The Legions Of Anubis (Retribution)

By Steve Kirby

The Legions of Anubis: (Retribution)

The world is corrupt; a place where human life is worthless and animal life even less, dog fighting has once again raised its ugly head.
This barbaric sport has taken a foothold in England; people are using these poor animals for their sadistic pleasure and to make easy money.
In the pursuit of the ultimate fighting dog, these vicious criminals will stop at nothing.
The animals need a voice Brian O’Connor provides it.
Captain Brian O’Connor ex SAS leads a radical group of animal activists who call themselves “The Legions of Anubis” they scour the world metering out justice for animals.
They work far outside the normal animal rights groups but are secretly protected and funded by them.
Their methods are extreme, when The Legion has you in its sights there is no hope.
After seeing most of his platoon wiped out in Afghanistan, Captain Brian O’Connor sought revenge against the culprits taking the law into his own hands; this resulted in him being discharged from the army.
For the next few years and with the help of ex army colleagues he made a living hiring himself out as a bodyguard around the world.
While he was protecting a Presidential Candidate in the Egyptian elections, he was fascinated by the stories and lives of the Ancient Egyptians.
Their worshipping of animal gods enthralled him, so much, so that when he returned to England his passion grew to the point that he set up a shrine in his house to the ancient gods, collecting artefacts from around the world, this was his passion.
Until he met Sandy, Sarah Anne Widdacombe or “Sandy” as everybody called her was active within the Animal Liberation movement, and a chance meeting at one of their rally’s changed Brian’s life forever.
Her passion for the cause was infectious, Brian was soon hooked.
Using his skills learned in the army he soon had the Oxford branch of the ALF working together as a unit their raids on battery farms, laboratories and illegal breeding organisations were quick clean and affective.
His skills were second to none and he was soon challenging for leadership of the group, much to the anger of one of its founding members.
After a disastrous raid where five of his group were killed and the Police, closing in Brian fled to France joining a group of animal liberationists who preferred “direct action.”
He soon outgrew the group forming his own. “The Legions of Anubis”
The Legion has tracked a group of animal smugglers across Europe metering out swift and terrible justice as they go.
The trail leads them to England, where their search for the people involved hits wall after wall of fear and silence until Simon “Lenny” Lennon decides it has to be stopped, but how? All seems lost until The Legions find him.
The organisation run by “The Don’s “appears invincible their activities kept secret using fear and intimidation but The Legions are closing in with Special Branch frantically trying to find them and always one step behind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Kirby
• Release date: Jun 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476378206

Steve Kirby

Steve Kirby born 13th September 1955. Married to Beverley, between us we have a number of children, 7 in total (Having both been married before) and 5 grandchildren. Its madness when we all get together which in the summer is almost every weekend. We are a very close family all the children look out for each other. We are immensely proud of all our children especially the eldest who is in the Police force and the next to youngest who is currently on standby in Cyprus waiting to be deployed to Afghanistan with 2nd battalion The Yorkshire Regiment.

Book preview

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Legions Of Anubis

Steve Kirby

Copyright Steve Kirby 2012

Published at Smashwords.

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The Legions of Anubis.

Retribution.

Chapter 1

La Trinite – de – Raville Normandy France:

The night was cool and the air heavy with a damp musty smell, cloud filled the night sky obliterating the full moon, the late evening rain had left the ground soft, walking on it made no sound.

Far away in the distance the lazy sound of an owl calling for its mate drifted through the woods, this should have been a night for peace but it was soon to be shattered.

The six figures clad in black armed with handguns and baseball bats emerged from the woods at the rear of the farm buildings.

They moved silently towards the outbuildings, the small door at the back of the large barn was slightly open and a dim light was visible inside.

The figures pressed themselves against the damp stone wall and listened.

The last figure moved to the front he put his finger to where his lips should be but only the glint of his eyes were visible through the slits in his ski mask.

They crouched down to let their leader go forward; he gently opened the door and slipped through, moving quickly he entered one of the empty stalls.

The building looked deserted; He waited for a few seconds letting his eyes get accustomed to the light.

He held his breath and pressed himself flat against the side of the stall as his eyes fell upon the lone figure of a man sitting on a packing case in the centre of the building facing the main doors.

A shotgun propped up by the side of the case, a handgun laying by his right side, both weapons within easy reach.

He was illuminated by the solitary roof light; the dark figure could tell by the man’s body language he was fighting the sleep demons.

John Earnshaw, who was known as T-Bag because of his strict non drinking rule which had come about at the age of ten after having found his alcoholic father dead in the toilet.

Wedged between the wall and the bowl, incapable of getting up he had choked to death on his own vomit.

He rocked slowly back and forth sleep dragging his eyelids down calling for him to drift away.

As his head began to drop forwards he would jump back to consciousness his head snapping back up.

He blinked frantically looking from left to right checking everything was as it should be.

He rubbed his face vigorously with both hands, widening his eyes trying to banish the tiredness from his body.

The dark figure crouched in the shadows watching, he took his handgun from its holster and slowly screwed the silencer to the muzzle, carefully he took aim.

John was losing his battle with the overwhelming urge to sleep; he was drifting between awake and sleep state.

He was with his wife Chloe and their newborn daughter Emily Louise, born a week before he came to France to oversee the loading of the shipment, he couldn’t wait to get back to them.

With the money he was getting he had plans for a fully equipped nursery and a new buggy.

Chloe’s older sister had given them her old one but that is just what it was Old there were bits missing most of it was held together with masking tape and cable-ties.

Chloe smiled and said Thank-you when her sister had said she could have it but John could see the sadness in her eyes that is why he had agreed to do this Extra one.

Again sleep wrapped itself around him slowly John drifted away.

The sun was shining down out of the clear blue sky, the smell of fresh cut grass filled his nostrils.

He was pushing the buggy through the park.

Chloe held onto his arm her head on his shoulder as they walked.

He stopped and lifted her head holding her beautiful smiling face in his hand he kissed her slowly.

He could feel her soft lips on his, he could smell her hair, her perfume, a feeling of elation filled his entire body and as the bullet ended his life he drifted away to be in the dream for eternity.

The dark figure sat motionless.

He strained to listen but the only sound he could hear was the deep breathing of animals.

He crept cautiously from the stall silently checking around for others.

Slowly he entered the centre of the building where he was confronted by twelve crates of various sizes.

He looked in the nearest one, it contained two pit bulls they were both muzzled and appeared to be heavily sedated for the impending journey, to where?

A second dark figure appeared at the door and was beckoned in by the leader followed by the others.

The five of them searched the crates taking a quick inventory.

One of the figures checked a large crate over in the corner he turned quickly and waved his arm to attract the attention of the leader.

He acknowledged him and went over to look in the crate his eyes widened at the sight before him, inside were four juvenile wolfs all curled up together.

Leader went to the centre of the building and gestured them all to him.

They gathered around silently, his soft Irish lilt hid the true menace and terror the man behind the black mask was capable of; his steel grey eyes were sharp like lasers.

You two stay here. He said pointing at two of the figures.

Call for the transport then check the rest of the outbuildings for any others.

The two of them nodded and left through the small door.

Right, the rest of you come with me we need to talk to your man in the house.

They exited by the main door and moved as one across the courtyard towards the old stone farmhouse.

Built in 1798 a year before the Napoleonic wars, the house was like a fortress with walls four feet

thick the door was made of solid oak but this was no match for the dark figures.

Two of them went forward and placed small explosive charges on the large black hinges.

Leader and the other figure took cover behind the Citroën van parked in the courtyard.

The two figures rejoined leader and handed him the remote detonator switch.

Leader gave the thumbs up to his men and pressed the button.

These men were experts there was just enough explosive to blow the hinges the noise was minimal.

Before the smoke had cleared and the door fallen inwards three figures were in the building two of them racing up the stairs, the third going through the downstairs to the back of the building.

Their weeks of surveillance had paid off they burst into the bedroom on the right at the top of the stairs.

Bruce Watson was frantically reaching into his bedside cabinet drawer for his handgun his eyes wide with fear he was too late, as it was kicked shut by one of the figures, trapping his hand.

He let out a blood-curdling scream as the bones in his hand were crushed.

He recoiled back onto the bed holding his shattered hand against his chest.

His wife Carol sat bolt upright and began to scream but the sound was cut short by a baseball bat smashing into the side of her head.

She slumped down blood pouring from a large gash above her left ear.

You bastards! Watson screamed.

I’ll fucking kill the lot of you!He was grabbed unceremoniously by the hair and dragged from his bed; naked apart from his white sports socks.

The figure dragged him down the stairs and into the living room where leader was waiting.

Two other figures followed behind carrying the unconscious body of his wife.

Both were dumped in the centre of the room in front of the leader.

You two. The leader said gesturing to the figures that had just brought down Watson’s wife.

Check the rest of the house look for any paperwork, names, addresses, you know the drill.

Watson got to his knees he looked at his wife then up at the leader his eyes wide with fear and anger.

Look take what you want there’s money in the safe behind the chair over there. He said nodding in the direction of a large red leather wing backed chair in the far corner

I’ll open it for you, there’s a few thousand Euros and English pounds in there, It’s yours, Just don’t hurt us, leave now and I’ll give you an hour to get away before I call the police.

The leader stepped forward grabbed Watson by the hair forcing his head back to look directly into the leaders eyes.

We don’t want your fucking money, where is the shipment going?

Watson began to shake his head.

What shipment? I don’t understand.

Leader grabbed Watson by the throat, his voice soft and calm but the underlying menace was there.

Don’t fuck with me mate, your card is marked you are living on borrowed time, now tell me what I need to know and things will be quick and smooth.

Look. Watson said coughing slightly and rubbing his throat as the leader released him and once again grabbed Watson’s hair forcing his head back.

I don’t know what shipment you’re talking about honest. We are farmers we grow a few crops that we sell at the local market.

Leader let go of Watson’s hair and hit him hard on the side of his head with the back of his hand sending Watson spinning sideward’s.

Leader stepped forwards and put his foot on Watson’s shattered hand.

He stifled the scream by biting his bottom lip, his chin began to tremble he took short quick intakes of breath to ease the pain.

Leader took his weight off Watson’s hand and stepped back.

Right, I’ll ask you again, the animals in the barn where were you supposed to send them?

Watson got back to his knees gingerly; he held his hand against his chest.

Look, I don’t know anything about any animals; I rent the barn out to some Polish guy, its a little extra income for us.

Leader took the handgun from its holster and pointed it between Watson’s eyes.

Watson looked down the barrel of the 9mm; he raised his eyes to look into the black slits of the ski mask.

He breathed a deep sigh knowing this man was not buying his story; anger was beginning to well up inside of him.

Look, you don’t know what you’re dealing with here, these people aren’t just petty animal smugglers you know they are hardcore bastards.

Leader adjusted his stance and cocked the gun.

So are we mate, and I’m beginning to lose my patience, now answer the fucking question, where was this shipment bound?

A noise to Watsons left made him avert his gaze he looked down at his wife just as the two bullets smashed into her skull.

The noise of the gun left Watson unable to move he knelt there.

Eyes wide mouth open watching his wife’s lifeblood pour from her head and form a gradual increasing deep red pool on the polished wood floorboards.

Watson spun round to face the killer his eyes filled with rage and tears.

Leader brought the gun-butt down hard on the bridge of Watson’s nose, splitting it open.

Watson screamed and dropped his head into his hands, blood oozing from between his fingers.

Now I’ll ask you again, where were these animals going? Leader re-cocked his weapon.

Watson lowered his hands he looked at the black figurer before him his face was smeared with blood all he could see was the figure of death standing over him.

He closed his eyes ready to accept his fate when he was brought back by the scream of a young girl.

Tracy! Oh God no, not her she’s just a baby, Please don’t hurt her. Watson couldn’t see but he could sense the smile on leaders face.

Well now Bruce mate, what do we have here then? He said turning to see a figure holding a young girl tightly by the arm.

Found her upstairs hiding in a wardrobe. The figure said holding her back as she tried to break free of his grasp.

Bring her over here put her next to Daddy. The figure was almost dragged over by the girl’s eagerness to be with her father.

As she passed the leader she looked down to see the body of her Mother laying on the floor her head surrounded by a crimson halo of blood.

Her scream at the sight was so piercing leader wanted to put his hands to his ears.

The figure yanked at the girls arm forcing her down at the side of her father.

She gripped him tightly and buried her head into his neck sobbing.

Leader leaned forward and putting the gun barrel under Watsons chin lifted his head to look at him.

Right, are you going to answer the question? Watson took a deep breath his face was ashen and smeared with tears and blood; both mingled together and dripped from his chin.

His voice was soft as he spoke.

I can’t tell you anything about where they were going, I swear to you I don’t know.

Leader shook his head.

You’re a fucking liar, now, this is your last chance, tell me what I want to know.

I’m telling you all I know. Look, I get a phone call from a man calling himself The Pole" and he tells me when a shipment is due in. Then all I do is see them off loaded, store them in the barn, sedate them and they are collected sometime during the night the same day.

I don’t even see who collects them, honest."

I don’t believe you don’t know where they are going son; I think you’re holding out on me, you know more than that but my patience is worn thin. He looked at the figure standing by the girl.

Take her outside.

Watson took a sharp intake of breath and quickly kissed his daughters head, he looked back at leader his eyes wide with fear.

Please don’t hurt her she’s only twelve for Christ sake!

Leader waited till the girl had been dragged screaming from the room and outside into the slowly dawning day.

He raised the gun to Watson’s head.

She’ll be safe, her heart is pure and innocent, but yours on the other hand is black, black as pitch and not worthy of entering heaven.

The flash from the gun barrel lit up Bruce Watson’s eyes as the bullet ended his life.

Chapter 2

Sagem Plastics Factory Doncaster England.

Sagem plastics was one of the largest employers in the small town of West lake just outside Doncaster.

It had been started over seventy years previously by Albert Sagem a Russian Jew who’s family had fled Austria just before the outbreak of the second world war.

Since the death of Albert in 1999 the company had been run by his twin sons Richard and Peter, their father had taught them well and since taking over the brothers had invested heavily in automating as much of the production as possible.

They still employed well over three hundred people at the company, which produced parts mainly for the automotive and computer industries.

But due to a sharp downturn in orders, the high cost of raw materials and the growing influx of cheap foreigner parts Sagem plastics were facing major problems.

Come in Simon. The Personnel Manager Tony Wells said closing the door behind them.

Take a seat, Simon sat on the seat facing the large desk, which was almost obscured by a computer screen, telephone, calculator, picture frames, and piles of folders and papers.

Simon looked at the mess in front of him and wondered how this guy’s mind worked, was it as cluttered as his desk?

Tony walked round the desk almost tripping over the overflowing waste paper bin.

Sitting down heavily and breathed out as if he had just run a marathon not just opened a door.

Simon laughed to himself; he studied the man in front of him.

Doc Wells as he was affectionately known was a weird looking guy.

He had crazy professor type hair, grey and sticking out at all sides which was what had earned him the nickname Doc, after the character Doc in the Back to the Future films.

His half glasses were perched on the end of his nose causing him to tilt his head back to focus on Simon.

Tony had been the Personnel Manager at Sagem Plastics for over twenty years and in that time the other staff and Managers had noticed hi behaviour becoming wackier and wackier.

He used to be an avid birdwatcher every weekend he and his wife would go around the country looking for rare birds to photograph.

However, since the death of his wife due to cancer three years ago he had changed.

His obsession with birds became worrying.

At lunchtimes, he would sit in his car in the company car park with the windows wound down and listen to tapes of bird song playing them very loud and shouting out the names of the birds.

Staff in the outer office would often hear him clucking and cooing, much to their amusement.

Simon could only see the backs of the photo frames but apparently, the pictures in them were not of any family or friends but of birds.

Simon sat with his arms folded across his chest.

Tony opened a file with a green cover and studied it for a few seconds; he gave a slight cough then looked across at Simon and nodded a solemn look on his face.

"Now then Simon, As you may or may not be aware of the company is going through a bit of a bad patch, what with the cheap imports coming in from the far East and China and the loss of some of the automotive business to France we find ourselves in a very vulnerable position.

Therefore, it has been decided we have to make some changes within the company.

Anyway, it is with some regret that because of this we have no alternative but to reduce our workforce by 10%.

This means in plain English we have to make thirty people redundant this will be done on alast in first out procedure.

Therefore, I regret to have to inform you that as from next month the 1st May 2008 your contract will be terminated.

There will be a redundancy package it’s not been finalised yet but...." He began shuffling papers round.

After a while he smiled as he pulled one from below a large pile of folders, he tilted his head back to read.

Ah yes. He said putting the paper down and looking over his glasses at Simon.

You’ve been with us for sixteen years, so your package, and this as I say is not finalised yet, your package will be in the region of seven thousand pounds. Which you will agree is not bad.

Simon sat forward in his chair,

Seven thousand? Seven thousand that’s crap I’ve never had a day off, I’m never late and I’m being finished, there are people who have been here less time than me.

Tony shook his head.

Not in your department sorry.

Well that’s shit, sixteen years and all I get is that, well that’s a load of bollacks.

"I’m sorry you feel like that Simon but the company feel that this is a good offer, also during this month we will be getting the local job centre to send in a representative to sit with all concerned and help them write a C.V. writing letters and hopefully to find work.

We will of course allow you time off to go for interviews." He gave Simon a huge smile.

Well what do you think?

Simon looked at his watch.

I think my shift finished five minutes ago and I think I need a drink, so if you’ve done?

Simon looked at Tony and raised his eyebrows.

Tony looked confused, he gave his head a scratch, which flattened his hair at one side making him look even stranger, again, he tilted his head back and smiled.

Right then, well if you have any more questions or anything please don’t hesitate to come and see me.

He gave Simon a dry smile and went back to shuffling the papers around his desk.

Simon stood up quickly making Tony jump and look up; he pushed his glasses back with his right forefinger and coughed nervously,

Erm, would you mind closing the door after you please Simon? Simon yanked the door open and walked through.

Shut it your fucking self you crazy old twat.

Tony just sat there looking puzzled by Simon’s outburst, he shook his head and got up to close the door whistling like a blackbird.

Chapter 3.

Portsmouth Ferry Terminal.

DI Ben Sheared and DS Phil Jewel from Special Branch Anti terrorist division SO13 settled into their seats aboard the high-speed catamaran The Norma Arrow for their three-hour trip from Portsmouth to Le Havre.

It was 9 30am on a cold grey June morning the sky was heavy with rain and a harp breeze was blowing round the ferry port.

At 45, Ben Sheared had been in the squad for 15years.

He had transferred from West Yorkshire CID for the bright lights of London and promotion to Detective Sergeant in the Special Branch.

He had dragged his wife almost kicking and screaming along with him, she had never really settled and often sat crying on the phone to her now late mother but she would never let Ben know or see her cry, she was Yorkshire through and through with a Grin and bare it attitude.

The birth of their daughter Jade two years after moving to London gave her the strength she needed to carry on, when Jade was born it was just in time to save Carol’s sanity and their marriage.

Jewel had served only four but at 32, he was ambitious and eager to climb the ladder.

He idolised Sheared and looked upon him as a father figure, Jewel never having known his real Father who had been killed in a motorway crash a year after he was born.

The feeling was mutual as Sheared saw a lot of himself in Phil, he knew he was