Good Intentions - Adrian Hell #6 (Adrian Hell Series) (4 page)

I hope Hong Yun is okay. No reason she wouldn’t be, I guess, but my spider sense is tingling, and it’s making me paranoid.

As I made my way around, I was looking for any gaps in the fence, or any easy ways over it, but there was nothing. This place is locked down tight, which leaves me with very few options. I have to hand it to The Order—if you want to be a member, you have to work for it!

Okay, think, Adrian… I need to get inside. I’m unarmed, so I can’t exactly mount a frontal assault… I need a weapon, but the only place I’m going to find one is in there… I can’t scale the fence because, as best I can tell, wherever I come out on the other side is in full view of someone…

Dammit! Think, Adrian… c’mon!

Wait…

No, that’s just stupid.

I could always…

No, I couldn’t. Shit.

Oh, hang on…

I could always…

Hmmm…

Lightbulb!

I search the ground around me and soon find what I’m looking for—a broken twig with a sharp edge. Without thinking, I run the splintered end over my palm and my cheek, hard and fast.

I wince. Shit, that stings!

I feel the warmth from the trickle of blood running out of each wound. Next, I get two handfuls of dirt from the ground and squeeze them in my fists. I rub them over my forearms and face. I dust off the excess, stand, and then take a few paces back and forth to practice my fake limp.

Okay, that should do it. I reckon I look suitably messed up.

If this works, I’m a genius.

If it doesn’t, I’m dead.

I make my way slowly over to the clearing, trying my best to look out of breath and sore. I follow the path I saw Hong Yun take. It veers left slightly, and after a few moments a guard post appears up ahead—a makeshift gate made from wire mesh between two metal poles on wheels blocks the way. There’s an armed man standing on either side.

I approach them slowly, running through every possible outcome in my mind as I slip into character. They see me and exchange the briefest of glances before raising their guns, aiming at me with an unnerving steadiness.

Showtime.

I thrust my arms into the air, lowering one immediately as if forgetting a pain. “Oh my God, please help me! I’m…” I stand still for a moment, and then drop heavily to one knee. “…I don’t know… where…”

I fall flat on my face, eyes closed. It’s a risk, but I think I did alright. Josh was always better at this than I was, but I could play a part well enough when I needed to. As I lie here, listening to the hurried footsteps of the guards as they make their way over, it occurs to me that there weren’t many things Josh
wasn’t
better at than I was. He was smarter than me, better with computers, more organized, a better actor, more levelheaded… arguably the same level of taste in music… I’m
definitely
better at killing people, but that’s hardly something to shout about, I guess.

Oh—here we go.

I feel them hook my arms and hoist me unceremoniously to my feet. I fight the urge to support my own weight, instead hanging loose in their grip. They’re pretty strong, and they drag me easily over to the post, shouting to one another in a language I don’t recognize. Strangely, it’s not Vietnamese. At least I don’t think it is. They don’t sound like Hong Yun did, anyway. But I can tell from their tone they’re concerned… maybe even a little afraid. That gives me something to go on. All these people, all these weapons, yet they’re on edge when one, beaten up, unarmed man collapses on their doorstep… Why so touchy?

I hear the gate roll open and I’m dragged through. As it closes again, I notice another set of footsteps coming toward me.

More voices.

I think these two ass-hats holding me up are explaining to the new arrival what’s happened. That might mean whoever’s in front of me is in charge. Mr. Way…? Nah, I doubt it. If he’s the big cheese around here, he won’t bother himself with shit like this.

I feel a hand grab my jaw and squeeze, making my face pucker. They lift my head and shake it back and forth.

Okay, okay—I’m up…

I slowly open my eyes.

Holy shit!

There’s a guy’s face inches from mine. And he’s an ugly sonofabitch!

I twitch, startled. Which isn’t part of the act. “Wha-what’s happening? Where am I?”

I watch as the guy in front of me narrows his eyes and stands straight. Jesus, he’s a big bastard! He must be damn near seven feet tall!

I act drowsy and allow my head to droop, mainly because I’m not sure I can hide the frustration from my eyes. It’s Way’s head of security. I recognize him from the picture. And he’s…

Shit!

The picture!

It’s in my pocket! If they search me, I’m screwed!

The guards on either side of me let go of my arms. I drop to the ground and land on all fours. I tense, bracing for a kick to the ribs, but nothing comes. The head of security utters something and walks away. The two men standing with me start arguing.

I look up at one of them. “Where… am I?”

He turns to me and smiles. “You in
Hell
!”

Oh, man—that’s disgusting! The teeth that weren’t missing were yellow and black…

I sigh. “Oh… good—glad I asked…”

They heave me back to my feet and march me across the open yard. This is my first real look inside the compound. I move only my eyes, keeping my head still so I don’t make it obvious I’m scoping the place out.

It’s big. There’s a row of small, temporary housing units over on the right, maybe seven of them side by side. Each one could easily accommodate thirty people. They look like the ones GlobaTech have been shipping all over the world to help out after 4/17. In fact… yeah… they
are
the ones GlobaTech have been shipping out!

Whatever else Mr. Way is, he’s a fucking thief! Wait ’til I tell Josh!

Oh, wait… I can’t.

Damn it.

Lining both sides, probably every three or four hundred yards, is a guard tower. Crudely-built wooden structures standing maybe fifteen feet high. There’s a platform at the top, protected on all sides except the one that has a ladder leading down from it. I count seven of them on the left, nine on the right.

Directly across from me are a half dozen 4×4s, parked at random angles in between a fuel dump and a small workshop.

Ahead of me, at the far end of the camp, is a large tent. The kind military generals used back in Roman times. To the side of it is a fenced-off area, maybe twenty feet square, full of grass and plants. I can see four women crouching as they tend to it, all of them dressed similar to Hong Yun.

I see movement on my right and glance over as the door to one of the housing units swings open. A woman steps out. Well, I say
a woman
, but she can’t be older than twenty. If that.

I can’t help it. I turn my head and body to get a proper look, intrigued to a fault, thinking the worst and reacting accordingly. I take slightly more of my own weight than before, so I’m not being dragged as much by Tweedledum and Tweedledee here. The young woman is wearing a bikini. She doesn’t have much of a figure to speak of. She’s very slim, almost skinny. As we draw level, I see she actually looks borderline malnourished.

She doesn’t look very happy, either.

As we pass, the door opens again and a man dressed the same as my escorts’ steps out. He’s fastening his pants and has a satisfied, yet annoyingly arrogant, smile on his face.

Oh. That doesn’t—

“Hey!”

I look at the guard to my right, eyebrows raised.

He slaps me, forcing me to look forward. “Eyes down.”

His English is passable, but it’s definitely not his first language. He’s not Vietnamese, but he has the same complexion and similar features. Chinese? No… they’re still struggling after the attacks. Thai? Could be… but I don’t think that’s what they’re speaking because I’d recognize the dialect. Korean? Hmmm, probably not—the South is in the same position as China, and the North are unlikely to get involved in shit like this while they’re still trying to take over the world… Or are they? I should probably ask about that. I wonder if Josh has managed to kick their asses yet?

Ah, forget it. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough. We’re heading for the tent at the end, which must be where Mr. Way is. I guess I should get my story straight…

We stop outside the dusty gray tarpaulin structure. Each guard pulls a section back to reveal the interior, and then they shove me through. I stumble inside as the sections drop back into place behind me, shutting out the natural light. There are plenty of standing lamps lighting up the place in here though. There’s a low humming coming from somewhere, too—presumably from a generator.

There’s a bed in one corner, a couple of tables in the middle serving as a desk, and a seating area to the other side with a computer station in front of it. Behind one of the tables is Mr. Way. I recognize him immediately from his photo. He looks much older in person. The picture I was given was very flattering. In reality, he looks as if he belongs in a care home. His skin is loose and mottled, and he looks frail, despite the liveliness in his eyes. He’s wearing a baseball cap backward, which makes him look ridiculous—he’s far too old to get away with dressing like that!

Standing beside him is the monster head of security. He’s wearing a T-shirt that looks three sizes too small—except it probably isn’t, it’s just his arms are that big. His pants stretch over his legs in a similar way. He’s leaning over, resting his palms flat on the desk. They appear deep in conversation, but they fall silent and look over as I step cautiously toward them. They exchange a nod and Way shifts in his seat to look at me properly.

He looks me up and down, curiously. “Who are you?”

His accent is different again, but his grasp of the English language is far better than anyone else’s around here. There might even be a hint of American in his tone, I’m not sure.

I take a deep breath. “I’m… I was out camping with a group of friends. We got separated when I fell—I stumbled on the ground and dropped down a small hill. I… I landed pretty bad. I lost my way, and now I don’t know where they are, or even where
I
am. Thank God, I found this place. I really need your help getting back to—”

He holds up a hand, so I stop talking.

“I’m a businessman. A very wealthy one. I didn’t achieve that by trusting very many people. I’m sure you understand…”

His bodyguard moves fast. He draws the gun he has holstered to his hip, aiming it at me in a flash. He moves over to where I’m standing and places the barrel against my head.

I hold my hands up, feigning panic. “Oh my God! Please! No! I just want to find my friends, please! Don’t kill me!”

I hate myself.

Way is smiling at me the way people do when they’re confident they know something you don’t. He’s sitting comfortably with his hands clasped in front of him, resting on the surface of the table. “No one camps in these woods, Mr. Mystery Man. I know that for a fact. It’s why I built this operation here. We’re all alone. For miles and miles. Which means
you’re
all alone. So, you can either tell me the truth, or my associate here will put a bullet through your brain. Who are you? Really…”

I stand tall and let out a heavy sigh. I glance sideways at the gun, and the tall, horrible bastard holding it. Then I look across at Mr. Way—the smug little shit who thinks he’s in charge, smiling at me as if I’m beneath him in some way.

I lower my arms, pausing only to rub my eyes.

Here we go…

4

14:58
ICT

Mr. Way gestures to me with his hands. “I’m waiting, Mr. Mystery Man…”

I’m running everything through my head. Every move, every possible counter, every potential ending…

In most scenarios, I get shot. Which sucks.

I need to buy myself some time.

I keep my body still, to make sure I do nothing that might provoke a pre-emptive bullet. I forget the act that got me this far, and fix him with a cold, fearless stare. “What is this place?”

He laughs. “No, no, no—that’s not how this works.
You
tell
me
what
I
want to know, not the other way around. You seem a little reluctant to tell me who you are, so let’s try something else. Who sent you?”

I let out a small chuckle. “Heh… that’s what I’d like to know! Listen, I’m gonna be straight with you, okay? I honestly don’t know why I’m here, or really who sent me. All I know is someone, somewhere, thinks you’re a piece of shit, and they’ve asked me to come down here and kill you.”

A palpable silence falls. The tension is immediate and obvious. I feel as if my own heartbeat is audible. No one speaks, moves, or even blinks. Seconds tick by like hours. The gun pressed against my head remains steady. Way’s eyes narrow.

Then he smiles.

Then he laughs.

“You a very funny man, whoever you are!”

I shrug, a little confused. “Thanks…?”

“Okay, Mr. Funny Man, I’ll play along… out of curiosity.” He gestures around him with his arms. “This is my home. It’s where I run my business from.”

I glance around. “It’s a nice place… And what
is
your business, exactly?”

“I… work with people, shall we say? People—mostly men—from all over the world contact me, wanting other people—mostly women—who will provide a service. And for a modest price, I supply one to the other.”

“Lemme guess… by
service
, you don’t mean cooking or cleaning?”

He shakes his head.

“And when you say
women
, you actually mean girls?”

He pauses for a moment and then nods.

“Well, you’re a sick fuck, I’ll give you that. But what I don’t understand is how are you making any money? Companion clubs are legal now. Why pay black market prices for something you can buy over the counter? Figuratively speaking.”

Way stands. He’s maybe half my height. He looks like a Hobbit—all hairy and unclean.

Not wishing to be disrespectful to Hobbits or anything.