I take a deep breath and a step back—a subtle gesture that I don’t wish to meet her advances. She immediately senses my body language and backs off, too.
“I’m sorry,” we both say simultaneously. We laugh, awkwardly.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I just... I shouldn’t have tried to...”
“Hey, I’m sorry too,” I reply. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I’m just not ready to...”
“It’s okay, really. Let’s just forget about it, alright?”
She smiles, but it looks forced. I think she’s either hurt, embarrassed or both.
I nod, but I feel awful. “Yeah, sure,” I say, smiling to offer a little comfort. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
It’s my turn smile without looking awkward. She turns and leaves the conference room. I stand alone for a moment, taking a slow, deep breath in and exhaling heavily.
“Christ...” I mutter to myself, before following her across the office.
16:21
The last few hours passed slowly. I spent most of the time pacing aimlessly around the office, as Josh and Wallis monitored Alcatraz Island and came up with a bunch of scenarios for me to figure out how to deal with without getting myself killed. Chambers wasn’t around much, as she was liaising with people on board the Jeremiah and trying to convince them to search the ship for explosive devices. As expected, it was proving harder to do than we’d hoped. I think she was right—there’s no way anyone will agree to postponing the celebrations later tonight. The best we can hope for is that the Secret Service realizes we’re not trying to interfere and actually listens to us.
I’ve not said much to anyone. I’ve eaten a little, but I didn’t have much of an appetite. I keep thinking about Agent Chambers… Grace, and our moment in the conference room earlier.
Am I mad?
I mean, she’s an attractive woman. Very attractive. And she likes me, despite what I do for a living. I doubt I’ll find many women who are so accepting of the fact I’m a professional assassin.
But every time I think about her, I get mad at myself because I should be thinking about Danny Pellaggio. He’s on Alcatraz right now with Ivan Gregovski and an arsenal of weaponry that includes Stinger missiles—one of which he intends putting in a ship that has the Secretary of Defense on it.
You’d think I’d be prioritizing a little better…
I’m in the larger of the two office areas, which is deserted now, as many of the agents are already en route to the Jeremiah. Josh and Wallis are at their computer terminal with satellite and drone feeds of Alcatraz displayed on their screens.
“How’s it going?” I ask as I walk over to them.
Josh is lost in the computers, so Wallis replies.
“We’ve got thermal imaging up and running,” he says. “We’ve got eyes on eight bodies.”
“Pellaggio, Gregovski and six for practice,” I say, nodding.
“We’ve been over every inch of the island and ran every simulation we can think of—bottom line, Adrian, you’re not getting on there via a speedboat. You’ll be seen and shot at.”
“Josh?”
“He’s right,” he says without looking up from his keyboard. “It ain’t happening.”
“There’s got to be a way,” I say, feeling myself getting frustrated. “If I don’t get to them before the fireworks start tonight, it’s game over.”
“Maybe I can help with that,” says a voice behind us.
I turn and see Clark walking toward us, carrying two large black sports bags, one in each hand. He’s smiling from ear to ear. He drops the bags at my feet.
“Oh, Bobby…” I say, looking at them. “You sure know how to treat a guy!”
He laughs and picks up one of the bags, resting it on a nearby table. He unzips it and holds it open. Wallis and Josh walk over, curious.
“This…” he explains with a little too much pride and ceremony. “…is the latest in climbing technology. It’s a prototype I’ve… ah, borrowed from our Research Facility.”
He takes out a large grappling gun, maybe four feet long. It looks like a small rocket launcher, with an imposing four-pronged metal claw poking out of one end.
“Now, I’ll concede it’s a little noisy when you fire it,” he continues. “But, honestly, I don’t think anyone will notice over the sound of the waves. You simply aim and fire—the claw will penetrate almost anything. The cable that’s attached to it is a strengthened nylon polymer and will tie round a special body harness that’s also in the bag for you. You shouldn’t have any trouble scaling the side of the island with this.”
“Jesus…” says Josh quietly, clearly impressed.
“That’s brilliant, Bob—really. But these guys are saying a speedboat isn’t going to work… I can’t climb it if I can’t get to it.”
He smiles again and packs the grappling gun away, zipping the bag closed, and picking it up.
“Grab that other bag and follow me,” he says. “I’ve got that covered too.”
I frown, slightly confused, but pick up the bag and follow him as he walks off.
“What’s in the one Adrian’s carrying?” Wallis asks Josh behind me.
“Oh, you don’t wanna know,” he says laughing. “You know, what with you being a federal agent and all…”
“Right…”
We all follow Clark out of the office, down the corridor and into the elevator. We take it down to the first floor and step out into the lobby as the doors ding open. He walks outside and we all look at each other, getting more confused by the second.
We follow him, stepping out into the late afternoon sun. Clark is standing in the parking lot, the bag on the floor next to him, in front of a sports car. It’s nice—a convertible. A Lotus, I think.
“Here you go,” he says.
“Nice wheels,” I say with a shrug. “I think you might’ve misunderstood what I need though.”
Josh walks over to the vehicle and crouches down beside it, running his hand over the wheel arches and the chassis. Clark watches him as he stands and makes his way around the car, inspecting it with his educated eye. Wallis is next to me, looking as confused as I do.
After a minute, Josh moves next to Clark and stares at us, one hand over his mouth in genuine shock. He looks at him.
“Is this…?”
Clark nods and smiles.
Josh claps his hands and, I swear to God, he jumps and clicks his heels, laughing.
“You look like you’ve just won the state lottery—what’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“Adrian, my loveable, un-educated friend, this is an amphibious sports car.”
I raise an eyebrow. “It’s a what now?”
“It’s an underwater car.”
I’m trying to understand how those two words can appear next to each other in a sentence, but I don’t have the mental capacity for it.
“An underwater car? That’s a thing now?” I ask.
Clark pats the hood like a proud father. “It runs off an electric motor that’s powered by six batteries. It’s capable of seventy-five miles an hour and can submerge to depths of up to three hundred feet.”
“So it’s a submarine?” I ask.
Clark nods.
“Well,” I continue. “Ain’t that something…”
“I hope this helps,” he says, extending his hand.
“This is incredible, Bob, thank you,” I reply, shaking it.
“Any time, Adrian,” he replies. “And now, I’m going to do something I learnt to do long ago—stay out of your way while you go kill people.”
He shakes hands with the others.
“Josh. Agent Wallis.”
He disappears back inside the office.
Wallis pats my shoulder. “Well, looks like you’re all set,” he says. “I’m going to be on board the Jeremiah with Agent Chambers. Good luck, Adrian.”
“Thanks. You too.”
He walks off, and as I watch him go, Agent Chambers comes out
toward us. They exchange a quick word as they pass, then he carries on inside, and she approaches us.
“Nice wheels,” she says.
“It’s a submarine,” I say, trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about.
Josh smirks as she looks confused.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” he says, reaching into his pocket and taking out an earpiece. “Adrian, take this. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
I take it from him and smile. “Thanks man. See you on the other side.”
“Bet your ass.”
We bump fists, and he walks off, leaving me standing next to the car with Chambers in front of me.
“So, you’re all set?” she asks.
I look at the two black bags at my feet and the car behind me. “I reckon so, yeah.”
“I’ll do everything I can on the Jeremiah. Just stop Pellaggio, okay? Whatever it takes.”
“I fully intend to. You be careful—if there are bombs on board, you need to be ready to get people off that ship if things go wrong at my end.”
“I will,” she says, nodding. “But you’ll stop him. I know it.”
I smile and we hold each other’s gaze for a moment. Then I pick up the bags and drop them on the back seat, walk around the hood and open the driver’s door.
“Is this really a submarine?” she asks, skeptically.
“Apparently,” I reply.
“Huh…”
I climb inside and start the engine. I look at her one last time then drive off toward the pier.
23.
16:35
MY PHONE RINGS. It’s Josh. I put the earpiece in and answer the call.
“Where are you up to, Bossman?” he asks as I pick up.
“I’m a few minutes away from the docks,” I reply. “I’ve hit some traffic.”
“That’s to be expected, I guess, what with everything going on over there.”
“How are things with you?”
“This place is mental! I think the Secret Service is starting to take our concerns seriously, but aren’t being very cooperative in terms of allowing the FBI access to the ship. Agent Chambers is shouting a lot on the phone. I think she’s intending setting off for the Jeremiah with Agent Wallis any minute.”
“Unbelievable…They’ll be cooperative when they get blown to shit, and the FBI says I told you so.”
“If only people would listen to us, eh? Anyway, go do your thing, Bossman. I’ve got your back here.”
Instead of hanging up, Josh starts playing music down the line. I smile as the opening guitar riff from Smoke On The Water drifts into my ears.
I focus on the road and steadily navigate my way through the traffic, which is getting heavier the closer I get to the docks. As I hit The Embarcadero, vehicles are almost at a standstill. Cops are standing in the middle of the road, directing cars in different directions. I lean out the window and look ahead. The sun’s slowly turning orange as it begins its descent, and is casting a subtle glow on the never-ending line of traffic ahead of me.
Goddamnit!
I check the clock in the car. According to that news report I saw, the service aboard the Jeremiah is due to start at eight p.m. I’m running out of time and I’m probably ten minutes away from where I need to be right now.
The music fades away, and Josh comes back on the line.
“Still with us?” he asks.
“Just about,” I reply. “Although, I’m going to start shooting people if this traffic doesn’t clear up soon.”
He laughs. “Hang on a second… Right, I’m tracking you via the GPS in your phone. You still have a way to go before you reach Pier 33, and the traffic’s only going to get worse the further along you go, but you can turn off early onto Pier 29 and drive along there—it might save you some time.”
“Excellent, I can see the turn just ahead. So, here’s a question for you… have you ever driven an underwater car before?”
He laughs again. “Can’t say I have,” he replies.
“But you’re familiar with them?”
“More than you are, yeah.”
“So, what am I meant to do when I reach the end of the pier, exactly?”
“You’ve got to drive off the end!”
“Josh, I’m being serious here.”
“Adrian, so am I! How else do you expect to get underwater?”
“So, I just… drive off? Will I not drown in the car? This sounds like one of those things I really need to get right first time, y’know.”
“Have you got a lever at the side of you?”
I take a look. “I’ve got two.”
“Right, well one’s the handbrake. The other, you need to pull as soon as you’re airborne but before you hit the water.”
“What will it do?”
“It’s make sure the roof and windows and everything else is shut tight and sealed to make them waterproof. It will also disengage the main electric engine and switch on to the secondary supply, which is used to power the water-based part of the vehicle.”
“Christ, this is some real life James Bond shit, isn’t it! How do I steer the damn thing?”
“You’ll be able to push and pull the wheel as well as turn it—this will control your depth. Forward for down, backward for up.”
“Huh… Well, this should be entertaining.”
“Assuming you manage it, our comms will be down until you re-surface, so you’re on your own until you reach Alcatraz.”
I see a gap in the traffic and take it, accelerating quickly, and stopping again. The turn for Pier 29 is just ahead on my right.
“Fair enough. Tell Agent Chambers good luck from me.”
“I will…” He falls silent.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Josh, I can hear you smiling down the phone. What?”
He laughs. “I’m sorry—did you think all the awkward, uncomfortable flirting you two have been doing wasn’t visible to the rest of us?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“‘Uh-huh...”
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“I have absolutely no issue with shooting you, you know that, right?”
He laughs again. “Whatever you say, Bossman.”
“Anyway, I’m just about to turn onto the Pier now. I’ll call you once I get to The Rock.”
I hang up and take the turn, slowing to a stop at the beginning of the pier. There’s a parking lot which is half-full, with spaces on the left along the side of a building. Luckily, there aren’t many people around. I set off again slowly toward the end of the pier.
I must admit, I’m not completely confident with driving into the water and pulling a lever so that I don’t drown. I get that technology is amazing and useful nowadays, but it doesn’t mean I trust it. I just want to make sure I know what I’m doing. No use going to all this trouble if I die before I even make it to Pellaggio.
I stop at an angle as I reach the edge of the pier and get out of the car. I look around and come across the first of what I suspect will be many roadblocks I encounter before all this is over—the pier is fenced off, so I can’t drive off the edge.
Great. Now what do I do?
I look around, but there’s no one this far down the pier. I walk over to the barriers. They’re interlinked metal gates, maybe three feet high and five feet wide, welded into place. If I drove at them full speed, I’d probably write the car off and injure myself. They’re too high to start trying to build a ramp either.
Shit.
Hang on…
I walk quickly back to the car, opening up the black sports bag on the back seat that doesn’t contain the grappling gun. Inside is a Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine gun—my personal favorite—resting on top of a pile of spare magazines. Lining the bottom of the bag next to it is a selection of grenades. Smoke, flashbangs, white phosphorous and...
Frags.
I pick one up and look at it in my
hand. There’s no one around… this would almost certainly blow at least one section of barrier off, which would leave a space wide enough to drive through.
I turn to walk back to the barrier when something inside the bag catches my eye. I reach inside and retrieve a back holster, identical to the one I used to wear. Resting in it are two brand new, custom Berettas. My eyes widen like a kid on Christmas morning who’s just opened a present and found the one thing he wanted more than anything in his life. They’re not the A1 model that I’d loved and lost, but the more prominent FS variation. I take one out and hold it in the palm of my hand, feeling the weight. I look at it and smile. On the butt, where I’d had the Sigil of Baphomet engraved on my A1s is an intricately detailed image of a smiling Devil’s face. Every aspect of the gun is jet black, but the engraving is blood red.
I tuck it into my waistband at my back. I’ll leave the other one in the bag for now. I walk over to the barrier once more and measure it up, casually tossing the grenade up and catching it as I concentrate.
My earpiece is still in place, so I dial Josh.
“You not drowned yet then?” he asks.
“Not yet… listen, is Grace still with you?”
“No, she and Wallis are en route to the Jeremiah. Why?”
“Can you get in touch with her?”
“I have her number, yeah. Why, Adrian?”
“Can you just let her know that if she hears any reports in the next few minutes of a small explosion on Pier 29, there’s no need to worry—it’s just me.”
There’s a moment of silence on the line.
“Yeah, why not...”
“Thanks.”
I hang up and pull the pin from the grenade, letting it cook for a second before rolling it along the ground toward the railing. As soon as it leaves my hand, I run back to the car. I reach it just as the explosion sounds out. It’s deafening and couples with the noise of screeching metal as the barrier blows out. A cloud of smoke fills the air, raining down rubble and splintered wood.
Hunter's Games Page 22
