Kharon

by Wayne Marinovich

  Gibbs dialled Andrei. 'Can you start up the band music, please? We are on our way to the dance.'

  A deep throaty chuckle was the only reply.

  Smithy shouted into the wind. 'There seems to be a lot of movement on building three, boss. I can see a few machine gun posts and men scanning with binoculars.'

  The first dull thud echoed across the water, then the second and soon, multiple explosions. The mortars had started hitting the bridge again. The air filled with the clatter of small arms fire and the fizz of rockets.

  'It's working, they have all turned around and are facing the bridge.'

  'Let's go!' Gibbs yelled. The boat pilots opened the throttles of the outboard motors. 'See you all in building five. Stay safe, people.'

  The inflatable boats parted ways as they picked up speed and each pilot trimmed the engine to limit the noise. Gibbs was sitting on the side pontoon, his M27 pointed down at the floor. He looked up at the other boat as it veered away from them. Christina was sitting with her back to them, her ponytail pulled through the back of her green cap, flicking around in the wind.

  A sense of longing washed over him, and he chewed on the inside of his lip. Watching her, he saw her slowly turn to give him a last look. A small smile and a gentle raise of the hand, then she focussed on the building ahead of them.

  Gibbs took a deep breath, and the worries drifted away.

  As they lined up to building three, the fifty-seven-millimetre ship's guns started up again with repeated volleys levelled at the upper deck of the bridge. Chunks of concrete and metal ballooned up in balls of fire from the high-explosive rounds. From building six, two white thin trails of smoke left the rocket launchers and trailed towards the ship. They watched the white smoke trails hit the side of the bridge and explode in yellow ballooning fireballs.

  'They are panicking, folks, and that's just what we want. Stay tight for the short run up the riverbed. It will be slippery. Concentrate and watch your footing,' Gibbs shouted, looking at Warren, who was sitting next to Smithy across from him. In the distance, Christina and Shredder's boat had already beached and they were running hard towards the small embankment wall.

  'Warren, stay close to me, okay,' Gibbs said.

  Warren grinned. 'I know you are going after Butler, so that leaves Woolf for me. I am going to kill the bastard for what he did to Kat,' he said.

  'He is a trained operative, Warren, so if you confront him, shoot first and asked questions later. Don't talk to him. Don't try to make him suffer, okay?' Gibbs said as the approached the waterline. 'Here we go, gents.'

  The V-shaped of the hull slid into the silt, and the momentum took the inflatable high up onto the drier sand. Gibbs wedged his foot against the front compartment in anticipation of the change of speed, and they all lurched forward as it stopped. Warren was first out on the other slide and slipped on slimy rocks, ending up in a heap. Smithy grabbed him by the webbing he was wearing.

  'Come on, Slippy. Try not to die right next to the damn boat.'

  Pumping his legs hard, Gibbs was the first to the meter-high riverside embankment and ducked down behind the concrete retaining wall. Scanning the front of building three, his gaze was drawn to the small metal flood door. No guards were posted outside. Following the line of the building upwards, he saw the four skyways and gave them the once-over. No guards were moving along them. Grabbing the binoculars that hung around his neck, he scanned beneath the skyways for explosives.

  'Everything okay, boss?' Smithy asked.

  ‘I can’t see any explosives or booby-traps.’

  ‘Okay. When do we go?’

  Gibbs climbed over the retaining wall and sprinted to the door, scanning up at both the neighbouring buildings. With all this glass, they could be spotted at any second.

  Smithy and Warren plus seven of the NAG soldiers followed Gibbs over the top and ran towards the building. Pressing up against the slimy concrete walls on either side of the door, they watched Smithy move forward and pack C4 explosives and detonators around the hinges. Backing away, trailing a small roll of cable to detonate the charges, he waited until they were all safe and crouching along the wall then flicked a small electrical switch. The explosion ripped through the door and hurled metal sheeting out onto the embankment.

  Gibbs walked forward, crouching low, leading with his Glock and was met at the doorway by one of the NAG soldiers from the opposite side, they both stopped as dust and smoke bellowed out. Grabbing a stun grenade out of a small pouch on his belt, the soldier flung it into the darkness, drawing fire from two M27s inside. Screams resonated out of the narrow stairwell following the loud bang. That was the signal to creep forward. Acrid smoke enveloped them as two men in khaki uniforms staggered forward holding their ears and their faces. The NAG soldier shot both the men.

  Gibbs crept in through the doorway and stepped forward to look upwards. Through the swirling plume of smoke, he could see the spiralling stair railings and landings of the fifteen floors above them.

  Turning to make sure all his men were behind him, he switched from the Glock to the M27 and started up the stairs. The loud clatter of a door a couple of floors above them made them slow down. The sound of many pairs of boots on their way down to meet them filled the space.

  • • •

  Lord Butler's eyes flickered open again at the sound of another volley of mortar shells hitting the bridge in the distance. Stretching his arms above his head, and his legs along the brown leather couch, he looked up at the white pressed tiles that covered the entire ceiling. Rubbing his face with his hands, he pushed himself up off the couch and realised that he was hungry.

  'Roger!' he called.

  Walking over to the large full-length windows, he looked across at building two, and then past that to the mayhem that was happening on the bridge. Like Lilliputian characters, the warlord’s remaining few soldiers were making a last stand on the lower section of the bridge. Rapid bursts of fire from their machine gun muzzles met with blasts from the gunners on board the NAG Humvees.

  'You called, Francis?'

  Lord Butler stood in silence staring out the window.

  'Francis. Please get away from the window,' Roger shouted. 'You know they’re using snipers.'

  'Not from this angle they can't. Not even the NAG men are that good,' he answered. 'Can you get some food together from the warlord's kitchen please?'

  Lord Butler walked past the large ornate stone fireplace. He stood looking at the white ash and embers from the previous night's cognac session they had enjoyed.

  'Oh and Roger, something nice and simple please, something like a sandwich will be okay. You know William's rich taste in food no longer agrees with me.'

  'Of course. Take a seat, and I will send something right out,' Roger said, and walked off to the opposite end of the room, disappearing down a corridor.

  Lord Butler sat in a red wingback chair and looked across the room, which was decorated like an old Oxford University library. Tall, dark wood bookcases, stuffed with old books and colonial ornaments Porterbrook had collected on his travels around the world. On the sidewall was a wooden staircase that went up to the warlord’s study and penthouse, where his friend had spent all of his time since the attack had started. Lord Butler clenched his teeth at the cowardice his old university mate was showing. He would deal with the coward after it was all over. New York would need a new, progressive warlord.

  The sound of a door slamming broke his chain of thought, and he looked across to the other side of the apartment, to see the blond-headed Woolf coming up the metal staircase from the skyway below.

  'Lord Butler, you are awake. I have some distressing news.'

  'Well, let's have it, Woolf. There hasn't been much good news the last few days.'

  'I was helping to secure building five, and one of the men saw two small inflatables coming across from the north.'

  'Did you take care of them?'

  'We couldn’t get there in time. The men were all drawn away t
o defend against the attack from the bridge.'

  'Are they Andrei's men?'

  'It is the man and woman we have been waiting for.'

  Lord Butler sat forward. 'Gibbs?'

  Woolf nodded.

  'I was starting to wonder where they were. Gibbs is not one to sit back during a fight.'

  'I assumed he was on the southerly inflatable because I ran across to building six with the view of engaging him there. All I got was a glimpse of Christina with that other Scottish oaf and a group of NAG soldiers.'

  'Tell me you killed them, Woolf.'

  'Sorry, sir, they managed to disappear from our view and judging by the explosions, had blown the door to enter the building.’

  Lord Butler stood up from the chair and walked over to one of his bags that were placed near the couch. He reached in for his shotgun and Beretta.

  'I can go back and engage them as they work their way up,' Woolf said.

  The panic in Lord Butler disappeared as the darkness flooded through him, and he slipped the shoulder holsters of the shotgun and Beretta over his stump and good arm. His right hand went down to the dagger tucked into his belt, rubbing the ornate ivory handle for comfort.

  'No, my friend. Stuart Gibbs is the key to our revenge. If all fails, I want one of us to slit his young throat in front of his begging parents,' Lord Butler sneered. 'Take him with you to building five and keep him safe at all costs. If I don't come for him, make sure you carry out the revenge for Markus and me.'

  'Gladly, sir,' Woolf smiled and turned towards the skyway.

  'Bloody heck, Francis,' a voice said from behind him. 'That’s a bit harsh.'

  Lord Butler spun around to see William Porterbrook walking down the stairway, doing up his shirt's top button. A slim waif of a blond teenager walked behind him in a see-through red gown.

  'Keep your whores up in your room, William. I have no interest in having her hang all over you while we wage war on the NAG.'

  The warlord turned around on the steps and grabbed the girl towards him. He gave her a kiss and groped her backside, then whispered something in her ears before she turned and bounded back up the stairs.

  'You need a drink, my friend,' he said and walked over to a liquor cabinet.

  'Don't tell me what I need, William.'

  William's face started to redden. 'You are in my house now, Francis. May I remind you that you are the one who brought this violence to my doorstep, with all this revenge madness of yours,' he said and took a swig of brandy. 'We should just surrender and put an end to all this killing. We could buy our way out of this with the vaccine.’

  The two men stood looking at each other across the room. Lord Butler’s hand moved to the Beretta.

  'You have lost, Francis. Accept it. I have just had a call from one of my sources. NAG trucks have been seen near the warehouses where you have stockpiled your vaccine. Let's pack it in and either surrender or at least try and make a run for it.'

  Lord Butler felt his heart rate slow down. Calmness seeped through him, and the tunnel vision of darkness took control. He walked forward towards his old friend and raised the Beretta.

  Chapter 38

  Roosevelt Island, New York, NY, USA- 2033

  The smell of sweat and biting smoke that stung the back of their throats like hot chilli sauce filled the stairwell. As they moved up one man at a time, the first NAG soldier rounded the balustrade onto one of the bare concrete landings and jerked back twice as bullets slammed into his body. Groaning as he fell backwards against the grey concrete wall, he let off a long volley back up the stairs. Bullets pinged off the wall and metal as they strafed upwards.

  Gibbs tightened his grip on the M27 and waited his turn to move to the front as they covered one another. Someone shoved him from behind and Warren ran past him and the rest of men, and went to check on the fallen soldier. He turned around and gave Gibbs a thumbs up, then raised his M27 and inched forward.

  'Warren,' whispered Gibbs as loudly as he dared.

  Smithy turned and shrugged his shoulders. Gibbs walked up to the level with the wounded man and tried to grab Warren, who neatly dodged the grab and climbed two stairs at a time. Raising the machine gun, he crept around up to the next landing, facing upwards as he climbed.

  Gibbs watched the young man, his heart pounding. Warren swivelled slightly, and something caught his eye. Three shots blasted upward as the deafening roar flooded the confined stairwell. The groan of a man and the clatter of a machine gun hitting the metal railing signalled a hit. Then the sounds of scurrying boots and retreating soldiers was the signal to the team to move upwards again. Gibbs caught up with Warren, who was still looking a little shocked.

  'Warren, I have no interest in burying you in this country, okay. Let the more seasoned men sweep these confined spaces.'

  'Just want to do my part, Gibbs.'

  'I know that you do, and you will get a chance. This battle is a long way from being over. Think about what you are doing and if in doubt, watch me and stick close by.'

  Taking two steps at a time the men's upward journey continued, leaving two men on the fifth floor to guard their rear and fight off any men who may be hidden in the lower levels. A minute later, the men all converged on the second to last floor.

  Gibbs took a cheeky glimpse up the narrow gap in the stairwell, pulling his head back straight away. Several men were positioned to guard the landing door, standing shoulder to shoulder, weapons raised. Raising his M27, he took a breath and lined up the front and back sights on the nearest guard. Squeezing a round off, a spray of blood covered the men standing next to his victim. A volley of rounds went off as the retreating men fired downwards.

  A slam of the door was followed by silence. Gibbs glanced upwards again. The large wooden door was closed.

  'Come on, men, they have retreated,'

  They moved in unison up the last flight of stairs and stopped at an enormous double wooden door with ornate brass handles, and a golden family crest inlaid into the wood. The body was slumped over one of the two pot plants that adorned either side of the door. Gibbs signalled to two of his men, and they went up to the door and listened. They quickly returned.

  'Well, did you hear anything?' Gibbs whispered.

  'A lot of shouting and arguing, sir,' one of the soldiers replied. 'And they sounded British.'

  • • •

  Lord Butler felt God-like. Invincible. Darkness coursed through him as he looked down the gun barrel sights of the Beretta to the kneeling, William Porterbrook. Brandy and tear-soaked eyes looked back up at him, and he caught the whiff of urine as the man before him lost control of his bladder.

  'Jesus, William. You are pathetic. Just look at you,' Lord Butler snarled, and then looked up at the four men dressing in khaki who had just walked through the wooden doorway.

  'Warlord. There are too many of them, sir,' one of the men said. 'There is a large group just behind us.'

  'Francis, for God sakes we need to surrender. Please give up, or they will kill us all,' William cried.

  Lord Butler's jaw clenched. He squeezed the trigger. The gun recoiled as the shot deafened everyone in the room. The New York warlord sat back on his haunches, a hole in his forehead as he looked surprised and fell limply to one side. Lord Butler lowered the gun and turned to the four men.

  Scanning the group of men who had walked forward, he looked at one of the taller, well-built men. 'You, what is your name?'

  'Noriega, sir?'

  'Come with me, Noriega,' he barked. 'The rest, stay here and make sure they don't get through that door.'

  The tall, dark-haired soldier walked over to him. The others followed. One of the other soldiers said, 'We should come with you, Lord Butler, to protect you. We cannot defend the door now, sir.’

  He walked towards the stairs to the skyway, shaking his head. Weaklings and cowards the lot of them. Throughout his whole life, he had been disappointed by the people around him. Turning to the three men, he raised his Beretta.

>   'Stay and fight, or die now where you stand.'

  Looking at one another, they stepped back towards the door.

  Lord Butler smiled as he walked down the rickety metal stairs and then turned to the aluminium framed door. Reaching for the handle, he pushed hard against the wind that rushed in. The fresh air cleared his head a little as he stepped onto the shaking skyway.

  A massive explosion from the lounge behind them shook the glass windows, followed by the soldiers’ screams adding impetus to Lord Butler's actions. He walked as fast as he could across the divide, the skyway bouncing more and more as it started a wave-like motion. Looking ahead to the metal and glass door of building four, it got nearer with each step. Footsteps behind him made him feel a little better as Noriega followed.

  • • •

  Through the smoke and gloom, Gibbs ran into the apartment, M27 held out in front of him as he covered the room. Three men lay in front of him, taken out by the explosives his team had rigged on the door. One was still screaming, the side of his jaw and cheek gone. Gibbs aimed and dispatched him with a single bullet.

  'Smithy, take two men and see where those stairs lead,' Gibbs shouted. 'Warren, have a look out of the windows at building four.’

  Crouching low as he walked, Gibbs moved along the nearest wall and reached a white corridor. Switching to the Glock, he glanced to the right and saw a white-latticed airing cupboard, then glanced to the left and saw three doors leading off the tiled hall.

  'Gibbs, Butler is getting away on the skyway to building four,' Warren shouted from the opposite side window. Gibbs lowered his Glock and stared back into the lounge.

  The airing cupboard door swung open with a bang as Roger jumped out and landed in a crouch on the ground, a kitchen knife in his hand, he screamed at the top of his voice as he lunged upwards and tried to drive the knife into Gibbs's neck.