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

by James P. Sumner

  “Ah, ah, ah… Don’t be making all that noise like last time, or I’m gonna have to hit you again.”

  He tries to speak, but his words are muffled by the gun. I take it out slowly and gesture to him to repeat himself. He spits blood on the soft, cream cushion beside him. “I said… just kill me and get it over with, you bastard!”

  I nod. “Oh, I will—don’t you worry about that. But there are a couple of things I need to know first.”

  He scoffs. “What makes you think I’ll tell you anything?”

  I shrug. “Because if you do, I’ll end it quick and painless.”

  He smiles, challengingly. “And if I don’t?”

  I shrug again. “Then you’ll die in a manner that’s neither of those things, and that would suck for you.”

  He sighs, spits out some more blood and stares at his leg, snarling through a fresh wave of pain.

  I rest my foot next to his on the table and lean forward. “First question—who do you think would want you dead?”

  He genuinely thinks about it for a minute. “I don’t know… I’m not an idiot. I know I have made many enemies recently. It could be anyone.”

  “Huh… fair point, I guess. But why you, specifically? I’m guessing Fuelex has an entire board of rich investors and shareholders. I admit, I admire what you’re doing, but you wouldn’t have made the decision to do it alone. Why go after you and no one else?”

  He shrugs, but says nothing. He looks away to grimace at what I imagine is quite an excruciating pain in his leg.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me? Something personal? Something unrelated to Fuelex? There must be something… What have you done to warrant having me sent after you? Are you a thief? A liar? A murderer? A pedophile? What?”

  He frowns, apparently offended. “I’m none of those things, you… you disrespectful prick! I don’t know why anyone would want me dead. Anyway, why do you care? You’re just a hired gun, here to pull the trigger, right?”

  “Honestly? No, I’m not.” I use the gun to scratch my forehead, rubbing the tip of the barrel up and down my temple for a moment. “Truth be told, I’m doing someone a favor. A colleague of mine was sent to kill you. She’s gorgeous. Unbelievably so. That previous security risk everyone is so bothered about… That was her.”

  He frowns again. “Who? That stupid Chinese bitch?”

  “Well… I don’t think she’s Chinese. Or stupid. And if you feel brave enough to call her a bitch, you go right ahead. But yeah, I think we’re talking about the same woman. Anyway, she obviously failed, but she told our employer that you were dead anyway. She then got into a bit of a state because our employer happens to be quite powerful and resourceful, and she figured they would find out you were still alive and then go after her for lying to them. So, she came to me for help.”

  “And here you are… such a good friend!”

  His disdain isn’t hard to miss.

  “Actually, I was against killing you, at first. My employer isn’t big on telling me why they want people dead, as I’ve mentioned. Personally, I like to know such things before I put a bullet in someone, so I figured I’d come here, bullshit you a little, and see if I could find out for myself why someone would want you gone.”

  “And?”

  “And… I’ve still no fucking idea, beyond the obvious. I was hoping to get an idea of the kind of people my employer is involved with, but no such luck. Anyway, along the way I decided for myself you’re worth killing, because you threatened me.”

  He shakes his head. “Wait… so in the last fifteen minutes, you just decided to kill me? What the fuck? Do you have any idea who I am? I mean, really, who I am. How much money I have? How powerful I am?” He shifts in his seat as best he can with his injury. He hunches over a little, too. Almost as if he’s shrinking, losing his confidence. “Listen… I can give you anything you want if you let me live. Please! I don’t want to die… I’ve done nothing to deserve this. I’m begging you, I—”

  BANG!

  I put a bullet between his eyes, shattering his expensive sunglasses in the process. His head snaps back violently before sagging forward. Blood trickles from the hole in his head, runs down the front of his suit, and onto the cushion he’s sitting on.

  He was starting to get on my goddamn nerves. Do you know who I am? Really? Who says that?

  Wait… I’ve said that before, haven’t I?

  Yeah, pretty sure I have. But that was different. I obviously would have meant it ironically, to entertain myself in what I’m sure would have been an otherwise humor-free situation.

  Ah, fuck it.

  Now… how do I get out of here?

  14

  12:03 AST

  Shit. I should really start thinking about this kind of thing in advance… I’m sixty-five floors up, trapped in a room with seven dead GlobaTech operatives and a dead Saudi prince. I’m likely to be all over the hotel’s security feeds, and if there’s less than thirty armed men coming for me right now, I’m a lucky man.

  I take out my cell and call Lily.

  “Where the hell are you?” she asks, as she answers.

  I glance around. “Yeah… funny story. Now, don’t shout at me, but things got a little out of hand…”

  She sighs. “What have you done?”

  “Well, Sayed bin Mawal is dead.”

  “What? How?”

  “I shot him. And his seven bodyguards.”

  “Oh my God, are you fucking insane?”

  “You’d be surprised how many people ask me that…”

  “Would I? Really?”

  “Okay, no, probably not. Look, I’m in his suite on the sixty-fifth floor and I have no way out. I need your help, Lily.”

  She’s silent for a moment. “And I thought I was in deep shit… Okay, you can’t go down, right? So, you go up. I’ll arrange an extraction team to come get you. There’s a helipad on the roof.”

  I stare out the window. I hate heights. I close my eyes for a moment. “Up… got it.”

  “You need to buy yourself ten minutes.”

  “Okay. Ah… Lily, there’s one more thing.”

  She sighs again. “What?”

  “I may have been captured on their security feeds. A lot.”

  She gasps with disbelief. “Fucking seriously? Remind me never to ask for your help again!”

  “Yeah, well…” I pause for a moment to think of a suitable retort. “…okay, I’ve got nothing. Just sort it, will you? You know how The Order deals with this shit.”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  The line clicks off. I look around at the bodies of the GlobaTech security team. I feel really, really bad about that, for many reasons. First, they’re the good guys. They were just doing their job, and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Second, they’re ultimately Josh’s boys, and this is a slap in the face for him. But third, and arguably the most important… The Order doesn’t like it when you kill people they’ve not asked you to kill. It’s in their rules. And they only made three of the damn things, so they must take them seriously. I reckon I might get sent to my room or something after this…

  Screw it, I’ll deal with that later. For now, I need to focus on getting out of here.

  I walk over to the main door and place my ear carefully against it, listening for any hint of movement outside.

  …

  …

  …

  I can’t hear anything. I didn’t give any of these guys a chance to call for back-up before I took them out, so I might be lucky enough to make it up one final floor without being spotted.

  I grip the gun tightly in one hand and ease the door open with the other, creating a gap maybe an inch wide. I peek out. There’s no one in the hall that I can see.

  I open it fully, trying to stay as quiet as I can. Cautiously, I peek out again, this time looking both ways. Still clear. Good. Now all I have to do is reach the elevator at the far end and ride it up a floor, and—

  Shit
!

  I duck back inside as a guy appears at the end of the corridor. I wait a second or two, holding my breath…

  I don’t think he saw me. I roll my eyes with relief. He must be patrolling the floor. Annoying, but not too much of an issue.

  I chance another look out.

  Double shit!

  He’s not alone. There are three of them. They’re just pacing idly around in front of the elevators. I need to get past them, preferably without…

  Wait a minute…

  I look over my shoulder at the interior of the suite. Specifically, the layout and positioning of the rooms and other doors.

  Lightbulb!

  I gently close the door and walk quickly across the room, all the way to the opposite end. There’s another door here, which, if I’m right, opens up almost directly in front of the men, and, more importantly, the elevator. I forgot how big this suite actually is…

  I crouch in front of it and peer through the keyhole.

  Yeah, I was right. I can see the three guys standing in a loose triangle.

  I tense my jaw as I play out in my head every possible way this could go down. I could do this several ways, but I don’t particularly want to kill them, which immediately reduces the number of options. Plus, non-lethal takedowns aren’t exactly my specialty…

  I keep watching for a few minutes, until the guy closest to me is where I need him to be—namely, next to this door with his back to me. I stand and glance down at the gun in my hand, mostly for reassurance.

  Don’t hesitate, don’t think… just do.

  My rules.

  I yank the door open and push the man in front of me forward, hard. He flies into his colleague, who’s standing side-on a few feet away, talking with the third guy. As the first two collide and fall to the floor, I rush out and bury my shoulder in the third guy’s sternum, forcing him backward into the small strip of wall next to the elevator. I feel the wind leave him and he sinks to the floor, out for the count. I spin around to face the other two, who are just starting to gather themselves and realize something’s not right. The guy I pushed initially had dropped his weapon, so I kick it away from them and aim mine at the second guy, before he has chance to think.

  I gesture to the side with my head. “Throw your gun away, sweetheart.”

  He glares at me angrily, but does as I ask. I kick it over to the other one.

  “Now, both of you, on your feet, nice and easy.”

  They stand and hold their hands out to the sides. I’m facing them with the elevator on my right. The one on my left smiles. “You have any idea what you’re doing, asshole?”

  I shake my head. “Not usually. I figure it’s harder for people like you to anticipate my next move if I don’t know what it is myself.”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “Okay, whether or not you see tomorrow very much depends on the answer to my next question… How many of you are there on the floor above us?”

  The men exchange a glance, then the one on my right looks at me. “The suite upstairs belongs to the prince. There’s maybe fifteen of us.”

  And, of course… triple shit!

  I nod. “This is good. We’re being honest with one another. Is there a way to the roof from here without having to go up a floor first?”

  The first guy shakes his head. “No, you have to be upstairs. There’s a maintenance stairwell against the west wall, and a private elevator that runs up to the helipad. Why?”

  I shrug. “I’m meeting some friends of mine up there, and I’m trying to avoid any more violence.”

  The second guy smiles. “You’re shit out of luck there, man.”

  “Story of my life… Right, here’s what’s gonna happen. You—call the elevator.” He does. I look at the first guy. “You—if you move before I want you to, you’re dead. Understand?”

  He nods reluctantly. I look over at the elevator and watch the lights count up as it approaches.

  “So, there are fifteen guys above us?”

  The first guy nods again, but stays silent.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Wonderful.”

  Hey. Adrian. It’s me. Listen, I know we’re like, y’know, partners or whatever nowadays, but seriously, this is some dumb shit you’re planning on doing, you know that, right? I mean, you’ll be in a metal box, with nowhere to run, most likely facing a large group of armed guys who want to shoot you. You’re making it too easy for them, man. It’ll be like shooting fish in a fucking barrel! Listen to your Inner Satan, man… Find another way.

  Believe it or not, I actually told Kaitlyn about my Inner Satan in one of our early sessions. I didn’t call him that, but I told her I had this voice in my head sometimes. It wasn’t as if I had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other… It was more like my devil had grabbed a hold of my angel, snapped its neck, and was now just whispering sweet nothings in my ear while drinking whiskey.

  She had laughed at the analogy, and then launched into a detailed explanation as to why people like me—and by that, she means people suffering with survivor’s guilt or whatever—seek independent reassurance or support for our actions. And if we can’t find it, we create it, to help us get through the ordeal we’re re-living.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was way off, and I am, in fact, listening to one of my more prominent and useful demons.

  But I’m—he’s right. Simply going up in the elevator is pretty stupid. Which is why I’m gambling on them not expecting me to do it.

  The elevator arrives with a ding, and the doors slide smoothly open. I gesture toward it with my gun. “Inside, both of you.”

  They step into the carriage and I follow quickly behind them. I maneuver myself behind them and press the button for floor sixty-six. I raise my gun, holding it with both hands, keeping them covered. “Now turn around.”

  They both comply as the doors close and we begin the short ascent.

  I’m taking slow, deep breaths, keeping myself calm. It’s so easy in situations like this to allow your adrenaline to flow freely and let your instincts take over. I know, because I used to do it. Whenever I was neck-deep in shit like this, I’d just step aside and let my Inner Satan take over. He was the side of my personality that cared very little about my own well-being. He simply got the job done in times when I couldn’t find the strength to do what I needed to.

  But nowadays, that doesn’t happen. I take my time. I access that hidden reservoir of violence when I choose to, and use it the same way I use my gun. It’s nothing more than a weapon I’m trained to wield.

  DING.

  The doors slide open. I take one more deep breath, and time slows to a crawl. My eyes flick in all directions, absorbing every detail of what lies before me, allowing me to plan my attack.

  Ahead of me is a wall of windows that offer a breathtaking view of the city outside. There are three steps leading down from them into the middle of the suite. Six men armed with SMGs are standing casually in a line, holding their weapons loosely by their sides. Just in front of them, standing either side of a low, glass table in the center of the room, are two more guys—equally armed, and equally casual.

  I take one step forward, extending my peripheral view of the room. Away to the right, three sofas form a U-shape. They’re white leather, pristine and comfortable-looking. There’s one guy sitting with his back to me, and another standing by his side.

  Across from them on my left, three large decorative pillars are positioned in front of more windows, following the slight natural curve of the room. Three men stand like sentries, more alert than the others. Just beyond them, I see a set of doors leading out to the roof and, presumably, the helipad.

  Jesus…

  For the first time… ever, I think… I don’t know where to start. It’s not so much the numbers that I have an issue with, it’s their layout. There’s too much space between the different groups. If I aim at one side, I won’t have time to spin around before I’m shot by the others.

  I’m
not second-guessing my abilities, I’m not being negative or thinking too much, I’m not scared… I just know a lost cause when I see one. It might look as if I rush blindly into every situation, but I only do that when I know enough about that situation to know I can handle it. This… this isn’t happening. I need to find another—

  Holy mother of God!

  Just as time resumes its normal pace and people start to look over at us, a helicopter appears in front of me, rising from below and hovering level with the windows. It’s an attack chopper, painted jet black. I know the kind, but I’ve never seen a model like this one before. It’s a fucking beast! It looks like a flying tank. The level of armor alone is terrifying. It’s symmetrical in design, with two sets of vertical blades on the tail—one either side—and four large horizontal blades on the roof. Attached to both sides of the undercarriage is a frighteningly big rotary cannon—basically, it’s six Miniguns joined together in a long cylinder, which spins quickly, essentially causing an endless stream of bullets. A few years ago, you could be looking at upward of six thousand rounds a minute. God only knows what this thing would do…

  Everyone in the room is reacting as I am. They’re all standing, frozen, and stunned, staring out the window. I can’t see inside the cockpit, as the windows are tinted, but I can tell from the position and the angle of the chopper that I’m going to need to find some cover when that thing—

  “Holy shit!”

  I push both guys standing in front of me out of the elevator and press myself against the side as the chopper opens fire. It takes a split-second for every pane of glass to shatter, letting in the deafening noise of its blades as it hovers menacingly outside. The roar of the bullets is insane! There’s an almost continuous cracking as the tiling on the floor splinters under the onslaught from the twin cannons.

  Screams sound out for a brief moment, and then end abruptly as every man in there is annihilated. I’m holding my breath, forcing my body against the side of the elevator, almost pushing my way through it, desperate for some cover.