True Conviction (11 page)

I sigh and give her an empathetic smile. “Do you want to do it?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

I nod. “Okay,” I whisper to her. “Wait here.”

I walk over to Jones, take aim and without another word, I look him in the eye and put a bullet in his head. The shot rings out and neither of us moves until the silence falls once more.

I take a deep breath, choosing to ignore the stabbing pain in my chest as I do.

At least we’ve got a lot more to go on now, which is a good thing. We know Dark Rain is hiding a scientist somewhere until the Uranium is mined. It’s interesting to hear that Dark Rain intended processing the material themselves—wonder if GlobaTech knew… It’s kind of funny that both parties were intending to betray each other. In a way, it would’ve been interesting to see what would’ve happened if the material were mined, and they both tried to convert it at the same time…

I’m assuming, given what’s at stake, no one’s going to let the fact that
I
have the deeds stop them from starting the mining process. With Jackson dead, I reckon that will delay things from GlobaTech’s point of view for a while. The next step is to find this scientist… If we can get to them before the mining starts, Dark Rain will be forced to delay things too, based on their inability to do anything with the material once they have it. The last thing Ketranovich will want is to be sitting on tons of Uranium that’s useless on the black market.

We need to act fast, but for the first time this week, things are looking up.

“What now?” she asks.

“We need to get out of here before the cops arrive,” I say. “Fancy a drink?”

WE’RE SITTING ACROSS from each other in a booth, sipping our drinks. The bar isn’t too busy or too loud. There’s some music playing low in the background. There’s a very contemporary feel to the place. The interior is a mixture of brown leather and dark wood, as is the furniture. The people here seem more refined than the patrons in the places I usually drink. Everyone is in business dress or smart casual attire, talking in small groups like civilized people.

I’m cradling two fingers of Johnnie Walker; Clara’s holding a bottle of bud between her hands on the table, staring silently into space.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asks.

I shrug casually. “The way I see it, we need to start by tracking down this scientist,” I say. “Any ideas where they could be holding them?”

“There are a few places they might use. It’ll be within the city limits—they wouldn’t want to risk transporting the Uranium too far. Especially over state lines.”

“True. I’ll get my guy to look into it. You can give him the locations you know of and he’ll work his magic from there. He might be able to narrow down the search, track them by process of elimination.”

“Sounds good...”

She seems distracted. She probably has a lot on her mind, which I can understand.

“You alright?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replies, somewhat unconvincingly. “It’s just what Marcus said to me on the roof, about being a traitor. It’s like I told you, Adrian—you can’t walk away from these people.”

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine. You have my word—we’re going to stop them, okay?”

She smiles, but says nothing. We fall silent again for a few minutes, but it doesn’t feel awkward.

“Can I ask you something?” she says after a few moments.

“Shoot,” I say.

“Before, in your motel room, I got out of the shower wearing a towel.”

“Yes… you did.”

“And we had a long conversation.”

“I know, I was there, remember?”

“You didn’t check me out once.”

I raise an eyebrow and burst out laughing, prompting a disapproving look.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But you’re such a woman!”

“What gave it away? These?” she says sarcastically, pointing at her breasts.

I smile, making a conscious effort not to look. “Let me ask you this,” I say. “If I
had
checked you out, or made a move or whatever, would it have got me anywhere?”

She seems to genuinely consider it for a moment, before smiling almost apologetically. “Probably not.”

“There you go. So if we both knew I wouldn’t have stood a chance anyway, why does it bother you that didn’t try?”

She shrugs. “A girl likes to be noticed, y'know. It makes her feel... special.” She pulls a playful face and smiles, messing with me.

I massage my temples in frustration. “Shoot me now...”

She laughs and I laugh with her. She finishes her drink and points to my glass.

“Want another?” she asks.

I take a final gulp of my drink and nod. “Please. Same again.”

She walks off to the bar. I notice a group of men at a table across from us stop and check her out. I smile to myself and stare absently at the table.

Why didn’t I check her out? I mean, it’s not like she’s unattractive. Purely based on looks, she’s one of the most gorgeous women I’ve seen in a long, long time. I just… I don’t think about stuff like that. I focus on my job and that’s it. After losing…

I rest my head in my hands and sigh.

I’m angry at myself now because I’m worried I’ve offended her in some way. I wonder if I’ve actually hurt her feelings… Women are complicated creatures sometimes. She was being playful, but there’s likely an underlying reason that prompted her to ask.

Or am I over-thinking it?

I let out a heavy sigh again.

“What’s on your mind, champ?” asks Clara, placing my drink in front of me and sliding back into her seat.

“Just thinking about what you said before, about not checking you out. I –”

She waves her hand and smiles. “I was just kidding around, forget about it.”

“No, it’s fine. I need to give you a real reason for my own piece of mind, okay?”

She shrugs, still smiling at me. “Go ahead,” she says.

I take a deep breath and a gulp of Johnnie Walker.

“Six years ago, I was working a contract over in Pittsburgh. A guy hired me to take out a local drug dealer called Darnell Harper, who sold some cocaine to his son. The boy died of an overdose and the coroner’s report said the coke had been cut with some kind of cleaning fluid, which made it toxic. The guy was beside himself, but knew he couldn’t do anything on his own. He reported it to the police, but they did nothing, so he hired me to kill the guy that sold it.”

She listens intently, occasionally sipping her drink.

“I looked into the guy—he was just a small-time dealer. He had a modest operation in the local area, but he wasn’t in the big leagues. I tailed him for a couple of days, learned his routines and his hangouts. Then on the third day, I waited until he was alone and I put a bullet between his eyes with a sniper rifle from a rooftop two streets away…”

“Nice,” she shrugs with what felt like professional admiration.

“Thanks…Unfortunately, it turned out Harper was the son of Wilson Trent, the drug kingpin who runs most of Pennsylvania. I didn’t find that out initially, because no one on the street knew about it. Apparently, Harper used his mother’s maiden name so he wouldn’t be associated with his old man. He wanted to make his own way, not on Trent’s coat-tails.”

“So what happened?” asks Clara.

“Trent put the word out that his son had been hit. It didn’t take long from him to track down my client, and it took even less time to convince him to give me up. Within a few days, I had five guys kicking in my front door, intent on killing me. An example needed making to send a message, to remind everyone that you didn’t mess with Wilson Trent.”

I pause and finish off my drink as I’m inundated with memories and images—visions from that day that will haunt me forever… and the darkness I tried to crawl out of in the years that followed.

“You alright?” she asks, leaning forward on the table. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, y’know? I’m serious—I was just kidding around before.”

“I know,” I reply. “Thank you. But it’s okay. I want to tell you.”

She nods and leans back against the seat, taking another sip of her beer.

“I wasn’t home when they came round,” I continue. “But they kicked down the door and stormed in to find that my wife and daughter were. Maria was just seven years old...” I let the sentence trail off for a moment as I picture my baby girl, smiling at me. “When I got home later that night, I found them both hog-tied on the kitchen floor with bullets in their heads and chests. They'd turned the house upside down and trashed it almost beyond repair. At the time, I had no idea what had happened. I just panicked, packed a bag, grabbed my guns and left. I rang the police a couple of hours later and said I was a concerned neighbor who had heard gunshots. I’ve not been back home since.”

“Jesus, Adrian, I’m so sorry,” she says. Her eyes are filling up with tears.

“That’s why I wouldn’t have dreamed of making a move on you, or even looking at you in that way,” I say. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m still married.”

She nods and smiles, casually wiping away the single tear rolling down her right cheek. “That’s very admirable of you,” she says. “So, how come you’ve never gone after this Trent guy since?”

“I hadn’t been in the freelance business that long when it all happened, and back then I was out of my league going up against a man like Trent. I just ran, keeping clear of the East Coast to this day. Nowadays, I’m more than capable of going after him, but… I’m not ready to face my past yet, or my guilt for running away in the first place. I was in a bad place for a long time. If it wasn’t for my friend, Josh, getting me through those dark times, I probably would’ve eaten a bullet years ago.”

“Well, you shouldn’t feel guilty, Adrian. Anyone in your position would’ve done the same.”

I smile. “Thank you for saying so, but that doesn’t make living with it any easier.”

“No, I imagine it doesn’t... I’m sorry.” She pauses for a moment. “So, your life since then has basically involved travelling around the country and killing people for money?” she asks, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood.

“You make it sound so glamorous,” I chuckle. “But yeah, that’s pretty much it. I learnt my lesson the hard way not to take jobs in my hometown. So now, I don’t live anywhere—makes it much simpler. Over the years, I’ve earned my reputation and made plenty of money doing something I’m very good at. Things could be a lot worse.”

“It must be lonely though, all that travelling on your own?”

I shrug. “I’m used to it. I’ve always got Josh to talk to and I’ve learned to embrace my anonymity.”

“You’re hardly anonymous though, are you? Every criminal in North America who’s worth a damn has heard of you.”

I smile. In truth, my reputation isn’t limited to North America and it isn’t limited to criminals. Let’s just say I’ve been around…

“That’s as maybe,” I say, smiling. “But I still can’t be found unless I want to be. I’d call that pretty anonymous.”

I take another sip of my drink and glance around the bar. Outside, through the front window, I see a black Humvee pull up. It mounts the curb at a decent speed, sliding to halt with a loud screech. The doors fly open and four people step out.

What the…?

Are they holding guns?

I see them form a line in front of the bar.

Yes, those are
definitely
guns… assault rifles, in fact.

They take aim…

Oh, shit!

“Everybody get down!” I yell.

I grab Clara’s hand and drag her out of the booth as the bullet start flying. The air fills with the rapid, pumping roar of automatic gunfire and the stench of cordite.

“What’s happening?” she shouts as I overturn a table, pulling us both down behind it.

“I’m pretty sure we’re getting shot at,” I say.

I look around and see people running and screaming in blind panic. The furniture and decor are getting shredded by the onslaught from outside. The glass behind the bar shatters, exploding everywhere. Nearby I can hear the dull squelch as bullets impact someone’s body, piercing their flesh with an unholy fury. A lucky few seem to have found cover, but nothing’s going to protect anyone for long against
this
.

I risk a quick peek over the table to get a glimpse at who’s attacking us. I can see the four figures through the smoke and haze. There’s a woman who, judging by her figure and outfit, I’m assuming is Natalia Salikov—the super-scary assassin Clara mentioned yesterday. The other three are guys I’ve not seen before. But if Natalia’s here, that means Dark Rain has found me.

Or found Clara.

I look over at her as she looks at me, clearly coming to the same conclusions.

“You packing?” she shouts.

I reach behind me and produce my two babies. “Always,” I say, handing her one. I reach into my pocket and hand her a spare magazine. She nods at me gratefully, checking how full it is and loading the gun.

I motion for her to stay under cover where we are and she nods in agreement. I take another quick look at the front and, happy they’re all momentarily pre-occupied with causing as much damage as possible, I run to my left and fire three rounds blindly in their general direction. I slide on my knees and stop behind another batch of tables, taking cover again. I look over at Clara, who’s doing her best to return fire.

I tense my jaw muscles as I think. We’ve got no chance of winning a straight up shootout against these people—we’re too heavily outgunned. I glance around for some inspiration and see the door at the far side of the bar area. That must lead into the back area and hopefully out of the building…

Clara breaks cover and runs to my side, letting off four rounds that cause one of the gunmen to duck down momentarily. I look at her as she crouches down beside me. She can certainly handle herself, I’ll give her that. Right now, I have to admit I’m very glad to have her on my side.

“We can’t stay here,” I shout to her. “There’s a door behind us. We’re gonna have to make a run for it.”

She nods in agreement, as she squeezes off a few more rounds just as the table splinters just above her head. I look over to see which of the gunmen has locked on to us. They’re standing in a line, with Natalia second from the left. The guy on the far right is emptying another clip in our direction.

I duck back down to avoid another burst, then spring up and unload three more rounds at the guy on the right. The first one misses, but the second and third hit the spot.

One hits him in the chest, making him stagger backward and spray bullets in a wide arc toward the ceiling. The other catches him on the jaw, and the bottom half of his head explodes in a pink and white mist, as bone and blood fly off in all directions.