They left the office, striding with urgency side by side toward the elevator. They rode it to the first floor in silence and left without incident, pausing only to hand back the lanyards they had been given on the way in.
Neither of them spoke until they got back in the car. Ruby had relinquished the driver’s seat.
“Did he really kill all those G-men?” asked Jonas.
Ruby nodded. “Yeah. I even helped him with a few of the CIA spooks.”
“Shit… ”
“Come on, let’s head over to the rendezvous point. They should be on their way by now.”
He started the engine and pulled away, quickly dissolving into the sea of traffic, moving slowly along the street.
Ruby turned on the radio, which was in the middle of a news report, and buzzed her window down to feel the cool, crisp air blow through.
They stopped at a red light.
“Can we not put some music on?” asked Jonas, as he leaned forward to change the station.
Ruby put her hand on his arm, stopping him. “Wait, turn it up.”
He adjusted the volume.
“… ninth report in the last hour. The military presence in major cities across the country has been hailed as a bold and intelligent move on the part of President Cunningham, yet smaller towns and communities have been actively rejecting the support, with some standing in protest, while other, more extreme, cases have seen outbreaks of violence in the streets. The latest incident was in Annapolis, Maryland, where not fifteen minutes ago eight US soldiers were executed by a group of fourteen armed locals. Yet in a bizarre twist, all fourteen men were killed just moments afterward. Reports from eyewitnesses who fled the scene said one man fought back, killing every single member of the group before disappearing with an accomplice in a gray van. More on this situation as it develops. Meanwhile, North Korean forces continue to attack GlobaTech peacekeeping operatives in parts of Eastern Europe and Asia, with many refugees from the 4/17 attacks being caught in the crossfire. The death toll is estimated to be in the millions. A spokesperson for the White House said that…”
Ruby turned it off and looked at Jonas, who was staring straight ahead, wide-eyed.
“Well,” she said. “At least we know they got the van…”
29
ADRIAN HELL
19:35 EDT
Realizing I’ve not slept much in the last—oh, I don’t know—month, I figure it’s worthwhile to try to get some sleep on the ride out of Annapolis. Traffic is heavy, and we’re doing our best to stay off the main streets where we can. Consequently, what should take less than an hour is ending up taking closer to two.
Oscar hasn’t said much since we left. I’ve occasionally glanced over at him throughout the journey, and he was always staring straight ahead, barely blinking, functioning on autopilot, and chewing his gums. I think he’s trying to wrap his head around everything.
He knows what I do and what I’m capable of. He’s even seen the aftermath of it, in Pittsburgh a couple years back. But he’s never actually seen it happen for himself. I imagine it could be a little unsettling.
I have a lot of time for Oscar. He’s a good man—at least he is to me. I guess I could even go so far as to call him a friend. So I say this with all the respect in the world, but at the end of the day, Oscar is an arms dealer. And, much like a paid assassin, it’s not the kind of job you can easily justify doing. If I were to guess, I would say he deals with it by detaching himself from it, kind of like I do. He sells weapons to people. He probably tries not to consider what those people actually do with the weapons they buy from him.
Well, he just witnessed firsthand what people do with the weapons he sells, and it’s never pleasant being reminded that you’re not as nice a person as you think you are.
“Look alive,” he says, distracting me.
I refocus on the real world and look around. The sun is all but gone, and the low clouds are making dusk a less attractive event than it usually would be. People crowd the streets of our nation’s capital in groups of varying sizes. A mixture of military and law enforcement patrol every corner. The whole place bears no resemblance to the country I’ve lived in and served for most of my life.
We hang a right off Madison Drive and pull into the near-deserted parking lot of the Smithsonian. Oscar guides the van slowly into a spot and kills the engine. I jump out and see Ruby and Jonas climbing out of Veronica’s city car next to us.
We stand in a close circle, huddled together and partially lit by a nearby streetlight, tense in the evening chill.
Ruby playfully punches me in my arm. “You made it…”
I smile, somewhat forced. “Piece of cake.”
Jonas scoffs. “Yeah, we heard about your cake on the fucking radio.”
“Ah…”
“What the fuck, man?”
“What was I supposed to do, Jonas? Ask them real nice to stop and let me pass? Pretty please with a cherry on top? They were killing soldiers… They were firing at civilians… And, most importantly, they were standing between me and this van.” I gesture to it behind me with my thumb. “I did what I had to, alright?”
He holds his hands up in reluctant defeat and falls silent.
I look at Ruby. “How you holding up? Did you manage to speak to Secretary Phillips?”
She nods. “We did. And we walked out of there without handcuffs, so I think it went okay. She advised us to get away from you. She said even though you’re not a terrorist, you’re still a murderer.”
I shrug. “Yeah, well, she does have a point. I figured out a while back I’m probably not walking away from this one.”
“Hey, you can stall that shit, okay? We’re all walking away from this one. And we’ll walk away legends.”
“And rich,” Jonas adds.
I smile, more genuine this time, and pat her right shoulder. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Thanks.”
She winces and tries to hide it with a smile. I notice and frown for a second, wondering what’s wrong, but I quickly remember she was shot about thirty-six hours ago.
“Shit, sorry! How’re you doing?”
She waves me away. “I’m fine. It’s nothing a couple of painkillers won’t fix. So, are we doing this, or what?”
For a moment, I can’t help but think how much Josh would like her. Aside from the fact she has no shame whatsoever—which is one of the first things he tends to look for in women—her attitude and abilities are exemplary in our particular field. I might introduce them when this is over. He could do with some company.
I move over to the van, open the rear doors, and step to the side so everyone can see. Running along one side is a rail attached to the roof with four sets of dark gray coveralls hanging from it. Each one has an personalized security badge sticking out of the breast pocket.
In the middle, on the plywood-lined floor, is a large square box. Jonas moves toward it and looks inside.
“Sweet Jesus… it’s beautiful!” he says.
He reaches in and takes out a smaller, but still pretty big, square container made of thick clear plastic. Inside it are two gas canisters, each about eighteen inches long. The nozzles are sticking out through holes at the top with wires leading from them to another square affixed to the back of the container.
Jonas flips it around and turns to show us. “This is the interface. We’ll link this up to the main airflow unit that leads to the West Wing. Once it’s in place, we’ll be able to remotely release the gas in these,” he points to the canisters, “which will then flow through the AC and out through the vents.”
He glances over his shoulder at the original box again.
“Yeah… the remote is in there, along with masks for us all.” He turns the plastic box in his hands once more, then looks at me. “This is top of the line stuff, Adrian. I’m impressed.”
I shrug. “When you get out of here, thank my friend at GlobaTech—this is their tech.”
Oscar points to the black sport bag resting behin
d the box. “We’ve got plenty of hardware in there…” He glances at me. “Less a couple dozen, or so, bullets. There’s not much in there for non-lethal attacks, I’ll be honest, but I’m pretty sure I threw in a flashbang or two, which might come in handy.”
“We’re not going to get in there with any weapons,” I say. “We’ll never get them through security. We’ll need to relieve some people of their firearms once we’re inside and they’re out cold from the gas. Jonas, put the dispersal unit in the sport bag. Empty the guns into the box.”
He nods. “On it.”
I look at Ruby, who smiles and nods silently back at me.
“Okay, guys and girls, this is it. We’ve got the plan, we’ve got the equipment… Once we’re inside, we’ll head for the maintenance area so Jonas can do his thing. Once it’s in place, we mask up and I’ll set it off. Unless they’re shooting at you, assume anyone outside the Oval Office you come into contact with is innocent. They should be out from the gas, but if it misses them, put them down and leave them with nothing more than a headache. Clear?”
The three of them murmur their understanding.
I look at Oscar. “You’re driving, so you’re the one who’s got to sweet-talk our way through security. Our details are in the system, so they’re expecting us. No need to act suspicious—there’s nothing out of the ordinary in what we’re doing, okay? If they ask, we’re there to run a preliminary assessment of their internal security. We’ll be checking server rooms and maintenance access points. It’s protocol, so they shouldn’t think twice about it.”
“I have a question,” says Ruby. “We’ll be passing through… what—two, three checkpoints?”
“Two, I think.”
“Okay. They’ll do the mirror under the vehicle thing, shine a light in the cab… the usual, right? What happens when they inevitably look in the back? The weapons and gas bomb might prompt some questions, y’know?”
I smile. “Good point. Well made.” I move to the back of the van and lean inside. I reach up, unhook the coveralls from the railing, and pass them behind me. “Someone grab these a sec…”
I feel them taken from my hand and lean back inside. The paneled sides of the van are made from the same plywood as the floor. There’s also a casing over the wheel arches. I pull each side down in turn, guiding the panel so it’s resting flat on the floor. Both sides slot together to form a false surface that is raised enough to conceal everything underneath perfectly.
I look back at the group. “Voilà! There are two pull-down seats attached to the back of the main seat in the cab. Ruby and I will be on them, out of the way, seeing as we’re the most recognizable of us all. The makeup and disguises look great, but I don’t want to risk any added visibility if it can be avoided. Someone opens the rear doors, all they’ll see are two people and an empty floor, save for a tool kit.”
Ruby shakes her head and laughs to herself. “Y’know, this is actually starting to sound like a brilliant plan… Be careful, Adrian, you have a reputation to think of.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, don’t tell anyone I actually know what I’m doing, alright?”
I look at Jonas, who is holding the coveralls. “Hand them out, would you? We best get this party started… ”
Everyone gets their uniform—Ruby’s using the back of the van, while Oscar and Jonas simply step into their coveralls outside.
I pace away absently, taking in the evening noise and bustle of a city living on the edge. A world away—and getting closer with each hour that passes—there’s a war raging, masterminded by a maniacal ass-hat sitting less than a mile from me right now in a fancy chair, in the most powerful office in the land. And at the risk of sounding melodramatic, only I can stop him. I’m one of the few who have knowledge of what’s really happening, and, along with the three people behind me, I’m the only one not currently being scrutinized by a global audience.
I turn and watch my colleagues getting ready. I know twenty million dollars is a pretty good incentive, but under the circumstances even the most morally ambiguous among us would think twice about doing what we’re about to, even for all that money. No—these guys might not admit it, but I think they’re motivated now by a sense of duty, not a large payday. You can tell just by how they act and how passionate they are.
I’ve been very lucky to find this team. A little unlucky that it’s two intended members short, but shit happens. Mostly to me…
“Your turn,” says Ruby, climbing out of the back.
The three of them are standing in a line wearing their matching gray coveralls. They look like the Ghostbusters! I smile to myself, walk back over to them, and take my uniform from Jonas as he holds it out for me. I climb in the back and quickly change. A couple of minutes later, I step out and stand with the rest of them. I look at each one in turn. They stare back at me with determined expressions on their faces.
They’re ready.
Even Oscar, bless him.
“What?” I ask. “Are you waiting for some big motivational speech now or something? Well, you’re not getting one. You don’t need reminding what’s at stake here. You know what we need to do. You heard me on the phone to that sorry sonofabitch—it’s the size of the fight in the dog that matters. And right now, between the four of us, I can guaran-fucking-tee we’ve got more fight than North Korea’s entire army. We stay smart and do our job. If we see tomorrow, chances are it’ll be a slightly better world than it was today. So let’s go.”
Jonas and Oscar nod to me, then walk away and climb inside the cab of the van. I hold the rear door open for Ruby. She climbs inside and I follow her, pulling it shut behind me.
We sit in our makeshift seats. A moment later the engine starts and we drive off.
Next to me, she nudges my arm. “Y’know, considering we weren’t getting one, that was a pretty kick-ass motivational speech.”
I remain silent. I stare ahead with a small smile on my face focusing on what comes next.
30
20:02 EDT
Pennsylvania Avenue is busy. Despite only having to travel a few blocks, we’ve been traveling nearly twenty minutes and we’re still not there yet. I glance over my shoulder, between the headrests of the front seats, into the cab, and out through the windshield. There’s nothing but crowded sidewalks and nose-to-tail traffic ahead of us.
We crawl forward slowly. After another few minutes, Oscar’s finally able to turn left and pull into the first security checkpoint, to the right of the north lawn. There’s a guard hut on either side of the driveway, and large automatic metal gates block the path. I hear Oscar buzz his window down. I can’t see how many guards there are. Ruby and I exchange a tense glance.
“There are no deliveries,” says a man, who I’m assuming is one of the guards. “State your business.”
Oscar clears his throat. “We’re from Tyger Security. They called us in to run an assessment and install some upgrades. Said it was an emergency. Heh… with everything going on, I bet you’ve got a lot of them, huh?”
Nice, Oscar… nice.
There’s a moment’s silence. “You could say that…” replies the guard. “Got your ID?”
“Sure.”
Another moment’s silence. I’m guessing he’s checking the picture and running it through their system to make sure we’re on it.
This is where Josh earns his money…
I know… he wishes he got paid for this shit, right!
“Is it just you two?” asks the guard. “Our paperwork says a team of four was dispatched?”
“Yeah, the others are in the back.”
“Okay, turn off your engine while we check the vehicle.”
“Sure thing.”
The engine stops. A heartbeat later, the rear doors open and a flashlight beam floods in, burning our eyes. The internal lighting is poor in the back, and we’ve had to rely solely on what shines through the windshield. We both hold up a hand to shield us while we adjust to the sudden brightness.
�
��Can I see your IDs please?” asks one of the two men standing in front of us.
Squinting, I reach into my pocket and hand him my badge. Ruby does the same. I watch as they move their lights over them. Outside, behind the guards, a cacophony of horns ripples along the street, and people hurry along the sidewalks—a visible urgency in their collective body language.
The guards hand the badges back with no fuss and slam the doors. Ruby and I look at each other again, and we both raise a relieved eyebrow.
“Okay,” says the first guard. “Drive through to the second checkpoint. Head right up ahead, and make sure you keep to the right of the drive. You’ll be issued with passes giving you the required security clearance.”
“No problem,” replies Oscar, calmly. “Thanks, guys.”
“Just do what you have to do, alright? Today isn’t the day to be racking up your overtime.”
Oscar chuckles. “Overtime? We should be so lucky!”
There are a few seconds of awkward silence…
“Yeah, I hear that, man,” says the guard. “Go on through.”
“Thanks, my friend.”
Oscar restarts the engine as the gates squeak and grind open. We drive through and I look over my shoulder again to stare ahead through the windshield. The driveway up ahead splits. Left would take us in a wide, shallow semicircle along the north lawn, and eventually lead us back to the street. We head right, toward the second checkpoint and the entrance to the West Wing.
Another guard appears, walking toward the van with his hand held up. Oscar slows to a stop, and the guard heads to the driver’s door.
“Tyger Security?” he asks.
“That’s us.”
“Just pull in on the left. We need to check the vehicle before we can issue your badges.”
“No problem.”
Oscar moves forward, turns a moment later, once again killing the engine.
This is the part I’ve been dreading. The fake floor is the only thing they could find, and if they do, it’s game over before the opening bell sounds. I just hope they don’t make us get out of the van…
A Necessary Kill Page 24
