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

by Sumner, James P.

  “Fuck… Right, well, we’ll assume they haven’t cracked it yet, as the news reporter said there haven’t been any demands. We just gotta hope we reach them in time to stop them.”

  “What’s the plan once we get there?” he asks.

  “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

  36.

  09:36 EDT

  The drive seemed to drag, probably because I was clock-watching the whole way. I don’t suffer with nerves, but I’m very anxious. I feel a sense of urgency—a physical need to be somewhere I’m not, and the fact I can’t travel to where I need to be instantaneously is infuriating. I have very little patience at the best of times, but knowing a bunch of insane assholes are trying to start a third World War in the middle of Atlanta has shredded every last ounce of it. Now, I’m just angry.

  Raynor turns right on East Mitchell Street, and as I see the Georgia Dome loom into view on the left, a sense of déjà vu hits me.

  “Let’s try this again…” I mutter to myself.

  Up ahead, I see the ComForce building on the left. There’s a full-blown media circus out front, starting from the middle of the road, and heading away from the building in every direction. On the sidewalk out front are at least four large Hummers, painted a faded dark green. They’re parked at haphazard angles, and all the doors are open.

  “Take the next left,” I say to Raynor. “See if we can work our way around back.”

  He nods and turns onto Spring Street, just before we hit the outer rim of the police cordon.

  “Should we tell Josh to do the same thing?” asks Tori from the back.

  I shake my head. “I know Josh, he’ll think exactly like I did.”

  The street isn’t busy, although I imagine they’re treating the ComForce building as toxic, so the cordon around it will probably stretch quite far under the circumstances.

  “Keep going,” I say to Raynor. “Take the second right, not the first—keep an eye out for any local law enforcement.”

  Sure enough, as we pass the first right turn, I see a small patrol—two squad cars, four cops—parked across the width of the road.

  “How are we actually gonna get near the damn place?” Raynor asks.

  “We’ll wait for the others and approach on foot,” I reply.

  We carry on and take the next right on Simpson Street, which as I suspected has no police or media presence visible.

  “Pull up on the left,” I say.

  We do, and Raynor kills the engine.

  “What now?” he asks.

  “We wait,” I reply.

  Ten minutes pass in tense silence. Tori shifts nervously behind me. Then a car turns onto the street and pulls up behind us. I check it in the rearview.

  “They’re here,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  We get out and walk to meet the others. They all get out and slam their doors shut. Josh stands opposite me on the sidewalk. Clark and Wallis appear at his side; Tori and Raynor appear at mine. We form a close circle and regard each other for a moment. I look at Josh and nod a curt, urgent greeting.

  “So, what’s the plan, Boss?” he asks.

  I clench my jaw muscles and take a deep breath, looking at everyone in turn before replying.

  “The plan is: there is no plan,” I begin. “Not this time.”

  Josh nods, while everyone else exchanges confused glances. I feel Tori’s hand on my arm.

  “Adrian, you need to tell us what to do…” she implores, struggling to keep the emotion out of her voice.

  I look at her and smile weakly. I haven’t got the mental capacity to be nice at the moment, but I’m trying really hard for her benefit. She didn’t ask for any of this. She’s not here through choice. And she’s so far out of her depth; she probably can’t comprehend the gravity of the situation or what’s at stake.

  “We know what to do,” I say, more to everyone than to her specifically. “Look, this is it. Whatever the fuck is happening ends right now—one way or the other. We know who’s in there, and we know what they’re trying to do. We’re all smart, capable people. We have to stop them; it’s that simple. I don’t know the best way of doing that. I just know that we have to do it, and we’re probably gonna need to kill a lot of people before we can. This isn’t gonna be easy, but I need you to stay close, trust me, and do what I say.”

  They’re silent, which I take as a sign they’re on board. I look at Josh.

  “I need you to stay here with Tori and do what you can to stop, or at least delay, those assholes from taking control of Cerberus.”

  He nods. “Sure thing, man. There are media and FBI trucks all over the place. I’ll find one I can use and talk my way inside.”

  “Good idea. Sheriff, Clark, Wallis… you guys are with me. You see somebody you don’t know, put a bullet in them. Hesitate for even a second, and you’re dead. We know they’ll be on the sixteenth floor, so that’s where we’re heading. We’ll figure the rest out once we’re up there. Questions?”

  “We don’t have any weapons,” says Clark.

  I grimace slightly, thinking about how what I’m about to say will be received.

  “There are four cops on the next street over,” I say. “They’ll be armed, and I’m sure they won’t mind if we borrow their guns.”

  Clark looks at the ground. “Sorry I spoke…” he mutters.

  I see a half smile flicker across Josh’s face.

  “Everyone ready?” I ask.

  They nod. I turn to Tori, placing my hands on her shoulders.

  “Stay with Josh,” I say to her. “Listen to him, trust him. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  She goes to speak, but I kiss her lips for a moment. When we part, I smile and wink at her, and the tension relaxes and the doubt leaves her eyes.

  “Go get ’em,” she says with a brave smile.

  Without another word, I turn and move quickly across the street, hearing everyone else follow me. We head past a park on our left, and through the courtyard of a Plaza, approaching the corner of Baker and Peachtree. I drop to a crouch, gesturing with my hand behind me for everyone to do the same. I peek round and spot the four cops halfway down Baker Street. We’ll be coming at them from behind, but we need to be quick and quiet, if we’re to take them out without raising an alarm. I look behind me.

  “Once these guys are down, we won’t have very long before someone checks in with them and finds they can’t answer,” I say. “Once that happens, the alarm will be raised and any advantage we had will be gone.”

  I look back up the street. There are rows of shops on either side. Some have bigger doorways than others, which will have to make do for cover.

  “Split up, keep low, and stick to the doorways,” I say. “Stay out of sight. I’ll get the weapons.”

  I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to see Wallis with a look of concern on his face.

  “Adrian, you’ll need help disarming them,” he says. “There are four guys and—”

  I shake my head. “I do it alone. If they see four guys, they’ll report four guys when they come to. If they only see me, no one will know you three are here, which might just help keep our advantage a bit longer.”

  He sighs. “But…”

  He trails off as Raynor puts his hand on his shoulder.

  “I think Adrian will manage just fine,” he says to him, before looking at me and smiling.

  I nod and set off round the corner. I move quickly and duck into the first doorway on my right. I press myself against the door, keeping out of sight from the cops ahead of me. I look behind me and see the guys moving one at a time down the street, occupying doorways across from me.

  I wait until everyone’s in place and hidden before peering out again. The cops still have their backs to us. I look across the street and see the next vacant doorway that would provide adequate cover. It’s close enough that, from there, my next move will be to take out the cops.

  I look at them more closely, now that I’m nearer to them. The four o
f them all look the same—like they’ve come off a production line at The Stereotypical Police Company. All of them are white males of varying ages. All look a little heavy around the mid-section. Their body language screams complacency and routine boredom.

  I almost feel sorry for them…

  I wait until I’m sure they’re pre-occupied among themselves, and then make my move across the street. I keep low, and move a little faster than a walk, holding my arms out and my palms facing outward, signaling to everyone to stay where they are. I reach the doorway opposite, slightly further along the street, and press my back against it. I pause to slow my breathing right down and compose myself.

  I look round at them again. As I expected, they haven’t seen me. I step out and walk toward them. The two squad cars are at an angle with their hoods close together, like an arrowhead in front of me. The four cops are on the other side of them, facing Spring Street.

  Time to act stupid.

  I change pace and walk nonchalantly toward them, staring at the sidewalk as if I’m minding my own business and going about my day. I get level with the car on the left before I attract their attention.

  “Hey,” shouts one of them. “You shouldn’t be here. This street’s closed.”

  I look up, feigning surprise and confusion. “Hmmm? Sorry… me?” I ask absently, pointing to myself.

  “Yeah, you. Street’s closed—go back the way you came.”

  I frown. “What’s going on?” I ask innocently. “Is this a crime scene?”

  Another cop, looking slightly irritated, takes a step toward me.

  “We got a situation and it’s not safe to be here,” he says, pointing back down the street toward the Plaza. “Take a walk, alright?”

  “But I need to get to my office, which is this way,” I say, pointing ahead of me.

  The second cop takes another step toward me, and a third speaks up from the group.

  “Hey, asshole—today isn’t the day, alright? Take the long way to work. Now fuck off before you get yourself arrested.”

  I’m standing just in front of the cars, level with the four of them. One guy is about ten feet away from me. I need to get the rest of them closer…

  “The long way round? That’s not fair! I pay my taxes, alright? You can’t talk to me like that! What’s your badge number? I’m going to report this!”

  The other three join the first one and move closer still, putting them in a line about seven feet from me. The first guy that spoke puts his right hand up, moving his left to rest on his belt.

  “Sir, you need to go back the way you came. It’s not safe here.”

  “You got that right…” I say with a smile.

  I step forward and grab his right wrist with my left hand, pulling him toward me. He loses his balance, having not suspected the attack. As he stumbles toward me, I whip my left leg forward, keeping it low and sweeping his right knee out from under him. He goes down, and I take two quick steps into the line of cops, striding over him and putting myself second from the left out of the four.

  I crouch slightly and smash a straight left into the stomach of the guy to my right. As he creases forward, I stand and slash my right elbow behind me, catching the guy to my left on the jaw, sending him down and out for the count.

  I look forward again, and bring my right knee up to meet the jaw of the guy I hit in the stomach. It connects flush on the side of his chin, and he drops to the ground, unconscious.

  I sidestep quickly and lunge for the fourth guy who’s furthest from me. I grab his collar and swing him counterclockwise, lining him up with the first guy, who’s just getting to his feet. I push hard, sending one into the other. They fall like dominoes and I dash over them, crouching down and delivering a short, sharp right punch to both of their noses, causing them to jerk and twitch before going to sleep.

  I stand and survey the scene, making sure I incapacitated all four of them.

  “Okay guys,” I shout. “We’re good. Hurry it up and pick a weapon.”

  I hear them jog toward me as I crouch back down and take the gun from the last guy I hit. It’s a Glock 22, which is a semi-automatic with a black chamber on an olive frame. He has two spare mags with him, each of which holds twenty-two .40 caliber Smith and Wesson rounds. It’s a very good handgun; lightweight and accurate, due to the muzzle break on the later models that reduces recoil.

  I stand, tucking the gun in the back of my waistband. “Come on, tick-tock gentleman!” I say, urging them to move faster.

  I watch as they gather the weapons, and then set off back the way we came, hearing them behind me. I pause at the corner and look back at them.

  “Everyone good?” I ask as they reach me.

  They all nod.

  I glance around the corner and look down Peachtree Street. At the far end, I see lights, the hustle of the media, and the police. The ComForce building takes up most of the block, with just a few small stores on this side. I quickly glance at my watch. Stores should be open as usual, but I bet they’ve closed up because of everything that’s happening. There may still be people inside though…

  “Okay, we go in one of these stores,” I say. “There must be a back way out… it’ll lead us to the back of the ComForce building.”

  “Hold up,” says Wallis. “If you’re right, and we can gain access to the rear of the building, we’ll be pinning ourselves inside the alleys behind these stores. If they have people covering that side, we’ll be sitting ducks.”

  I shrug. “You got any better ideas?”

  “At least let’s look for roof access first… there might be a fire escape, but even if there’s not, we’ll be able to see any alleys or service entrances before we approach them on the ground.”

  “If you wanna waste time scouting around while terrorists blow up the planet, go right ahead. Personally, I’m getting inside that building as quickly as I can. If I see anyone, I’ll shoot them.”

  Wallis looks to Clark and Raynor for some kind of support. Clark holds his hands up in a keep me out of it gesture. Raynor just shrugs.

  “Time’s against us,” he says to Wallis, before turning to me. “But that said, it don’t matter how quickly we get inside if we’re shot down the moment we do.”

  I sigh. “Fine, come on.”

  I keep low and head to the entrance of the first store, which is a local coffee shop. I try the door, but it’s locked. Inside, I see members of staff cleaning. I tap on the window and one of them looks over. I point to the door, and they shake their head, mouthing to me that they’re closed. I look at Wallis, who steps up without a word and places his FBI badge to the glass. The worker’s eyes widen slightly, and they turn to say something to their colleague. The two of them stand looking at us, and then walk over and open the door.

  “FBI,” says Wallis, taking point and pushing past them into the shop. “Do you have a rear entrance, or roof access, to the property?”

  The taller of the two workers steps forward, taking charge. He’s a skinny guy, probably younger than he looks, with fair hair and bad skin.

  “Just the service entrance,” he explains. “There’s an alley at the back where we keep the trash.”

  Wallis looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I nod.

  “Perfect,” I say.

  “Thank you for your help,” says Wallis, turning back to the worker. “Now lock the front door behind us and don’t open it for anyone else, understand?”

  The guy nods eagerly. “Hey, is… is this anything to do with what’s going on outside?”

  Wallis flicks his eyes to me before answering. “The less you know, the better,” he says, all very officially. “Just keep your doors locked and stay put ’til you’re told the area is safe.”

  The workers look at each other excitedly. I push past everyone and head through the back at the side of the service counter. It’s a small kitchen, with another door leading to a larger storage area. In here is a makeshift office space in the right corner, consisting of a small desk with a c
hair behind it, and three in front; a modest-sized shelving unit containing boxes of, what I assume, is coffee and snacks; and on the left wall, a double door with an EXIT sign above it.

  I head for the doors, drawing my gun and holding it two-handed in front of me, ready for anything. Pausing, I lean against the left door and listen for a moment, then push it open, peering slowly around it. Seeing nothing, I step outside, quickly snapping my gun level, checking all the angles. Behind me, Wallis and Raynor do the same, slotting in step with me to form a triangle. Clark comes out last, staying a few steps back and covering the rear.

  The area outside is small and enclosed. Facing the doors, is a wall belonging to another store. The right is a dead end too, leaving us with no option but left. This brings us to a miniature courtyard, of sorts. Against the left wall and the wall behind us to the right, are large dumpsters, surrounded by trash bags. Ahead of us is a narrow passageway that opens out on John Portman Boulevard, just to the left of the ComForce building. Off to the right is another alley leading farther into the courtyard. I head for it with the others covering. I look up and all around but see no movement.

  So far, so quiet.

  I press myself against the wall and peer around the corner. This alley leads along the back of the stores on Baker Street, but opens up to the left about three hundred yards in front of me. I signal for everyone to stay where they are, and I push on, keeping low, and pausing just before the left wall disappears. I scan the area and see a small patch of grass with a large tree in the center—easily fifteen feet high. All around it are old wooden benches, and beyond them is the back entrance to the ComForce building.

  Much like the front, there’s a security desk just inside the double doors on the right, and a pad for scanning a swipe card next to some glass gates, that I assume open automatically when you produce your card.

  The glass is tinted, and I can’t see farther inside very well. However, looking round, I see two men patrolling the perimeter—one on the other side of the tree with his back to me, and one walking away from me to the right, along the width of the building. The second guy’s holding a submachine gun close to his right hip; the strap slung over his left shoulder.