He nods. “I hear you.”
“No, Oscar, listen to what I’m saying. Nothing else matters. You see innocent people in trouble, you don’t help. You don’t look, you don’t even think about it. We can’t afford to let anything stop us getting to that van. Everything depends on it.”
He takes a sharp breath, steeling himself and tensing his jaw. “Shit… I understand, Adrian. Let’s just get out of here.”
“Okay, follow me.”
I keep low, move around the driver’s side of the car, and pause level with the hood. I hear Oscar behind me. A sea of open doors and screaming people stand between us and where we need to be. A little farther on, the pickup truck is circling in the street, and the one that was chasing the military Jeeps has joined it.
I take my gun out, make sure the mag’s full, and work the slide. Safety off.
There’s a small gap between the hood of one car and the trunk of another. Crouching, I move as quickly as I can down the side of the next car, pausing again by the front wheel.
“Oh my God! Help me!”
A man’s crawling along the ground toward me, his face a crimson mask as blood gushes from a head wound above his eye.
“Please!” he insists.
I close my eyes for a second, cursing my own sense of morality and justice. Ordinarily, I would be compelled to get as many people to safety as I could. But if I don’t get to that van, it’s game over. It won’t matter how many people I save here, millions will die elsewhere.
Sometimes the greater good is a real bitch.
I look at the man next to me and place a finger on my lips. “Hey, keep quiet—you’ll attract attention to yourself.”
He shakes with emotion as he tries to keep his pleading and whimpering to a minimum.
“You got a cell phone?” I ask him.
He nods, terrified.
I hold my hand out. “Gimme.”
He reaches slowly into his pocket and hands it to me.
“Thanks. Now shut up, okay?”
I quickly dial Josh’s number. He’s probably busy, but it’s worth a shot. It rings three times.
“Hello?”
A female voice…? Huh?
“Hello?”
“Who’s this?”
“Where’s Josh?”
“He’s a little fucking busy. We all are, believe it or not. Who’s this?”
“I’m Adrian Hell. Who are you? His fucking secretary?”
“Adrian? Holy shit! I’m Fisher. Julie Fisher.”
“Julie… you’re heading up Josh’s new D.E.A.D. unit, aren’t you?”
“For my sins, yeah.”
“How come you’re answering his phone?”
“He gave it to me. He’s had to duck out and sort some urgent shit.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of that right now. Well, look, I need your help. You got access to satellite feeds or something?”
“I do, as it happens. What d’you need?”
“I’m in Annapolis, Maryland. Two explosions have just brought the street to a standstill. I’ve got eyes on two pickup trucks full of assholes shooting at civilians and soldiers. No fucking idea why, but they’re in my way and I need to know how to get rid of them.”
“Jesus… sounds like a modern-day lynch mob to me. There have been reports coming in from all over about locals trying to take control of their districts. Cunningham has imposed martial law for our so-called protection in most major cities in the last six hours. Some of the smaller towns don’t like the idea. Gimme a sec.”
I look back at Oscar, whose eyes are rapidly flicking in every direction. “This shit is happening all over,” I explain. “Locals don’t like the army taking over.”
He frowns. “What’s their problem? Better our army than Korea’s, right?”
I shrug. “I don’t think logic is playing a very pivotal role right now.”
Julie’s voice sounds in my ear. “Still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“I’ve pinged your cell signal and triangulated your exact location so I have eyes on you now. Where are you heading?”
“There’s a security firm just off the next left turn ahead of me. Josh has arranged a van full of goodies for me, but I can’t get there.”
“Yeah… you’ve got two pickups in front of you, plus I count… six men on the ground. The Jeeps are surrounded and the soldiers look like they’ve been disarmed and are being held at gunpoint. Not sure how you’re—”
Loud whipcracks of rapid gunfire sound out. The burst of death and noise start and stop before I even have chance to react.
“What the fuck was that?”
I hear a sigh on the phone. “Shit… Yeah… they’re not being held at gunpoint anymore.”
“Jesus. How many?”
“Soldiers?”
“No, assholes…”
“I’ve got eyes on fourteen.”
“Am I clear on all other sides?”
“To your left and behind, yeah. Nothing on your right, and once you’re past the mob, you should be fine getting to the van. What are you—?”
“Thanks Julie. I’m guessing the police aren’t rushing to help here… I’ll handle this.”
“What? You’re just gonna—”
“Look after Josh for me, would you? Just in case I don’t… y’know.”
She sighs again. “Yeah, of course. So, listen, are you the man he says you are? Can you really stop this?”
I stare blankly at the ground for a moment. “Yeah, I can.”
“Good. When you have, head over to California for some R and R—me and the boys wanna buy you a drink.”
I smile. “Sounds great. Give Jericho and Ray my best.”
I hang up and toss the phone. My immediate vicinity has fallen silent. I think most people have either managed to escape or have died. I glance back at Oscar. He’s holding an extraordinary-looking gun.
I’m a little excited…
“Oscar, what in God’s name is that?”
“This is the AX-19. It’s GlobaTech’s standard-issue assault rifle.”
“There’s nothing standard about that!”
The gun looks bulky but smooth, like it’s been shaped and forged from a single piece of metal. The scope looks more like a cylindrical computer, and there are two magazines clipped into the underside of the barrel at mirrored forty-five degree angles.
I take it from him and hold it, getting a feel for the weight.
“Man, this is nice!”
“Yeah, it is. Don’t tell Josh I’m selling his shit illegally, okay?”
I smile. “I’m pretty sure he’ll let you off.”
“Go get ’em. Get it out of your system. You know you want to…”
I glance over at the pickup trucks, roughly five hundred yards ahead of me. They’re not really doing anything now, they’re just… sitting there. The men are milling around aimlessly, sharing jokes—their laughter is drifting on the wind.
I look back at Oscar. “I really, really do. Wait here.”
I move left to the edge of the street and then stop for a moment on the sidewalk. Dust from the explosions has covered the buildings and has lined this side with a thick layer. I make my way along the side of the stationary traffic, keeping low and quiet. I find a gap that gives me a line of sight on the trucks and the rebels.
I drop to one knee and bring the rifle up, close one eye, and stare down the sight.
“Jesus…”
The view is… exquisite! There’s no other word for it. It’s a full-color, hi-def image with a small display down the right side showing distance and wind.
I move the rifle around, tracking each of the fourteen men so I can plan my assault. Normally, I wouldn’t actively seek out a fourteen-on-one gunfight—even I like at least a slim sporting chance. But these guys are amateur hour at best, and they’ve just killed soldiers, who, most likely, were just doing their job—innocent, in the grand scheme of things. And… they’re in my way, which means w
e have a problem.
Safety’s off. I flick the switch near the trigger with my thumb, moving to the single shot fire rate. The guys on the ground aren’t an issue. I reckon I’ve got four good shots before they figure out what’s happening and where I am. The driver of each truck is definitely going first, so they can’t back away quickly to regroup. If I can get a couple out of the back as well, that’s a bonus.
I take a couple of deep breaths to compose myself, slow the flow of adrenaline, and give me complete control over mind and body. Becoming the weapon I was born to be.
Here we go…
I fire three rounds in quick succession, accompanied by the slightest of movements in direction. The driver of the first pickup goes first, his head snapping away to the side as I remove half his skull with the first round. The guy standing in the back is next—he slams backward as the bullet catches him just below his ear in the fleshy part of the neck, behind the mandible. He never knew what hit him.
The third is aimed away to the right at the driver of the second truck. It blasts through the windshield and hits his chest. He falls forward on the wheel.
I spring to my feet, switching the rifle to fire three-round bursts, and take aim at the startled mob. I hold the rifle steady, as if it’s an extension of my body—it faces forward at all times, sees what my eyes see, turns when my body turns. I walk slowly back into the middle of the street and depress the trigger three times. Each burst finds a target.
The yelling starts and panic sets in. They try to regroup, but don’t really have a clue what’s happening. They’re running in circles trying to find a target. It’s like they’re moving in ways they’ve seen on TV, copying that as opposed to actually knowing what to do with their weapons.
Fucking amateurs. It’s a disgrace they were able to get the drop on those soldiers. They deserved better.
Four more bursts, four more targets down. Every man who wasn’t in a vehicle is now dead, lying sprawled on the ground with blood pooling around them. I count four left—both passengers in the cabs, and one more on the back of each truck.
One pops up on my right and returns fire, but I don’t even flinch. His aim is terrible, and he’s emptied almost his entire mag into the ground five feet away to my right.
I snap to him and fire once—the burst of bullets running up and hitting him in the chest, throat, and face milliseconds apart. He flails backward out of sight. I aim for the passenger of the right pickup and give him two bursts. The windshield shatters and he’s pushed back in his seat from the impact in his chest. I can see the blood staining the seats from here.
The man in the back of the other pickup truck jumps down to the street. I have no idea why… Now he’s easier to hit! What a prick! He’s aiming his TEC-9 at me, holding it sideways like he’s in Boyz N The Hood or something. I look him in the eye as I press the trigger—one, two, three bursts. His torso is destroyed by the impact, and he falls to the ground, twitching as the last breath leaves him.
I stare at his body for a moment, embracing the controlled anger that’s pulsing through me. In the past, when my Inner Satan took over, it was almost like I went to sleep while it happened. But now I’m standing beside him, watching him at work, telling him where to shoot, what to do. It’s an amazing feeling!
I drop the AX-19 where I stand and draw the Beretta, pacing hurriedly around the hood of the truck. I yank the passenger door open. The remaining asshole is cowering in his seat.
I lean in and grab him by the collar of his shirt, hauling him out and pushing him against the side of the vehicle.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask.
His eyes are wide, filled with fear. “Th-this is our t-town! It’s our j-job to protect it! W-we need to—”
I stop him talking by forcing the barrel of the Beretta into his mouth. I stand up straight, using my gun to keep him in place.
“You know what? I don’t care.”
I pull the trigger once, and his head disappears in a thick cloud of crimson steam. The window behind him shatters, painting the remaining shards with blood. I take my gun out of what’s left of his mouth and he slumps to the ground. His eyes are wide and lifeless, his jaw locked open in an expression of eternal surprise.
I take a quick look around, but Julie’s assessment was spot-on—there’s no one else here.
“Come on out, Oscar,” I shout as I put the gun away. “We’re good here.”
I see him appear over where I had come from. Holding the bag, he makes his way through the maze of abandoned vehicles and rejoins me.
He looks around in horrified amazement. “Holy shit… this as a goddamn massacre.”
“Yeah… Fuck ’em. Let’s go.”
We walk briskly down the street and go left. The security firm’s building is the first one we see, and the van, as promised, is parked just inside its lot. It’s dark gray with the company’s logo emblazoned across the side. I open the rear doors. The dispersal unit, uniforms, security badges—everything is there as ordered.
“Your boy came through,” says Oscar.
I nod. “Never any doubt. Now let’s go—time’s a-wasting.”
Oscar puts the bag in the back and slams the doors shut. As promised, he slides in behind the wheel. We reverse out of the lot and drive away from the carnage I just caused.
Next stop… Washington, DC.
28
MEANWHILE…
18:14 EDT
Ruby did a good job of explaining everything to Secretary Phillips and was surprised at how open-minded she was throughout. She flicked through the plethora of evidence in Matthews’ case while listening intently, asking questions as they came to mind.
“So, what do you think?” Ruby asked finally.
Phillips sat in silent thought for a few moments before answering. “I think you’re crazy. But…”
Ruby’s eyes lit up with hope. “But…?”
“But… I have to say I’ve had my doubts about President Cunningham at times. I could never quite put my finger on it, and for the most part he made the same decisions I believe any other president, or I, would’ve made. But these last six months…”
She sighed, running her hand through her hair and falling silent once more.
“Madam… whatever—Elaine, look… this sucks and it’s hard to believe, but we’re kinda on the clock here. Can you help us stop this?”
“I… I’m not sure. I mean, what can I really do?”
Jonas, who had been standing quietly by the door, stepped forward and spoke for the first time since Ruby began her story. “First thing you need to do is keep this quiet. From what I could tell when I looked at that stuff, you’re pretty much on your own… Elaine. Everyone else is on Cunningham’s payroll, which means we have very few friends right now.”
“You have very few friends… I have plenty.”
“What are you thinking?” asked Ruby.
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll need time. What’s your friend doing? Where is he?”
“Adrian? Erm… I’m not sure you really want to know what he’s doing…”
Phillips slammed her palm on the surface of her desk then pointed her finger at Ruby. “Hey, full disclosure, lady! You came to me, remember? You should be very grateful I even agreed to hear you out, let alone believe you! And I’m still not sure I do, fully. Or maybe I just don’t want to… This is an incredible situation, like nothing else in history. So if I’m going to help, I need to know everything. By all accounts, Adrian… Hell is a very hard man to support.”
“We’re managing,” shrugged Jonas.
“Yes, but you probably don’t care that much about the twenty-plus NSA agents and the fifteen or so CIA agents he killed. If what you say is true, he might not be the terrorist we’ve been told he is, and he may well be trying to do the right thing, but that will count for nothing if he’s apprehended because he’s still a mass murderer, regardless of his intentions.”
Jonas glared at Ruby, who simply smiled apologeticall
y as she realized Adrian clearly hadn’t mentioned any of that to him when he first brought Jonas on board.
She thought for a moment. She wanted to help Adrian, not make matters worse for him. She knew she had to choose her words carefully. “You make a fair point, I admit, but those people he killed, they were sent to silence him, not bring him in for questioning or to arrest him… but to kill him. It was him or them, and they were blindly following the orders of a twisted despot who—”
“I think you should stop yourself right there. I don’t care what his reasoning was, and regardless of everything that’s happening, I’m still a patriot, so I advise you to watch how you address the office of the US president, even if you have issues with the man inside it. Am I clear?”
Ruby sighed, growing impatient. “Yeah…”
“Now, the issue with your friend notwithstanding, I’m on your side. I suspect I am the only friend you have right now, and you have to trust me. I don’t know your story—either of you—but my advice to you both is this: leave. Get as far away from Washington, and Adrian, as you can, and let me handle this from here. The world is at war, and you need to keep safe.”
Ruby sat on the edge of the desk, crossed her ankles and clasped her hands on her lap as she leaned in close. “Thank you, Elaine, for your advice. And I’ve read that file. I do trust you. I know you’re going to leave this room and do everything you can to help stop President Cunningham and stop this war with North Korea from escalating any further. But… there is no way I’m leaving Adrian to fend for himself. He’s planning to kill Cunningham. And let me tell you, he’s the best damn assassin I’ve ever seen.” She glanced at the clock on the wall by the door. “I reckon you’ve got about three hours to do something monumental, otherwise this information is going to end up on every news channel in the world, right after the report detailing how the president has been found dead. You want to stop him? Fine. But at least wait until you’ve fixed the bigger, more pressing issue of World War III, okay?”
Phillips was speechless for the first time in a long time, and watched as Ruby stood and moved over to the door with Jonas behind her.
“Thank you, Madam Secretary,” she said. “Please do what you can.”
A Necessary Kill Page 23
