Deadly Intent: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 4)

by Sumner, James P.

  I’m excited to see Tori again, but also a little nervous. I’ve spent the last two and a half years burying Adrian Hell and starting over, and I’ve just spent the last seventy-two hours resurrecting him. In a strange way, I feel like I’ve betrayed Tori. I’m going home with so much blood on my hands. Regardless of how necessary it might have been, it still wasn’t me—not anymore.

  I let out a sigh. I need to stop worrying—I’ve got enough on my mind as it is. I lean over and turn the radio on, fiddling until I find a station playing something half-decent. After a moment, I stumble across the opening line of I Wanna Rock by Twisted Sister. I smile and wind my window down, feeling myself go a little bit faster.

  I soon reach Devil’s Spring. I feel a warm sense of familiarity and comfort as I drive through the center of town, truly feeling like I’m home. I stop at a red light. If I go right, it’ll take me up the hill toward the station house.

  I wonder how Sheriff Raynor’s doing… He handled the truth about me really well, which I’m grateful for.

  The lights change and I turn left, following the road around to the right and finally pulling up outside The Ferryman. I get out and stretch, looking around for a moment and soaking it all in.

  Jeez, it’s quiet around here…

  I get my bag out of the trunk, sling it over my shoulder, and then head around back and up the stairs to my apartment. The first thing I notice is that the door is open... I place my bag quietly on the ground, and take out one of my Berettas, holding it firmly in my hand. I push the door open gently and step inside.

  The place is a mess. All the furniture is either upturned or broken, scattered across the floor.

  Jesus... when did this happen? I’m just glad Tori wasn’t here.

  I walk over to the bed. The mattress is on the floor, and the frame is on its side. I check the other door, that leads down to the bar area, but that’s still locked.

  Strange... whoever did this was coming to my home specifically, not the bar.

  I hear a noise behind me, and spin around, bringing my gun up to aim.

  Sheriff John Raynor is standing in the doorway at the top of the stairs outside. He looks like shit—a couple of days’ worth of growth on his chin, and his right arm in a sling.

  He holds his left arm up when he sees my gun. “I’m a friendly,” he says, with a weak smile.

  I relax, lowering my gun. “Jesus Christ, John, what the hell happened to you?”

  “It was… a nightmare, Adrian,” he replies. “That’s the only way I can think to describe it. An absolute nightmare. There were only five of them, too—and I never thought I’d use the word only when describing a five-man assault… That’s your goddamn influence... Anyway, they came the night you left for New York. It wasn’t guns blazing, like the others. It was… it was planned. Meticulously. They came knowing exactly what they intended doing, and how they wanted to do it. I got here as soon as I could—brought all my deputies with me. In hindsight, we never stood a chance…”

  I look around my apartment again. “It must’ve been the bad guys I went after in New York,” I say, turning back to him. “If they knew I was coming for them, they maybe tried to pre-empt my involvement by taking me out here. They were just a few hours too late...”

  Raynor shakes his head. “We arrived as they were leaving your place, but I don’t think they were here for you.”

  I frown. Who would they be after, if not me? A split second passes, and my eyes go wide, realizing who their only logical target could’ve been.

  “John… is Tori alright?”

  His mouth forms a grim line of regret. “We exchanged gunfire, and then chased them in squad cars. All the way to young Nicki’s house... Adrian, I’m sorry—but the woman of the group put a bullet in Nicki’s head, right there in front of us, and two of the men bundled Tori into the trunk of their car.”

  I glaze over, numbed by the news that Tori was taken. But my brain kicks in after a few moments, and alarm bells sound as I process what Raynor had told me.

  “A woman?” I ask.

  “Yeah, real evil-looking bitch—excuse my French. Dark eyes, bit too much make-up, wore a cat suit...”

  Clara Fox!

  “What did she say?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” he shrugs. “She just pulled out a gun so big I was surprised she could lift it. Had it strapped to her back. She just unloaded at us—destroyed both cruisers. Killed one of us; injured the rest.” He reaches behind him and pulls out a disc in a plastic sleeve, then hands it to me. “She threw this at us before leaving. Got your name on it.”

  I feel a rush of anger explode inside me, waking my Inner Satan from his slumber. It’s like a river of heat coursing through me, making me shake with fury. The only thing stopping me from properly losing my shit right now is the sadness and despair I feel, unable to get the image of Tori lying dead somewhere out of my mind.

  I shake my head.

  No. She’s alive. If Clara’s taken her, it’s to draw me out, so she won’t kill her only bargaining chip just yet. I pick up the DVD and examine it.

  “Come on,” I say to Raynor, focusing on the problem and trying to distance myself from it emotionally. “Let’s see what she has to say for herself.”

  I walk over to my TV, which is still in one piece. Clara must’ve had this whole thing planned from the beginning—they destroyed my apartment, but left the TV in one piece on purpose, knowing I’d need to watch this DVD.

  He follows me, and I put the disc in the DVD player and press play. We stand side-by-side, my arms folded across my chest, watching the TV intently as Clara walks into view. It looks like it was filmed on a cheap handheld camera—the picture quality is grainy, and the background noise is hollow.

  The room she’s in is pretty basic, and could be anywhere in the world—plain dirty walls, no carpet on the floor, no visible windows…

  “Hello, Adrian,” she says.

  She stands silently smiling at the camera for a moment. The first thing I notice is the long scar across her face, running from her right temple diagonally across to the left corner of her mouth.

  Hope that hurt, you heartless bitch.

  Her hair is jet black now, not blonde like I remember. She definitely has too much make-up on, like Raynor said. Her dark eyes betray no emotion.

  “It’s been a long time,” continues the video. “What is it? Four years? Four years since you left me for dead in the desert… four years since you killed my father… and for four years I’ve been itching for a chance to have my revenge.”

  Raynor looks at me out of the corner of his eye. I see it, and I know what he’s thinking.

  “Yeah, I killed her father,” I confirm, turning my head to look at him. “He was a terrorist trying to kill a whole lot of American soldiers. I beat him to death and blew his base off the face of the earth.”

  “Fair enough,” replies Raynor, shrugging.

  I re-focus on the video. “…geddon Initiative will soon be able to hold every nation on the planet to ransom. I know Yalafi Hussein has already tried to recruit you, but I told him that wouldn’t work, you fucking Boy Scout! But in typical Adrian Hell fashion, you had to start asking questions about things that didn’t concern you, and now… now we’re at the stage where we need to make a concentrated effort to remove you from the picture.

  “If you’re watching this video, we have your little girlfriend. We’ll make sure she’s looked after until you get here.”

  She’s pacing around as she’s talking, trying to look scary and intimidating. She looks more like a psychopath than the last time I saw her, and from her body language, I get the impression she’s harbored a grudge toward me that’s consumed her entirely.

  “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble working out where we are, so I’ll wait patiently for you to arrive. Oh, and to be clear, our plans will not be delayed any further by your interfering. In seventy-two hours, we’ll control the world, and my vendetta against you will be obsolete. At which poi
nt, if you’re not here, I’m going to cut your girlfriend’s fucking head off and mail it to you… Bye for now.” She smiles at the end and blows a kiss to the camera before walking out of shot.

  I turn back to Raynor. “I have to find her,” I say to him.

  “What do you need from me?” he asks.

  “I’ll let you know when I have a better idea what I’m up against.”

  We’re interrupted by the sound of a very deep, haunting, foreign voice.

  “Adrian…”

  We both frown and look at the TV. We’d left the video playing, and the camera had obviously been left recording after Clara had gone. On screen is a man sitting cross-legged on the floor. He’s Middle Eastern, with a long black beard and a turban. He also has an eye patch over his left eye. He’s hugging his knees as he stares at the camera. I must admit, looking at him makes me a little uncomfortable. The look on his face… it’s like he can actually see me.

  “Adrian… I am Hamaad El-Zurak. I control the Armageddon Initiative.”

  Jesus. The man himself.

  “I have heard much about you. I need you to understand that you cannot stop what we have started. We will change the world, and I promise you will not be alive to witness it.”

  He stares at the camera for a moment—it’s like he’s staring through the screen, right at me. I don’t know what it is about him. He doesn’t scare me or anything, he’s just… I don’t know—un-nerving.

  I’ll find him and put a bullet between his eyes, just to be on the safe side.

  I turn the DVD off and remove it from the player. I slide it back into its cover, and then walk over to the door to retrieve my bag. I bring it inside, resting it on the floor in front of the TV. I open it up, throw the DVD inside, and take out my other Beretta, and my custom holster. I stand, strapping the holster in place at my back, and then slide the guns inside it.

  “They’re mighty fine-lookin’ weapons,” says Raynor, approvingly.

  “They do the job,” I reply, shrugging.

  I grab the burner phone from inside the bag and dial Josh’s number from memory.

  “I need your help,” I say as he answers. “It’s Tori, she’s been—”

  “Adrian, where are you?” he says, cutting me off. The panic evident in his voice.

  “What? I’m back in Texas, why?”

  “Shit. Adrian, you need to run. Now!”

  I feel my eyes go wide. I’ve never heard fear in Josh’s voice before.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “They’re coming for you. For all of us. Just run—I’ll call you.”

  The line goes dead. I look at Raynor.

  “What was that all about?” he asks.

  “I don’t know… but Josh was spooked, and he said we should run right now.”

  He shifts uncomfortably on the spot. “So... where are we going?”

  I sling my bag over my shoulder, trying to remain calm and casual, despite everything that’s happened. I need Raynor to trust me, and he won’t do that if I don’t look like I’m in complete control of the situation.

  “Across the street,” I say with a smile.

  21.

  08:31 CDT

  I walk out of my bar and cross the street, with Sheriff Raynor close behind me.

  “I think your friend may have meant for us to run a bit farther than this,” he says.

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious as to who we’re supposed to run away from?” I ask.

  “Not particularly.”

  “Ah, John, you have much to learn. If you wanna win the game, you first have to establish who’s playing.”

  “That’s surprisingly philosophical, Adrian,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Don’t let the fact I used to be a ruthless sociopath, who charged people money to commit murder on their behalf, fool you. I’m actually quite intelligent.”

  “Uh-huh…”

  I knock on the door of The Fire Pit, quickly attracting the attention of the owner, who opens up for us. He’s in his early sixties and wearing casual clothes with an apron over the top.

  “Mister Adrian!” he says, smiling. “We’ve not turned on the grill yet!”

  I push past him without a word. I feel bad, because he’s a nice guy and always treats Tori and I well when we eat here, but I’m in a hurry. Raynor follows and shuts the door behind us.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “This is an emergency. Can we go upstairs?”

  “Mister Adrian, I… what is going on?”

  Raynor steps forward and takes over, using his authority to speed things along.

  “Pardon the intrusion,” he says, professionally. “But this is Sheriff’s Department business, and we could really use your help.”

  He pauses for a moment, looking at us both. I see the excitement building in his eyes. He probably watches Cops or something…

  “Sure thing, just head through to the back and up the stairs.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “And whatever happens outside in the next few minutes, just act normal and remember—we’re not here, okay?”

  He nods enthusiastically, and I catch Raynor’s bemused look.

  We head upstairs and position ourselves in the room at the front of the building, overlooking the street and directly facing my bar. It’s a storage room of some kind—lots of big wooden crates scattered everywhere. We stand either side of one of the windows, peering cautiously down below.

  “So what now?” asks Raynor.

  “Well, Josh seemed pretty keen for us to get outta there, so I’m guessing whoever’s coming is close. Once they see we’re not there, they’ll figure we got tipped off and cleared out as quickly and as far as possible. So we can stay here and get a good look at who we’re dealing with.”

  Raynor strokes his chin with his left hand, and then scratches his right shoulder. “Is this what your old life used to be like?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Nah, back then people used to run away from me.”

  09:10 CDT

  We’ve been waiting over half an hour. I’m getting impatient, because every second I stand here is a second less I have to find Clara and rescue Tori. And time’s running out.

  “Maybe they got tipped off and aren’t coming?” offers Raynor.

  “Not likely, the way Josh was acting,” I reply.

  I hear vehicles coming from both directions. It’s been like a ghost town since I got back, so the engines are quite loud.

  “Head’s up,” I say, peeking out.

  Five large, black, SUVs screech to a halt at all angles in front of my bar. Men in black suits pile out of them, guns drawn—there must be nearly thirty guys in total. A line of them form a loose perimeter around the street, facing away from the bar. Four gather around the door, running through basic entry tactics, before tearing down the police tape and storming inside, quickly followed by the rest.

  “Jesus…” mutters Raynor as we look on. “These boys ain’t kiddin’ around.”

  “No, they’re not…” I say, quietly distracted.

  I must admit, I’m concerned. This is a large-scale government operation, no doubt about it. Overkill to bring in just one guy—even if it is me. And this only leaves me with more questions. Who are they? How did they know to come here looking for me? Are they the same people that our mysterious general works for? Why is everyone so intent on stopping me taking out a terrorist? Surely doing that is a good thing…

  They’ve been inside just a couple of minutes, but they’re starting to re-appear on the street already. They look casually up and down, but they’re coming to the conclusion I predicted—I must be long gone. I mean, what sane guy wouldn’t be?

  I look over at Raynor, who’s sitting on an unopened box staring at the floor. The look on his face says it all.

  “Trying to get a handle on things?” I ask him.

  “Adrian, what the hell are you mixed up in?” he asks me in response.

  “John, if I knew, I’d tell you. Look, they don’t know you’re wit
h me. Wait ’til they’ve gone and go back to being the local sheriff. If they come back around askin’ questions, just be honest.”

  “What’s happening here… whatever all this is,” he points outside, “there’s no going back to normal, Adrian. If what you’ve been dragged into is big enough to warrant that kind of response from the government, you’re gonna need all the help you can get. Plus, your bad guys have Tori, and she’s one of our own. It’s my duty as sheriff to help get her back.”

  I sigh and look at him. His jaw muscles are tense, and his lips form a thin line of determination on his face. I’ve known him long enough to know when he’s made his mind up about something, so I’m not going to insult him by trying to talk him out of it.

  “You know what you’re signing up for, right?” I ask him after a moment. “I mean, you’ve seen the FBI’s file on me... I’m not stopping until I have Tori, some answers, and the body of a dead terrorist. I’m just concerned you might question my methods along the way… This isn’t the time for disagreeing with me.”

  Raynor stands and walks over to me, stopping inches from me. He cuts an imposing figure; I’ll give him that. He takes off his hat and rests it on a box next to me. Then he unpins his sheriff’s badge and places it beside that.

  “From what I know of you, Adrian—even before I read your file—I can imagine, when it comes down to it, you’re not one I’d enjoy disagreeing with. Let’s go get your girl back.”

  He turns and walks out, picking up his hat, but leaving his badge. I follow him downstairs and thank the owner for his hospitality and discretion. We walk out and cross the street. I pause for a moment in the doorway of my bar. I stand there and take one last look inside before I leave. Every memory I have of this place involves Tori. There’s a part of me… a small part of me—a normal part of me—that wants to just sit down and rock back and forth, angry and upset and confused and heartbroken. That normal part of me wants to let somebody else fight the bad guys, so I can just stay at home and wait for them to return with the woman I love, unharmed.