‘Shit, they are ahead of Kirkwood’s car,’ Gibbs said. ‘Let’s go, Shredder. Let the police get alongside us this time.’
Unaware of the danger ahead of them, the X5 tried to pass the police car on the right-hand side, distracting the officers. A flurry of small arms fire hit the left-hand side of the passing Impreza, blowing out both tyres and sending sparks over the roof. The policeman lost control of the car and it spun to the left of the road and careened into the Armco barrier at speed, before spinning back across the three lanes and coming to rest against the central reservation, flames flicking out of the front wheel arch.
‘Hit it again, Shredder,’ Gibbs said, watching the X5 passing them.
The black vehicle came back into range again, and Shredder tried to pass on the right-hand side, but the other driver swerved across to cut them off. Gibbs leant out of the passenger window and fired a few rounds at the back of the X5. The back window finally erupted and sent shards of glass all over the following Range Rover.
The two black vehicles jinked and swerved across the dual lanes of the M4 flyover that eventually merged onto the main carriageway. The lighter BMW X5 seemed to have the speed to allow them to stay ahead on the cluttered motorway. A few miles further down the road the X5 took the off-ramp off the motorway to Heathrow.
Gibbs could see the driver was hunkering down, and the shooter sitting in the passenger seat turned to fire a volley of bullets at them. Shredder anticipated it and swerved hard to the left, the Range Rover leaned over precariously at the high speed, and Shredder was forced to counter-steer to stop them rolling over. The X5 moved to the right again, allowing Shredder to downshift and ram the left side of the vehicle.
Sparks burst upwards into the air as the metal growled and gave way on both cars. Killey leaned out on the right side and fired a short volley, killing the man on the passenger side. ‘I cannot see Kirkwood anywhere,’ he shouted into the rush of headwind.
‘The coward is probably lying on the floor. We will have to stop the vehicle to get the fucker,’ Gibbs shouted, then sat back in the leather seat. Where are you hiding you little shit? I’m going to make you pay for all the deaths you've cause, even if it costs me my own.
They entered the major roundabout at the airport entrance, and the Range Rover followed the X5 to the left and then powered up onto the road that led around the perimeter fence of the airport.
On another roundabout as they drove around to the right, the driver of the X5 fired a volley into the side of the Range Rover, hitting the back right tyre in the process.
‘Arrrgh..! Lost the back tyre, boss,’ Shredder shouted, as he fought hard to control the vehicle, backing off the accelerator to keep them from tipping over.
‘Shit, keep after them as best you can, mate,’ Gibbs said, leaning out the window and emptying his magazine in the direction of the X5.
The Range Rover had no option but to slow as the ripped tyre started to flail against the bodywork with a thunderous noise. Up ahead they saw the X5 turn right as it reached the furthest point of the airfield and then turn a sharp left into an open gate towards a large hangar. The Styx Enterprises logo was emblazoned across the top of the giant structure.
Shredder brought the Range Rover to a noisy halt at the main gate of the premises. They watched the X5 drive right up to the partially opened hangar doors and then pass through into the well-lit interior. ‘They must have a plane or helicopter in there.’
‘I have flown out of that hangar before, boss. The back doors also open and lead straight onto the runway,’ Killey said.
‘Can we get around the hangar and try to head them off?’
‘No, it will take too much time to get around. Best we follow them in.’
‘It could be a trap, you know,’ Gibbs said.
‘Yeah, but if there is a plane waiting for him in there and the bastard gets on board, we will have lost him,’ Killey replied.
‘Agreed. Reload everything and let’s go and get this fucker.’
Two minutes later they drove across the concrete apron in front of the hangar and into the bright stream of light that shone out into the dusk of evening. The tyre-less back rim occasionally touched the concrete, throwing up white sparks into the dark. Gibbs changed his magazine for a full one and looked up as they rounded the door and crossed onto the smooth polished concrete floor. The wheels squealed as Shredder drove the Range Rover around the perimeter of the hangar, past the giant tail of the Boeing 747.
‘There it is! Over by all those tool racks and crates,’ Gibbs said, pointing to the X5 that was parked with all the doors open. Shredder slowed the Range Rover down as they drove under the tip of the large wing, briefly losing sight of the X5.
‘Get us close, mate.’
A volley of gunfire erupted from locations amongst the tool racks and crates of aeroplane spare parts beyond the X5. The windshield and side window of the Range Rover shattered, sending glass inwards over Gibbs and Shredder as they were forced to cower down. Men in black uniforms appeared behind them too, hidden by large plastic tanks near the doorway they had just driven through, and fired into the back of the Range Rover.
Gibbs and Killey fired quick bursts out of the left-hand windows whilst ducking down as more bullets thudded into the metal bodywork. The Range Rover dropped down as the remaining tyres were shot out from under them.
Killey cried out as a bullet hit him in the arm, and he lay across the back seat.
‘Damn it, we’re surrounded,’ Gibbs yelled. ‘Throw your weapons out of the window.’
As the pistols and shotguns hit the floor of the hangar, the shooting ceased. A deathly silence ensued after the last of the gunshots echoed around the metal hangar.
Gibbs sat up in the passenger seat to see men in black uniforms with scarf-covered faces approaching cautiously, their M16s trained on the car.
A shook-up David Kirkwood walked out from behind his hiding place, a large metal cabinet. He glared at Gibbs.
Chapter 39
Heathrow Airport, London, England, UK - 2019
’On your knees!’ the nearest uniformed man shouted, jabbing the muzzle of his machine gun into Gibbs’s back. Killey, who was already kneeling on the shiny concrete floor in front of the Boeing, was grimacing in agony as he tried to keep the pressure on his arm, blood seeping through his fingers.
‘You gonna make it?’ Gibbs asked.
‘It’s okay, boss, just winged me, I think.’
Gibbs scanned the hangar. Twenty men with M16s closed in on the group of kneeling men. Anger rose up inside him when his eyes locked onto the man they had chased down. David Kirkwood kicked a small plastic crate along the floor towards them. A little grin across his face, and then with a big sigh, he sat down in front of them.
‘Well now, that was a bit of fun, wasn’t it. Kudos to you for wasting my time and causing me to miss my plane out of here, but never mind, I’m looking forward to having some fun with you before my next flight.’
Gibbs spat on the ground in front of Kirkwood.
‘So let me get this straight, was that the best that men from the illustrious SAS could do to stop me from getting away?’
‘Go fuck yourself, Kirkwood,’ Gibbs said.
‘Another failed mission for you and your team then, Gibbs. You have to admit that your record has been poor of late, hasn’t it? But don’t worry, the prison ships are not going anywhere soon, and you will have the rest of your days to reflect on your failed attempts to kill me,’ David said.
‘You seem to have overlooked the fact that despite all of your best efforts, we have managed to escape at every turn. Those prison ships won’t hold us for very long, Kirkwood,’ Gibbs said. ‘Mark my words, when I get my hands on you, I am going to make you suffer slowly for the people’s lives you have destroyed.’
‘You are not in a position to make any threats, Gibbs. One of your lapdogs looks very injured and probably should be put out of his misery. In case you haven’t realised it yet, all these men a
re mine to command. I can have them kill all three of you with a simple click of my fingers. That is real power, Gibbs, not wielding a gun, but commanding men who carry guns. Loads of guns.’
‘So you’re too chicken-shit to kill a man by yourself, Kirkwood? Too much of a little coward,’ Gibbs said.
David Kirkwood bristled with the insult, his shoulders straightening.
‘Even Tracer Mercer, your own flesh and blood, wanted nothing to do with you, David. He always moaned about having to meet up with you and said he would rather eat his own arse than spend any time with a little runt like you. We were his true family, not you.’
David clenched his teeth, his jaw muscle twitching in his slender face. His eyes narrowed, then he smiled, walked over to a large red cabinet and opened the two doors. Pulling out a large iron spanner, he walked back and smiled at Gibbs as he bounced the big piece of metal in his hand before swinging it into Killey’s stomach. The injured man doubled over, crying out in pain.
‘Kirkwood! You’re a bloody coward. Why don’t you pick on me or are you scared that I will fight back?’ Gibbs said.
David mulled it over a minute then walked over to Gibbs and lifted the large spanner over his head. It hovered in the air for a second, when he suddenly screamed out in pain, buckled over and fell to the ground clutching his knee, the spanner spinning out of his reach. Everyone turned around to see who had shot him.
One of the men lowered his silenced pistol then raised his gloved hand and pulled down the scarf that covered his face.
‘Alex?’ screamed David, blood pouring from the back of his knee. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
Alex held up a finger up to his lips. He calmly walked over to Gibbs. ‘Mr Gibbs, My name is Alex Brun. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Under different circumstances, I would have loved to work with you and your men, but alas that has not been possible.’
‘I must admit to being a little bit confused, Alex,’ Gibbs replied, looking down at David.
Alex slipped the magazine out of his pistol and then flicked all the remaining rounds out of the magazine with his thumb. All, but the one. He slammed the magazine home and chambered the lone round.
He silently handed the pistol to Gibbs. ‘You are free to seek your revenge for your girlfriend’s murder and please make it count. If you try to use the weapon to escape, my men will be forced to shoot all of you, and I would not like that.’
‘What are you doing, Alex?’ David said, his lower lip quivering.
Gibbs stood up and took the Sig 226 from Alex Brun then slowly walked over to David. He walked past the groaning man and picked up the iron spanner. Flipping it over in his left hand he walked back then swung it at David's outstretched hand. He screamed with pain as the bones in his hands shattered with a loud crunch.
‘I am sorry, Gibbs,’ he screamed, clutching his hand. ‘Let me make it up to you all. I have all your money. I’ll pay you back every penny.’
Gibbs swung again. The loud scream pierced the silence in the hangar as the iron spanner smashed into David Kirkwood’s ribs.
David whimpered as he fell onto his side.
Gibbs’s eyes narrowed as he stomped down on the man’s bleeding leg. David let out a blood-curdling scream and pawed at Gibbs’s boot. ‘Please stop!’
Gibbs leant on the man’s leg with even more of his weight. ‘This is for JP, and for Sharon. And for all the men who have died as part of your fucking little game.’
Gibbs raised the Sig 226 and shot the man in the stomach.
‘Now it’s your turn to suffer and feel the pain that they felt, knowing that you are going to die slowly and in agonising pain on this cold floor without anyone here to feel sorry for you.’
He walked back to Alex and handed him the gun. ‘Thank you. What now?’
‘I will get a medic to attend to your man before you are all taken to the prison ship in Wales. My employer tasked me to both eliminate Mr Kirkwood and to capture you and your men. And that is what just happened here. Nobody needs to know how justice was served here today.’
‘You could just let us walk out of here, you know,’ Gibbs said.
‘You, more than anyone, Mr Gibbs, understand the importance of following orders.’
Chapter 40
Carshalton Estate, Surrey, England, UK - 2019
Lord Butler relaxed at the head of the long mahogany table in his breakfast room, sipping sweet tea from a white china teacup while reading a final report from the Billionaires Club. Markus Schmidt waited patiently in the corner of the room for his employer to finish his breakfast.
‘Markus, I am fully aware that you informed the members that all documents and correspondence relating to the Angolan incident had been destroyed, but have you kept copies of everything as I instructed you to do?’
‘Yes, sir, copies have been made and are now stored on servers in your basement rooms at the Canary Wharf office.’
‘Thank you, Markus. I take it you were as discreet as usual?’
‘The young man who made all the copies for me was involved in a fatal car accident, sir.’
‘I see. That is indeed unfortunate. Please send my condolences to his family.’
‘You have already made a sizable donation to the cost of the funeral. What is to be done about David Kirkwood?’
‘No need to worry about him. I have personally had that taken care of. David is no longer part of this organisation, so if anyone enquires as to his whereabouts, just say that he has left the country for good. He always did have a separate agenda to the Billionaires Club, but I was fortunate that the two different agendas complemented one another. I will miss his company, though.’
‘What of Alex Brun, sir?’
‘Alex is on his way to the USA. He will take control of my primary enterprise there.’
‘Lord Butler. Is it wise to leave someone out there who has so much in-depth knowledge of our recent activities and knows our plans too?’ Markus asked.
‘Markus, I am truly touched by your concern. I did think long and hard about Alex and how he fits into our plans before I sent him away. I think he still has a large part to play, so for the time being, he stays alive,’ Lord Butler said.
‘What if we need one of his particular services again, sir?
‘I am sure that you could perform the same tasks that Alex offered if I needed them urgently,’ Lord Butler said, sipping his tea.
‘Of course, sir. It is what I was trained for.’
‘That’s good to hear, Markus,’ Lord Butler replied. ‘You know it has taken me over ten years to achieve, but I now have a nucleus of men and woman who are on board with the plan to secure the last of the planet’s resources for our new organisation. Moving forward we will be more aggressive and brutal in our mission. That is why I had to dispose of so many who were linked to the Angolan initiative, it was the last piece in our global puzzle.’
'Then why keep all the documents, sir? If they were to be leaked, we could be in trouble.’
‘Leverage, Markus, leverage. You never know who might need their minds changed in future,’ Lord Butler said, and took a folder out of a briefcase at his feet. The words Phoenix Council were printed in red on a label on the cover.
‘From now on, the Phoenix Council will decide on the correct way to store and use the planet’s remaining resources. We will make and decide policy, not the facile and useless governments whose influence is waning by the day with all the revolt and chaos around us. There are exciting times ahead for us, Markus.’
‘Yes, sir, I am pleased to be a part of it,’ he said. ‘But why the name change?’
‘Well, we thought that Billionaires Club sounded a little arrogant and too exclusive so decided that we needed something with a little more gravitas and presence. It was the late Mason Waterfield’s idea to use the phoenix to represent the new beginning the world will see under our guidance and leadership.’
'Wise choice, sir.'
‘Markus, you have taken care of t
ricky loose ends for me recently and have done so without question. I thank you for your loyalty, but I need to ask one more thing of you.’
‘Anything, sir,’ Markus replied, bowing his head slightly.
‘The Phoenix Guard will be the global military wing of the Phoenix Council and it will have many varied roles and duties to perform. The primary function, however, will be to ensure that all the economic regions we have established over the last few years obey all our wishes. I want you to be the first appointed captain within the Phoenix Guard.’
‘Thank you, Lord Butler,’ the tall German said. ‘I would be happy to.’
‘Good. Each captain will have twenty crack military or policemen under his command and will be deployed as and when we need them, so I will need you to start recruiting suitable men to the cause immediately.
‘It is a real shame that we lost the likes of that Gibbs character because I think he would have been perfect for the Guard going forward. But alas, sometimes you have to lose a few pawns on the chessboard to start a winning game,’ Lord Butler said, closing the folder.
Chapter 41
Hopen Island, Svalbard, Norway - 2021
A lone figure trudged through the mossy tundra on the west side of Hopen Island in the Svalbard archipelago. Stopping briefly to glance behind her again, she readjusted the straps on her laden backpack and switched the Browning hunting rifle to the other shoulder. Scanning the horizon for the dangerous lumbering shape that posed a lethal threat, she felt relieved to be in the clear and continued up the tricky scree slope.
A large herring gull floated above her on its way to prey on the guillemots’ roosting grounds among the rocks above her position. She knew that it wouldn’t be long before the guillemots would take to the air en masse to try and confuse the gull, swirling around in large black clouds as they headed out to sea. As she glanced down at the ocean again, something caught her eye. What the hell is going on down there?
Celt_The Journey of Kyle Gibbs Page 21