True Conviction

by James P. Sumner

  “Says the hired assassin?” he laughs with desperation.

  “Don’t try and lecture me on morals, Teddy, this really isn’t the time.”

  We fall silent and I find myself trying to think of a plan that would allow me to make all this right... You could argue it’s not my place to get involved, but… think of the consequences if nuclear weapons are manufactured on U.S. soil and sold on the black market. Or worse… imagine if somebody detonated one? If I could’ve done something to prevent that and didn’t, I’d never forgive myself.

  “Has the deal for the land been finalized yet between GlobaTech and Dark Rain?” I ask him.

  “That’s what I’m in town for,” he says after a heavy breath. “I’ve got all the papers with me, I just need to sign them and the land’s sold. Then mining can begin with no liability to GlobaTech.”

  “And does anyone have any idea what you personally were intending to do with the land before you were brought on board to broker this deal for GlobaTech?”

  “No, I covered my tracks well enough, I think.”

  “You were just shit outta luck, right?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he says, gesturing toward me with his head.

  I walk over to the desk he was working at earlier and pick up his briefcase. The same one handcuffed to him yesterday. There’s a combination lock on it. I look over at Jackson.

  “What’s the code for this?” I ask him.

  “Six, eight, seven… three, four, nine,” he reluctantly replies.

  I lie it down on the bed, enter the code and open it. Inside are documents relating to the land purchase resting on top of a quarter of a million dollars in cash.

  I spin it around so they can both see the contents and walk over to them both. I stand in front of Jackson and aim my gun at his head, nodding over at the briefcase.

  “Is that everything?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “And I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to have any information to hand about Dark Rain?”

  “I never dealt with them directly,” he explains. “My only contact with them is through her.” He gestures at Clara with his head.

  “Okay, fine,” I say. “So to recap: your company, GlobaTech, is selling land that has a Uranium mine underneath it to some militia outfit called Dark Rain. They think you’re being really nice by handling all the mining and processing of the material itself, but they actually have no idea that you’re setting them up to take the fall for everything, freeing you guys up to sell the material and make loads of money...

  “Before all that, however, you were going to sell the land to the mob to make some extra cash. At the time, you had no idea what the land actually was, but now you do, and your company has charged you with managing this new deal, you’ve had to back out of the old one, which has caused the mob to hire a hit man—that would be me—to kill you for screwing them over. Have I missed anything?”

  Jackson lets out a heavy sigh. “Nope, that’s pretty much it,” he says.

  “Excellent.” I pull the trigger and put a bullet directly in the center of his forehead.

  The bullet itself is roughly ten millimeters in diameter, which is about half that of a dime. The tip of it is rounded for easier penetration. It travels at a speed of roughly three hundred and seventy-five meters per second. As the bullet impacts, the velocity causes the end of the bullet to shoot up to the tip, which means it flattens out to almost double the width. Consequently, the resulting exit wound much larger than the point of entry.

  Jackson’s head snaps back violently as the bullet pushes its way through the thick bone at the front of his skull. The recoil of the impact causes his head to hang forward again as the bullet works its way through his brain and out the other side.

  A spray of pinkish fluid—a mixture of blood, bone and brain—explodes over the floor behind him. From my finger squeezing the trigger to the dead weight of his lifeless body sagging in his seat against his restraints, just under one second has elapsed.

  I let out a small sigh. Job done.

  I look at Clara, who seems unfazed by it, but I can see her thinking of ways to avoid suffering the same fate. If I’m honest, I have no intention of shooting her. But it won’t do any harm to keep that to myself for the time being.

  I walk behind her, careful not to step in the bits of Jackson splashed across the carpet. I remove her restraints and aim the gun at her.

  “Okay, Clara,” I say. “Get up, nice and slow, and move over to the desk.”

  She does.

  “Now ring down to the front desk and tell them Mr. Jackson has decided to extend his stay, and will need the suite for another three nights.”

  She does.

  “Now sit on the bed,” I say, after she hangs up the phone.

  She sits and looks at me, like a child preparing to be reprimanded by their parent.

  “Right… Clara, this is make or break time for you. Tell me everything you know about Dark Rain.”

  She looks at me with her dark green eyes, filled with conflict. She says she’s been with them for a couple of years, but given this Uranium thing seems as new to her as it is to me, my guess is she’s now re-evaluating her association with them.

  “Like I said, I don’t actually know much about them,” she begins. “They recruited me a couple of years ago after some work I was doing over in Sierra Leone. I met a guy over there who said he was with an organization that had money and plans and they could do with someone like me... The usual sales pitch, I guess.”

  I’m actually beginning to feel sorry for her. It’s pretty clear that she’s been blinded by the promise of money and made the rookie error of not finding out who she was going into business with before signing on. And I can tell she’s starting to realize that herself.

  Her voice practically a whisper; the confidence and presence she’s had throughout all this has gone. “I started out doing a few jobs for them—nothing major. Then a few weeks ago, I was finally introduced to their leader, a former Colonel named Roman Ketranovich. He said he was impressed with the work I’d done for them already, and that I’d proven my dedication to their cause.”

  “And what is their cause, exactly?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure what their endgame is. But they’ve got the numbers and they’ve got the backing to do whatever they want. The Colonel is fanatical and he believes everything he’s doing is right—to hell with the consequences. His followers are completely loyal to him and his ideals. They would die for him without hesitation.”

  “And what about you?”

  “I was there for the money,” she shrugs. “I’m a killer, not a monster.”

  “I can relate to that,” I say, with a half-smile.

  “He told me I needed to protect someone for a couple of weeks. Said he was important and was doing Dark Rain a great service. I had no idea they were involved in something that could lead to nuclear weapons. That’s more heat than I can be paid to deal with.”

  I nod. I believe her. “Good,” I say. “That makes this next part a bit easier.”

  I walk around the bed toward briefcase. I take the documents out of it and close it, throwing it over to Clara. It lands next to her and she looks at it, confused, before looking back at me.

  “I’ve got what I came for,” I say, waving the documents in my hand. “In that briefcase is quarter of a million dollars. Take it and walk away.”

  She looks shocked, not expecting such kindness after seeing me shoot Jackson in cold blood. I can see her doubts, so I figure I should try to put her mind at ease.

  “Jackson was a job, nothing more,” I say. “The whole thing has obviously got a bit messy, and I’m going to do what I can to sort that. As far as I’m concerned, all this is now my problem. I don’t see it as being yours as well. It sounds to me like you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I have no desire to hurt you. But you need to walk away. Now. Take this money—I’m sure you’re resourceful enough to put it to good use.�
��

  She looks at the case again, then back at me. She smiles. Not her mercenary, ready-to-kill-you smile. But, as best I can describe, a girly smile. But it fades as quickly as it appeared.

  “I’ll never be able to hide from them,” she says. “The Colonel won’t allow me to leave. He’ll see it as treason and he’ll order me killed if I even try.”

  “Then help me,” I say.

  “What, you can’t manage on your own?”

  “Well, I’ve very recently found myself the proud owner of a Uranium mine that’s wanted not only by an extremist army that has funding from a private military contractor, but also a very powerful mob boss who's determined to get the land to build a casino on it—except he has no idea it has a Uranium mine underneath it... Obviously this outstanding set of circumstances is nothing I can’t handle, it’s just nice to have some company, y’know?”

  “Uh-huh… sounds like a walk in the park—I’m sure I’d only slow you down…” she says with a smile.

  I smile back and it feels like everything that’s just happened has been forgotten.

  Hang on a sec…

  I don’t know what made me think of it, but earlier today when I came out of Manhattan’s club, there was that leather-clad biker who sped off as soon as they saw me. I know a tail when I see one, and after everything she just said, I assume that was Clara… but that was before I’d found anything out about Dark Rain. If she was following me then, that means they knew who I was all long, and why I was there, long before I’d heard of them.

  How is that possible?

  Clara’s smile fades as she sees the expression on my face change. I aim my gun at her. “How did you know to tail me this morning?” I demand.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replies defensively. “I wasn’t tailing you this morning, I was with Jackson. Besides, I’ve only just met you.”

  “Bullshit. You knew I was outside the door before.”

  “I know, but that’s only because I’ve been expecting an attempt of some kind on Jackson ever since I was assigned to protect him. Why else would he need protecting? Plus, your bell boy routine was so transparent it was embarrassing.”

  “What? No it wasn’t, it… screw you!”

  “I’m just saying…”

  I lower my gun. “Well, just don’t. If it wasn’t you following me, then who was it?”

  “I don’t know,” she says with a shrug. “What did they look like?”

  “Like you—head to toe in tight clothing, almost certainly a woman. They were on a blue and white motorcycle wearing a black helmet.”

  Clara falls silent. I can tell by the look on her face she’s figured something out and isn’t happy about it.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Natalia Salikov,” she says.

  “Gesundheit.”

  “This isn’t a joke!” replies Clara. “She’s one of the Colonel’s top assassins. If she’s on to you, you need to leave town… now. Forget everything you’ve seen or done and just go.”

  I raise an eyebrow. This Natalia Salikov seems to have Clara spooked a little. And she doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who scares easily.

  I tuck my gun in my waistband and cover it with my jacket. I’m happy there’s no threat here now. I step toward her and extended my hand.

  “Hi,” I say, confusing her. “We’ve not been formally introduced. I’m Adrian Hell.”

  She goes quiet for a moment and looks me up and down. Then she bursts out laughing. She holds her stomach as she properly laughs until she’s gasping for breath.

  “You know, a guy could develop a complex...” I say.

  “You’re Adrian Hell?” she asks when she’s calmed down. “The Adrian Hell?”

  I smile sheepishly and shrug. “You’ve… heard of me?”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of you. You’re a legend in the killing business. I just didn’t expect you to look like, well, like you do.”

  I stand there in silence, feeling my self-confidence nose-dive and crash into a huge ball of fire. “Well,” I say, recovering quickly. “I’m just gonna go right ahead and assume that’s a compliment.”

  Clara rolls her eyes, which I ignore.

  “The point of me introducing myself, and unknowingly leaving myself open to a verbal bitch-slapping, was to point out that I’m not fazed by a woman on a motorcycle who’s supposedly a good assassin. I’m going to see this thing through to the end and fix it. I’m not sure how, but I will.”

  She smiles, softer this time, more genuine and less insulting.

  “I believe you. I do. But don’t underestimate what you’re up against.”

  “I never do. For a start, I need to know how they knew about me before I’d even found out they existed.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “I have my ways. But seriously, Clara, get the hell out of here, okay?”

  Before she can say anything else, I pick up the keycard to the suite off the desk and put it in my pocket. I take out a handkerchief and wipe down the briefcase and the tray. Then I walk over and do the same with the table and the sofa. I haven’t touched anything else, so I’m confident I’m not leaving any incriminating forensic evidence in there. I turn and walk back over to door.

  Clara’s looking at me somewhat bemused. “Erm, Adrian?”

  “Yeah?”

  She nods at Jackson’s corpse, still tied to the chair on the other side of the room. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about him,” I say. “He’s not going anywhere. I’ll sort it later.”

  I open the door, taking the Do Not Disturb sign off the inside handle and placing it on the outside one. I step out into the hall and turn back, grabbing the handle. I look back at her one last time.

  “Trust me, I’m a professional,” I say with a wink before closing the door and walking off toward the elevator.

  10.

  18:51

  “URANIUM!” SHOUTS JOSH down the phone. “Are you kidding me?”

  After I left the Four Seasons, I made my way back to my motel, taking a very roundabout route back in case anyone was following me. Once I got there, I had a proper read through all the documents I’d taken from Jackson’s briefcase. They were definitely the deeds to the land that Pellaggio is paying me to retrieve. All sorts of legal crap I didn’t understand over a dozen or so pages, with space for a signature on the last one. Thankfully, Jackson hadn’t got round to signing it.

  I grabbed a quick shower and thought about how I was going to handle Jimmy Manhattan in light of recent events. I was quite open with him before, but I know a lot more than I did this morning and there’s no way in Hell I’m giving the mob access to this land. As things stand, I’ve only got to deal with one crazy group of extremists. If the mob knowingly got their hands on a Uranium deposit, they’d sell it to all the other crazy groups of extremists as well, which would be a devastating turn of events.

  I’ve concluded there’s no easy fix here, so I gave up trying to find a solution for the time being. Instead, I rang Josh and brought him up to speed on the day’s developments.

  “That’s right, Josh,” I say. “Uranium.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

  “I can’t believe it!”

  “Okay… Josh?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You need to calm down.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Got you.”

  There’s silence on the line for a few moments.

  “You good?” I ask.

  “I’m good,” he replies.

  “Okay, so, riddle me this: who are Dark Rain and how did they know to tail me before I’d even made a move against Jackson?”

  “Well, the only people you’ve interacted with are the mob, correct?” he asks, thinking clearly again.

  “Yeah,” I reply, sensing where he’s going with this. “You thinking there’s someone in Pellaggio’s crew who’s working for Dark
Rain?”

  “That’s one logical scenario that springs to mind, yeah.”

  “I agree. Which leads us nicely on to my next problem... What do I do about Jimmy Manhattan?’

  “Well, you can’t give him the land.”

  “I know that. But I can’t tell him why, either.”

  “Can you not just say that Jackson didn’t have the documents with him?”

  “No, because he would’ve expected me to keep him alive long enough to find out where they were—that’s partly what he’s paying me for.”

  “Ah, good point.”

  “I’ll think of something. The priority now is Dark Rain. I need to know where they are and what they’re planning. Can you look into this Roman Ketranovich guy that Clara mentioned?”

  “I have been while we’re talking.”

  “Show off.”

  “Whatever. Adrian, this guy is hardcore. He served in the Russian military and was a member of the Spetsnaz Special Forces for nearly fifteen years. He was in the thick of it back in the 80s, when Bin Laden was over there fighting and killing Russians on the C.I.A’s payroll. He fought against the Afghans, and was known for his brutal torturing and relentless killing, apparently.”

  “Well, he sounds delightful…”

  “Seriously, this guy is up there with Hitler, Stalin and Simon Cowell! He was badly injured in a firefight and left for dead by his comrades. He survived and has been underground ever since. There’s very little on him after they declared him K.I.A. in the early 90s. Dark Rain must be his revenge.”

  “So he’s pissed at America, pissed at Russia and is after some nuclear material? Well, this couldn’t possibly end badly...”

  “Exactly... Plus, if this guy is working with GlobaTech Industries, he’s got some serious backing. It’s conceivable that he could infiltrate the local mob.”

  I sigh. I’ve been sighing a lot since I arrived here. Probably because, so far, everyone I’ve spoken to in Heaven’s Valley is either trying to kill me or other people. You could argue I bring this shit on myself by doing what I do, but there’s no denying how astonishingly screwed up this situation is, even by my standards.