Kharon

by Wayne Marinovich

  'Where are we going to source that person?' Smithy asked.

  'I don't bloody know,' Gibbs said. 'But we must do something. Butler is back in New York, so I assume that the warlord is helping him. Maybe this warlord has some enemies. Competitors who would like to see him out of power.'

  'They will be hard to find,' Smithy said. 'Remember Bob said that the warlord disposed of many of those who opposed him.’

  'And do you believe a bloody word coming out of that man's mouth?' Gibbs said, clenching his fists.

  'Okay, my love,' Christina said, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'Go out and call Andrei. See if he has any ideas.'

  • • •

  Bob Dweck trudged up the grey stairwell of Lord Butler's apartment building, his feet wet and cold. The rising tide had forced him to drive like a lunatic for the last few miles, and he looked down at his bare feet and legs. They were flecked with mud and leafy debris from the rising water that was now no doubt flooding the abandoned truck. Stopping on the second landing, he looked back down the concrete stairs. Briny water bubbled through the metal flood doors that the building security guard had closed behind him. The man, dressed in black rubber waders and old M16 strung around his neck, looked up at him.

  'Lord Butler's residence is on the fifth floor, sir.'

  'I know that, buddy, I have been here before,' he said and threw his boots on the cold cement landing. He slipped his jeans back on over his brown suntanned legs and pulled on his socks and boots. Standing up, he adjusted his large green jacket, with his holstered Glock pushed down the back of his pants, and began the long climb. Arriving at the green door, he walked over to the right-hand door. Knocking loudly, he waited for a minute.

  'Yes!' a blond man in khaki greeted him.

  'Bob Dweck, to see Lord Butler.'

  'Okay, please follow me.'

  Bob watched the slim man walking in front of him and smiled. No doubt another of Butler's harem boys. They walked into the lounge, and he saw the thin figure of Lord Butler, dressed in black, talking to the fat lech of a warlord, whom he'd already had a few run-ins with. Faking a grin, he walked forward to meet the men.

  'Hello, gentlemen.'

  'Hello, Bob,' Lord Butler said, and walked over to him. 'I am sorry to drag you over here at this late hour, but I just wanted to express my sincere thanks to you for helping me with this Gibbs plan. I take it you disposed of the men who were following me?'

  'Yes, sir. No one followed me into the Floodzone.'

  'Great work, my friend,' Lord Butler said. He sipped his whiskey.

  Bob looked at the glass then across to the bottle in the cabinet.

  'The Kharon Project is no longer in need of your services,' Lord Butler said.

  Bob frowned and swallowed. 'I thought I was coming here to join up with you on a full-time basis, sir.’

  ‘No. You are no longer needed.’

  'But, what am I supposed to do now?'

  'I don't care what you do, Bob. Go back to your job at the NAG.'

  'That’s insane. They won't take me back now. I betrayed them and jeopardised all their men on this operation for you.'

  'Bob, I paid you handsomely for your services so don't play the hard-done-by scavenger here. I have no further use for you, so goodbye.'

  'Please, Lord Butler. I cannot go out onto the street and scavenge. I have a wife and two kids. How am I supposed to support them now?' he pleaded. He grabbed Lord Butler's arm.

  The double click of a pistol hammer locking back came from behind him. Spinning around, he saw the tall figure of the man they called Woolf who pointed a Beretta down at him.

  'Step away and don't ever touch Lord Butler again. Your job is done here so you will come with me or die where you stand.'

  Bob felt his stomach acid lurch as he swallowed the bile back down. 'Where are we going?'

  Woolf took three steps to the left to allow the tall American to leave the room, and grinned behind the raised weapon. 'Lord Butler and the warlord need some privacy.'

  Cold waves of terror washed through Bob as he walked out the door and then turned to face the main door, refusing to look back.

  'No, you idiot,' Woolf snapped. 'You’re going out the back way.'

  Bob turned and walked down the neat white corridor that led through the entire apartment.

  'Stop,' a voice from behind him shouted.

  Bob closed his eyes as he heard Woolf's footsteps approaching him. The cold muzzle of the silencer pressed against his neck and fear snaked around his stomach. Woolf's hand grabbed beneath the back of his jacket and retrieved his hidden Glock.

  'The door at the other end. Open it and go through,' Woolf said.

  Stepping through the doorway, he entered into an empty open-plan apartment. Bob’s stomach tensed. Jumping forward, he slammed the door behind him. Ducking to his right, he started running as splinters exploded from the door. Keeping his head low, Bob sprinted to the opposite side of the room, towards another closed door. Three silenced retorts echoed through the cavernous apartment. The bullets slammed into the centre of his back, throwing him forward. He sucked hard for air. Landing on the dirty wooden floor, he rolled over once and came to rest on his back. He struggled to get a last deep breath, and then his legs twitched twice.

  Woolf laughed. 'You bloody idiot, just where were you going to run to?'

  The sound of Woolf's feet turning on the gritty wooden floor could be heard all the way around the apartment. The click of the door latch closing allowed Bob to exhale slowly. He drew more breaths in as the pain from the bullets resonated along all his ribs. A headache started in his temples. Raising his head, he looked up at the closed door, then patted his bulletproof vest. His death roll must have been convincing, or the big man would have come over and completed the hit with a head shot.

  • • •

  The dull, monotonous hum from the fusion truck’s wheels could drop an insomniac. Gibbs’s eyes flickered as he sat in the passenger seat of the truck. Looking through the side window, he glanced at the odd green, blurred feature of passing shrubbery. Beyond the dense undergrowth that lined the motorway were overgrown fields that once supplied corn and wheat to the nation. The odd ramshackle farmhouse and barn lay in dusty, disused cul-de-sacs behind the broken fences. Life for them back at the Carshalton Estate was something to be thankful for. The commune was one big social family, and it was easier to make a passable living for everyone. Here the sheer expanse and size of the land made it an overgrown desert. Here you would have to keep moving and scavenge.

  Christina was sitting between him and Shredder, focused on the road ahead. Burnt out carcasses of old trucks and cars littered the road from a day when cheap petrol fuelled all transportation. Only governments and very wealthy people could afford vehicles. Only the military could afford a plane.

  Dialling a number, he waited. 'Andrei, how are things there? I have been trying to contact you for a few hours now. Is everything alright?'

  'Yes, fine,' the Russian answered. 'We had a horrible trip over on this blasted ship. The swells were so big, I thought we would capsize. I now know what I miss from my days as a member of Lord Butler's Phoenix Council, air travel.'

  ‘You're just getting more cantankerous, old man,' Gibbs said.

  'Maybe, but man was not meant to spend long stretches on the open ocean, in the middle of tropical storm blown up from the equator.'

  'Have you arrived yet?' Gibbs asked.

  'We are moored up in Fenwick, Rhode Island and are unloading the trucks and ammunition as we speak.'

  'Good. We can use all the help we can get. Butler has a slick operation of men and informants over here. We found out that Bob Dweck is working for him too. They have all gone to ground, and we have now lost all contact with any of them.’

  'Bloody hell, I was told he was a solid contact. I had no idea,' Andrei said.

  'I know that you didn’t, mate. But right now, the only information we have is that they have headed to New York.’

&nb
sp; 'I will make a few calls to the NAG. They must have someone on the ground who is near to Butler or someone at the offices of the Warlord of New York. I’ll start heading west and find a position north of the city to set up operations. You head back down to Newark Airport, which means we have someone positioned in the south. That way we can respond when needed from either direction.'

  Chapter 33

  I95, New York, NY, USA- 2033

  'The fucking monster is at it again, Gibbs,' Andrei said over the satphone. Gibbs was sitting in the front of the truck cab, with his boots through the open side window, while the convoy of four trucks stopped for a break.

  'What has happened now?'

  'Christina was correct. He is trafficking people with the sole purpose of propagating this damn virus. The NEG has just intercepted a small boat coming into Bremerhaven in the north of Germany. A gun battle took place, and they managed to board it after a while. All of the people being trafficked had the virus, and some were near death,' Andrei said.

  'You know that we have a few cases of the vaccine with us and all of us have been inoculated. Pehr and Ruth Anderson also managed to sneak out most of their research and production methods, so we have the specs to produce the vaccine. I am told it will only take a few weeks to set up, but there are so many elements to source, it will take months to reach full production.'

  'We need to give the NAG and NEG this information so they can at least get the ball rolling.'

  'That's not all, Andrei. They are confident that Butler has a large stockpile of vaccine hidden somewhere in the US. He is planning to create the demand for it across the planet first so he can ride to the rescue of all the world governments.'

  'So he intends to let millions die before releasing it?'

  'That seems to be his idea, yes. We’ll take a few of his men captive so we can interrogate them and get any leads on the whereabouts of this stockpile,' Gibbs said.

  'Or we can just keep Butler alive, and get it from him.'

  Gibbs laughed out loud. 'There is a long line of people taking numbers to kill him, so taking him alive might be difficult.’

  'Still, it has to be done. Tell all of your men that those are their orders directly from Chancellor Rolin,' Andrei said.

  'I met the Chancellor just before we sailed, so I am aware of his need for revenge, to be fair it is no different to mine or Butler's for that matter. I will relay the orders to my men but I’m promising nothing.'

  'It’s a dangerous game to play, my old friend, but it is your choice. When will the Andersons be able to release their research notes?'

  'When we are in Newark, I'll get them to call you, and you can take it from there,' Gibbs said. 'You know that the Queen of Sheba was moored in Boston harbour only a few days ago. Maybe you should get someone from the NAG to prevent it from shipping out. Christina believes that it will be loaded with people desperate to get to Europe on the promise of a better life, only to be infected with others they’ve been locked up with.'

  'We already know about it, Gibbs. Two trucks with NAG troops were sent to intercept it, but it had already sailed.'

  'What?' Gibbs shouted. 'That’s a ridiculously quick turnaround time for a ship that size.'

  'You said it earlier, he seems to have slick and professional staff managing it here for him. We already hear rumours that his team is approaching a few of the megacity warlords to try and recruit them, telling them that they will not be getting any help from both New Governments.'

  'Okay, I'll relay all of this to everyone here, and we will contact you once we are set up in Newark Airport.'

  • • •

  Gibbs sat on the carpeted floor, leaning up against some duffle bags, with Christina's head on his thighs. She was fast asleep. Breathing deeply, he watched her, stroking her head gently as she moved slightly. Only having his son back in his life would make him happier. Christina was safe and reuniting her with her son was the only priority. Then the killing could stop for good.

  Shredder was talking on the phone to a contact he had met in the NAG when they had first arrived. Gesticulating angrily, he paced amongst the rows of blue chairs. Gibbs watched as he walked back to his Bergen and grabbed a pen, then reached up and wrote a number on the wall.

  Gibbs felt a brotherly affection for his long-term second in command, a man who was fighting many demons.

  'Boss, you might want to get over here,' Shredders said.

  Gibbs moved and woke Christina up. 'Sorry, my love. Shredder needs me.'

  She smiled and curled up on his rolled up jacket.

  'What is it?'

  'That snake, Dweck, is trying to contact us again.'

  'What! He can't be serious,' Gibbs said. 'He must know that he has been made by now.'

  'He contacted this bloke I’ve been chatting to, saying that he wants to speak to you about everything that has happened. He is apologising and claims that he has valuable information to give you. He escaped from Butler’s place and had to leave his phone and weapons so couldn't call us directly.'

  'That slimy fucker. It’s probably all a bloody trap. Maybe Butler is going to come at us and wants to know where we are hiding out,' Gibbs said.

  'It’s a possibility, but I don't think so. This contact said he heard that Butler and his men were cleaning up loose ends throughout the organisation. Permanent retirements.'

  Gibbs looked back at Christina, who was still asleep on the floor. Pehr and Ruth were sitting talking on the opposite side of the gate. Gibbs smiled at Shredder.

  'Well, boss. What is it going to be?'

  'He clearly knows where Butler and Stuart are located so we’ll have to treat him with kid gloves to bring him in.'

  'Then I can kill him?' Shredder said with a grin on his face.

  'No. You cannot kill him, Shredder. He might also know where Butler is stockpiling the vaccines. According to Andrei, this virus is starting to hit Europe in a big way.'

  Gibbs grabbed the satphone from Shredder and dialled the number that he had scratched on the wall.

  'Hello?' a voice said.

  'I believe that you are looking for us,' Gibbs snapped.

  'I am so glad that you got the message. I wanted to apologise.’

  'Stop right there. All you need to think about is that I’m going to kill you slowly and painfully for betraying us all.' Gibbs waited for a few seconds. 'There is only one thing that will save you. You have information that I am looking for.'

  'I am sorry for betraying you, Gibbs, and for trusting that snake, Butler. I will tell you everything I know.'

  'Gate three, Newark Airport. Get here in the next two hours, and I might just give you a second chance.'

  • • •

  A crimson cut ruptured above Bob Dweck's eye as he spun to his right and went down on his knees, falling forward onto the dirty white tiled floor. The thick cable ties that bound his hands behind his back cut into his wrists. His face rested on the ground, and he blew hard from the work-over he was getting from Gibbs and Shredder. The airport toilet that they had dragged him into was foul, dank and mouldy from years without fresh air.

  Twelve toilet stalls, all with missing doors, were on the left-hand side with six broken basins and cracked mirrors down the right. The grim scene was only worsened by the three overhead strip lights that still worked.

  'Run through that story again, Bob,' Shredder said and nodded to the two NAG troops who had brought him from the main airport gate. They grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him to his feet.

  'I am waiting, Bob,' Gibbs said and moved closer.

  'I have told you twice already, Gibbs,' he said with a trickle of blood running down the side of his face from his eyebrow. 'I made a mistake trusting Butler. He disowned me, and then Woolf shot me three times and left me for dead.'

  Gibbs swung a big left into the midriff of the American. He sank to his one knee, puffing and groaning as the wind was knocked from him.

  'Yes, but there were one or two differences between the t
wo versions,' Gibbs said and indicated to the two troops to lift the traitor.

  'What is the exact address that Butler is holding up in?'

  'I told Shredder that already. It's 52 Manhattan Avenue. On the northwest of Central Park. You need to hurry as they won't be there too long,' Bob said, looking at a snarling Gibbs. ‘I've told you where Butler and your son are, Gibbs. The deal was…'

  'Shut your fucking mouth and tell me where Butler is stockpiling all the vaccine that he has been making? If you can tell me that, then we have a deal. Andrei Kirilenko can then decide what to do with you.'

  'That wasn’t the deal?' Bob said.

  'The deal with me was that I wouldn't kill you,' Gibbs said. 'Whether or not Andrei kills you will depend on you being honest here.'

  Bob nodded. 'I know of three large warehouses where they could be storing the vaccine. All are in Boston though.'

  The door to the toilet opened and Christina walked in and up to Gibbs. 'Andrei is on the phone. Have you got any information from this bastard?

  'All that I’m going to get,' Gibbs said. 'Shredder, stay here with this turd and get the addresses for the warehouses so Andrei can get some men to investigate. If you think for a minute he is fucking you about, I order you to make him bleed a little more.'

  Gibbs turned and walked out the toilet. As he crossed the blue carpet of the large vacant terminal area, the group of soldiers and civilians sat up and looked at him. Pehr stood up and walked over. 'Is everything okay in there? There has been so much violence already you know.'

  'It's fine, Pehr. Bob was just convincing us why he needed to stay alive. We have a list of possible addresses of where the vaccine might be stockpiled. When Shredder brings them to you, can you tell me if you recognise any of them?’

  'Sure I can,' Pehr said. 'What is the plan now?'

  'I'll call Andrei so we can start planning the assault on Butler. I need you to take a truck and get Ruth and Christina away from all the action. Start by moving back up in the direction of Rhode Island where we will probably leave from.'