Gibbs looked across at Ton and pointed the Sig back down at Smith’s head. ‘Look, mate, I know you’re the highest ranking officer here, so why don’t you just start talking? Do you want me to go and fetch young Walter from the cell next door?’
Gibbs could see a flicker of fear and doubt as Ton stared up at him. ‘Ton de Geest, ex-Captain,’ he said.
‘See, Ton, was that so bloody difficult? Now who hired you to hit the lines?’ Gibbs growled, still pointing the pistol at the wounded man, oblivious to the loud banging on the cell door. ‘Well, Captain?’
‘We were hired by a wealthy group of men based out of Brussels. The task was to destroy the refinery and gas lines. They put together the mercenary teams independently of any government knowledge. Now, can we please get a medic for my colleague?’
The banging on the room door grew ever louder until the hinges finally gave way, and it crashed open. Killey burst through the doorway with his pistol drawn, staring in silence as he took in the scene. ‘What the fuck happened here, boss?’ he shouted, staring down at the man who lay whimpering on the ground.
‘Jesus, Sergeant,’ Captain John Warren shouted as he stormed through the doorway a few seconds behind Killey. ‘I thought you had been overpowered!’
‘Get the hell out of here, I am still working on the prisoners,’ Gibbs replied as he glared down at Ton.
Captain Warren frowned making the two bruises beneath his eyes from his recently broken nose, more comical. ‘I don’t think so, Sergeant, your time is up here pending further investigation. Corporal Kilfoyle, radio for a medic, this man is bleeding all over the damn floor.’
Captain Warren made a grab for Gibbs's pistol, only to have his hand slapped away. Gibbs turned and squared up to the man who had interrupted his interrogation. Glaring at him, Gibbs said, ‘I've already knocked you on your arse a few times before, Captain.’
‘This time Sergeant, you have gone too far.’
‘This is what I do, Captain, so I’ll decide when I am done,’ Gibbs snarled, pushing the captain backwards.
‘Come on, Gibbs, I think it’s time for a short break,’ Killey said, as he grabbed Gibbs and tried to steer him towards the door.
Gibbs pulled away from Killey, who was attempting to manhandle him out the door. He took a swing at Killey, who skilfully ducked in expectation of the retaliation by his boss. He had moved in closer to Gibbs to avoid any contact with his sledgehammer-like fists. Captain Warren, on the other hand, had not learnt his lesson and was caught unawares. With a sickly crack, Gibbs head-butted the officer and broke his nose again. Screaming in pain, he held his face as the blood dripped down to the ground.
Pushing and shoving ensued before they managed to usher Gibbs out of the interrogation room and into the long corridor.
Captain Warren screamed, ‘You’re under arrest for striking an officer, Gibbs!’ Stumbling out of the interrogation room clutching his bleeding nose, he instructed two military policemen who were standing guard to escort Gibbs to solitary.
Half an hour later Gibbs lay on the old rusty bunk in his cell and punched the unpainted concrete wall, swearing out loud. He hated the bureaucratic army types like Warren and once again he had given them ample reason to throw the book at him. With his recent transgressions, he knew they would.
The Captain Warrens of the world always got in the way of his interrogations with their human rights crap. He had just got the big Dutchman to start talking and would have gotten all the info he needed in another hour or two. How did the old saying go? To make a decent omelette you had to break a few eggs. He had to get back into the interrogation cells.
Chapter 10
Unilever House, Central London, England, UK - 2019
Chairman Mason Waterfield leaned back and listened to the other members who were debating a few of the smaller agenda items. He glanced across to John Mountford who was sitting to his right of the other members; the young man had his hand up to his face with his eyes closed and shook his head at the comments coming from his fellow billionaires around the table.
‘Bloody hell, people, would you just stop and listen to yourselves for just a second?’ John said. ‘The reason the United Nations failed on so many occasions during our history is exactly because diplomatic solutions are not always practical or culturally viable. Sometimes situations can only be resolved by force, not by groups of squabbling old men and woman.’
‘We are all very well acquainted with your bloodlust and heavy-handed business approach, John. It's a little infantile,’ Lady Rosemary Winterton replied with a wry smile. The large framed woman had been the previous chair and couldn't help showing her true feelings for the younger man. ‘Many of us here realise that force is sometimes an inevitable recourse, but not until all avenues of negotiation have been explored and exhausted.’
‘Lady Winterton, you are so out of touch with reality. That logic no longer applies to the dynamics of current day global politics,’ he replied. ‘Have you bothered to take a look at what’s going on outside your precious mansion?’
‘Young man, I get out there and do a lot of good with all my charity work. Unlike you, with all your partying.’
‘You are out of touch. The only time you leave the house, Lady Winterton, is when you walk those two fat mutts of yours. And I am sure your dogs wouldn’t mind a walk sometime too.’
Lady Winterton gasped. One of the members stifled a laugh.
‘Okay everyone, let's have some order here,’ Mason said, and sat forward. ‘With the critical state of the global resources we are trying to pool and manage, who knows what the future will bring? Maybe it is time for us to open up the debate again and look at alternate solutions before another organisation rises up and succeeds by using force while we are still at the negotiation table.’
Lady Winterton sat open mouthed for a second. ‘Mason, you are surely not agreeing with this buffoon, are you?’
Mason smiled. ‘A man can change his mind too. Situations have dramatically changed in the past few years, so I believe we might need to re-discuss other possible solutions we can use, including military force.’
John frowned, shifting in his chair. ‘We have on the odd occasion used mercenaries for covert operations and reconnaissance, so are you now advocating that the Club consider other possible military options?’
‘We all know that you have employed subversive tactics like that in the past, John, and it was never a sanctioned solution by anyone here, so please don’t see it as a justification for you to keep going behind our backs in the future,’ Mason reprimanded. ‘What I meant is, from the recent Club chairman meetings I attended, many of our global members are changing their opinions towards military interventions. This change of heart is not based on clear strategy, but rather that they are being driven by the fear that other organisations will employ military initiatives, and we will be left out in the wilderness.’
‘Fear cannot be the reason for us to use force to keep this organisation moving forward,’ Lady Winterton said.
‘Lady Winterton, Mason is right to at least question our ongoing strategy,’ John said. ‘Why was the Billionaires Club formed in the first place, and please don’t tell me it was for the consolidation of global resources? We all know that it was born from the fear that we would all lose our assets, and therefore, our easy way of lives. What we need now is more open-minded thinking to protect ourselves and our position.’
Lord Butler slammed his hand down on the armrest of the couch he was sitting on. ‘John, don’t lecture us on our motives and aspirations for this organisation. I have been part of this evolving group since I started it in early 2004. We all had different motives for joining this project, and they are all still valid and just as important.’
‘But people’s ideas are out of date. I think…’ John said, before Lord Butler raised his hand to stop the younger man talking.
‘Most of our assets and wealth are invested in those very same resources that are now under threat. Regardless of
everyone’s initial motives, the result is that all our interests have now merged. We do need to secure the resources, ergo, our wealth. I concur with Mason and John’s suggestion that maybe it is time to start looking at alternative methods, regardless of the motivation.’
***
The heated debate continued for another hour before an end to the meeting was called for the evening. Members slowly drifted away down the dark corridors, and as John Mountford headed for the door, Mason called out after him. ‘John, may I have a private word, please?’
John was putting on his coat and sighed. He walked over to Mason. ‘Don’t you think we’ve hashed this crap out enough this evening? It’s three in the bloody morning, Mason, and I have my plane waiting to get me out of here.’
‘This will only take a few minutes,’ Mason said in a hushed tone, glancing at the other members as they left the room.
‘John, I hope you understand that I don’t agree with you on the point of us recruiting a permanent army to work for us. However, I do have a possible test project in one of our troubled economic zones for a few mercenary teams. It is something that could be financially and politically beneficial to the both of us. A project which may do a lot to help us out with the other doubters here in the Club.’
‘Go on, I am listening,’ John said, and took his coat off.
Chapter 11
Grangemouth Refinery Barracks, Scotland, UK - 2019
The metal hatch in the centre of the green cell door slammed open. Gibbs jumped with fright as he was jolted awake, a beam of bright light streaming onto his bunk.
‘Get up, Gibbs,’ Captain Warren shouted through the door.
‘What do you want? I was bloody sleeping here.’
‘I ordered you to get up and come to the door,’ Captain Warren replied.
‘Get lost, Captain,’ Gibbs shouted back.
‘I have a deal to make with you, Gibbs.’
Gibbs smiled in the darkness and slowly walked over to the door. ‘So your black eyes have darkened again, my dear panda friend.’
‘Tread carefully, Sergeant. As the acting Commanding Officer of this base, I can keep you in this cell for as long as I like.’
‘Finally grown a pair, have we,’ Gibbs said. ‘Well you've woken me up now, so spit it out.’
‘In return for getting more information from the Dutch prisoners I am willing to throw out all the charges against you,’ he replied.
‘So now you need me and my barbaric methods, do you?’
‘It’s not going to work like that, Gibbs. You can interrogate the prisoners under the eye of two military policemen.’
‘I don’t think so. The fact that you have come crawling back to me for help, tells me you have failed to get any answers yourself,’ Gibbs said, looking through the door hatch.
‘I am just giving you a chance…’
‘I don’t want anything from you, Warren. Get the fuck out of here and let me sleep,’ Gibbs said, returning to his bunk, the sound of the metal latch slamming reverberating around his cell.
***
‘Sorry, Lieutenant, I still don’t understand why I have to let the man go? He shot and tried to kill a prisoner of war,’ said Captain Warren, as he stood at the vending machine in the empty officers’ mess hall, watching tea flow into his plastic cup.
‘We don’t have anything from the shooting to keep him locked up, Captain,’ Lieutenant Matthews said.
‘You are representing Gibbs, so I guess you would say that.’
The slim, blonde JAG officer folded her arms. ‘I have spoken to all the witnesses, and they say that they are not willing to testify as they claim they didn’t see Sergeant Gibbs deliberately shoot anyone.’
‘What about Corporal Kilfoyle, he was first into the cell?’ Captain Warren asked.
‘Claims he didn’t see the actual shooting, Captain,’ Lieutenant Harvey said.
‘They are best buddies,’ Captain Warren said. ‘What did you expect he would say? He is covering for his boss so get him under oath, and I’ll get the truth out of him.’
‘I already have a signed statement from Corporal Kilfoyle.’
‘They are all lying bastards. I would discharge him along with Gibbs.’
‘Now, Captain. No need for that. The court martial will accept his statement as fact unless you have other proof. It’s his against yours.’
‘Fine, but there are the other prisoners, and don’t forget the man that Gibbs shot.’
‘The prisoners did hint that they would be prepared to testify against Sergeant Gibbs if you could guarantee their freedom and safe passage back to Europe.’
‘That’s just bullshit. I am not going to release the men responsible for destroying some of our storage tanks and pipelines. Not on my watch.’
‘In that case, Captain, you will have to release Sergeant Gibbs. We cannot detain him any longer.’
‘What about the charge of striking an officer?’
‘He will be charged with that, sir, and he will face a court-martial for it, but you cannot hold him in a cell for more than forty-eight hours for that.’
***
‘How was the vacation, boss?’ Killey asked, as he and Shredder walked over to where Gibbs was resting on a bunk in the centre of the row of neatly made up army beds.
‘Very relaxing, thank you, gents. Three days in solitary was just what I needed to catch up on some sleep.’
‘You’d do anything to get out of going on a few bloody patrols, wouldn’t you?’ Shredder said, sitting down on an adjacent bunk. ‘And I would advise you to stay out of Warren’s way for a while, he’s not very happy with you. His nose is badly broken, and his sweet feelings have been hurt. He’s been telling anyone who will listen that he is going to throw the book at you.’
‘I don’t give a shit, to be honest,’ Gibbs replied. ‘He’s just another incompetent desk jockey who sits around all day shuffling paper and getting in the way of real army business.’
‘I heard that he was trying to get you thrown out on a dishonourable discharge,’ Killey said.
‘Let him do his damnedest. I am done dealing with bureaucrats like him,’ Gibbs said. ‘The good thing about a few days of solitary is that it gives you time to think. I have not said anything to you guys before, but this bloody posting and our role here has been bugging me for quite a while now.’
‘No shit, Sherlock, you’ve been as grumpy as a hyena on her monthlies,’ Shredder said. 'So what are we going to do now?’
‘Maybe it’s time to hang up the beret and look at doing something else in the private sector. Maybe a little mercenary work.’
‘Are you being serious, boss?’ Shredder asked.
‘Yes. I want to have another chat to a few of the mercenaries we caught to see if they will pass on any of their contacts,’ Gibbs replied.
‘I did manage to sneak a look at the intelligence file that Warren has just received on the Dutch guy who led the teams in the attack. He is quite the accomplished veteran, so might have some good contacts,’ Shredder suggested. ‘Although I’m not sure he’d be too happy to see you after you shot one of his team members right in front of him.’
‘Plus, if you do get discharged for attacking a superior officer, a vast majority of the agents won’t be too keen to put you forward for projects,’ Killey pointed out.
‘Bollocks, lads. With our military records, we would be snapped up for any type of work. You have both met mercenaries during your travels and don’t tell me that we’re any worse than they are. We’ve seen a ton of action together, but I won’t ask you to join me when I go over the wall. You have to make up your minds on this one,’ Gibbs said.
‘Going AWOL is serious business, Gibbs. I'll need to think about it,’ Killey said, glancing across to Shredder.
‘I’m the only one going AWOL, you muppet,’ Gibbs said. ‘You two could go on a sabbatical or get an honourable discharge if you choose to do this with me. Anyway, I’m going to need to get as much information from the
big Dutchman as I can to do this quickly.’
‘What’s the bloody hurry?’ Shredder asked.
‘You know my previous shooting record, Shredder. Do you think they won’t pursue a prison term for me after this latest stunt? I’m not taking that risk, thanks. Now, how are we going to sneak me into the lockup tonight?’ Gibbs asked.
Shredder laughed. ‘You are bloody joking, right?’
***
Gibbs quietly slipped the brass key into the lock and opened the passage door. He walked down the corridor and stopped in front of the green door for cell twelve. Slipping open the noisy metal hatch in the door, he knocked twice.
‘Ton, wake up.’
A few seconds went by before a drowsy Ton de Geest appeared at the opening and squinted to acclimatise to the bright light from the corridor.
‘What the hell do you want? I thought you would have been locked up for attempted murder by now.’
‘Calm down, Ton. You would have done the same as I did to extract information from a prisoner,’ Gibbs said.
‘Please don't compare us, Sergeant,’ Ton said, his eyes narrowing. ‘You behaved like a cold-blooded thug.’
‘Look, I didn’t bullshit my way back into this prison to argue with you. I managed to get a look at the file our intelligence people have on you, and I realised that we have served in many of the same campaigns. You knew the risks of mounting a cross-border sabotage mission into the UK. You knew that if you got caught during this mission, you would be detained and interrogated. Besides, we have both killed for a lot less so let’s not start debating whose conscience is clearer.’
‘What do you want?’ Ton asked after a few seconds.
‘The details of the agent who recruited you for this sortie,’ Gibbs replied.
‘Why would you want his name? Don't your intelligence people have all those details?’
‘I am sure they have the names of all the men who paid the bills by now, but I want the man who recruited you,’ Gibbs said.
Celt_The Journey of Kyle Gibbs Page 5