Their truck slowed to a stop, discharging a blast of steam, and the young soldier who had sat in the back with them jumped down and opened the tailgate. It was early evening, and the sun had just set, creating a golden glow across the sky. Pehr climbed down and helped his wife from the back of the truck. Looking down the abandoned tarred road, he saw the rusty sign swinging overhead on a disused traffic light, North Washington Ave. Pehr walked around the side and looked at the large red building they pulled up in front of. Its red brick frontage spanned a hundred metres along the road. Three men stood guarding a single doorway, the Styx Enterprises logo on the wall above the door.
'Is this the factory?' Ruth asked.
He spun around and smiled at her, then hugged her as she walked up to him.
'Welcome back, little mouse. Yes, I believe that this is another of his factories, it certainly is large enough.'
'When will this all end, Pehr?'
Lord Butler walked over to them. 'It will end once I have the vaccine in full production and have stockpiled enough to cover any eventualities. Then and only then, will I hold you as having completed your contract. You can then retire anywhere you wish and live a comfortable life off the royalties.'
'We don't want your blood money, Butler,' Pehr snapped.
Lord Butler shrugged. 'Let's go inside. I am sure you will change your mind.’
They walked along the cracked pavement and through the door of the building. An Asian security guard who was sitting behind the main desk jumped up as the group walked forward.
'I am taking this group on a little factory tour,' Lord Butler said.
'Yes, sir,' the man said and moved to unlock a double door at the back of the reception area. He walked in and held one of the doors open to a long white-walled corridor. On the right-hand side were more brown office doors, and on the left, were large glass windows that overlooked the factory manufacturing lines. People walked around the clean rooms in white full body suits, checking large, silver stainless steel vats with hundreds of dials and gauges on consoles next to each vat.
'Pehr, I am sure that you will recognise the layout since you designed it for me. I have got some of my other scientists to extrapolate it to ensure we could ramp up the production of the tablets.’
'Tablets! But they work slowly and will be less effective. There are no guarantees that they will even work on extreme cases. People will die before they complete the dosage.’
Lord Butler turned and smiled.
'That, dear fellow, is the point. In the next section, we are also producing the vaccine in its liquid form. That will go to government officials, warlords, wealthy folks and their families. Those who can pay me cash. The tablets will go to the general population and yes, we will lose many, but then that is what nature intended of her viruses.'
'My God! You're a madman,' Ruth said.
'Oh do stop all that talk, Ruth. It is getting tedious. The human race will bounce back from all of this and be stronger for it. I have just had your grandson injected with the serum to show my good faith.’
'Stuart is here?' Ruth said.
'Yes he is, and now I bet you regret calling me a madman, don’t you?'
Ruth forced a smiled. 'Are you going to allow us to see him?'
'Of course, dear Ruth, we are partners in this venture after all. You will have fifteen minutes to see him, that is all for now. Are we in agreement?'
Both Pehr and Ruth nodded.
'They are in that room behind you. The woman he is with is called Helga. She is his warden at the moment, so do everything she says and I might let you see him on a regular basis. Betray me or try to run away with him, and I will kill you both.’
Chapter 25
Newark Ave, Newark, New Jersey, USA- 2033
Shredder stood in the corner of the small rectangular kitchenette with his hands over an old stove. Some residual gas was still in the tanks, so he was boiling water for tea in a small kettle he had found. The kitchen of the abandoned warehouse had once served hundreds of aircraft workers who maintained the planes flying out of the neighbouring Newark Airport.
'How are you feeling, Shredder?' Gibbs asked as he walked in.
Shredder turned and scowled at him, lifting the blanket up over his shoulders and neck. 'Cold and tired. Not sure what is happening, but I was fine a few days ago.'
Gibbs threw him a small orange and white box of tablets. 'It’s the side effects of the withdrawal process. My dad suffered from it too when he tried to quit.'
'How many times did he try to quit?'
'Three.'
'Jeez. So not much hope for me then?' Shredder said, rubbing his hands together.
'Bollocks, mate. My dad was never as strong-minded or as disciplined as you.'
'Maybe, but all this shivering and shaking like a homeless tramp is starting to get to me.'
'That will pass. Your immune system is a little fried, so I got a general antibiotic from the medic to help with the process. Morning and evening, with meals.'
'Cheers, boss. I could sure use a drink, though. You know, just to take the edge off a little.'
'It's already been eleven days, mate. You are doing well. Don't give into it now. My old man lost his wife and blamed me for her death, so he always had a reason to keep failing. You have Shirley and the kid waiting for you at home. Not to mention all the cash you'll have when you get back.'
'I know, boss.'
'Hopefully, things will get a little busier in the next few days as we get closer to finding Butler,' Gibbs said.
'Ahem!' Smithy was standing in the flaking white doorway. He nodded to his left as the chiselled features of Bob Dweck came into view behind him.
'Good morning, all,' he said, showing his beaming white teeth.
'Come on in, Bob. I hope that you have some news for us.'
'That's why I am here. One of the scavenger informants has heard that Butler and his men are up in a place called Churchill. It’s up in the frozen wasteland of Canada. I am told he has a laboratory there that has been doing scientific research. My source says he has a cousin in the employ of Styx Enterprises, who has been searching for any information for us.’
‘Are they credible sources?’
‘A scavenger wouldn’t have that sort of info, but I believe the cousin does work for Butler’s company.’
‘It’s a long way to go for nothing.’
‘I know, but the cousin believes that Butler is planning to get the hell out of there pretty soon so we may need to hustle.’
'If we miss the bugger there, it could be weeks before the reptile surfaces again,' Shredder said from the corner.
Gibbs nodded his head. 'Bob, you said that you could get us a large plane that could fly us anywhere we wanted?'
'That’s right, sir. We have three Alenia C-27J Spartans here at Newark that the NAG has made available for you. They would prefer that we use road transport as you can imagine. Fuel availability is the real issue here. We are not sure of how much will be available for use where we land so we could get grounded.'
'It would be quicker to get to Churchill by plane. It’s the first positive sighting we have had. I want to get there as fast as we can, while you keep hammering those informants. If he does leave, he will be going back to one of his other sites. We can leave a team here to head him off should they return. '
'Okay, I will do,' Bob said. 'How many men will you need to go?'
'I'll take ten to Churchill with me so we’ll begin kitting up straight away. Can you get the pilots to find me for a quick briefing? We don't have much time to debate the risk of the trip, so I'll need pilots that are capable of flying us in, refuelling and getting us out.’
'Leave it to me,' Bob said and started to walk away. 'One thing that my source did mention to me about Butler was that he had lost a lot of weight and looked entirely different to the photos we have been circulating. It could account for why we have struggled to track him down. Apparently, he has lost his left arm too, which is attrib
uted to you, I hear.’
'I put a bullet through his arm back in London before he escaped, but clearly I should have put one between his eyes.'
Bob smiled. 'That must be why he likes you so much.'
'I guess so. Now see if your man can get any details about the men working for him. He always has a few good henchmen around him. I’m keen to find out about that tall German.'
'Sadly, I have lost contact with the informant this morning. It occasionally happens with these scavengers. They earn some vouchers and then drink like there is no tomorrow, so he will probably resurface in a few days.'
'Just get us what you can.'
• • •
A white wasteland passed below them as Gibbs looked out of the small round window in the fuselage of the grey C-27J. The black blur of the six-bladed prop droned within touching distance of his seat as the pilot started his descent with the tell-tale change in engine pitch. This woke all the men who were sitting across from one another on bright red canvas chairs. Five on each side of the plane with twelve crates of equipment strapped down to the floor between them. Shredder shouted something and pointed out of his window on the other side. Gibbs unbuckled the seatbelt and walked across to look.
'If that’s the place we are going to, boss, then it doesn’t bode well,' Shredder shouted.
Long black plumes of smoke spiralled up from a small hamlet of buildings that was visible against the carpet of white.
'Well, mate, you wanted some action. I think we are going to get it.'
The plane circled once around the airstrip and slowly lined up as it got closer to the ground, touching down with a bump. A plane-made blizzard immersed the fuselage as the pilot cranked up the engines to taxi back along the strip. Swirls of snow being sucked up by the engines were curled into the air.
A few minutes later, the co-pilot came through the small doorway from the cockpit, looking pale and exhausted. He stood wiping his forehead with his sleeve as the shudder of the engines winding down reverberated through the whole plane.
'That was a fucking nightmare,' he said. 'We nearly ran out of airstrip. Bloody tug wouldn't stop on all this ice.'
'Well done, Lieutenant.'
'The captain and I will set about fuelling her and monitor the radio for further orders from you.'
'Fine. We'll trek down into town and see if the target is still here,' Gibbs said,
'Yes, sir. Just to let you know, there are no other aircraft here. Only two trucks parked near a small cabin where the fuel barrels are stacked.'
Gibbs’s stomach tightened as he rubbed his gloved hands together. 'Okay thanks, Lieutenant,' he said and stood up to walk over to his group of men.
'Right, the co-pilot has informed me that there are no other planes parked here but that there are two trucks that we could use. Smithy, take two men and see if you can get a truck started. Everyone, be sharp. We still don't know who is out there or what they might have left behind for us.’
The men all stood up and zipped up their green down coats. They unclipped the plastic crates that were on the floor and each soldier took one and placed it back on the seat. Grabbing the Bergens that were pre-packed and stored inside, they walked over to the ramp at the rear of the plane that the co-pilot had lowered.
'Move out,' shouted Gibbs to the group.
A cursory inspection yielded no booby-traps in the trucks, so they were hotwired, and soon they drove on the icy road that wound down from a small escarpment.
Smithy was sitting behind the wheel with Gibbs in the cab beside him.
'Boss, I found this on the floor as I climbed in. It’s addressed to you.'
Gibbs looked at the envelope that was folded down the middle. His breath quickened as he stared at his name written in blue fountain pen. He ripped it open.
Hello, Captain Gibbs.
Welcome to America.
Once again you're too late to save your family. You are going to have to up your game if you want to find them alive. Better luck next time.
I am looking forward to watching you and your men flounder, and all fail your family once again. In London, all those years ago, I had no idea what Christina, Andrei and you were planning when you betrayed me. Now, you will have no idea what I have in store for your wife and son.
Good luck with your search.
Regards.
Lord Francis Butler.
Gibbs screamed and punched the plastic dashboard.
'What is it, Gibbs?'
'Just get us down to the bloody village.'
'Do you believe they are still there?'
Gibbs looked at the two plumes of black smoke that stood out in sharp contrast to the white mountains and clear blue morning sky. 'No, we are too late,' he said, folding the note into his top pocket. He took out the magazine from his M27, checked the top round and slammed it back in.
Even with the ice tyres, the truck slid around on the track as Smithy drove slowly into the outskirts of town and parked near the smouldering shell of what was the town hall.
'Boss! Polar bear,' Smithy shouted as they all assembled around the back of the truck.
They followed his gaze up the street to see a big male lumbering towards them, his head swaying and held low to the ground. Stopping a hundred metres away, it lifted its head to sniff the air. Some other smell caught its interest, and it wandered off to the right.
'Watch out for Butler's men and as you’ve just seen, keep your eyes peeled for bears. They will attack if they are hungry enough. Let's split into two groups. Smithy, take five men and scout this hall. We'll take the other building further down the street.'
Gibbs and his team walked through the area that had once been the laboratory. The roof had burnt through and collapsed, leaving a mangled maze of metal beams all across the large site. Shredder called him over to a section of the building that had escaped the worst of the fire.
'Seems this was an admin area, boss. Look at all those filing cabinets.'
'Have a look through them and see if there is anything we can use to track them down.'
A shot went off, and Gibbs spun around to see one of his men standing with his M27 raise in the air. A smaller polar bear was running away from the smouldering building.
'Corporal, do a tally of all the bodies that are in this building, please?'
‘Yes, sir. Are we going to bury them?'
'Leave them where they are. The ground has been frozen for months so it would take us days to dig a grave big enough for them all.'
Gibbs knelt down and picked through some charred pieces of paper. Spreadsheets with reams of numbers and formulae, all hieroglyphics to a soldier. All were notes by the people lying meters from him. He flipped them over, sending burnt bits of paper to the floor in a sooty avalanche.
'Boss, I have something here,' Shredder said as he approached. 'Most of the cabinets were emptied, and the paper was thrown all over the floor, so I am guessing the bastards who torched the place, ransacked it first. They missed this, though.'
Gibbs took the small pad of charred paper and looked at the address at the bottom - North Washington Ave, Minneapolis, MN.
'Think that might be one of his hideouts?'
Gibbs tossed the pad on a smouldering pile. 'It could also be their supplier of toilet paper.’
‘It’s a lead though, boss,’ Shredder said, placing his hand on Gibbs’s shoulder. ‘Chin up, boss. We are getting closer.’
‘Just keep looking while I'll call Bob.'
Walking back towards the road, he saw the other team walking towards them. Smithy looked stressed and edgy. 'It was a massacre, boss. There must be sixty to a hundred bodies there although I cannot be sure as the bears have dragged quite a few away.'
'Bloody hell,' Gibbs said and rubbed his week-old beard with the back of his Gortex glove. 'There were a lot of bodies in the lab too.'
Smithy shook his head. 'Most of them were riddled with bullet wounds, so I think they were dead before it was burnt it down.'
'Let's go back down, I want to take a look,' Gibbs said, and grabbed the satphone from one of the pouches on his webbing and then dialled.
'Bob? It's Gibbs.'
'What's happening up there? Any contact with him?'
'The fucking bastard has murdered the entire village and torched his own lab too. There is more than a hundred dead at a conservative estimate.'
'Dear Lord!'
'I did find a small piece of evidence that leads us to an address in Minneapolis. Can you look it up and tell me what you think. It's on North Washington Avenue, Minneapolis. Get me all you can on that lead.'
'I don't recognise that address so that it might be something. It's certainly not one that my informants have been checking on so let's hope it's something positive.'
Gibbs hung up.
The smell of burnt plastic, wood and flesh greeted him as he stepped over a group of bodies. Metal roof struts had fallen over them, keep them partially covered. Moving forward he came upon some collapsed ceiling panels that covered two people. A small child's arm protruded out, a marbled blue colour from the cold and death. Gibbs swallowed hard and lifted a large panel, peering underneath. 'Jesus,' he said kneeling down. The face of a small blond boy staring back at him, two bullet holes in his stomach and chest.
'How could anybody do this?' Smithy said.
'I bloody thought it was Stuart for a minute,' Gibbs said and swallowed hard.
Smithy placed his gloved hand on his boss's shoulder. 'You sure we shouldn’t bury them?'
'We should, mate, but we can't. Let's move out.'
Walking back up the main street, Gibbs saw Shredder standing by the trucks holding a burnt lab coat.
'You alright, Shredder?'
'Butler has to be made to feel this pain,’ Shredder said. ‘I am going to carve that fucker up when we get him.'
'Take a number,' Gibbs said.
'This time, he won't get away with his life.'
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