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  ‘Fair enough. Should I agree to represent you and we move ahead with this, I’ll require you to get fake travel documents anyway.’

  ‘I don’t have the contacts for that here in London,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘I will get that arranged for you,’ Kirkwood said. ‘I have someone who does all that sort of work for me.’

  ‘Are they good enough to stand up to scrutiny at banks and airports?’

  ‘My man is the best in the business. You won’t be able to tell that they are fakes. How many sets would you need?’

  ‘Three full sets of IDs.’

  ‘Okay, but they’ll cost you. They’re currently going for around ten thousand pounds per person.’

  ‘What?’ Gibbs said. ‘You’re bloody joking.’

  ‘You’re paying for the quality here. It’s pay on request, and there’s a lead time of a week. You can settle up with me as I’m the only one who’ll deal with my contact.’

  ‘Okay, that’s fine,’ Gibbs said, leaning forward. ‘How do I know you’re not messing me around, Kirkwood?’

  ‘I think you’ll find me as professional as they come. Ton will attest to that.’

  Gibbs nodded. ‘What sort of work do you have on your books at the moment? Is there anything we can get involved with right now?’

  ‘I have three projects on the horizon in a timeframe that would suit men of your alleged skills.’

  ‘Alleged?’

  Kirkwood chuckled. ‘I have loyal sources in military intelligence circles, so I’m in the process of getting copies of all your service records and checking the reference you gave me as we speak. If they all check out, I’ll pitch your unit to clients immediately and see which one bites first.’

  ‘How long will all this take?’ Gibbs asked.

  ‘All in good time, Gibbs, all in good time,’ Kirkwood said, getting up and throwing a twenty-pound note onto his plate. ‘My clients rely on me to be thorough and discreet. Above all, they want me to source professional men who value money above loyalty. That takes time.’

  Gibbs stood up and shook Kirkwood’s small, dry hand. He watched the thin man leave the pub then ordered another drink. The man was not one of those you trust early in the process. Instinct was warning him to be extra careful.

  Chapter 13

  Richmond-upon-Thames. London, England, UK - 2019

  ‘Hey, move along, buddy. I’m not going to ask you again,’ Shredder shouted at the beggar who had been harassing them since they sat down at the table in the White Horse beer garden. The sun had broken through the week of dour drizzle and rain, lifting their spirits as they sipped drinks along the river. Old weathered wooden benches were placed out on the long green grass, and the group drank golden pints of ale, discussing possible missions.

  Gibbs looked at the unfortunate man kneeling in front of them, his once clean suit now dirty and stained from sleeping rough in shop doorways at night. His white collar sticking out above his jacket lapel was a grimy brown from dirty hands that constantly pawed at it. Sitting next to him on a grassy patch, was a dirty white dog that was missing a front leg. Gibbs had once despised the suits who ran London and the country. They’d been the cause of the demise of so many countries around the world with their greed, but no one deserved to live like this.

  ‘Please, gentlemen. I have a family who haven’t eaten in a few days. Any change or items that I can trade at the market would be appreciated,’ he said.

  Shredder moved to get up and hustle the man along when Gibbs grabbed his forearm. ‘What can you trade out there, mate?’

  ‘Any metal of value, sir, or whatever small change you can muster.’

  Gibbs reached into his pocket and pulled out the small brass and wooden-handled pocket knife he’d stolen from his father when he’d ran away. He opened up the blade and threw it at the man in front of them. It pegged into the wet grass. ‘Can you trade that, mate?’

  ‘Wow, sir. That’ll get me food for a week. God bless you.’

  ‘Fine. Now move along before my friend here takes it from you. And make sure that you feed that mangy dog too.’

  ‘I will do. My family, and Toby here thank you again,’ he said and stood up.

  Once the man had sloped away to another group of drinkers, Shredder looked across at him. ‘You are getting soft, boss. Wasn’t that the knife you got from your dad?’

  Gibbs nodded and sipped more ale.

  With a few more pints of ale down their throats, the conversation was starting to get more boisterous with plans being made to get to one of the legendary strip clubs in London. A female voice behind them dragged them back to reality.

  ‘Gibbs? When are you going to do something about that bloody green truck blocking my driveway?’

  The men spun around to see the shapely form of a tall woman in her late forties with long wavy blonde hair. She stood dressed in dark jeans tucked into brown leather boots with a red and white jersey stretched across her large breasts, fighting to get free as she crossed her arms. Her eyebrow slowly rose as she looked around the group.

  ‘Good day, Sheila,’ Gibbs said, smiling at her like a chastised teenager.

  ‘Don’t pitch that charming smile at me, lover. Not while there’s a stolen truck in the back garden, and I have three fugitives sleeping on my lounge floor.’

  ‘It won’t be for much longer, love. Let’s not get things into a twist?’

  ‘Carry on speaking to me like that, and my bed will be off-limits to you,’ she said.

  Gibbs and his men burst out laughing. ‘Shredder will get rid of it tomorrow and pick up some flowers to reward you for your patience.’

  ‘I will?’ Shredder said.

  ‘A bottle of scotch might go a long way to wiping you layabouts and your bloody truck from my memory. The older the better, Shredder,’ she said, looking back across to a brooding man skulking at the main gate to the beer garden. He pushed away from leaning against the cold brick wall and approached like a circling hyena.

  ‘Gibbs, this is Martin. He runs the Richmond Green Vikings,’ she said.

  ‘Are they a football team?’ Gibbs asked, and they all burst out laughing.

  ‘Stop being an arse, Gibbs,’ Sheila said. ‘He and his gang need trucks, and he’s keen to take it off your hands.’

  Gibbs sobered up quickly and looked at the man who stood steely-eyed before him. A vicious scar stretched from the corner of his mouth to midway on his cheekbone. ‘You get that from a knife attack?’ Gibbs asked.

  The man nodded slowly and looked Gibbs over. ‘The other guy thought he was tough. I left him in a big puddle of his own blood. Now, what do you want for that truck?’

  ‘I’m new to all this trading crap. What will you give me for it?’ Gibbs said.

  Sheila walked over to Gibbs and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ve found Martin, and his organisation are wonderful people to owe you a favour. He has untold resources at his disposal in the southwest of London. Very handy if you need a specific item or if you need a group of people to help you with something a little less savoury.’

  Gibbs continued to look into the dark brown eyes of the man across from him. Martin shuffled from one foot to the other under the gaze. The faded blue denim jacket he wore fell open, revealing the handle of an old Beretta 9mm.

  Instinct told Gibbs to trust Sheila on this. They were old acquaintances, and she’d once wanted to settle down with him a few years back. The urge to settle down and have a family had just never been there for Gibbs, and after a few heated arguments, they decided friends with benefits was the only option. Sheila was one of the most trustworthy people who walked on the other side of the law.

  ‘Okay then, Martin. How about we say that you just owe me a huge favour?’ Gibbs said, standing up and shoving his hand forward. Martin walked forward and shook on it, a skewed smile on his face.

  ‘Sure, mate. Let me know when you need me.’

  Sheila walked around Martin and roughly forced Gibbs back into his seat. She straddled
him and looked into his eyes.

  ‘By the way, lover. Someone by the name of Woolfson called and left a message for you at the house. He said that David Kirkwood has arranged a meeting for you and that you would be collected at eleven tomorrow morning at the pub where you met. You are to come alone. Did you understand any of that?’ she said.

  Gibbs nodded.

  Killey looked at Gibbs. ‘It could be a trap, boss, so it’s probably best that we shadow you along the way.’

  ‘There’s not much point, Killey. I am pretty sure that Kirkwood has had us under surveillance since our first meeting and by now he knows what you two uglies look like. I honestly don’t think he will try anything stupid at this stage because we can be of use to him. I’m sure he stands to make a large amount of money out of us. If I’ve read our dear Mr Kirkwood correctly, money is something that he gets very excited about,’ Gibbs said.

  • • •

  Gibbs looked at the two men standing alongside the dark green Land Rover. They stood tall and confident and, he guessed, were ex-military. Bulges on their hips indicated they were carrying concealed weapons. Despite a few last-minute objections from Shredder and Killey before he left, he got into the Land Rover with the two men, and they drove him in a southerly direction away from Richmond. Fifteen minutes later, they stopped at a roadside lay-by to make sure that they were not being followed before making their way down the A3 towards Guilford.

  ‘Please put this on, Mr Gibbs,’ the man in the passenger seat said and handed him a small brown hessian sack.

  ‘You are joking, mate?’ Gibbs replied, looking at the small hessian sack. ‘This isn’t some bloody spy movie.’

  ‘Just following Mr Kirkwood’s instructions, sir,’ the driver said, looking at him in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘And I’m supposed to trust Kirkwood, am I. Would you?

  ‘He gives us jobs to do and pays us on time. Trust doesn’t come into it.’

  The men were right of course. Gibbs placed the foul-smelling sack over his head. He was barely able to make out any shapes, shadows or variations of light. It was going to take some concentration to remember the route they were taking to the meeting. After another long spell of driving, he realised that they were regularly doubling back to confuse him.

  They came to a halt after what seemed like an hour, and Gibbs was instructed to remove the blindfold. Stepping out of the Land Rover he looked around, his eyes growing accustomed to the bright conditions. Rolling green fields that disappeared into the distance showed the size of the property they were on. It was a large country estate with a long gravel-covered driveway that wound its way through lush green orchards and horse paddocks up to the parking area. The ivy-covered, old manor house towered behind them. Looking over the vast estate, Gibbs strode after the two men in the direction of the large Gothic wooden front door that was opened by a smartly dressed butler. Gibbs followed them in silence as they crossed the threshold and were shown past an abandoned marble reception area, into a side room.

  The room was sparsely decorated with tapestries hanging from the dark, wood-panelled walls and with brown tiled floors. The only light came from the large bay windows along the back wall. It was a vacant old study except for a man sitting in a wing-backed reading chair near a large bay window. He was engrossed in a brown folder and only looked up when one of the guards cleared his throat.

  ‘Ah, Sergeant Gibbs. Please do come in,’ the man said, offering his hand. ‘I’m Mason Waterfield.’

  Gibbs nodded and walked over to acknowledge the firm handshake. He was a large hulk of a man, slightly hunched over by the ravages of old age highlighted by his full head of grey hair.

  ‘I see that you’ve had quite an active and fruitful military career, Sergeant,’ Mason said, patting the brown folder as Gibbs sat down opposite him.

  Gibbs nodded as he looked down at the file and frowned.

  ‘I have tasked David Kirkwood to put together a team of men for a small initiative abroad, and he selected a few names for me to look at. I have to concede that we had a tough time getting all of your details, Sergeant,’ he said.

  ‘Mr Waterfield, as you are aware, I am no longer in the military. Please call me Gibbs.’

  ‘Fair enough, Gibbs it is then. I hear that you got into a spot of bother up in Scotland.’

  ‘I was told that wouldn’t be a problem,’ Gibbs said.

  ‘Let me finish, Gibbs,’ Mason said. ‘While I only care about our present and future endeavours, I have learned from painful experience in business that one’s past can come back to haunt one if not properly dealt with. This is the reason I want to know all the dirty details of the people I employ before they join up so that nothing comes up to surprise us later.’

  Gibbs waited for a second. ‘May I speak now?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘The real reasons behind me and my men leaving the military are personal and of no consequence here,’ Gibbs said. ‘You are undoubtedly more than aware of David’s contacts, and he assured me that obtaining top quality false identification documents for travel for my team would not be a problem. My past should not be a problem.’

  ‘You weren’t listening, Gibbs. If we do go ahead with this contract, everything you have done could be of consequence to me, and I want to be prepared if something does go wrong. If I know a man’s past, I can prepare for surprises. You may be entering into the contract with David’s agency, but the organisation that I chair will be funding the operations. I still have the final say in the recruitment, planning and execution of this mission.’

  Gibbs stared at Mason Waterfield for a few seconds, sizing up the man. ‘Okay, Mason, what is this mission then?’

  ‘You will be tasked to run a destabilisation exercise in an African country that we are in negotiations with.’

  ‘You want my team to support a coup?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking. There’s a much larger agenda in play here, but you need not concern yourself with all the details at this early stage. You would lead a team in a coordinated strike on a selected target while other teams execute their missions in parallel. David Kirkwood will assist you with the detailed planning and set-up for your specific operation.’

  ‘How much would we be paid for this job?’

  ‘I was wondering when you were going to bring that up. Most soldiers would have brought up the topic of money a lot sooner,’ Mason said.

  ‘Sizing up the mission first before I talk money, that’s all. I like to know who I’ll be working for and what exactly will be expected of my men and me. I also need to understand more detail about the operation before I can ascertain what the level of risk is to us.’

  ‘All monies to cover the operating costs and salaries will be paid directly to Kirkwood Enterprises. David will then pay seventy thousand pounds per person for the operation and cover all your operational expenses. Forty percent of the money will be paid into bank accounts of your choosing upon acceptance of the job, and the balance will be due upon the successful completion of the job.’

  ‘Come on, Mason. I may be new to mercenary work, but I am not a novice when it comes to knowing what is expected from an operation like this. Which country will we be travelling to?’

  ‘I won’t give that away just yet, but it’s in Sub-Saharan Africa. Does that help?’

  ‘It does indeed. All of the countries in that region have well-established and long-lasting governments, which means they will have seasoned military to call upon. The price has just gone up,’ Gibbs said.

  Mason smiled. ‘What sort of figure do you have in mind, then?’

  ‘Two hundred and fifty thousand per man, half now, half at the end, all expenses paid.’

  Mason chuckled, smiling at the Scotsman sitting across from him. ‘I’ve long been a student of European history, especially of the Celts of Europe. I’ve had many business dealings with Scotsmen like yourself, and I must say that you seem to have more of a wild imagination than most I’ve dealt with. Please unde
rstand that there are many mercenaries around who would leap at the chance to do this piece of work for us. Not forgetting about the chance to be involved in a larger organisation with many more follow-up missions in the future. I’m sure such teams would gladly do this for, say, a hundred and twenty thousand each.’

  ‘Before we continue discussing money, Mason, may I remind you that it is my team and me who will assume all the risk on operations like this. If we are caught in Europe planning a coup, we will go to prison. If we are caught en route with arms and ammunition, we go to prison. If we are caught in the target country before, during or after the coup, we will probably be sent to prison or possibly even be executed.’

  ‘Okay, you’ve made your point,’ Mason said.

  ‘We’re not done yet, Mason. I’m also convinced that you’ve got men in your employ who usually handle the recruitment of resources for you, so I’m assuming that this is a sensitive and covert operation. Probably even hidden from others within your organisation, hence the need to oversee this yourself.’

  Mason leaned back in his chair.

  Gibbs continued, ‘You’re hiring us personally because we’re great at what we do and more importantly, we’re expendable. In essence, we take all the risk, and in turn, you buy our experience, silence and loyalty.’

  ‘Okay then, a hundred and eighty thousand per man, half now and a half on completion, and that is more than I would usually authorise.’ Mason leant forward and stuck out his hand to seal the deal.

  Gibbs smiled and shook it.

  • • •

  Captain Warren sat with his feet on his desk and stared out of the small-paned window as the rain pelted down against it. Another fine Scottish storm had blown into the Firth of Forth from the east, and was hammering the base. He looked down at his mobile phone that lay shattered on the floor. His mood, like the weather, wasn’t getting any milder.

  ‘Yes!’ he said as he picked up the phone ringing on his desk.

  ‘Sergeant Walsh here, sir.’

  ‘It’s about time, Sergeant. Have you caught Gibbs and his men yet?’