Kharon

by Wayne Marinovich

  'I am coming with you to save my son, Gibbs,' Christina said and patted the Glock17 on her hip.

  'Come on, my child,' Ruth said. 'Leave this destruction to the soldiers.'

  'I can take care of myself, Mom.'

  'It will simply be too dangerous.'

  'I was the leader of a militant resistance that took down Butler in the first place. We failed to kill him then. We won't fail this time.’

  Pehr move towards her. 'Christina, think about Stuart. What happens if you are killed?'

  'This is just wasting time. There is nothing any of you can say that will stop me. I owe this to my son. I owe this to Kat and the rest of the girls who are still out there somewhere.'

  Gibbs smiled at her. 'Okay, resistance leader, but you can take orders from me like all my other men.'

  She nodded. Gibbs walked over to her and slipped his arms around her, kissing her on her forehead. 'We'll get him back together.'

  She smiled up at him, her lips quivering a little. 'Go and call Andrei.'

  Gibbs walked away, and speed dialled.

  'Hello, mate. I’ve made a deal with Dweck, and he has given us an address where Butler is holed up.'

  'About bloody time. Where is it?'

  '52 Manhattan Avenue.'

  'Wait a minute,' Andrei said. Gibbs heard the Russian rustling through a map.

  'Yes, I have Manhattan Avenue. I will dispatch a team, dressed as scavengers, to set up observation posts in the surrounding streets. It is pretty close to where we are.'

  'Okay, we'll make our way towards you.'

  'No, Gibbs. I have spoken to the NAG, and they are supplying a large ship for you. It should moor up near the Newark airport shortly. Get you and your men onboard and be prepared to react to my command. We have found out that the Warlord of New York has a fortress constructed on Roosevelt Island. '

  'Do you still think they are working together?'

  'I have to believe so. They are old friends so who else would he trust with his operation here? If Butler makes a run for it, he might go there. You will be ideally placed to see them off from the south. If they hole up in Manhattan, we can handle it and call you if needed.'

  Chapter 34

  52 Manhattan Avenue, New York, NY, USA- 2033

  The scavenger's eyes flicked across to the NAG soldier who was standing behind Andrei. Dressed in a manky brown coat, the man had a matted fur hat that was pulled down low, folding his ears over on themselves. He swayed from side to side and readjusted his grip on the rusty machete he was pointing out in front of him.

  'This will only have one result, mister,' Andrei said and opened his jacket to reveal two Glocks, holstered on his hips. Two NAG troops came around the corner behind him, both their M27s raised up in front of themselves, covering the movements of the scavenger. Red laser sight points danced on the man's chest, and Andrei could see the tortured expression of the confused man.

  'What is your name, friend?' Andrei asked.

  'I am not your friend,' the man said through gritted teeth. 'You are a Russian, aren't you?'

  'Where I come from is irrelevant at this point. We want to get into that room to have a look across to the building across the road. There are over fifty NAG troops making their way around this building as we speak.'

  'That is a privately owned apartment block across there. What the hell do you want with the people who live there?' he said and pointed the machete in the direction of the building outside.

  Andrei swung his left fist across to the right and punched away the man's machete arm, grabbing hold of it with his right hand. As the man turned away from Andrei, he kneed the man in the opposite thigh, causing him to scream as he dipped and fell the other way. Andrei stepped across the falling man and shifted his right hip into the man. Lifting his grip on the machete arm, he flicked the man over in a judo throw and dumped him on his backside, then wound the man's arm, machete still in his hand, across the man's throat. The man tried to scream as Andrei closed his iron grip on the man's wrist, causing the machete to drop on the concrete floor with a loud clatter.

  Andrei's placed a knee in the man's back then quickly grabbed the scavenger's face from behind, slipping two fingers into the man's nostrils as he yanked the man's head backwards. A gargling sound came out of the man’s mouth.

  'Now, we are going to commandeer this room and use it for as long as we need it. The flood is almost out so you can fuck off and go about your daily business. Is that clear?'

  'Okay,' the man managed to say.

  Andrei stood up and let the man go. 'Miguel, you and your men are free to clear the room.'

  The three men, in full combat uniforms, entered the room and scanned around.

  'Clear, Alpha one,' Miguel shouted from inside.

  Andrei walked around the seated man, who was still looking up at him, and stuck out his hand, which the man grabbed. Once on his feet, the scavenger nodded and then grabbed a large bag and long walking stick from just inside the doorway and left. Andrei walked into the small square room that had an unmade single bed in the corner with two wardrobes against the right wall. A small wood stove stood near the window with a makeshift silver pipe to funnel the smoke out of a hole in the cracked window. The three NAG men were already standing at the window, binoculars in hand, scanning the building opposite them.

  'One of you please stand guard at the door and make sure nobody sneaks up on us.'

  'Yes, sir,' one of them said and walked past him.

  'Miguel, tell me what you see.'

  'Our men have cordoned off Manhattan Street in both directions, and I can see a small crowd forming on the south side sir,' he said. He sneezed and held his nose, looking at Andrei. 'It’s the smell in here, sir. How can a man stand it? How can he not smell this, sir?'

  Andrei clenched his jaw. 'He is fighting to survive each and every day of his life, Miguel. Bathing will be the last thing on his list. Now focus your job. Any movement from the apartment block?'

  'The north side of the street is still quiet, and I can see our two-man team on the roof of the adjacent building. Wait, three men have come out of the main door and are moving to a truck in front of our building. They are in plain clothes, but are well built and are carrying weapons.'

  'Have your men taken note of their movement?'

  'Yes, sir, they have concealed themselves again.

  'Good. Now do a radio sweep and check that everyone is in place,' Andrei said.

  The young man got on the radio and started calling through all the call signs of the teams surrounding the building. Andrei walked over to a small bookcase and looked at some of the books - Catcher in the Rye, The Grapes of Wrath, Count of Monte Cristo, Ivanhoe and more.

  Andrei grunted as he continued to look at the second bookcase. An educated man lived here, scratching a living in the silt and brine.

  'All in place, sir,' the young NAG troop said.

  'Miguel, come over here.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Have you ever read any of these books?'

  Miguel tilted his head and scanned the books. ‘No, sir, I haven’t. I don't read too well. Is this man some genius?'

  Andrei frowned and then shook his head and walked back to the window. 'Everyone in place.'

  'Yes, sir,’ Miguel said. ‘May I ask you a question, sir?'

  'Of course, Miguel. What is it?'

  'Where did you learn moves like that against a man with a machete?'

  Andrei smiled. 'Russian hand-to-hand combat taught to all members of the old FSB.'

  'Wow, I heard about you folks. Impressive for a politician, sir.'

  Andrei nodded. 'Let's get down to road level.'

  • • •

  Woolf jumped with fright and sprang up from where he sat in a small red velvet chair. A glass whiskey tumbler shattered on the white tiled lounge floor, sending glass and Oban whiskey flying in all directions. Lord Butler thumped his right fist on the window frame. A dark vein stood out against this pale temple as he ground hi
s dentures.

  ‘What is it, sir?’

  ‘There are bloody NAG troops out there,' he snapped. ’I thought you said we weren’t followed?’

  Woolf walked over to one of the windows. 'Shit!' he said. Down on the slimy pavement below, three soldiers in khaki uniforms scurried and slipped as they made their way along the road. Carrying M27s and with large Bergens on their back, they disappeared around a corner.

  'That’s the understatement of the fucking year, Woolf. How did they find out about us being here?'

  'It is not possible. They couldn't have stumbled upon us by accident, Lord Butler.'

  'Well then, please tell me why they’re there, and why they’ve cordoned off the road in front of my apartment. We can assume that they have men all around the apartment block.'

  'It is safe to assume that,' Woolf said, lifting a small radio handset. 'Code Red. Plan Amadeus. I repeat. Plan Amadeus.'

  'Someone must have given us up,' Lord Butler said and walked over to Woolf. 'Someone close to us is giving up our secrets, Woolf. Find him and bring him to me so I can slit him open.’

  Woolf nodded and walked towards the door. He stopped. 'Lord Butler, do we still have all of Bob Dweck's bags?’

  'How the fuck should I know. I instructed you to kill him, and Roger to get rid of his effects.'

  Woolf bowed slightly and left the lounge, running down the corridor past the kitchen.

  Roger ran after him. 'What is it, Woolf?'

  Woolf reached the door to the abandoned apartment. Ripping open the door, he gasped. He looked at the spot where Bob Dweck's body should have been. Walking over, he squatted on his haunches and touched the peeling wooden floor.

  'What is it, Woolf?' Roger asked.

  'There should have been blood here. I shot him three times in the back,' he said.

  'Well, I didn't move his body anywhere before you ask. That is usually done by you and your men.'

  Woolf nodded. 'Do your still have his bags and phone?'

  'Yes I do, they're locked in one of the corridor cupboards.'

  'You sure?'

  'I saw them a few hours ago when I locked something away for Lord Butler.’

  Woolf stood up and walked past the frowning corporal. He walked quickly back into the lounge. Lord Butler was seated at a table, writing something in a large book.

  'Lord Butler, I believe that Bob was wearing a bulletproof vest. I shot him three times in the back and left his body to be disposed of after Warlord Porterbrook had left. I got side-tracked with other security matters and failed to check.'

  Lord Butler looked up, anger in his eyes. 'What the hell are you going to do about it now?'

  'We still have his phone here, so he must have contacted the NAG through another method. I will call our contacts there and find out what he has told them.'

  Lord Butler stood up and walked over to him. 'Don't waste your time with that, Woolf. You have made a mistake. My mistake was not shipping that man as a traitor to Gibbs and the NAG at a much earlier juncture.’

  Woolf nodded. ‘I won't disappoint you again, sir.'

  'I know you won't, Woolf. We are going to have the chance to test your escape procedures very shortly as I have just seen one of the men I hate the most, walking across the street to a truck around the corner.'

  'Gibbs is here?'

  'No, my son. Andrei Kirilenko is finally here at my doorstep.’

  A smile came over Woolf's face. Lord Butler went over to a cabinet and opened it. He flicked a small hidden switch on the inside of the doorframe, and a large compartment swung open to reveal a gun cabinet.

  'Tell Roger to get Stuart ready. We’re leaving.'

  'Right away, sir,' Woolf said.

  Lord Butler took the last draw on the thick Montecristo cigar and stubbed it out in a glass ashtray. The heady aroma of smoke enveloped him as he exhaled and felt the cold comfort of the dagger on his belt prodding him in the stomach. Rearranging it, he pulled out of its scabbard and gazed at it for a second. He loved the familiar feel of it in his hands and yearned for the feel of it sliding across the Russian’s throat.

  • • •

  Heavily sedated, Stuart Gibbs's head bounced up and down on Corporal Roger Brookestock's shoulder as the small group sped down the grey concrete stairwell. Lord Butler was just ahead of them flanked by two heavily armed men. Woolf was at the head of the group, silent and taking two steps at a time, his suppressed Beretta sweeping each flight of stairs as they carefully descended. Nearing the ground floor service area, he stopped the group and waited, listening for any sounds of NAG troops. The dull thumping of a nearby air-conditioning unit could be heard coming from the building basement.

  A soft, almost inaudible cough drifted above the noise.

  Woolf signalled the two armed men to join him, indicating the rest to wait for him. Walking softly, their rubber-soled boots not making a sound, they made it to the last landing. Peering around, Woolf saw four men standing up against the large metal door that led outside. He held up four fingers to the men following, and they flanked him as he counted down on his fingers.

  Woolf ran around the corner and dropped to one knee, firing a three round burst at the nearest man who crumpled like paper, falling forwards. Woolf’s men followed him, muzzle flashes sparking into action as they knelt beside him. Two more NAG men slumped to their knees, dropping their weapons on the floor before they fell forward. The last target blindly fired a few rounds at him before diving into the janitor's office.

  Woolf heard one of his men groan and fall behind him, and he stayed low as he fired another burst into the storage room doorway. The trapped soldier fired a volley back and then came the sound of the man speaking on the radio.

  'Damn it!' Woolf shouted, not wanting unnecessary delays. He grabbed a stun grenade from his jacket. Pulling the pin, he threw it into the room.

  • • •

  The sound of his heart thumping rung loudly in Andrei's ears as he stood near the metal door. Patches of red flakes of rust and peeling paint surrounded the two hinges and the brass lock with its metal handle in the middle of the double doors. He nodded to the soldier in front of him, and then raised his Glock. In a single movement the door was ripped open and the group of NAG soldiers piled onto the basement landing.

  Andrei's eyes acclimatised to the dark interior as he scanned the grey-walled landing. The man ahead of him crept over to two bodies, checking their pulses. Switching weapons, he raised his M27 and slowly approached the door marked, Janitor. Andrei stood aside to let his team go in first. Acrid smoke burnt his eyes, nose, and throat. With sweeping weapons, they covered one another's progress and walked into the room, fanning out after they entered.

  The janitor's room had a few cream electrical cabinets on the left wall, and a small, made-up bed against the furthest wall, partially hidden by a metal office desk and chair. To their right was another closed door. Andrei walked over to the seated form of a young NAG soldier, who was leaning up against the cabinet. Two bullet wounds, one in the shoulder and one in the stomach, had floored the soldier, and his watery eyes flickered briefly before he locked onto Andrei, who knelt next to him.

  The young man pointed to the closed door and whispered in a hoarse voice. 'Butler and his blond bodyguard went in there.'

  'Okay, young man. What is your name?' Andrei asked.

  'Butch, sir.'

  A dark-haired soldier knelt down next to them and handed Andrei a trauma pack. Andrei ripped it open and placed the wadding of bandage and cotton wool on the young man's stomach wound. 'Okay, Butch, I need you to keep the pressure on this while we go after Butler. Okay?' The man nodded.

  Andrei stood up again and walked over to the four men who were waiting on the sides of the closed door. He stood to the side of the door.

  'Butler, this is Andrei Kirilenko,’ he said. ‘You are surrounded and cannot escape.'

  Bits of wood spat outwards as machine gun fire from inside ripped holes through the green painted door. A seco
nd burst ripped a hole in the centre of the door, covering the NAG team with dust and splinters as they huddled on either side of the doorway.

  Silence.

  'Give yourself up now, Francis, and your lives will be spared,' Andrei shouted again. A reply came in the form of a loud blast of machine gun fire. More machine gun fire was laid through the door, destroying large parts of it.

  'Prepare for stun grenades, Francis,' he shouted again.

  Silence.

  'Okay, let them have it,' Andrei said to one of the men, who walked forward and crouched on his knee. He raised the modified grenade launcher and fired a grenade through a large hole in the door. The flash explosion lit up the small room inside, and a few seconds later the four NAG men stormed through the door. Andrei waited a few seconds, looking at Butch, who had slouched even lower. Walking across he reached down and felt for a pulse on his neck. There was none.

  'Clear!' a shout came from the adjacent room.

  Through the dusty haze, Andrei saw his men looking around a storeroom. Large cages, housing locked up tools, hung on wooden boards on the left. On the wall opposite the door, shelves full of neatly stacked buckets and tins of cleaning products. A large metal cabinet was standing on the right of them, with its doors opened as an NAG soldier rummaged around inside.

  'Well? Where the hell did they go?' Andrei demanded. 'Someone was shooting at us. Where the hell are they?'

  A few seconds later, one of the soldiers said, ‘They are not here, sir.'

  Andrei stared at the man, his eyes burning from the smoke. 'Really, do you think they simply evaporated? Check everywhere, air-conditioning ducts, behind the shelves. Pull that cabinet forward.'

  He took out a piece of cloth and wiped his eyes for a second. The scraping of the cabinet broke the tension.

  'We have a tunnel, sir,' one of the soldiers said, taking a step forward and switching a small torch that was mounted below the barrel of his Glock.

  'Of course we do,' Andrei smiled.

  One of the young NAG men stooped down and started forward into the dark hole.

  'Wait!' shouted Andrei. 'Take it slow and look for booby traps. The bastards have a history of this.'