The Stolen Days of John Mann
‘And?’ Barked Russell.
‘There is talk of a cobra Ma’am.’ Russell’s mouth opened as if she would speak in reply but she made no sound, so the young man continued. ‘A cobra Ma’am, a spitting snake.’
Russell turned on her heel and moved away down the corridor at speed, calling over her shoulder as she went, ‘What’s your name again soldier?’
‘Private Tate, Ma’am.’ the soldier replied as he ran after her.
Inside her office Russell and Tate stood before her wall map. On the other side of her desk stood the other two recruits to her team, Private Williams and Private Evans. Russell located the red pin denoting the town where she’d been earlier and drew her fingers in a straight line across the miles to the centre of Brighton, on the coast.
‘An easy drive in the time he’s had Doctor, though he couldn’t have gone direct.’ Said Tate.
‘Why?’ Russell enquired.
‘With respect Ma’am, your map is old and some of these small roads are no longer passable. I think he’d have headed north first and then south into the city.’
‘Doctor, if I may?’ Russell and Tate turned to look at Williams who’d just spoken. She was ambitious, capable and intelligent and would probably rise quickly through the ranks, and Russell could overlook her good skin and full figure for these qualities she brought. Williams came forward to the map before continuing, ‘I’m familiar with this area Doctor and I think Tate may have overlooked the fact that there is a direct route. The annual flood would swamp most of these roads but not all. If John Mann knows this area too he could get through.’ Russell was impressed and pleased to see that her charges were happy to shaft each other for preferment. Better that than shaft each other for recreation, she happily noted the sour look Tate now gave Williams.
‘Evans,’ Russell barked and her third recruit stiffened to attention. No chance Williams would return any interest Evans showed either. He was overweight, ruddy-cheeked and bespectacled. He would be a bully if he ever reached command level. As it was his C.O. had voiced grave doubts about him in the field, the word coward hadn’t been mentioned but Russell knew it had been implied. Still, she hadn’t chosen him to lead a charge but to use his bright mind in pursuit of John. ‘Keeping your own council, boy?’ Russell asked.
‘No Ma’am, I’m just weighing the intelligence so far. I’m inclined to agree with Williams. The route she suggests would take longer though, along tracks and lanes, and Mann would have had to put up for a night at least. True he may have slept in his car or there may be dwellings along that route that would offer a bed to a preacher…’
Russell cut in, ‘And what would it benefit us to know where he stayed?’
‘Safe houses.’ Replied Evans, ‘A man running for a decade would need one or more bolt holes, and he may, as you suggest, have an injured boy with him too who’d need care.’
Tate cleared his throat, ‘I could scope all the settlements in the area…’
Russell spoke across him, ‘Williams will take that role.’ Williams puffed out her chest and twinkled at Tate who scowled back. ‘I want you,’ Russell continued, ‘to carry on scanning the airwaves, all channels. I want to know why he would head to Brighton.’
‘Ma’am.’ Tate threw a salute but Russell noted it wasn’t as crisp as his previous efforts. She turned to Evans, ‘If Mann has been travelling as a preacher I want to know how and where he got his papers, any contacts he has in the clergy, churches that might hide him, and where he gets his herbal supplies. Use Dataweb and hardcopy files, I want a window into his world.’ She looked her team over and slapped her hand down on her desk, ‘And I want it now.’ All three saluted and headed for the door. ‘Oh and Tate.’ Tate stopped in his tracks and turned back to Russell. ‘Send a dispatch bike to all Brighton checkpoints, I want copies of all their records.’
Chapter Fourteen
Mann hid in the shadows of a burned out bus at the side of the road and stared up at the tall building in front of him. It had been all over white once but long green algae stains now seeped down its walls. It looked bleakly dark and deserted but Mann counted the balconies up to the sixth floor where Treader made his home. Treader’s was easy to place, it was the only balcony free of tresses and beardy tendrils of ivy but Mann could see no light in the dwelling beyond.
The shouts of chancers and wasters had chased him through the streets to this place. He’d skirted what he took to be a watering hole, its lights spilled out onto the pavement and loud laughter and crude song could be heard from the drunkards within. A woman’s shriek had reached him from the alleyway adjacent to it, and a gunshot had sounded from far off. It had all added haste to his purpose. The street he was now in was thankfully quiet though so Mann broke cover and ducked into the doorway of Treader’s building.
Before him rose a dark and reeking stairwell, the whole lobby smelled like a midden. He listened for sounds from above but there were none, beyond the constant dripping of water, and the scratching of rats. He began his climb. The cut on his thigh troubled him little and he just hoped it wouldn’t become infected. There were some who would smear their blade with skank to fell you later, like the dragons he’d read about whose drool was deadlier than their bite.
As he climbed the stairs he thought of what occurred in the street before. The threat in the group of men, the anger and violence in the youth, perhaps this was the only way to survive here he thought. Perhaps he’d been out of built up cities for too long and they all ticked this way now. He’d pray for the youth later, all he cared about for the moment was getting what he needed and then getting out. Two days ago his life had seemed peacefully ordered and now chaos was its ruling star.
Chapter Fifteen
‘You owe me all really. I gave you and the others shelter in this town when the Government wanted you dead.’
Mann watched Treader pacing the floor, scratching at his crotch. He wondered if the lice came from the mangy cat that prowled around the legs of the broken furniture, or from the street boy asleep on the mattress in the corner of the room.
‘Not dead.’ Mann said, ‘I’m no use to anyone dead.’ He hadn’t expected an open armed welcome from Treader but neither had he expected this hostility. The heat and stink in the room were seriously stoking his desire to leave immediately and search out his own answers. He balled up the leather note wrap he was holding and tossed it onto a chair.
‘Your fee, count it and trade what you know.’
Treader moved quickly to retrieve the money from the chair. ‘Come, this is an honest dealing John, you make it sound like I’m fleecing you. Look,’ he removed his mask decorated with purple ciphers and threw Mann a brown toothed smile, ‘let there be trust between us.’
Mann looked with distaste at the multiple metal studs through Treader’s nose and lips, but still he had to acknowledge the other’s gesture, ‘I meant not to insult you I just need your information.’ He said.
Treader produced a tab and lit it, blowing a thick cloud of blue fumes at the ceiling. He offered it to Mann, who shook his head, the cloying smoke already in the room was enough to befuddle his thoughts. He scanned the room, all dusty stuffed birds and other filthy clutter stacked to the ceiling making it hard to tell where the walls were and making it harder to breathe. He crossed the room and pushed out onto the balcony, past the large leafy green plants ranged about before the windows. The cool sea air immediately cleared his head. He wiped the now chill sweat from his brow with his hand as Treader stepped out beside him. Treader’s wary eyes tracked Mann’s slick hand down to his side, ‘It’s true that will kill in minutes?’
Mann looked at his own sweat-wetted hand, ‘It’ll work its art, eventually.’ He said.
‘Art?’ Treader laughed a barking laugh, ‘The preacher takes pride in his devilish talents.’
Mann was inflamed by the insinuation and advanced angrily on Treader who backed up into the room again with Mann following. ‘Deal with me.’ Mann growled.
‘Sure
, sure,’ Treader whined lifting his hands in surrender, ‘I was just ordering things up here.’ He said, tapping his forehead. ‘Chenko arrived six months ago, a big Russian bad, with guns and plenty of goons to use them. He even has a big dog on a chain, at his heels. You ever seen a tame dog before? I’ve heard a pack howling out on the Downs but never seen one up close.’ Treader expected an answer to this but Mann remained mute. ‘Anyway,’ Treader continued, ‘Within days he was looting, shooting and burning, within two weeks he was living in the big house down there, the old king dead, long live Chenko. You’ll wonder how he was capable, if you meet him, but never underestimate how a cruel and ruthless mind can attract an army of thugs like flies to a turd.’
Mann crossed again to the window and looked down across the rooftops to the onion-domed palace in the distance. It was flickering orange in the light of barrel fires set about the grounds. He had to guess it would be well guarded. I’ll never make it in there alone, he thought, I’ll have to get word to Keen.
‘This city always worked well when carved up between different interests, each keeping the others in check,’ continued Treader, ‘People could trade amongst them, there was room for someone like me, but now,’ He mimed a small explosion with his hand. ‘he runs the women, the drugs, the food in, and the fish out. He feeds the people so they don’t riot against him and with the people onside the military won’t move in. He owns the whole show, and word is, John Mann, he means to acquire you too.’
‘Cobra.’ Mann said.
Treader nodded, ‘You are a figure of legend in this city John. The man the choke couldn’t finish and the army couldn’t trap. And now he knows you’re not a myth, he sent three men against you and only two returned, plus the boy of course.’
Then it’s true that I’m the root and blame for David’s capture, Mann thought, ‘The boy is here?’ He asked.
Treader nodded and Mann was awash with relief.
‘And thrives?’
Treader paused before speaking, ‘His wound was cleaned and stitched well.’
‘But?’
‘Chenko collects youngsters of breeding age, this won’t come as news, he means to rebuild, repopulate, whether here or elsewhere.’
‘I mean to get the boy back.’
‘You should look to your own salvation John.’
Mann turned again to look down at the palace, ‘How are you privy to all this?’
‘An eagle in its eyrie sees all. Plus I have my boys on the ground. They’d slit my throat as soon as look at me but they’ll trade news from the streets for bags of leaf.’ Treader nodded at the plants in the window.
‘How is it you’ve escaped Chenko’s notice?’
‘Oh I haven’t.’ Treader lit another smoke, but Mann could see the tremor in his hands this time. Earlier he had thought Treader a man of middle years but now he could see he was a young man aged by hard living, ‘I sent my best boy out last night to gather news for you and he’s not returned. He’ll be flotsam on the beach by now. They know I’m up here alright.’
‘Then run while you can.’
Treader laughed again but a silent, wry laugh this time. ‘It’s funny but I spent so much time watching for the choke that I never saw what else was creeping through me.’
‘If you are unwell I may be able to help.’
Treader waved Mann’s words aside, ‘No one can cure what I have John, although…’ he smiled slyly at Mann, ‘perhaps when the pain becomes unbearable you could come back and finish me? I hear your kiss is lethal.’
Chapter Sixteen
Russell sat at the desk in the darkened office and stared at the hand phone on the table. The room was empty save for the desk, the chair and the phone. Thirty minutes ago two armed guards had brought a request from Colonel Smith, she was to accompany them to this room and await further communication. The guards were waiting outside the door now, they’d been unable or unwilling to tell her why she’d been brought there.
En route to the room she had assumed she’d be meeting with someone but the phone now suggested otherwise, though she couldn’t fathom who had the wherewithal needed to make a call. She had already tested the phone twice and was surprised that it did indeed have a live tone, so she supposed it was only a matter of time until it rang.
Her nerves were strung taut in anticipation so she tried to relax by closing her eyes and concentrating on something else. She pictured Mann grown up, living as a priest. Preaching to the lost and lonely, and selling snake oil to the easily gulled. Was that really how he’d got by all these years?
She thought of the longed for moment when she faced him again. He had every reason to want her dead but there must be a small part of him that understood why she’d done what she had. Even now, down the years, a shiver ran through her at the memory of the rages he’d thrown at her, the times she’d wiped his spittle from her mask. How much more terrible would his anger be at their reunion? Like a grizzled old bear re-caged after tasting freedom.
Suddenly the phone emitted a high tone that trilled painfully in her ears. It jangled her nerves and she fumbled the phone for a moment as she snatched it up and accepted the call.
‘Hello?’ she said.
‘Doctor Russell, Secretary Hunt.’ It was a brittle voice, and sounded small and far away in another empty room, and despite her unease a shard of excitement pierced her. It had been decades since she’d heard a voice through a phone. She tried to keep her own voice calm.
‘Good evening Sir, to what do I owe this pleasure?’
‘John Mann.’
She was momentarily shaken by the abrupt mention of John.
‘Would you mind telling me how you come to know of…'
His voice came again, perhaps the lag on the line had prompted him to speak over her, or perhaps it was impatience. ‘There are people in Whitehall who are very excited by the news that John Mann may be back on the radar.’
‘Well then Sir your timing is good, I think I may have located him.’
‘I know. I know all about your latest efforts to track the target.’
Russell felt alarm at the use of the word ‘target’, and she was nettled by Hunt’s superior attitude. She regretted having been so loose with her information, she’d have to be more guarded. She laughed lightly, ‘Secretary, Hunt was it? With respect I’d like to know how you seem to be aware of such recent developments in my work.’
‘I’ve been monitoring your efforts for a long while Doctor and awaiting word of John Mann, he is a valuable resource and we have need of him.’
She supposed Colonel Smith must have been talking, seeking to feather his own nest, ‘John is indeed valuable as the source of a vaccine.’
‘Valuable as a bargaining chip Doctor.’
A cold shadow fell over Russell.
‘Listen Doctor, I don’t want you to think me ignorant of all your hard work down the years so in the spirit of open co-operation I will share this much. The Country needs help to re-establish a working technology, without it we are blind, living in a Dark Age. We lack the expertise to rebuild our infrastructure but America has it and they deal hard for it. The technician they sent to restore this satellite phone link cost us dear in resources that we could ill afford. Your Government are desperate for Mann and would give us anything we ask in return for him.’
‘They wish to re-start work on a vaccine?’ Russell’s spirits rose as she saw a chance for herself.
‘They could use him to cure or to kill, I do not know and I do not care.’
The line suddenly filled with static and Russell pushed the phone hard to her ear for fear she’d miss Hunt’s words. His voice now came in surges, alternately clear and muddied.
‘It could be they mean to find a cure and save us all. Or perhaps just protect their borders north and south from incursion.’
His voice was lost again in a swirl of noise that sounded like a tempest. Russell felt adrift at sea in the storm, she could see no safe ground in sight. When she was sure the line
was clear again she spoke, ‘Whitehall cannot figure to hand him over for use as a weapon, and you surely can’t condone such an action.’
‘My job is merely to broker the trade Doctor, I cannot control what happens once he leaves these shores, but perhaps you can. I read your dossier before I made this call and I know you have twice been refused repatriation. Work with me to secure John Mann and I’ll guarantee you a berth back to the States with him Doctor. Once there you can fight his corner, push for work to continue on a vaccine, play it however you please. His future and your own will be in your hands, if you deal with me. Double deal, however, and you’ll count yourself lucky to spend the rest of your life down there breeding lab rats.’
Russell head swam with all the possibilities for good and ill that Hunt had just conjured.
‘Doctor, your team will gather intelligence on him, isolate him and then report to me directly. I am now your sole contact. They’ll be no move made on the target without my express authorisation, and then I’ll co-ordinate the operation. Do I make myself clear Doctor Russell?’