A Necessary Kill (2 page)

I catch the eye of a waitress behind the counter and walk over. I see booths lining both the side by the window and the opposite wall, which is red with various hand-drawn images of dragons and swords hanging on it. There are seven people seated. I’ve got a young couple on my left, one guy sitting alone in the middle, and a group of four men in one of the booths by the window.

I take a seat at the bar, resting my bag against the stool by my feet. The waitress comes over and smiles. She’s Caucasian, can’t be older than twenty-five, with shoulder-length dark hair and a nice smile.

“Will you be eating with us today, sir?” she asks.

I smile. “No, thanks. I’m actually looking for an old friend. He used to work here—I don’t know if he still does.”

“I can ask around in the back for you, if you want? What’s your friend’s name?”

“Ashton Case.”

The split-second flash of concern on her face tells me everything I need to know. She momentarily glances over at the table of four men, which I notice, but ignore for now. She recovers quickly.

“Oh, Ashton… Yeah, he… ah… he doesn’t work here anymore,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

Yeah, right.

“Uh-huh… when did he leave?”

“Oh, it was a while ago now… I
think
.”

I can only assume she’s being vague because she doesn’t know how much contact I’ve had with him, or how recently. I’ve said I’m an old friend, which suggests we
do
speak, but she doesn’t want to commit to a time frame in case I realize she’s lying. I’ll play it cool for now. I don’t want to push things.

“Okay, not to worry. D’you think I could get a drink while I’m here?”

She smiles again, relaxing. “Sure thing. What would you like?”

I glance behind her and spot a row of Bud in one of the fridges. I gesture to them with a nod. “I’ll have a bottle, please.”

She turns and crouches, grabbing a beer. I smile at the welcome hiss as she unscrews the top and drops it in a metal container beside the cash register.

She slides it across the counter to me. “That’ll be three-fifty.”

I take out a five dollar bill and hand it to her. “Keep the change.”

She smiles, and I take a much-needed swig of the drink. I catch her gaze flick over to the table of four again. I’m leaning against the bar, facing the seating area with the window booths away to my right. I see the hushed mutterings among the men, and the discreet looks I’m getting, which aren’t actually as discreet as they might think.

They’re getting ready to make their move. I should probably address this issue now, to see if I can stop it from getting out of hand.

I look at the waitress and smile, trying to appear sympathetic. “Look, I’m not here to cause trouble, I promise. I know who Ashton works for, and I know what he does for a living. I also know he worked here on occasion. I’m genuinely an old acquaintance, and if he
is
here, I just wanna talk to him—no fuss.”

The waitress sighs, shifting uncomfortably on the spot, looking unsure. I understand her dilemma. On the one hand, she probably believes me, which she has every reason to do, as I’m not lying. On the other hand, she’s probably been told to deny all knowledge if anyone asks about him, and to inform him, or his boss, of any inquiries.

I’m looking at her, but see movement to my right. I turn my head slightly and watch the men stand, organize themselves, straighten their clothes, and walk slowly toward me, fanning into a line as they approach the bar.

The waitress looks afraid, which gives me yet more unspoken information. She knows Case is probably in the back, watching this on a security feed. My guess is she alerted him to my presence when she opened my beer by pressing a silent alarm hidden behind the bar or something.

The four guys now in front of me are a laughable attempt at contract muscle—further proof this place is owned by the mob. And I’m guessing the waitress is reasonably new, because she looks scared. She probably knows what this place is like, but hasn’t worked here long enough to actually see it with her own eyes. She doesn’t have the tired confidence people exposed to this life usually have—that almost reluctant feeling of security. The belief you’re untouchable because of who you work for.

I look at the line of ass-clowns for a moment, deciphering the silent messages their bodies are sending me. The guy on the far right, for example, is slightly favoring his right leg. Judging by the size of his waist, which is far from thin, I’m guessing… a weak knee.

Then there’s the guy second from the left—the tallest of the group, but probably no bigger than me. He’s practically laughing. He thinks he’s the big dick around here. The leader of the pack. Maybe he thinks his height makes him more important than the others. He’s the prick I’m going to hit first.

And hardest.

I look back at the waitress. “Alright, this was obviously a bad idea. You should probably take yourself someplace else for a moment or two. I promise I’ll keep the damage to a minimum. I don’t want you getting in trouble or anything with your boss.”

She furrows her brow with confusion. Like, why am I talking like
I’ll
be causing damage when I’m outnumbered four to one?

Bless her.

I pick up my bottle and take another sip of beer as I plan my first five moves.

I doubt I’ll need more than five.

Fighting is like chess, you see—plan ahead and you’ve won before you even start.

The tall one inches forward. “You need to leave. You’re in the wrong place, asshole.”

“Actually, princess, the fact you four are threatening me kinda says I’m in the
right
place, and you just
want
me to leave. Which isn’t happening. Just save yourselves a lot of time and suffering, and get Ashton Case for me. I’m here as a friend—got my little white flag and everything. There’s no need for this. I’ve got enough on my plate without having to waste my energy on the Four Horsemen of the Apothecary.”

The guy frowns.

I sigh. “Apothecary—it’s like a drug store.”

I pause to give him chance to work it out, but he’s not getting it.

I shake my head, like I’m addressing a child who doesn’t understand why they’re being told off. “I’m insinuating you’re not threatening…”

He continues to stare at me, a blank, vacant expression on his face as he focuses on nothing except trying to look intimidating.

I sigh again. “Okay, never mind.”

I push myself off my stool, thrusting my forehead into the nose of the guy in front of me, shattering the cartilage. The crack, and subsequent squelch of exploding blood, is audible, and a little gross.

First move.

As he’s falling backward, I bring my leg up slightly, then whip it straight out, hitting the man on my far right on the side of his knee. He drops to the floor and rolls around, clutching at it.

Second move.

I flip the beer bottle in my hand, spilling its contents on the floor as I grab it by the neck. I look at the guy second from the right and quickly smash it down like a hammer on the top of his head. The glass shatters on impact, and he drops to the floor.

It’s not like in the movies, either, where they use that thin fake shit—this is thick, heavy, real glass, and it requires a ridiculous amount of force to actually break it. And doing so over someone’s skull will leave them feeling unhappy for a good while.

Third move.

I spin counterclockwise, raising my arm in anticipation of the remaining guy on the far left engaging his brain and deciding he should maybe do something. I block his inevitable punch, deflecting it with my forearm. As part of the spin, my right arm is already coming around, fist clenched. It flies through the gap caused by the deflection and connects firmly with his jaw. He falls away, bouncing off the surface of the bar and hitting the floor.

Fourth move.

Using my momentum to keep the turn going, I bring my left elbow up and whip it backward, connecting with the first guy, who’s just getting to his feet and thinking about doing something silly. It catches him on the cheekbone and puts him back down, hard.

Fifth move.

Job done.

“I thought it was you,” I hear a voice say behind me.

I turn around to see Ashton Case standing at the side of the bar near the entrance, with the waitress next to him. He’s a tall man with broad shoulders. A little chubbier than I remember, but, then again, I haven’t seen him in a long time. He’s clean-shaven with a rough face and dark eyes. His voice is gravelly in the way only smoking forty-a-day can achieve.

“Didn’t recognize you at first with the beard,” he continues, gesturing to his own face as he looks at me. “How you been, Adrian?”

I smile and shrug. “Been better, I’ll be honest.” I gesture to the pile of bodies on the floor with my thumb. “These guys with you?”

He waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, we all work for the same man, but those assholes have nothin’ to do with me.”

I walk over to him and we shake hands.

“Whatever it is must be bad if you’ve come here,” he says. “Drink?”

“Please. I dropped my last one…”

He smiles. “Yeah, I saw. Come on, we’ll go in the back.” He looks at the waitress. “Naomi, sweetheart, would you mind bringing me and my friend a couple of cold ones? I’ll be in my office.”

She smiles. “Sure thing, Ash.” She looks at me apologetically. “Sorry about before. I wasn’t sure—”

I hold my hand up, cutting her off. “No need to apologize to me. You did good.”

She heads back behind the bar, and I retrieve my bag from over by my stool before following Case through a door just to the side of where the restaurant seating area starts.

We walk up some stairs and through another door, which leads to a studio apartment. It’s a basic layout but exquisitely furnished. There’s a large leather sofa with its back to the door facing a flat screen TV mounted on the opposite wall. Over to the left is a four-poster bed with closets on either side. Across from that, by the window, is an office area filled with computer equipment and smaller screens. Next to the door, on the near wall, is a bathroom.

“Nice place,” I say, impressed.

Case shrugs. “It’s minimal but effective. I eat downstairs when I’m hungry. When I’m here, I either sleep or shit. What more do you need, right?”

“Fair point.”

We walk across the room and both take a seat on the sofa.

“So, what brings you here, Adrian?”

I fix him with a look with my tired eyes. I take a deep breath, scratch the hair on my throat, and proceed to tell him everything that’s happened in the last couple of weeks.

15:17 EDT

My story took a while. And three beers apiece. But he’s all caught up now.

“So, that’s about it,” I say. “What do you think?”

Case is sitting in front of me staring at the wall, his jaw slack and eyes wide. I watch him for a moment, waiting for some kind of response, but nothing is forthcoming.

I know
that
feeling.

I smile. “Yeah, welcome to
my
life.”

He looks at me. “How the fuck did you wind up in the middle of all
that
?”

I shrug. “A whole lot of bad luck, mostly. End of the day, we might try to leave the life, but the life rarely leaves us, Ash.”

“No kiddin’. So, all of what you just said is on the level?”

I nod. “I’m afraid so. Obviously 4/17 was tragic, and I had a front row seat for it. But the damage the attacks caused isn’t limited to the physical fallout. The half of the world
not
decimated is still in danger of being corrupted and… cleansed, almost… by Cunningham’s master plan.”

Case shakes his head slowly with disbelief. “And you’re
sure
the president is behind this?”

I pull the flash drive from inside my shirt and show it to him. “Got it all here. My next move is to stop him, so the guys over at GlobaTech Industries can focus on fixing the world and getting things back to the way they were. Or better. You never know…”

Case stands and paces across the room, staring at the floor with his hands in his pockets. “And how exactly do you intend to do that?” he asks. “I mean, it’s the president of the United fucking States, Adrian. What’re you gonna do?” He scoffs. “
Kill
him?”

I fix him with an unblinking stare, but say nothing.

“Holy shit. You’re gonna try to kill him, aren’t you?”

I nod. “There’s no other way. He’s too powerful. He’s got the CIA running interference for him, and he’s got all three branches of the military at his disposal, should another country get any ideas. Not to mention he still has control of Cerberus. No, the only way to end this is to put him down.”

“But, Adrian, I mean… that’s an impossible shot, even for you!”

I shrug. “Booth and Oswald managed it.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t have the obstacles we face today—the security, the technology. You won’t get within fifty miles of the guy if you have a weapon. Christ, in your situation, you’ll be lucky if you get within a hundred miles!”

I take a deep breath and sip my beer. “I know. You’re right. Which is why I’m here. I need help, Ash.”

He shakes his head and sits back down. “Uh-uh, no way are you dragging me into this shit, you crazy bastard!”

“Heh, relax—I’m not here for that. I figured you were either too smart or too much of a pussy to sign on for this.”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Hey, fuck you, alright?”

I hold my hands up. “Okay, so you’re too smart. But I did
kinda
hope you’d know a few people who maybe aren’t as smart, who might be interested?”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. What kind of payday are we talkin’ here?”

I shrug. “Honestly? I hadn’t thought about it. But if we pull it off… let’s say twenty million for whoever survives.”

“Jesus! Where are you gonna get
that
kind of money?”

“You let me worry about that. I had a pretty big payday a couple of years back. I’m good for it. Can you point me in the right direction, Ash?”

He falls silent, and I give him time to think. It’s a lot to ask, I know that. I stand, beer in hand, and pace around the apartment, occasionally glancing out the windows.