A Necessary Kill (10 page)

He hasn’t…

He laughs. “I appreciate the compliment, but you can shove it up your ass! You don’t need to butter me up, and your money’s no good here.”

I nod. “I appreciate that, Oscar, thank you.”

He gestures to Ruby with a nod. “And who have we here?”

“This is a friend of mine. She’s a… colleague.”

“Ah, I see…”

She steps forward and nods a professional greeting. “The name’s Ruby.”

“And where’s your other friend?” he asks me.

“Josh? Oh, he’s, ah… we don’t work together anymore.”

He frowns. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. We’re still in touch. He’s actually upper management over at GlobaTech Industries, would you believe?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Shit… I bet he’s a busy boy at the moment.”

“Yeah… that’s kinda why I’m here. Can we talk inside?”

His face changes to a look of familiar concern. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to do something suicidal?”

I shrug. “Fairly safe odds under any circumstances, let’s be honest.”

He smiles and turns, disappearing inside his office.

I turn to Ruby, who’s looking a little confused, and smile. “Come on, you’re gonna love this part.”

She follows me inside and shuts the door behind us. His office is still the same as I remember—minimalistic and untidy. Oscar is standing behind his desk. I move over, allowing Ruby to look around. She appears confused, frowning as she surveys the room. I catch Oscar’s eye and smile, remembering fondly how I reacted when I first came here.

She looks at me first, then at Oscar. “I thought you sold, y’know, guns and shit?”

He smiles first before breaking into a loud laugh. She turns to me for an explanation, but I just shake my head and grin. I’m not ruining it for her.

Oscar takes a remote from his pocket and makes a point of showing it to her before pressing a button. The whirring of gears and machinery sounds out, and the wall behind him splits vertically down the middle, sliding away to each side.

Ruby steps forward, her jaw loose and eyes wide, watching as the hidden warehouse slowly reveals itself. “Holy fucking shit balls…” she whispers.

I laugh. “Yup. That was pretty much my reaction the first time, too.”

Oscar smiles proudly as the doors stop. He steps aside and gestures for her to go in. “Go ahead, Ruby—knock yourself out.”

She practically runs into the warehouse like a kid in a toy store. We both watch her go, and he turns to me. “So what brings you back here, Adrian? Didn’t think you’d wanna risk showing your face around these parts after your last visit…?”

I scratch the back of my head and smile sympathetically. “Needs must, I’m afraid. How’s it been around here?”

“It was a goddamn free-for-all in the first few weeks.” He moves to sit on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms across his chest and resting them on the top of his stomach. “Trent’s assets were fought over and claimed by all the little guys who never got a chance when he was running things. The headless corpse you dropped on the cops caused a real shitstorm… You should be careful moving around the city—just a friendly piece of advice.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “I got bigger problems than local PD.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Who’ve you pissed off now?”

“The CIA.”

“Jesus! Do I want to know?”

“You probably already do. You must’ve seen the news about 4/17?”

“Yeah, that’s a fucking tragedy. I can’t—wait… Please tell me you weren’t involved with
that
?”

I take a deep breath. “I’ll give you the abridged version. The less you know, the better—trust me. The whole thing was a front. A conspiracy. It wasn’t terrorists who hijacked that satellite. The CIA was behind the attacks. In fact, the CIA
director
was the piece of shit who pressed the button that launched the missiles.”

“Get the fuck outta town! How do
you
know
that
?”

“I was in the room when he did it. Held at gunpoint by a squad of agents and a bunch of terrorists who were hired to take the fall for it.”

He stands, visibly disturbed. “Holy shit, Adrian!”

“Oh, it gets better. The president was the one who masterminded it all. He’s been using the CIA, as well as all the other acronyms, as his own personal army-slash-hit squad… tying up loose ends, orchestrating it from the shadows as part of some master plan… I’m the only one with proof, which is why the half of the world
not
nuked back to the Stone Age is now trying to kill me.”

He shakes his head and laughs with disbelief. “Sucks to be you, huh? So what brings you here? From what you’ve said, even if I gave you everything I have behind me, it wouldn’t be enough to protect you… ”

I nod. “Josh can’t help me this time—he’s too visible at GlobaTech. I’m putting together a team of assassins to help me kill the president. I’ve got one guy on board who’s meeting up with me in a few days. I’ve just brought Ruby into the fold. We need weapons. Money’s no object.”

“Adrian, I…” He stands and begins pacing back and forth in front of his desk, staring at the floor. “I can’t be linked to something like this.”

I shake my head. “You wouldn’t be. No one will ever know where the weapons came from. But there’s nowhere else I can go with this. I really need your help.”

Oscar sighs heavily. “Shit, Adrian… Shit!”

Ruby appears and stands in front of one of the large metal shelving units. She’s holding a rocket launcher in one hand, resting it on her shoulder. I look over and Oscar turns, following my gaze.

“Adrian, I fucking
love
this place!” she exclaims.

She disappears again, heading down an aisle to her right.

Oscar and I look at each other, and he raises an eyebrow. “She’s a little bit crazy, isn’t she?”

“Heh… you have
no
idea.”

He sighs again. “Ah, shit… come on.”

He gestures me to follow him as he turns and walks into the warehouse.

17:30 EDT

Cunningham hung up the phone and sat back in his chair gazing around the Oval Office. He had just received word from the director of the FBI that Adrian Hell had evaded capture in Baltimore a few hours ago after springing an inmate from an asylum for the criminally insane. Once again he managed to disappear in the chaos, and the president was becoming increasingly concerned and frustrated at everyone’s inability to apprehend one man.

He sat forward, leaning on his elbows and resting his head in his hands. On his desk was a stack of papers awaiting his attention and signature, but he didn’t have the patience for it. He was growing tired of having to deal with all the things that went along with being president. He just wanted to get on with the mission at hand, but knew he couldn’t. Everything had been meticulously planned for many years leading up to the current events, and with the time finally upon him to strike, he knew he had to exercise extreme discipline in order to do things the right way.

His conversation with the North Korean leader had gone well, and he was expecting to implement the next stage of his plan very soon. Again, timing was crucial, but everything should be in place for when he was ready.

A knock on the door distracted him from his musings.

“Yes?” he called out.

Heskith entered and walked across the plush navy carpet toward the Resolute desk. “Mr. President, I’ve got General Matthews on the line asking for a moment of your time.”

Cunningham raised an eyebrow. “Is Adrian Hell dead?”

Heskith shook his head regretfully. “No, he’s not.”

“Goddammit!” He banged his fist on the desk, the rage exploding inside him. “I
told
him—”

Heskith held up a hand. “I know, sir, and I explained that to him in no uncertain terms. But you should listen to what he has to say. He might be on to something.”

Cunningham relaxed back into his chair, resting his elbows on the arms and bridging his fingers in front of his face. He sighed. “Fine.”

Heskith nodded and stepped forward, leaned over the desk and pressed a button on the phone, putting the call through and placing it on speaker.

He said, “Tom, you’re on with the president now.”

The sound of Matthews clearing his throat rasped down the line. “Mr. President, let me first apologize for—”

“Save it, Tom,” the president replied, cutting him off. “Just tell me what you have.”

There was a moment’s silence on the line.

“Okay, sir. Well, I sent a team to the restaurant in Maine where we tracked Adrian Hell. We spoke to a man there named Ashton Case. He wasn’t very cooperative, but we determined he’s a hitman who works for a local gangster, and is old friends with Adrian.”

Cunningham exchanged a glance with Heskith, silently asking if what was being said was relevant. Heskith nodded.

“Go on,” said the president.

“He gave Adrian a list of four names—three male, one female. Two were unknown to us, but the other two we recognized. The first was the female, currently serving time in the Stonebanks Institute in Baltimore. At least she was…”

Cunningham sat up in his chair. “Didn’t we almost take Adrian Hell down there a couple hours ago?”

“That’s right. We weren’t successful, but what we do know is he broke the woman out of the institute and disappeared with her.”

“I hope you’re coming to a point soon, Tom, because I’m losing my patience.”

“Sir, our analysts believe Adrian’s… recruiting—he’s putting together a team for something.”

“Any ideas what?”

“We can only speculate, Mr. President, but given the information he has and everything that’s happened recently, the most obvious guess is that he’s coming for you, sir.”

Cunningham glanced at Heskith again, although this time there was more concern than frustration. “How real is this threat?”

There was another pause on the line. “Sir, I strongly advise you to increase your security.”

Cunningham stood and paced back and forth behind his desk. He looked at Heskith. “What do you think?”

His chief of staff shrugged. “It’s sound logic, sir. Given everything we know about this guy, I’d take Matthews’ advice on this one. At least until the next phase is underway. Then it won’t matter what he does.”

Cunningham nodded. “Make the arrangements, would you?” He looked back at the phone. “Is there anything else, Tom?”

“Sir, there is one more thing. The other name on the list that we recognize… he’s an assassin we’ve had our eye on for a while. We liked him for a hit a couple years back in Moscow but never got enough solid intel to back up the suspicion. If Adrian’s planning on recruiting him, it would definitely be cause for concern.”

“So, what are you suggesting here, Tom?”

“Mr. President, I have an idea that could do away with our Adrian Hell problem once and for all. It’s risky, and I wanted your blessing before going ahead with it.”

Cunningham looked up at Heskith. “You know about this?”

Heskith nodded. “I do, sir, and it’s a solid plan—if it works. If it doesn’t, it could leave us wide open. I suggest you keep your distance and know as little about it as possible. But, it’s your call.”

Cunningham stroked his chin, feeling a day’s worth of coarse growth on his palm. He had very little faith left in Matthews’ ability to do anything. He believed the pressure of being so involved in 4/17 had become too much for Matthews to handle, which made him a liability. That said, he was eager to remove Adrian Hell from the picture, and if Heskith believed this plan was a viable option, that was good enough for him.

“Tom, do what you have to,” he said, finally. “You officially have my blessing. You’re to liaise with Gerry on this one. I don’t want any details beyond whether or not it’s worked, do you understand? Use back channels when communicating, and above all else make sure the White House is kept out of it. Am I clear?”

“Absolutely, sir. You won’t regret it,” he said, sounding excited.

“This is your last chance, Tom. If this doesn’t work, and it blows up in your face, you will not receive any support from this office.”

“I understand. Thank you, Mr. President.”

The line clicked off, and the room fell silent for a moment. It was Heskith who spoke first.

“What’s next, sir?”

“I need to read through these papers,” he tapped the pile of reports on his desk as he spoke, “and then speak to Secretary Fielding to finalize things before the next phase goes live. In the meantime, I want you to find out everything you can about Adrian Hell. I want his entire life story—there might be something we can use against him.”

“Don’t you think Matthews can get the job done?”

“Let’s just say his track record does little to inspire any confidence. I want this done as a precaution.”

“Yes, Mr. President. I’ll see to it personally.”

“Thank you, Gerry.”

Heskith nodded, then walked back toward his office, closing the door gently behind him, leaving Cunningham alone.

The president walked over to a small table against the wall and took the stopper from the crystal decanter that held a sixty-year-old single malt. He lifted it to his nose and took in a deep, appreciative breath. The coarse, burning aroma of the whiskey, which had been a gift from the prime minister of the United Kingdom when he took office some two and half years ago, lingered in his nostrils. His mouth watered, and he poured himself a generous measure into a matching tumbler in front of him. He cradled it in his hand for a moment before taking a large sip and walking back to his desk. He sat down in his chair, carefully placing this drink on a coaster with the presidential seal printed on it. He took the first report from the top of his pile and opened it in front of him.

“GlobaTech Industries—deployment and financial records,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s see the secrets behind your magic, shall we…?”

22:16 EDT

Oscar agreed to help us out, and we left with a large bag of weaponry and the promise he’ll deliver more to us if we need it, whenever and wherever I ask. He refused to accept any money, basing his charity on the fact that if he’s sponsoring my attempt to change the world as we know it, the publicity he’ll get if I succeed will earn him untold fortunes.