“Do you not listen to the news, son?”
“I’ve been a little busy…”
“In two days, his Holiness is going to hold a special Mass in St. Peter’s Square, to pray for those still fighting in the aftermath of 4/17, as well as those who lost their lives.”
“On a Saturday?” asks Josh.
“That’s right. Security’s going to be on high alert ahead of it. Now, listen up, the pair of you. The official position of the White House is that we cannot, and will not, get involved in matters of foreign terrorism without solid intel of a credible threat to our own country. Now—”
I sigh heavily, losing what little patience I had to start with. “Ryan, this isn’t just about our country, it’s about everywhere. Imagine for a second that the leader of a terrorist network took control of the Catholic Church… It would affect everyone. We have to—”
“Goddammit, will you let me finish? As I was about to say, my personal position on this matter is that I believe you boys are on to something, and I want you on the ground in Rome to verify it. If you’re right, I want you to do everything in your power to stop it, before it’s too late. This world has faced enough adversity for one generation. It’s on both of you to make sure they don’t face any more. You do what you need to do. But Josh… keep GlobaTech out of it. Use whatever alternative resources you need to, and keep a low profile. Just because I can’t help you directly, it doesn’t mean I want to stop you from doing this yourselves. Now, is any part of what I just said unclear to either of you?”
I exchange a look with Josh, who leans toward the phone. “No, sir. We understand.”
“Good. Oh, and Adrian? I know this is personal for you, and I know you can take care of yourself, but keep a clear mind, son. I want Josh back in Washington, safe and sound, for a de-brief first thing Monday morning.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’ll look after him.”
“Godspeed, gentlemen.”
The line clicks off, leaving a palpable silence in the room. After a few moments, I point to the brown paper bag. “I brought you a burger. It’s nice.”
“Thanks,” he replies, nodding absently. He takes it out and has a bite before sitting down heavily again on the edge of the bed. “So, we’re going to Rome…”
“Looks like it.”
I pace away toward the window, leaving Josh to his food. I massage my temples with my left hand, and take some deep, calming breaths. I’m pissed off at Schultz. He said he would help us if we got evidence and then changed his mind after we risked life and limb to do so. And I know our theory isn’t really evidence, but it’s sound logic, and what physical information we do have is enough to at least prompt further investigation. At least, I think so.
Though, apparently, I’m in the minority there.
I check my watch. We need to be in Rome tomorrow, and we need to plan how to essentially wage war on the Catholic Church twenty-four hours before the pope appears live in front of God-knows how many thousands of people, and on TV in front of millions.
Easy.
23
20:46 PDT
It’s been a long-ass day. I spent the morning getting shot at, and the afternoon trying to figure out the inner workings of a secret society of assassins, led by the man who, it turns out, serves as the pope’s assistant.
There’s something to be said for being a cubicle slave nine-to-five.
After a pat on the back, and a fuck-you-very-much from our commander-in-chief, Josh and I decided it was time to get some help. Now, he’s good, and I’m the best, but what we’re going up against is simply ridiculous, and we know we can’t do it alone.
Forgetting how many people are likely hunting us right now, we need to find a way to discreetly travel to Rome, get inside Vatican City, and take out the second most important person there.
This would normally be the time where I would remind myself that, despite how shitty and impossible things seem, I’ve been through worse. But, at the moment, I’m struggling to do that. Yes, I did infiltrate the White House and kill the president not so long ago, but that was pretty straightforward when you consider that he, along with the people around him, were all very bad people. I wasn’t concerned about body counts, or collateral damage, or even the moral implications of what I was trying to do. To me that hit was about as black and white as I’m ever going to get.
But this is different. Sure, Antonio Herrera Martinez is a grade-one piece of shit, but as far as we know, no one else around him is. The population of Vatican City isn’t. The pope isn’t.
The pope.
I’ve said that word to myself so many times in the last couple of hours, it’s lost its meaning.
Yet again, I’ve managed to negotiate my way into the middle of someone else’s shit-storm, and I’ve no idea how I’m going to fix it. Not yet, anyway.
So, armed with nothing but Josh’s laptop and a healthy dose of cynicism, we left the hotel to get some proper food, some beer, and to find a way of burying The Order of Sabbah once and for all.
We found an upmarket wine bar, which Josh dragged me into with the justification they had Wi-Fi. Personally, I think he loves places like this now, and will do anything to go in one. Gone are the days where he was content with a dive bar, listening to rock music, and shooting pool, surrounded by women in their twenties with inhibitions lower than a rattlesnake’s ass.
Goddamn sell-out.
It’s not busy here, though, and the low music in the background is there more for atmosphere than to actually be listened to. The décor is soft leather with a dark wooden trim. Tables are spaced out, making full use of the sizable interior, allowing patrons a little more privacy for their intellectual conversations and wine tasting. The waitresses are friendly and unimposing. Hell, even this beer tastes as if it should cost twelve bucks a bottle.
Which it does.
Which is insane.
Anyway…
We both needed a change of clothes, so we detoured via the local mall on the way here. He opted for a shirt and loose tie, with jeans and boots. The modern CEO look. I’ve gone for the most generic, anonymous thing I could think of—a fitted sweater, dark jeans, and boots.
We scoped the place out before we came in and were both happy there wasn’t an immediate threat. We’ve not had much luck with bars since this shit started, so I’m not taking any chances now.
Josh is sitting opposite me, his glass of ice water with a slice of lemon in it standing beside his laptop. He’s just closed the lid, after almost an hour of key-tapping. “Right, I’ve put the word out on the dark web, so we’ll see if we get any hits.”
I frown. “The dark web? What’s that? It sounds like where you would find those sites full of weird, Japanese cartoon porn.”
He smiles. “You can get them on the regular web. Apparently. No, the dark web is…”
He trails off.
I gesture quizzically with my hand. “What?”
“Nothing, it’s just… honestly, you’re probably not gonna understand it. Just let me worry about it, okay?”
“Hold up a second. Don’t assume I won’t understand it. I’m an intelligent guy.”
He nods. “When it comes to guns and killing people, yeah, I agree. But leave the tech stuff to me, alright?”
I narrow my eyes, watching him. He’s shifting a little in his seat, he’s absently scratching his arm… he’s restless.
Wait a minute.
I point a playfully accusing finger at him. “You were about to reveal one of your secrets, weren’t you?”
He shakes his head. “What do you mean?”
“Holy shit, you were! All the years we’ve spent together and you’ve never told me how you do any of the amazing things you do for me. It’s always been magic, and you’ve loved every second of having a little mystique around you. But this dark web thing, that’s one of your big secrets, isn’t it? And you don’t want to tell me. Even now, at a time like this.”
He goes to sp
eak, but settles instead for rolling his eyes, and sighing heavily. “Fine! Yes, it’s one of my trade secrets.”
I clap my hands, laughing. “I knew it! Come on, spill!”
“Y’know, you don’t have to enjoy this so much. I’m giving up some of my mojo here…”
“Are you kidding? This is like finding out how they saw someone in half.”
He rolls his eyes again. “Whatever. So, you know what the internet is, right?”
I raise an eyebrow but say nothing. The look I’m giving him is saying enough.
He smiles. “Well, that’s something. Every website on the internet has coding embedded into it that allows search engines to find it, like its own unique ID number. It’s kind of a prerequisite when setting them up. But what most people don’t realize is that almost ninety-five percent of all internet content doesn’t have that coding, meaning that everything you see online today is only a fraction of the actual content available. Sites without that coding make up what’s known as the dark web. They’re completely anonymous and therefore not subject to any restrictions or laws. You can’t search for them, which means you’ll never find them unless you already know where to look.”
I take a swig of my beer and shrug. “Sounds straightforward.”
“The principal is, yeah. But directly accessing those sites can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. You need special software, and encryption tools to hide your online identity, to protect yourself from people who might use the resources in the dark web to attack you.”
“How could they do that?”
“Well, off the top of my head… if you stumbled across an online forum for computer hackers, someone watching you could easily steal your ID, your money, your social security number, you name it. They could frame you for almost any crime. They could destroy your entire life with the press of a button.”
I let out a low whistle. “Christ… So, what’s on all the sites you can’t see? Is it all computer hacking, and political bullshit?”
“Not exclusively, although there’s a lot of that about. But because your activities on the dark web are almost invisible, there’s a lot of crazy shit on there. For example, there’s an online marketplace dedicated solely to narcotics. You can literally add a kilo of cocaine to your shopping basket, like you would a DVD on Amazon.”
I let out a chuckle. “Are you serious?”
He nods. “And then there’s the websites we use.”
“We?”
“Forums and social media platforms for professional killers and mercenaries.”
“You’re kidding me?”
He shakes his head. “You’ve heard of Facebook, right? Well, we have Bulletbook. Why do you think your reputation is as widely-known as it is? A lot of unsavory types use the dark web, Adrian. Word spreads fast in those circles.”
“So, do I have, like, a website or something?”
He laughs. “Not quite, but you’re pretty famous on there. When we were first starting out, I put together a good marketing campaign for you, to make sure the right people found you, and paid the right money. Obviously, your skillset and credentials helped, too. So, now, you’re the stuff of legend on there. Alongside The Order, naturally.”
I finish my drink. “Huh. I had no idea.”
“Feel free to add PR Department to my résumé.”
I nod to his laptop. “So, what have you just been doing on there?”
“I posted that you have a big contract, that you’re looking for a team, and to contact me for details. I’ve said payment is a million dollars, with a very high risk factor.”
“What, you just take out an ad and hope you get some interest?”
He shrugs. “Pretty much, yeah.”
I shake my head in disbelief. This is one of those things that sounds really obvious and organized, but you would never associate it with what I do, or the circles I move around in.
Still, it’s nice to know some things in life can remain simple.
“Now what?”
“Now? We sit back and wait, I guess.” He gestures to my cast. “How’s the hand doing?”
I look at it, rotating my wrist to examine both sides of the plastic molding. “It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt much, but I know it still has some way to go before it’s healed. Sure wish I had two good shootin’ hands right now.”
Josh smiles. “Don’t we all?”
He silently points to my empty bottle. I nod, and he signals a waitress over to order another round.
I gaze absently around the place, discreetly putting eyes on every single person in here, checking for the tenth time that no one’s getting ready to shoot us.
So far, so good.
Now, we wait.
22:38 PDT
We’re walking across the lobby of our hotel. The last hour or so was a bust. No hits on our personal ad, or whatever it was, so it looks as if we’re still going it alone. We briefly talked about how we intend getting to Rome without attracting any attention from anyone, but decided it’s a problem that can wait until the morning. I need some sleep.
On the bright side, no one’s tried to kill me in… what? Almost ten hours? That’s some kind of record, surely.
Josh presses the call button for the elevator. After this morning, I’m always going to think twice before getting in one of these things again. Thankfully, I don’t think there’s much chance of me having to climb the cables on this one. The doors slide quietly open a moment later. Inside, the carriage is burgundy, with gold highlights. It’s nicer than most places I’ve slept in. We step inside, and he hits the button for our floor. The doors close effortlessly, and we begin the ascent.
He turns to me. “Look, I’ve been thinking. When all this is over, and assuming we’re still alive, how about I help you get a new life? One where you truly are free.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You… you would do that for me?”
He shrugs. “Sure, if it’s what you want. I mean, you tried it before.”
“Yeah, and look how that turned out.”
“I know the last few months have given new meaning to the phrase having a rough time, but for the two years before that, you were happy, right?”
I nod slowly as I feel myself inundated with memories from my life in Devil’s Spring. Owning my bar, being a part of the town… Running with Styx each morning… Waking up next to Tori…
I feel his hand on my shoulder and snap out of my reminiscing.
“With the resources I have at my disposal, both at GlobaTech, and within the government, you can be whoever you want to be, wherever you want to be. I can even get you some plastic surgery.”
I smile. “I might feel old sometimes, but I’m not ready for Botox just yet, Josh.”
He rolls his eyes. “Not for the purposes of vanity, you idiot. I mean to help give you a fresh start. You have those scars on your cheeks that we could remove. Maybe adjust the shape of your nose a little—you’d look totally different.”
“I, ah… I dunno, man. I appreciate you offering and all, but let me think about it. A new life is one thing, but a new face is something else.”
“I know. Just a suggestion, that’s all.”
We slow to a stop and the doors open on our floor. I can only assume that every floor looks like ours—as luxurious as a palace, and as clean as a damn hospital. The walls are cream, with a wooden trim halfway up. The carpet is immaculate and feels as if you’re walking on pillows. There are only a handful of rooms on each floor, simply because they’re so big. I don’t feel comfortable in places like this, but a part of me can’t help wondering what my life would’ve been like if I’d spent my days staying in hotels like this, using the fortune I amassed from killing to enjoy myself a little, instead of staying in no-name, flea-ridden motels, and drinking in dive bars.
Nah, I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed myself all that much. I’m a simple creature.
We head right and stop outside the first door on the left. Josh opens it with the keycard, and we s
tep inside. There’s—
Hang on.
The shower’s running.
I put my hand on Josh’s arm. He looks at me, and I put a finger to my lips. I point to the closed bathroom door, and then signal for him to move over to the far corner, next to the bed nearest the window. From there, he’ll have a clear view of whoever’s in there once they come out.
He moves quickly and quietly across the room, drawing his gun as he does, and crouches in position. I take out my own weapon and edge forward, keeping my finger resting lightly on the trigger as I make my way along the near wall, past the desk, toward the bathroom door.
I freeze as the water stops. I hear movement. I glance over at Josh. He nods, signaling he’s ready. With us on opposite sides of the suite, we can’t both be targets, which gives us an advantage. I continue slowly toward the—
The door opens.
A figure appears, wearing a short towel, and dripping water on the carpet around them.
I lower my weapon and frown. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Ruby DeSouza smiles at me. “Hey, baby. Miss me?”
24
22:46 PDT
I shake my head slowly. “But I thought you—”
“Was pissed with you? Yeah, I am.” Her bright red lips curl into a fiendishly familiar grin, and then, in a flash of movement, her hand disappears beneath the towel, and reappears almost instantly holding a gun. She snaps it to me, her aim unwavering. Her smile fades and an expression of pure anger replaces it. “You abandoned me, you selfish, stubborn, egotistical… asshole!”
No one moves. No one says anything. The scene is frozen, locked in a bizarre stand-off. With my gun at my side, I alternate my gaze between Ruby’s eyes, and the barrel of her weapon—which looks like a Glock from here. I honestly can’t decide if she’s going to shoot me or not.
Across from us, Josh looks confused. He’s slowly raising and lowering his arm, seemingly unsure if he should aim it at her or not. After a few moments, he tucks it behind him, and walks over to us. He stands between us, and eyes Ruby up and down, before turning to me.
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