A Necessary Kill (32 page)

The device is a simple design—black and narrow with two buttons: On/Off and Activate.

I reckon even I can figure this out…

“Everyone ready?” I ask.

They all nod.

I press the button.

20:43 EDT

We wait exactly five minutes. There was some commotion outside the door at first, but it seems to have gone quiet now. I check the time again and look at the rest of the team. “Shall we?”

I move toward the door, grab the handle, and turn it slowly, easing it open and creating a gap just a couple inches wide. I look through it down the corridor. I can just about see the leg of one of the marines on the floor.

That’s encouraging…

I open the door wider and step out. The guy we spoke to earlier is leaning against the wall, still upright, using his shirttails to cover his nose and mouth. I can hear him coughing into them, and his eyes are blurry with tears.

I don’t hesitate. I whip my hand up and back, hitting him hard in the throat with the outside edge. His eyes bulge momentarily, and he drops to the floor, landing heavily at my feet. I crouch beside him and take his gun, which I tuck into the belt around the waist of my coveralls.

The rest of the team appears from inside the maintenance room.

“Jonas, you think it’s safe to remove the masks?”

He nods. “Should be alright…”

He rips his off quickly, like a Band-Aid, and takes a deep breath. We wait ten seconds to see if he falls over. He doesn’t. The rest of us follow suit.

“Okay.” I point to the right. “The Oval should be that way. Keep your eyes open, everyone. Remember what I said—anyone this side of that office not holding a gun is innocent.”

I set off walking, keeping my pace purposeful but cautious. Outside, and in the other parts of the building, I suspect all hell is breaking loose. But I reckon we have at least five minutes before the doors are kicked in by masked SWAT teams armed to the teeth.

Plenty of time.

The corridor doglegs slightly to the right. Every room we pass is the same—people are out cold, either on the floor or slumped over a desk or chair. About halfway along, a double door leading into a waiting area stands open. I stop to look into the room. There’s a desk facing me with a woman still in her chair face down, sprawled across the surface. There’s another desk to the immediate right, which is empty. In the corner is a single white door, closed.

The Oval Office.

I close my eyes for a moment, taking some calming breaths. From my bedroom in the apartment above my bar in a small Texan town to the doors of the president’s office in Washington, DC… It’s been a little over three weeks since I found myself involved in this shit, and in that time the entire world has changed. The terrorist attack that wiped out almost 5 percent of the world’s population… the conspiracy behind it that began with the US president… me and the people I care about being branded terrorists and hunted by the CIA… North Korea declaring war on everyone—it’s all led to this moment, right here, right now.

And this is where it ends.

I look back at Jonas, at Ruby, at Oscar… I wouldn’t be here without them. Ruby, especially, has saved my ass more than once along the way. She’s… well, she’s a character, there’s no doubt about that! But she’s proven herself as someone deserving of my friendship. And she’s definitely earned her twenty million.

I walk back and stand beside Oscar. “Okay, this is it, everyone. We’ve finally made it. Let’s finish this.”

I gesture everyone forward, and they turn to walk inside the first room. I put my hand in my pocket and retrieve two hypodermic needles, each enclosed in a thin tube. I quickly remove the tubes and step forward, jamming the needles into the necks of both Ruby and Jonas without hesitation. They both let out a shocked yell, each clasping a hand to the point of injection and spinning around.

I look at each of them regretfully. “I’m sorry. But I’m not having you go down with me.”

Ruby reaches out to me. “Adrian…”

They both drop to the floor, landing awkwardly on each other.

Oscar moves next to me. “They’re gonna be pissed when they wake up, y’know that, don’t you?”

I nod. “Yeah, I know. But this started with me, and I’m gonna make sure it ends with me. Thanks for helping me with this, Oscar. They’ve both done me a great service. Make sure you tell them their money is already in their accounts, and that I’m sorry.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

“You gonna be okay getting them out of here?”

“Yeah. Like you said back in Veronica’s kitchen, I’ll drag them to the lobby and claim ignorance. It’ll be fine. No one’s looking for us dressed like this.”

I extend my hand, which he shakes. “Thank you, Oscar. You’re a good friend.”

“Just make sure I don’t lose my best customer in there, alright?”

We both smile. “I’ll do my best.”

He bends down and grabs their collars, one in each hand, and slowly starts to drag them away.

I watch him for a moment, then I take off my coveralls. Underneath, I’m in a simple, inconspicuous outfit of jeans and a T-shirt. I tuck the borrowed gun into my waistband at the back, and pick up my discarded disguise and gas mask, placing them on the desk just inside the room. I peel off the makeup Ruby’s friend expertly applied, revealing my true features once again.

I glance around the room. Nice furniture, deep blue carpet… even a paperweight with the presidential seal on it on the desk in front of me. I remember a time when seeing this in person would’ve impressed me, when I would’ve considered it an honor. Now, I feel disgusted by it. The magic forever tainted by the corruption and greed of the man sitting a few feet away behind this white door.

I take the gun from my back, gripping it tightly in my hand. I crack my neck, welcoming the new and improved, disciplined Inner Satan to stand beside me. Not in front of me. Not behind the wheel. By my side. Working with me to make me a better killer. A better weapon. A better man.

I stride toward the door and thrust my leg forward, connecting just next to the handle. It flies open, nearly off its hinges. I step inside the Oval Office and—

Oh.

I drop the gun to the floor.

Sonofabitch.

In front of me on the left, President Cunningham is sitting calmly behind his fancy-looking desk wearing a nice suit. There’s a smug look spread across his annoying fucking face. On the right, following the curve of the room, standing in a spacious line are six—no,
seven
Secret Service agents, all wearing their standard-issue black suits and holding their standard-issue firearms. In the middle of the room, sitting spread across two brown leather sofas are three men, also wearing suits. Two of them have their backs to me. The other is facing me, but I don’t recognize him.

I feel the barrel of a gun touch my temple. I flick my gaze to my left.

Oh, my mistake—
eight
Secret Service agents.

Cunningham stands, walks around his desk, and rests casually on the edge, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Good evening, Adrian. We’ve been waiting for you.”

I close my eyes and feel my shoulders involuntarily sag forward with defeat.

Fuck.

20:58 EDT

“Please, come in,” says Cunningham, gesturing to the middle of the room.

Words fail me. I silently ask my Inner Satan for help, but he’s backed down, as confused as I am.

I don’t understand… I did everything right. We all did. It might have looked a little straightforward, considering what we were actually doing, but the planning was meticulous, and everything was put in place by Josh and his team at GlobaTech. There’s no way they messed up their side of things, and we did everything correctly our side. I just don’t get it. I mean, how is…

Cunningham’s still smiling at me. Still has that smug look on his face. “Adrian, you look somewhat perturbed…”

I shrug. “I don’t know about that, but I’m really fucking confused… How are you not… y’know… unconscious.”

“That’s easy. The air conditioning system isn’t linked to this office. Too much of a security risk.”

“Huh… makes sense.”

Cunningham moves back around his desk but remains standing. “You see, Adrian, despite proving to be a world class pain in the ass, you’re still predictable and insignificant. I’ve done the impossible. I’ve set in motion things that will change the course of history. Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to handle a lowlife, two-bit assassin like you?”

My jaw muscles tense involuntarily. I glance around the room. The guy on my immediate left is pissing me off because he keeps pressing his gun against my head, forcing me to lean away slightly. The agents lining the opposite wall are like statues—they haven’t moved an inch, they’re simply keeping their guns trained on me.

The men on the sofas have stood. I’m pretty sure one of them is the chief of staff. Something Heskith, I think his name is. No idea about the other two.

Cunningham’s staring at me, challenging me, acting like he’s already won. And I have to admit, if you were on the outside looking in, you could certainly understand his thinking. I mean, I’m pretty screwed, right?

Well, yeah… I am. Sorry. I’ve got no secret plan. I didn’t see this coming. I’m somewhat frozen, and my mind hasn’t reengaged yet. I just feel… sorry. Like I’ve failed and let everyone down in the process. Like it’s all been for nothing.

I go to speak, but words fail me.

I know, I know… It’s not like me at all.

Cunningham continues to smile at me. “Cat got your tongue, Adrian? You were never going to stop this. Just because you figured it out, doesn’t mean you could ever really do anything about it. You didn’t stop 4/17 from happening, did you? You got right to the end… right to the final hurdle… and you just didn’t have it in you. And now, here you are, that last hurdle yet again. And look what’s happened… You’ve stumbled for a second time. You know, if the situation were different, I’d offer you a job in a shot. A man like you—resourceful, talented, intelligent—would’ve made one hell of an ally in all this.”

I close my eyes. Not the ‘wish you were on my side’ speech—please!

My teeth are aching from clenching my jaw so hard. Angry? No—anger doesn’t come close to what I’m feeling at the moment. There’s a rage coursing through my body that no human has any business understanding. It’s a primordial fury I honestly don’t know how to express. My fists tighten, every muscle in my body tenses, and I breathe slowly, doing everything I can to remain in control. It’s not the time.

Not yet.

I open my eyes slowly and fix Cunningham with a stare reserved only for the most horrific of bastards. “Stop.”

He frowns. “Excuse me?”

“I said, stop. Stop talking. Stop acting like what’s happening was inevitable. We all know it wasn’t. You think you’ve won. You think this is over because you have a gun to my head. But you’re wrong. I came here pretty much certain I wasn’t leaving, so killing me in your fancy little office means, precisely, fuck all. I’m prepared to die for this. But you… you’re not. I think
you’re
a coward. You’re very smart, but you’re a pussy. You want to do all this, you want to change the world so you can rule it, like some modern-day Caesar, but, ultimately, you don’t want to die for the cause, do you? And that’s the difference between us. The fact I’m prepared to do what’s necessary, whereas you’re only prepared to do what’s safe. That’s why you won’t win.”

He sits down and leans back in his chair. “Nice speech. Really. Great speech, Adrian. But… before you get too high and mighty, I want you to see something.”

He opens up a laptop that’s resting on his desk and spins it around to face the room. He nods to the agent beside me, who gestures me forward with another prod of his gun. I move into the middle of the room and stand just to the left of the sofas.

Cunningham points at the screen. “Take a look at this. Recognize it?”

I frown as I stare at the laptop. It’s showing a grayscale image of a town, presumably viewed from a satellite. It might even be a real-time feed, I’m not sure. He reaches over and presses a button. The picture zooms down to a street-level view. It shows a quiet, dusty road. An empty sidewalk. A restaurant facing a companion club and…

The Ferryman.

My eyes react, going wide with a mixture of anger and fear. “What is this?”

“This, I believe, is your bar, is it not? Your little slice of happiness. The only evidence you ever existed, bought and built using a stolen fortune.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

“I’m glad you asked. You see, this laptop is showing a live feed from the Cerberus satellite. We might as well dispense with the courtesies—I think that ship has sailed. You know I still have control of Cerberus, and what you’re seeing is me targeting your bar with a missile that belongs to North Korea.”

“You piece of shit! You’re insane!”

I step forward, but the gun at my head prevents me from moving farther.

“Insane? Not at all. This exercise serves multiple purposes—the most important of which is to bring the invasion home, so to speak. The thing that will allow me to unleash an unprecedented military response that no one will dare question—that people will
thank
me for—won’t be GlobaTech’s systematic destruction across the world, it’ll be North Korea reaching American soil. I’ve publicly held off joining the fight, telling the people that GlobaTech is handling it, that they can protect us overseas and that I want to protect us on our homeland. But when that security disappears, the people will cry out for me to send forth the full might of our military and wipe out North Korea with a swift, decisive strike.”

Focus, Adrian. You’re no good to the residents of Devil’s Spring if you lose it now.

“That’s a good plan. But what makes you so sure GlobaTech will fail? My best friend and your former secretary of defense are running that place—they know what they’re doing, and North Korea only outnumbers them six to one.”

He scoffs. “Only?”

“Please… I could take out ten on my own, easily. And every single one of those GlobaTech peacekeepers are very well trained, so six each should be a walk in the park.”