A Necessary Kill (29 page)

I smile. “Sounds great. Give Jericho and Ray my best.”

I hang up and toss the phone. My immediate vicinity has fallen silent. I think most people have either managed to escape or have died. I glance back at Oscar. He’s holding an extraordinary-looking gun.

I’m a little excited…

“Oscar, what in God’s name is that?”

“This is the AX-19. It’s GlobaTech’s standard-issue assault rifle.”

“There’s nothing standard about
that
!”

The gun looks bulky but smooth, like it’s been shaped and forged from a single piece of metal. The scope looks more like a cylindrical computer, and there are two magazines clipped into the underside of the barrel at mirrored forty-five degree angles.

I take it from him and hold it, getting a feel for the weight.

“Man, this is nice!”

“Yeah, it is. Don’t tell Josh I’m selling his shit illegally, okay?”

I smile. “I’m pretty sure he’ll let you off.”

“Go get ’em. Get it out of your system. You know you want to…”

I glance over at the pickup trucks, roughly five hundred yards ahead of me. They’re not really doing anything now, they’re just… sitting there. The men are milling around aimlessly, sharing jokes—their laughter is drifting on the wind.

I look back at Oscar. “I really, really do. Wait here.”

I move left to the edge of the street and then stop for a moment on the sidewalk. Dust from the explosions has covered the buildings and has lined this side with a thick layer. I make my way along the side of the stationary traffic, keeping low and quiet. I find a gap that gives me a line of sight on the trucks and the rebels.

I drop to one knee and bring the rifle up, close one eye, and stare down the sight.

“Jesus…”

The view is… exquisite! There’s no other word for it. It’s a full-color, hi-def image with a small display down the right side showing distance and wind.

I move the rifle around, tracking each of the fourteen men so I can plan my assault. Normally, I wouldn’t actively seek out a fourteen-on-one gunfight—even I like at least a slim sporting chance. But these guys are amateur hour at best, and they’ve just killed soldiers, who, most likely, were just doing their job—innocent, in the grand scheme of things. And… they’re in my way, which means we have a problem.

Safety’s off. I flick the switch near the trigger with my thumb, moving to the single shot fire rate. The guys on the ground aren’t an issue. I reckon I’ve got four good shots before they figure out what’s happening and where I am. The driver of each truck is definitely going first, so they can’t back away quickly to regroup. If I can get a couple out of the back as well, that’s a bonus.

I take a couple of deep breaths to compose myself, slow the flow of adrenaline, and give me complete control over mind and body. Becoming the weapon I was born to be.

Here we go…

I fire three rounds in quick succession, accompanied by the slightest of movements in direction. The driver of the first pickup goes first, his head snapping away to the side as I remove half his skull with the first round. The guy standing in the back is next—he slams backward as the bullet catches him just below his ear in the fleshy part of the neck, behind the mandible. He never knew what hit him.

The third is aimed away to the right at the driver of the second truck. It blasts through the windshield and hits his chest. He falls forward on the wheel.

I spring to my feet, switching the rifle to fire three-round bursts, and take aim at the startled mob. I hold the rifle steady, as if it’s an extension of my body—it faces forward at all times, sees what my eyes see, turns when my body turns. I walk slowly back into the middle of the street and depress the trigger three times. Each burst finds a target.

The yelling starts and panic sets in. They try to regroup, but don’t really have a clue what’s happening. They’re running in circles trying to find a target. It’s like they’re moving in ways they’ve seen on TV, copying that as opposed to actually knowing what to do with their weapons.

Fucking amateurs. It’s a disgrace they were able to get the drop on those soldiers. They deserved better.

Four more bursts, four more targets down. Every man who wasn’t in a vehicle is now dead, lying sprawled on the ground with blood pooling around them. I count four left—both passengers in the cabs, and one more on the back of each truck.

One pops up on my right and returns fire, but I don’t even flinch. His aim is terrible, and he’s emptied almost his entire mag into the ground five feet away to my right.

I snap to him and fire once—the burst of bullets running up and hitting him in the chest, throat, and face milliseconds apart. He flails backward out of sight. I aim for the passenger of the right pickup and give him two bursts. The windshield shatters and he’s pushed back in his seat from the impact in his chest. I can see the blood staining the seats from here.

The man in the back of the other pickup truck jumps down to the street. I have no idea why… Now he’s easier to hit! What a prick! He’s aiming his TEC-9 at me, holding it sideways like he’s in
Boyz N The Hood
or something. I look him in the eye as I press the trigger—one, two, three bursts. His torso is destroyed by the impact, and he falls to the ground, twitching as the last breath leaves him.

I stare at his body for a moment, embracing the controlled anger that’s pulsing through me. In the past, when my Inner Satan took over, it was almost like I went to sleep while it happened. But now I’m standing beside him, watching him at work, telling him where to shoot, what to do. It’s an amazing feeling!

I drop the AX-19 where I stand and draw the Beretta, pacing hurriedly around the hood of the truck. I yank the passenger door open. The remaining asshole is cowering in his seat.

I lean in and grab him by the collar of his shirt, hauling him out and pushing him against the side of the vehicle.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask.

His eyes are wide, filled with fear. “Th-this is our t-town! It’s our j-job to protect it! W-we need to—”

I stop him talking by forcing the barrel of the Beretta into his mouth. I stand up straight, using my gun to keep him in place.

“You know what? I don’t care.”

I pull the trigger once, and his head disappears in a thick cloud of crimson steam. The window behind him shatters, painting the remaining shards with blood. I take my gun out of what’s left of his mouth and he slumps to the ground. His eyes are wide and lifeless, his jaw locked open in an expression of eternal surprise.

I take a quick look around, but Julie’s assessment was spot-on—there’s no one else here.

“Come on out, Oscar,” I shout as I put the gun away. “We’re good here.”

I see him appear over where I had come from. Holding the bag, he makes his way through the maze of abandoned vehicles and rejoins me.

He looks around in horrified amazement. “Holy shit… this as a goddamn massacre.”

“Yeah… Fuck ’em. Let’s go.”

We walk briskly down the street and go left. The security firm’s building is the first one we see, and the van, as promised, is parked just inside its lot. It’s dark gray with the company’s logo emblazoned across the side. I open the rear doors. The dispersal unit, uniforms, security badges—everything is there as ordered.

“Your boy came through,” says Oscar.

I nod. “Never any doubt. Now let’s go—time’s a-wasting.”

Oscar puts the bag in the back and slams the doors shut. As promised, he slides in behind the wheel. We reverse out of the lot and drive away from the carnage I just caused.

Next stop… Washington, DC.

18:14 EDT

Ruby did a good job of explaining everything to Secretary Phillips and was surprised at how open-minded she was throughout. She flicked through the plethora of evidence in Matthews’ case while listening intently, asking questions as they came to mind.

“So, what do you think?” Ruby asked finally.

Phillips sat in silent thought for a few moments before answering. “I think you’re crazy. But…”

Ruby’s eyes lit up with hope. “But…?”

“
But
… I have to say I’ve had my doubts about President Cunningham at times. I could never quite put my finger on it, and for the most part he made the same decisions I believe any other president, or I, would’ve made. But these last six months…”

She sighed, running her hand through her hair and falling silent once more.

“Madam… whatever—Elaine, look… this sucks and it’s hard to believe, but we’re kinda on the clock here. Can you help us stop this?”

“I… I’m not sure. I mean, what can I really do?”

Jonas, who had been standing quietly by the door, stepped forward and spoke for the first time since Ruby began her story. “First thing you need to do is keep this quiet. From what I could tell when I looked at that stuff, you’re pretty much on your own…
Elaine
. Everyone else is on Cunningham’s payroll, which means we have very few friends right now.”

“
You
have very few friends…
I
have plenty.”

“What are you thinking?” asked Ruby.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll need time. What’s your friend doing? Where is he?”

“Adrian? Erm… I’m not sure you really want to know what he’s doing…”

Phillips slammed her palm on the surface of her desk then pointed her finger at Ruby. “Hey, full disclosure, lady! You came to
me
, remember? You should be very grateful I even agreed to hear you out, let alone
believe
you! And I’m still not sure I do, fully. Or maybe I just don’t want to… This is an incredible situation, like nothing else in history. So if I’m going to help, I need to know everything. By all accounts, Adrian…
Hell
is a very hard man to support.”

“We’re managing,” shrugged Jonas.

“Yes, but you probably don’t care that much about the twenty-plus NSA agents and the fifteen or so CIA agents he killed. If what you say is true, he might not be the terrorist we’ve been told he is, and he may well be trying to do the right thing, but that will count for nothing if he’s apprehended because he’s still a mass murderer, regardless of his intentions.”

Jonas glared at Ruby, who simply smiled apologetically as she realized Adrian clearly hadn’t mentioned any of that to him when he first brought Jonas on board.

She thought for a moment. She wanted to help Adrian, not make matters worse for him. She knew she had to choose her words carefully. “You make a fair point, I admit, but those people he killed, they were sent to silence him, not bring him in for questioning or to arrest him… but to
kill
him. It was him or them, and they were blindly following the orders of a twisted despot who—”

“I think you should stop yourself right there. I don’t care what his reasoning was, and regardless of everything that’s happening, I’m still a patriot, so I advise you to watch how you address the office of the US president, even if you have issues with the man inside it. Am I clear?”

Ruby sighed, growing impatient. “Yeah…”

“Now, the issue with your friend notwithstanding, I’m on your side. I suspect I
am
the only friend you have right now, and you have to trust me. I don’t know your story—either of you—but my advice to you both is this:
leave
. Get as far away from Washington, and Adrian, as you can, and let me handle this from here. The world is at war, and you need to keep safe.”

Ruby sat on the edge of the desk, crossed her ankles and clasped her hands on her lap as she leaned in close. “Thank you, Elaine, for your advice. And I’ve read that file. I
do
trust you. I know you’re going to leave this room and do everything you can to help stop President Cunningham and stop this war with North Korea from escalating any further. But… there is no way I’m leaving Adrian to fend for himself. He’s planning to kill Cunningham. And let me tell you, he’s the best damn assassin I’ve ever seen.” She glanced at the clock on the wall by the door. “I reckon you’ve got about three hours to do something monumental, otherwise this information is going to end up on every news channel in the world, right after the report detailing how the president has been found dead. You want to stop him? Fine. But at least wait until you’ve fixed the bigger, more pressing issue of World War III, okay?”

Phillips was speechless for the first time in a long time, and watched as Ruby stood and moved over to the door with Jonas behind her.

“Thank you, Madam Secretary,” she said. “Please do what you can.”

They left the office, striding with urgency side by side toward the elevator. They rode it to the first floor in silence and left without incident, pausing only to hand back the lanyards they had been given on the way in.

Neither of them spoke until they got back in the car. Ruby had relinquished the driver’s seat.

“Did he really kill all those G-men?” asked Jonas.

Ruby nodded. “Yeah. I even helped him with a few of the CIA spooks.”

“Shit… ”

“Come on, let’s head over to the rendezvous point. They should be on their way by now.”

He started the engine and pulled away, quickly dissolving into the sea of traffic, moving slowly along the street.

Ruby turned on the radio, which was in the middle of a news report, and buzzed her window down to feel the cool, crisp air blow through.

They stopped at a red light.

“Can we not put some music on?” asked Jonas, as he leaned forward to change the station.

Ruby put her hand on his arm, stopping him. “Wait, turn it up.”

He adjusted the volume.

“… ninth report in the last hour. The military presence in major cities across the country has been hailed as a bold and intelligent move on the part of President Cunningham, yet smaller towns and communities have been actively rejecting the support, with some standing in protest, while other, more extreme, cases have seen outbreaks of violence in the streets. The latest incident was in Annapolis, Maryland, where not fifteen minutes ago eight US soldiers were executed by a group of fourteen armed locals. Yet in a bizarre twist, all fourteen men were killed just moments afterward. Reports from eyewitnesses who fled the scene said one man fought back, killing every single member of the group before disappearing with an accomplice in a gray van. More on this situation as it develops. Meanwhile, North Korean forces continue to attack GlobaTech peacekeeping operatives in parts of Eastern Europe and Asia, with many refugees from the 4/17 attacks being caught in the crossfire. The death toll is estimated to be in the millions. A spokesperson for the White House said that…”