing him, after the other men chasing him killed his travelling partner and wounded him badly? If this is as strong as you
say, his instincts will drive him to flee, not surrender.’

  Elijah threw the plastic dispenser onto the ground and scowled at Andrei. ‘Then the hunt for the bastard continues.’

  Five minutes later, they reached the road and walked onto the verge of the road. Nastas circled in widening circles from that position, chasing some ravens away from the road.

  ‘Here, boss.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘He lay here for a long time. Look at the blood pool. The ravens will clean that up if the rain doesn’t.’

  ‘Where is he then?’

  Nastas pointed to the wide tyre marks in the dust on the road. ‘Someone helped him up into a van. They went in that direction.’

  ‘Knoxville?’ Andrei said, but Elijah was already walking in the opposite direction, towards his oncoming men.

  • • •

  The road sped towards them as Elijah drove, following another of their vans. It was slow going because they would stop at every intersection or side road for Nastas to check if any vehicles had turned off. They continued to get the thumbs down from him as he ran back to the van, and the convoy continued.

  Andrei’s satphone rang, and he fidgeted around in his deep jacket pocket. The number was not the number he wanted to see. ‘Rolin?’

  ‘What the bloody hell is happening there? I’ve just listened to a frantic message from the gang leader I was speaking to, saying that Gibbs and a woman had escaped. I couldn’t make out the whole story.’

  ‘You’re dealing with Rebus Maze directly?’ Andrei said, looking across to Elijah who did a double-take, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Of course I was. I’ve been trying all avenues to get Gibbs. The gang lord contacted me yesterday and said he had him as his prisoner. I offered him double to get him to me directly. Then I got this crazy message about him chasing Gibbs and something about a skink. What is a skink?’

  ‘I don’t know, Rolin. You say you offered him double the Bounty Hunter’s rate?’