I sigh again. “Okay, never mind.”
I push myself off my stool, thrusting my forehead into the nose of the guy in front of me, shattering the cartilage. The crack, and subsequent squelch of exploding blood, is audible, and a little gross.
First move.
As he’s falling backward, I bring my leg up slightly, then whip it straight out, hitting the man on my far right on the side of his knee. He drops to the floor and rolls around, clutching at it.
Second move.
I flip the beer bottle in my hand, spilling its contents on the floor as I grab it by the neck. I look at the guy second from the right and quickly smash it down like a hammer on the top of his head. The glass shatters on impact, and he drops to the floor.
It’s not like in the movies, either, where they use that thin fake shit—this is thick, heavy, real glass, and it requires a ridiculous amount of force to actually break it. And doing so over someone’s skull will leave them feeling unhappy for a good while.
Third move.
I spin counterclockwise, raising my arm in anticipation of the remaining guy on the far left engaging his brain and deciding he should maybe do something. I block his inevitable punch, deflecting it with my forearm. As part of the spin, my right arm is already coming around, fist clenched. It flies through the gap caused by the deflection and connects firmly with his jaw. He falls away, bouncing off the surface of the bar and hitting the floor.
Fourth move.
Using my momentum to keep the turn going, I bring my left elbow up and whip it backward, connecting with the first guy, who’s just getting to his feet and thinking about doing something silly. It catches him on the cheekbone and puts him back down, hard.
Fifth move.
Job done.
“I thought it was you,” I hear a voice say behind me.
I turn around to see Ashton Case standing at the side of the bar near the entrance, with the waitress next to him. He’s a tall man with broad shoulders. A little chubbier than I remember, but, then again, I haven’t seen him in a long time. He’s clean-shaven with a rough face and dark eyes. His voice is gravelly in the way only smoking forty-a-day can achieve.
“Didn’t recognize you at first with the beard,” he continues, gesturing to his own face as he looks at me. “How you been, Adrian?”
I smile and shrug. “Been better, I’ll be honest.” I gesture to the pile of bodies on the floor with my thumb. “These guys with you?”
He waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, we all work for the same man, but those assholes have nothin’ to do with me.”
I walk over to him and we shake hands.
“Whatever it is must be bad if you’ve come here,” he says. “Drink?”
“Please. I dropped my last one…”
He smiles. “Yeah, I saw. Come on, we’ll go in the back.” He looks at the waitress. “Naomi, sweetheart, would you mind bringing me and my friend a couple of cold ones? I’ll be in my office.”
She smiles. “Sure thing, Ash.” She looks at me apologetically. “Sorry about before. I wasn’t sure—”
I hold my hand up, cutting her off. “No need to apologize to me. You did good.”
She heads back behind the bar, and I retrieve my bag from over by my stool before following Case through a door just to the side of where the restaurant seating area starts.
We walk up some stairs and through another door, which leads to a studio apartment. It’s a basic layout but exquisitely furnished. There’s a large leather sofa with its back to the door facing a flat screen TV mounted on the opposite wall. Over to the left is a four-poster bed with closets on either side. Across from that, by the window, is an office area filled with computer equipment and smaller screens. Next to the door, on the near wall, is a bathroom.
“Nice place,” I say, impressed.
Case shrugs. “It’s minimal but effective. I eat downstairs when I’m hungry. When I’m here, I either sleep or shit. What more do you need, right?”
“Fair point.”
We walk across the room and both take a seat on the sofa.
“So, what brings you here, Adrian?”
I fix him with a look with my tired eyes. I take a deep breath, scratch the hair on my throat, and proceed to tell him everything that’s happened in the last couple of weeks.
3
15:17 EDT
My story took a while. And three beers apiece. But he’s all caught up now.
“So, that’s about it,” I say. “What do you think?”
Case is sitting in front of me staring at the wall, his jaw slack and eyes wide. I watch him for a moment, waiting for some kind of response, but nothing is forthcoming.
I know that feeling.
I smile. “Yeah, welcome to my life.”
He looks at me. “How the fuck did you wind up in the middle of all that?”
I shrug. “A whole lot of bad luck, mostly. End of the day, we might try to leave the life, but the life rarely leaves us, Ash.”
“No kiddin’. So, all of what you just said is on the level?”
I nod. “I’m afraid so. Obviously 4/17 was tragic, and I had a front row seat for it. But the damage the attacks caused isn’t limited to the physical fallout. The half of the world not decimated is still in danger of being corrupted and… cleansed, almost… by Cunningham’s master plan.”
Case shakes his head slowly with disbelief. “And you’re sure the president is behind this?”
I pull the flash drive from inside my shirt and show it to him. “Got it all here. My next move is to stop him, so the guys over at GlobaTech Industries can focus on fixing the world and getting things back to the way they were. Or better. You never know…”
Case stands and paces across the room, staring at the floor with his hands in his pockets. “And how exactly do you intend to do that?” he asks. “I mean, it’s the president of the United fucking States, Adrian. What’re you gonna do?” He scoffs. “Kill him?”
I fix him with an unblinking stare, but say nothing.
“Holy shit. You’re gonna try to kill him, aren’t you?”
I nod. “There’s no other way. He’s too powerful. He’s got the CIA running interference for him, and he’s got all three branches of the military at his disposal, should another country get any ideas. Not to mention he still has control of Cerberus. No, the only way to end this is to put him down.”
“But, Adrian, I mean… that’s an impossible shot, even for you!”
I shrug. “Booth and Oswald managed it.”
“Yeah, but they didn’t have the obstacles we face today—the security, the technology. You won’t get within fifty miles of the guy if you have a weapon. Christ, in your situation, you’ll be lucky if you get within a hundred miles!”
I take a deep breath and sip my beer. “I know. You’re right. Which is why I’m here. I need help, Ash.”
He shakes his head and sits back down. “Uh-uh, no way are you dragging me into this shit, you crazy bastard!”
“Heh, relax—I’m not here for that. I figured you were either too smart or too much of a pussy to sign on for this.”
He shakes his head and smiles. “Hey, fuck you, alright?”
I hold my hands up. “Okay, so you’re too smart. But I did kinda hope you’d know a few people who maybe aren’t as smart, who might be interested?”
He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. What kind of payday are we talkin’ here?”
I shrug. “Honestly? I hadn’t thought about it. But if we pull it off… let’s say twenty million for whoever survives.”
“Jesus! Where are you gonna get that kind of money?”
“You let me worry about that. I had a pretty big payday a couple of years back. I’m good for it. Can you point me in the right direction, Ash?”
He falls silent, and I give him time to think. It’s a lot to ask, I know that. I stand, beer in hand, and pace around the apartment, occasionally glancing out the windows.
“You got any ideas as to how you int
end doing it?” he asks me.
I look back at him from across the room. “You’re probably best off not knowing all that much about it. Plausible deniability an’ all that. But Ash, you gotta know that if I do this, at some point somebody’s gonna trace it all back to this conversation. The less you know, the better. I just need a few names, then you’ll never see me again.”
Case nods. “Alright. I reckon I know a couple of people who might be interested…” He moves over to the desk, opens a drawer, and takes out a pad and pen. He leans over and scribbles down some information. After a minute, he tears off the page, walks over, and hands it to me. “There you go. Four names.”
I look at the list. I’ve heard of one of them.
I glance up at him and frown. “Are these newbies? I don’t recognize any of these names, except the European—and he’s a bit of a prick, if I’m honest.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, he can be. But he’s a damn good killer with very few morals. As for the other three, no, they’re not new to the game. They’re exceptionally talented, in their own… unique way. But I should warn you, Adrian, some of these folks are a little… eccentric, shall we say. That last name, especially. Maybe use ’em as plan B, okay?”
I stare at the list. “Jesus, they even sound a little crazy.”
“Ha! A little? Let me tell you, Adrian—they haven’t just roamed off the reservation, they’ve left the goddamn planet! But I figured you might find use for someone who thinks outside the box, y’know.”
He smiles and I laugh with him. “Yeah, it might come in handy. Listen, thanks for this, Ash. I make it through this, I owe you.”
“Hey, you owe me whether you make it through or not. I ain’t gonna forget this.”
We shake hands, and I fold the paper up, tucking it into my pocket.
Well, this is a step forward. I have a few names of people who might be up for helping me out. The next step is to—
There’s a very urgent knocking on the door. We exchange a glance and I instinctively move my hand behind me, feeling the cold reassurance of my Beretta on my fingertips.
“Who is it?” asks Case.
“I-it’s Naomi,” comes the flustered reply.
He moves quickly to the door, opening it wide. The waitress from downstairs is standing there, looking very concerned.
“What is it?”
She glances at me before replying. “There are some men downstairs, asking for him.” She points at me.
“What do they look like?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “Just normal guys. Black suits, sunglasses, three of them. Big, black SUV parked out front, too.”
Shit.
“Ash, that’s the CIA,” I fight to keep any panic from my voice. “I don’t know how they’ve found me, but I need a way out of here, now!”
After what I’ve just told him, I can see he understands how bad this is. He turns, quickly looking around his apartment, before his eyes settle on the far corner by the computers.
“The window,” he points. “Directly below it is the canopy over the entrance.”
I move over to the window and glance down. The canopy is maybe seven feet below, and it’s a good eight feet from the ground.
This is going to hurt, isn’t it?
Well, never mind that. Focus, Adrian, come on!
Right, I’m going to need a ride…
I look back over my shoulder, intending to ask, and see a set of keys flying toward me. I react fast, flinching slightly as I catch them. I stare at them, then back at Case.
“It’s an Audi, black, parked round back,” he says. “Scratch it and I’ll shoot you. Return it first chance you get.”
I smile. “Thanks, Ash. For everything.”
He nods. “Now get the hell out of here, you crazy sonofabitch.”
I stuff the keys in my pocket, hook my bag over both shoulders, and slide the window up. The warm breeze hits me as I poke my head outside. I grab the frame and climb out, one leg at a time, resting my weight on the wall. With one last look at Case, I drop down. I land on the canopy, which is made of a thick plastic sheet, and bounce off it like it was a trampoline. I spin around as I fall and hit the ground face down, like I’m doing a push-up.
I grunt from the impact, but I can’t allow myself time to recover. I spring to my feet and dash around the side of the restaurant to the parking lot. There’re only a handful of cars here, so it’s not hard to find Case’s Audi. It’s a convertible TT, and the top’s already down.
I run over as I’m unhooking my bag from my shoulders. I throw it onto the back seat as I jump over the door and land hard behind the wheel. I scramble in my pocket for the key and fire up the engine, gun the gas, and speed off, the tires screeching and leaving their marks on the surface of the blacktop behind me. I draw level with the entrance just as the three G-men burst out onto the street, guns drawn.
I duck as low as I can while turning right, narrowly missing an oncoming car. The needle’s pushing eighty as the first shots ring out—the high-pitched ping of the bullets ricocheting around me. One cracks the door mirror next to me.
I wince. “Ah, shit! Ash is gonna kill me—assuming these assholes don’t!”
The gunfire stops as quickly as it started, and I sit up again, focusing on the road.
“Okay, we’re good.”
I glance in my rearview and see the black SUV swing into view behind me, quickly gathering speed and closing the gap between us.
“Huh, maybe not.”
I lean forward and reach behind me, taking out one of my Berettas. Up ahead, I see a junction. The sign tells me I can take a left and join I-95, which I’m pretty sure takes me west toward Massachusetts. That works out well, because the first name on my list has a last known address of Manchester, New Hampshire, which is over that way.
Unfortunately, I need to shake off these shitkickers following me first.
Ahead of me, the lights are turning red.
There’s not much traffic—screw it.
I navigate the lanes and approach the intersection with the needle pushing a hundred. I weave between two cars and slam on the brakes, making a hard left. The tires screech loudly again, and smoke builds up behind the car. I level it out and step back on the gas, merging onto I-95 at speed.
Behind me, the SUV is keeping pace, relentless in its pursuit.
I need to get rid of these guys, and fast. It won’t be long before they get their friends to join them, and even I know I can’t take on the entire CIA all at once.
The road ahead is straight as an arrow, and reasonably clear, so I ease off the gas a little and allow them to close the gap. I can see the look of grim determination on the driver’s face in my rearview.
The lane next to me is empty…
I whip the wheel to the right and stamp hard on the brakes, causing the Audi to spin clockwise, off to the side. The SUV goes shooting past me. I quickly turn the wheel the opposite way, fighting to regain control of the vehicle, which I manage to do as I’m completing a full circle. The back end fishtails, but I straighten up and position myself directly behind the CIA agents.
Phew!
I pick up my Beretta, which I’d temporarily dropped onto the passenger seat, and rest my hand on the top of the windshield. I fire five rounds in quick succession. At this speed, aiming is tricky, but all bar one hit the mark.
The SUV swerves uncontrollably as the bullets impact the back of it, cracking the rear windshield—the driver maybe not expecting me to shoot at them.
Seriously, I figured they would’ve done some research on me, or something… I’m a little insulted!
They regain control and move to the left, slowing to draw level with me. I think they’re going to try ramming me, which, given I’m doing 110 miles per hour, and they’re in a much larger, heavier vehicle, isn’t likely to end well for me.
I move alongside them, looking across and smiling at the agent riding shotgun as he rolls down his window and leans out, slowly bringing his weapo
n into view. Checking that the road immediately ahead is clear, I whip my own gun up and stare at him. I see in his eyes the exact moment he realizes he wasn’t quick enough to beat me.
I aim just to the right of where I want to hit, to compensate for the speed I’m traveling, and pull the trigger once.
The noise is drowned out by the roaring wind, but the effects are just as devastating. The agent’s head snaps back violently as the bullet strikes him between the eyes. Again, the vehicle swerves, struggling to maintain control as the agent’s body lurches backward from the impact, hitting the driver.
I know they’ll be distracted for a few more seconds, so this is my chance…
I slam on the brakes and push myself up slightly in my seat, keeping one hand on the wheel so I stay straight while I take aim. As the SUV carries on ahead, I fire twice, hitting the front tire with the second round.
The rubber disintegrates almost immediately. The SUV jolts violently before sliding sideways and flipping over, rolling away from me. It smashes into three other vehicles. The sound of metal tearing and colliding with more metal is ferociously loud, grating through me like nails on a chalkboard.
I speed up, navigating the minefield of debris scattering itself across the interstate until I draw level with the vehicle, which has come to a stop, spinning on its roof, away from the other cars. I bring my gun up as I move past, trying to time my shot with the revolution of the SUV…
Bang!
I fire once as the exposed gas tank presents itself, and the resulting explosion shakes the ground around me, filling my rearview with smoke and flames. I drop the gun on the passenger seat again as I refocus on the road. The acrid smell of burning fuel is strong in the air.
In the distance, the faint sound of sirens drifts across the interstate.
Time for me to be somewhere else, I think…
Traffic is slowing to a crawl as people on both sides of the road stop to look at the remains of the SUV, barely visible among the flames. I weave my way through and take the first exit.
I need to ditch this car and swap it for something less conspicuous. Aside from a few bullet holes, it’s still in good condition. I’ll call Case once I reach New Hampshire and tell him where his wheels are.
A Necessary Kill Page 2
