A Necessary Kill

by James P. Sumner

  “Fernando Garcia.”

  “Fernando… Isn’t that—”

  “The European? Yeah, it is.”

  “What, have you lost him? What’s going on?”

  I sigh. “Okay, long story short, he’s already been hired by General Matthews to kill me and everyone else on the list I got from Ashton Case. Ash is dead, as is the last name, who I didn’t even get chance to approach. I’m in New Jersey now. He knows Jonas Briggs will be here tomorrow, so we’ve got twenty-four hours to find that talking colostomy bag and take him out.”

  He lets out a low whistle. “Christ, and I thought my life sucked…”

  “It does, Josh. Massively so.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  I shrug. “Just calling it like I see it.”

  “So, wait, is Ruby still with you? Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine.”

  “Well, that’s something… Okay, what car does he have?”

  I think back. “It’s a… Ferrari… something.”

  “Aww, and you were doing so well…”

  “Hey, I’m thinking! It was something to do with a spider…”

  “The 488 Spider?”

  “Yeah, that’s it! In British racing green—I remember now.”

  “Nice car… Hey, what’s the difference between The European’s Ferrari and a hedgehog?”

  “I have no idea…”

  “On a hedgehog, the pricks are on the outside!”

  I laugh out loud. I really didn’t want to, as it just encourages him, but that was pretty funny.

  “Alright, let me see here…” he says casually. The line goes silent and I hear the rapid tapping of keys in the background. “And… got him. The GPS last transmitted from the hotel parking lot of the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City. Where are you?”

  I subconsciously glance over my shoulder to get my bearings. “I’m about seven or eight blocks west of there, outside an Applebee’s.”

  “Okay, well… now you know where he is.”

  “Thanks, man. I’m gonna go and, y’know… kill him and stuff. Listen, I appreciate the assist, Josh.”

  “Always happy to help, you know that.”

  “I know. Speaking of which, have you had a chance to look over my plan yet?”

  “Yeah, I’ve had a look… Where the hell did you come up with that?”

  “It just kinda came to me, I guess. I thought about the skill sets of everyone involved and went from there. What do you think?”

  “I think it sounds like a perverted squirrel’s favorite pastime.”

  I frown. “Huh?”

  “Fucking nuts!”

  I close my eyes and shake my head. “That’s terrible.”

  “Hey, I gotta laugh, man, otherwise I’d cry.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “Alright, joking aside, your plan is actually insane, you know that, right?”

  I think about it for a moment. “Yeah…”

  “That being said… I reckon it could work. There are a lot of moving parts, though. It won’t be easy.”

  “Nothing worth doing ever is. Can I leave it with you?”

  “You got a time in mind for this thing?”

  “Any time after tomorrow. I need Jonas for part of it, so as soon as possible after we link up with him.”

  “Okay, I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thanks, Josh. Listen, you take it easy, alright? I know it probably doesn’t feel like it right now, but the whole world isn’t on your shoulders. Remember that.”

  “I appreciate you saying that, but it kinda is. I mean—”

  “Josh, you have an entire company at your disposal. You don’t have to do everything yourself. Well, unless you’re doing something for me…”

  He’s silent for a moment and then laughs. “The more things change…”

  “…The more I get shot at!”

  He laughs again. “Take it easy, brother.”

  “You, too.”

  I hang up and turn to face the restaurant. I see Ruby in the window watching me as she sips her coffee.

  What was that?

  It was faint, high-pitched… like a ping. It’s a familiar sound…

  I frown as a small hole appears in front of Ruby, the edges of it spider-webbing across the glass. My primal instincts tell me straightaway what’s happening, but I can’t do anything. Time slows to a crawl as I stand on the crowded sidewalk, my feet feeling like they’re sinking in quicksand. I look on helplessly as the coffee cup explodes in her hand a split-second before she’s punched off her seat from the impact of what I can only surmise at this point to be a high-caliber sniper round.

  Shit!

  11:14 EDT

  My first reaction is to look in the direction opposite the restaurant to see if I can pinpoint where the shot came from.

  I can’t.

  I just see traffic and people running and screaming—which I note has been happening a little too often lately when I’m around…

  The next reaction is to get to Ruby. I don’t want anyone else going to her aid in case she’s still alive and there’s a follow-up round being loaded into the chamber of a sniper rifle at this very moment. If anyone’s catching a random bullet, it’s me.

  I sprint across the parking lot and burst through the door. I’m met with chaos and shouting, but I take a deep breath and ignore it. I mentally drown out all extraneous noise to the point where the only thing I can hear is the sound of the blood pumping from Ruby’s body.

  I push through the crowd of people huddled around our table. Ruby’s lying on the floor. There’s a small pool of spilt coffee at her side, and several fragments of the cup she was holding when she got hit are scattered all around.

  There’s a thick puddle of blood behind her head and torso. Her eyes are wide and unblinking. I look at her chest. It’s rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths.

  Well, that’s something…

  I crouch beside her. “Ruby? Ruby, talk to me—are you okay?”

  Nothing moves except her eyes, which flick to me, staring at me as she furrows her brow.

  I shake my head, silently cursing myself at the woefully inept attempt at helping. “Yeah, of course you’re not… never mind. Sorry.”

  I can see the entry wound on her right shoulder, just below her collarbone. I carefully put my hand behind her and reach down her back, feeling for an exit wound. My finger touches the wet, sticky flesh an inch or two below her neck.

  “Okay, the bullet went through and through—that’s a good thing. Can you move?”

  She takes a few extra breaths, mustering up the energy to speak.

  “Do I… have… to?” she manages, wincing with each syllable.

  I shrug. “No, you can stay here and get shot some more if you want? Or you can wait for the EMTs and the police, see how that goes. Or you can get your ass up so we can find the sonofabitch who just shot you. Your call, sweetheart.”

  “I… hate—”

  “Me… Yeah, I know you do.” I smile, and she just about succeeds in returning it. I move my arm behind her head, and grab her hand in mine, preparing to lift her. “Okay, this is gonna sting like a bitch…”

  I lift her up, and she unleashes a scream of agony that might actually raise the dead. I shift around to her left side and put her arm around my neck, moving my right arm around her waist to support her.

  “Come on,” I say. “You can do this.”

  In front of me, the crowd of onlookers slowly moves out the way. A guy steps forward and looks at me. “Hey, buddy, shouldn’t you call the police or an ambulance or something? She’s just been shot!”

  I stop and stare at him, unable to hide my frustration as I struggle to hold Ruby upright. “Look, you and everyone else here might not be able to comprehend the full extent of what’s just happened, so let me clarify.” I cast a glance over the crowd around me and raise my voice so everyone can hear. “My friend’s just been shot by someone with a sniper rifle. You
all know what one of those is, right? And I genuinely believe the intention is to kill her. Now, I happen to have a pretty good idea who pulled the trigger. I also happen to know he’s a pretty good shot. Which means this non-lethal wound wasn’t an accident. It was intentional, so she’d feel pain. Which leads me to believe that right now he’s still looking down his scope at us all, lining up his next shot, which he may or may not have decided is the one that will finish her off. And you bunch of assholes are standing here watching…”

  I pause, looking around once more to see if any of what I just said is sinking in. The silence and blank stares tell me it probably isn’t…

  Okay, I’ll try the shock tactics instead.

  “Guys, you have a sniper aiming at you… run!”

  The silence holds another second or two, then the screaming restarts with renewed volume and vigor. People start running in every direction out of panic before focusing long enough to aim for the door.

  There we go… idiots!

  I hear another ping as a second bullet penetrates the window. I drop to the floor on instinct, dragging Ruby down with me. I land on my back and she falls on top of me, momentarily winding me. Off to my left, a man hits the floor with a smoking hole in the center of his forehead. His eyes are wide and blank. The screams grow louder again as I lose valuable seconds staring at the innocent blood running from his skull like a faucet.

  Goddammit!

  I look at Ruby. Her face inches from mine. She’s in visible pain, wincing from her gunshot wound as I hold her in place on top of me, trying to press her as low as possible for cover.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She nods, but can’t manage to form words.

  “We need to move. Suck it up, alright? You can bleed later.”

  As gently as I can, I slide out from under her, move to a crouch, and scoop her up again, placing her arm around my neck as before. Practically dragging her, I push us through the stampede and out the doors, stepping onto the sidewalk. I head toward the back of the building, out of sight, down North Ohio Avenue.

  The way I figure it, judging by the position of the bullet holes in the glass, the sniper—who I’m going to go ahead and assume is The European—is somewhere east of the convention center and north of Applebee’s. There was practically no angle of elevation on the holes, which suggests to me he’s at street level, so presumably shooting out the back of a stationary vehicle. I didn’t hear a shot, which means he’s not using anything as big as a .50 cal’. Maybe a Savage, or a Remington…

  Now that we’re out of sight, it’ll take him a few moments to get back behind the wheel and track around to follow us, by which time, hopefully, I’ll be ready for him.

  We turn onto Arctic and head toward the strip mall at the opposite end of the plaza from Applebee’s. I don’t want to try losing him in a crowd because he’s already proved he won’t let something trivial like an innocent life get in the way of taking us out. I just need to get someplace where he can’t follow me in his vehicle, yet still keeps me close enough to him that his rifle becomes ineffective.

  Ruby’s dragging her feet next to me and breathing heavily. I glance sideways at her and see her fighting to stop her eyes from rolling up in her head. The wound is far from fatal, but exertion and blood loss can take their toll on a person after getting shot. She needs to rest…

  We make it to the plaza. I head for a nearby bench and gently lower her onto it.

  “Rest here, okay? I’ll be back.”

  She flops back heavily as she sits. She looks around for a moment, dazed, before focusing her gaze on me. “Where… what are you…?”

  I place a hand on her left shoulder. “Relax. I’m going to—”

  Tires screech behind me. I spin around to see an old station wagon sliding to a stop in front of the plaza. It came from the left, did a one-eighty, and stopped with the driver’s door against the curb. It opens and a man wearing a tailored shiny suit and sunglasses, which probably cost more than most people make in six months, steps out. He doesn’t shut the door; he just walks toward me unbuttoning his suit jacket.

  The European—Fernando Garcia.

  Ruby’s ex-boyfriend.

  Assassin… Asshole… Dead man.

  I move to meet him, anxious to close the gap before he has time to produce the gun I can only assume he’s reaching for.

  Yup… he’s pulling out a handgun as I get within arm’s length of him.

  Without a word I grab his right wrist with my left hand, controlling his weapon. Holding on, I step into him and shove him backward with my shoulder, which sends him arcing counterclockwise, swinging away from me.

  As he does, I follow up with a strong right hook, aiming for his throat. He sees it coming and uses his own momentum to move back and avoid it, dropping his gun in the process. I overbalance and stumble forward, momentarily losing my footing and, consequently, my grip on his wrist.

  Uh!

  I didn’t see that kick coming—it just caught me in the gut… knocked the wind out of me for a second…

  I’m keeling over but look up as I go down, expecting a follow-up shot.

  I see his right hand swinging down. I try to lift my arm to block it, but it has little effect. The blow goes through my guard and hits me on the side of the head. I land hard on the ground, lying on my side, feeling groggy.

  I close my eyes for a split-second, allowing my instincts to take over. I’m on the back foot and can’t consciously think fast enough to regain the upper hand. I need help…

  I need my Inner Satan.

  I open my eyes again. On cue, all traces of humanity are gone, replaced by the urges of a primal, long-buried killer who’s eager for a taste of the old days.

  I spring to my feet, immediately stepping in close. He seems unfazed, moving like the calculated professional I know him to be, planning his next moves. In the back of his mind, he’ll be thinking of a way to get his gun back.

  Fighting is like chess, remember?

  Without breaking stride, he steps through and throws another kick with his right leg. I catch it, hooking his ankle in my left arm. Not wanting to let up for even a second, I launch a straight kick with my right leg, catching him squarely in the gut. I let go of his ankle and let his momentum take over, carrying him back a few feet.

  He lands awkwardly, but recovers straightaway. He uses the momentum to roll backward, feet over head, finishing in a crouch with a hand on the ground for balance. His sunglasses have fallen off. His gray eyes stare at me, full of hatred.

  His gaze flicks to his left, seeing his gun. I know it’s there, but I don’t want it. And I don’t want him to get it, either. Too many things can go wrong when you’re armed in public.

  I sense he’s going to lunge for the weapon. I see his muscles tense beneath his tight-fitting suit. My resurgence will have taken him by surprise, prompting panic. That will lead to desperation and, ultimately, a mistake. Which is exactly what I’m hoping for.

  I dash forward, heading to my two o’clock to cut him off. We collide, and he throws a right hand. I block and counter with a right elbow of my own. He deflects it, bending his left arm up beside his head. Unleashing a body shot with his right hand, he connects with my side.

  Thankfully, it just misses my kidney. I stagger back, unable to absorb the power behind the blow completely. I clutch at my waist, wincing as I gasp for breath. The European smiles at me with evil intent in his eyes.

  He’s a lot closer to his gun than I am. If he gets to it, I’m dead.

  Sirens sound out loudly, interrupting our standoff. We both straighten up and turn to see three patrol cars slide into view.

  We lock eyes. “We will finish this dance another time, Adrian,” says The European, smiling.

  “Bet your ass we will,” I reply, forcing myself not to blink as I stare him down.

  He scoops up his gun and sets off running away to my left. I watch him go, knowing I’m too late to make my own escape now the cops are here.

&nbs
p; I sigh. “Sonofabitch…”

  I look over at Ruby, who seems to be struggling with her wound. She catches my eye and holds my gaze, a look of regret and apology on her face.

  I simply smile and shrug. I always knew my luck would run out eventually. I glance over my shoulder as the cops exit their vehicles, draw their weapons, and move in a practiced formation, approaching me from all sides.

  I turn clockwise to face them, slowly raising my arms out to the sides.

  “The guy you want went that way,” I say loudly, gesturing quickly with my head in the direction The European ran.

  They don’t care. They ignore what I say and form a semicircle in front of me.

  “On your knees!” shouts one.

  “Hands where we can see ’em!” says another.

  I have no choice but to comply.

  Shit.

  It was all going so well…

  16

  11:54 EDT

  They didn’t mess around with the arrest. There were six officers in total—five of them cuffed me and loaded me into the back of a squad car while the other read me my rights. They rushed me back to the PD in a neat formation. One car in front, one behind, me in the middle—sirens blaring.

  The Atlantic City Police Department is on the aptly named Atlantic Avenue, only a few blocks from where I was picked up. Within minutes, I was escorted through the doors straight into an interrogation room. They never took their eyes, or their guns, off me.

  The real kick in the balls came when they took the flash drive from around my neck. It was a strange sensation because I felt genuinely lighter—as if it had been this enormous weight literally around my neck. But I also felt deflated and beaten. That evidence is the key to ending this, and it was entrusted to me. Without it in my possession, I’m letting everyone down. Tori, Josh—everyone.

  They secured me to the table in a sparsely furnished room and left me alone. I’ve been here maybe ten minutes, staring around the room, bored. It’s a standard layout—square, gray walls, security camera, no clock—it could be any interrogation room in any precinct. There’s an empty chair opposite me. The table’s fixed to the floor. I’m sitting with my back to the door, and the two-way mirrored wall is on my right.