True Conviction

by James P. Sumner

  I take a few deep breaths to slow my heart rate down, ignoring the pain. Josh sounds in my ear once more.

  “Adrian, whatever you’re going to do, you have to do it now.”

  “I’ve got this,” I whisper back, concentrating.

  Just another couple of paces toward me, and...

  I whip the knife across the lawn, following through with my arm so it gains maximum velocity as it travels with deadly intent toward the remaining sentry. It takes a little over a second to hit him.

  Bullseye!

  It hits him at the bottom of the throat, penetrating his skin with ease and completely burying itself inside. He instinctively clutches at the knife, his face contorted in shock and pain. But it’s too late for him—he’s dead before he hits the floor.

  I breathe out a sigh of relief.

  “Good shot,” says Josh.

  “Thanks,” I reply. “How long do I have?”

  “It’ll be a few minutes before he’s noticed I would think. I’ve not seen any previous interaction between the two patrols.”

  “Good.” I stand and quickly check the rest of my equipment’s still in place. “Right, give me a minute.”

  I edge forward out of the shadows of my alcove and glance left and right. I can’t see any movement, but I leave it a few moments just to be sure, then I sprint over to the dead body.

  I crouch low next to him and retrieve my knife. I wipe the blood off the blade on the grass and re-sheath it.

  “Josh, how’s it looking?” I ask.

  “Still clear, for now. I wouldn’t hang around though,” he replies.

  “Don’t intend to.”

  The dead guy’s lying on his right side, partially facing the ground. Still crouching, I grab a hold of his right arm and sling it over my shoulder. I put my hands around his waist and gradually get a grip underneath him. Taking some quick, deep breaths, I steel myself and, in one last monumental effort that hurts every inch of my body, I stand and heave him over my shoulder in something akin to a fireman’s lift. I take a quick glance around again and set off back to the alcove. I try to run, but under the weight, it’s more of a slow jog.

  “Hurry up, Adrian,” urges Josh. “The patrol on the far side is coming up fast and will see if you if they look your way.”

  “Going as… fast… as I can,” I huff, struggling under the weight.

  It takes me twice as long to cover the same distance going back, but I manage to retreat into the shadows undetected. I drop the body next to his partner and push them back against the wall, making sure they’re fully hidden.

  I take a moment to catch my breath. I step out onto the lawn and look back at the alcove, checking the bodies aren’t visible—which they’re not.

  “Right, now get me on the goddamn roof,” I say.

  Josh chuckles. “This is going to be the fun part,” he says.

  “I very much doubt that…”

  “To your left, as you approach the end of the south wall, there’s another small alcove in between a large bay window and the corner of the house. As you face the alcove, there’s a drainage pipe on the right hand side that leads up almost all the way to the roof.”

  “Okay, the keys words I picked up there were ‘window’ and ‘almost’—care to elaborate?”

  “Sure,” he says, laughing a little too much for my liking.

  It’s these kinds of situations where Josh and I really come alive. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job—as much as someone can love killing people for a living. But this: the thrill of the assault, the adrenaline, the danger, the close quarters battle—it’s what I miss from the old days on the unit most of all.

  Before the dark times...

  Josh is no different. He was a good soldier and I would entrust him with my life, but he’s always been better at being the eyes, ears, and brains for everyone else. He’s a strategist and he excels at the logistics and the planning. He always wanted to be the one directing everyone else to victory from behind a desk of hi-tech toys. I’ll never forget the way he phrased our relationship to me once. He said: “Adrian, you’ve always wanted to be The Man. I’ve always wanted to be the man that The Man relies on.”

  No truer words have ever been spoken.

  He continues, with undisguised enthusiasm. “By ‘window’, I mean a massive bay window that I’m hoping will have the curtains closed, otherwise you’ll be on full view of whoever’s in that room. And by ‘almost’, I mean that the drainpipe stops about six feet below the main roof, where the first floor of the house sticks out, and the roof angles for drainage. You’re going to have to balance on that, jump, then climb up the rest of the way.”

  “Excellent. Glad I asked.”

  “The good news is, once you’re on the main roof, there’s a decent-sized skylight above what looks like a large hall or room. And, it looks like tonight’s your lucky night, because there’s some kind of meeting going on in there—I count at least fourteen heat signatures gathered together, with five… no, six more dotted around just outside that main room.”

  “That’ll be a Pellaggio crisis meeting. I suspect the word's out that I’ve survived the car bomb.”

  “You just gotta get to that roof unseen. You ready?”

  “Always.”

  “Okay, stay low and as close as you can to the wall. Be careful as you approach the bay window. I reckon you’ve got two minutes to get in that end alcove and up the drainpipe at least above eye level, before the other patrol realizes they’re two men down.”

  “Copy that.”

  Staying low, I set off and head for the end of the south wall. My goggles are back in place, and I see no movement ahead of me. I cover the distance quickly, and I soon reach the bay window. It juts out like a big square, a good three feet from the house. I can see the next alcove on the other side of it. The two sides and the front of the window are all glass, from ceiling down to about waist height. The curtains are open, giving whoever’s standing there a full view of the south lawn.

  “Josh, are you picking up any heat signatures nearby?” I ask.

  “I’ve got one near the window, yeah. Hold position. It’s hard to tell which way he’s facing. If his back’s to the window, you'll be alright, but until he moves, I can’t tell.”

  “Alright, standing by.”

  I crouch low, close to the wall. I’ll be fine, as long as no one walks into the bay and looks out of their right-hand side window. If they do, at this range they’ll see me even in the darkness.

  Almost a full minute passes in silence. Josh crackles back on the line.

  “He’s got his back to you. Stay low and move fast, I don’t know how long you’ve got here.”

  “Done.”

  I move silently, sidestepping in a crouch with my back to the window. I duck low enough to stay out of view, but again, if anyone walks right up to the window and looks out, they’ll see me instantly.

  I hold my breath as I move quickly.

  “You’re clear,” confirms Josh.

  I breathe out as I settle into the alcove un-noticed.

  I test the drainpipe with my hands. It’s solid and well attached, so it should take my weight. I grab a hold of it with both hands and place my right foot on the side. I push with my legs and pull with my arms, heaving myself slowly up toward the roof.

  It’s not as easy as it should be, but I manage to shuffle up the drainpipe like a monkey up a tree, reaching the top without incident.

  I can see what Josh means about the last few feet...

  The roof is made of old slate tiles and is on a reasonably steep slant with a gutter around the edge. Standing on it with any degree of balance is going to be difficult. The main roof of the house is roughly six feet above that, as Josh had said. I pull myself up onto the roof, slowly standing as if I have one foot on a step, with my arms out to the sides for balance. I find my footing and look up. The ledge of the main roof is technically about head height for me, but because I’m on the slant, it looks impossibly high
…

  I don’t know why, because heights aren’t my favorite thing in the world, but I have a sudden urge to look down…

  Holy crap…

  Oh, man, I shouldn’t have done that!

  Basically, if I fall I’m almost certainly dead… brilliant.

  I take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself and think about how best to attempt this.

  I don’t like it at all. That’s a big jump to make from a standing start on a downward slope. Given the damage I’ve done to my chest and ribs over the last few days, especially in the last half hour, it’s going to be very difficult pulling myself up there…

  “Adrian, what’s wrong?” asks Josh.

  “I don’t think I can make the jump to the main roof from where I’m standing. The angle I’m balancing on is too steep,” I admit, reluctantly.

  “I know it’s not easy, but there’s no other way up there. You’ve got to make this or it’s all over.”

  “No pressure then?”

  “You got this, man. You just need to focus. Talk to me when you’ve made it.”

  I sigh. I’ve got a bad feeling about this...

  I look up at the roof. I find my balance and inch backward, allowing myself enough room for one step before I make the jump. I rub my hands on my legs to dry them, taking one last deep breath.

  I take the step and jump. With every ounce of strength I have, I push off and reach to my full extent...

  Shit, I’m not going to reach the ledge...

  I miss and land awkwardly on the top of the slanted roof. My back foot slips out from under me on the roof tiles, and I topple backward, clutching at thin air for support.

  Instinctively, I turn and drop to my front as quickly as I can, spreading my arms and legs out to stop me from falling off the edge. My left foot and left arm find the guttering and I cling tightly to the roof, burying my face in the tiles to make myself invisible.

  “What happened?” asks Josh, with panic in his voice. “Are you alright?”

  “Fuck!” I hiss. “I missed my jump and slipped as I landed. Anyone notice?”

  “I’m looking at every heat signature on the property. No sudden movements. I think you’re good.”

  “Christ—that sucked.”

  I steadily get back to my feet and line up for another crack at it. I take some deep breaths, focusing on nothing but the ledge I need to grab.

  I’m capable to doing this… I can easily reach it… The roof that’s psyching me out, and it shouldn’t. Come on, Adrian, you pussy! This is easy. Just get it done. No hesitation…

  I take the step again and jump, stretching out as before.

  My hands grab the ledge and I allow myself a split second parade in my head to celebrate.

  Uh-oh…

  My left hand slips off the ledge and my body swings and smashes into the wall, leaving me hanging on by my right hand. I instinctively look away to avoid hitting my face, but the side of my head bangs into the wall as a result. I grit my teeth, trying to conceal the grunt of pain. My Bluetooth earpiece crushes between the wall and the side of my head, breaking and falling to the floor a good twenty-five feet below me.

  Goddammit!

  I use every ounce of strength I have to get my left hand back on the ledge. I eventually manage it, and I heave myself up using my feet on the wall to gain leverage. I roll over onto my back and drop down to the roof. I lie still for a moment, breathing heavily and waiting for the adrenaline to subside so I can think clearly.

  My arms, my back, and my ribs are on fire. I’ve also got no way of communicating with Josh anymore, which means my advantage over everyone below me has all but gone. The only thing I have left is the fact they don’t know I’m coming. But I won’t know where they are beforehand now, so I need to be careful.

  I push myself up to one knee and scan the rooftop. It’s mostly flat, with the occasional air vent sticking up. Just off from center is the large skylight Josh mentioned. It’s a triangular glass prism with a metal frame. Both sides are around four feet high and maybe twelve feet long, joining at the top on a forty-five degree angle.

  I stay low and make my way over to it, peering through from the side, so I don’t cast any shadows on the room below. This is going to be tricky, and I have no margin for error. My plan is to attach my repel hook to the top of the metal frame and descend to the room below. However, I need to break the glass first in order to do that, so I need to jump through the glass and latch it on immediately as I start to fall. If I get it wrong, I’m a dead man.

  I look down into what appears to be a huge drawing room or library of some kind. In the middle is a large wooden table, with six men sitting along each side and one at each end. From my position, the guy at the end facing me has his back to the main doors. The guy at the opposite end with his back to me has a large fireplace behind him. Looking down, I can see his balding head with gray hair on the back and sides. His hands are flat on the table, with gold rings adorning almost every finger.

  Roberto Pellaggio.

  He’s going to die last.

  I can’t see anyone in the room that isn’t at the table, but I know they’re there somewhere because of what Josh had told me earlier. I’ll need to keep my eyes open and act fast as I drop.

  I unhook my two MP5s from around my neck and put one on each shoulder. I check that my repel hook is tightly secured to my belt at the back and pull a length of cable loose, ready. Finally, I reach into my pockets and pull out both smoke grenades.

  I stand up straight and look down through the skylight. My breathing is slow and steady. I make myself forget everything—what I’ve just done to get here… the days before this and all the things I’ve been through and overcome… everything.

  Finally, I can allow my anger to flow freely through me. I can let the unbridled rage and fury that lives just beneath the surface to rise and course through my veins. My inner Satan takes control of my body… I smile knowing that he only ever uses me for violence. This feeling, this… lack of control is what makes me so dangerous. I use it in short bursts to help me live the life I do. To do the things I do. But I rarely allow it to consume me completely. But as I look down at Pellaggio and his organization, I’m more than happy to make an exception.

  I’m not really one for the more modern rock music, unlike Josh, who will happily give anything a go. I’m more stuck in my ways. But every now and then, he’ll play me a song that isn’t bad and a particular heavy metal song just pops into my mind. Staring down at all these soon-to-be corpses reminds of some lyrics:

  There’s no escape from this rage that I feel, nothing is real. Waking the demon, where’d you run to? Walking in shadows, watch the blood flow.

  Right now, those words seem very fitting.

  I raise my right foot.

  “Hope you’re watching, Josh,” I say out loud. “Because this is gonna be somethin’ pretty special…”

  I smash my foot down and through the pane of glass. I pop the pins of both smoke grenades and drop them down.

  My inner Satan is finally unleashed…

  25.

  23:26

  I LOWER MY goggles and switch them from night vision to thermal imaging—similar to what Josh will be looking at via satellite. With the smoke grenades having gone off, night vision won’t do anything except illuminate the dense fog that’s rapidly filling the room below. But thermal imaging would pick up people’s heat signatures through the smoke, making them visible to me. Albeit in a weird, glowing, red and yellow kind of way. But that’s all I need. If I can see them, I can shoot them.

  I grab the repel hook and click it into place on the metal frame as I jump down. I descend fast, lying horizontally with an MP5 in each hand. I quickly scan the room and fire off a few bursts at the table. I take down four of the men sitting along the sides before anyone’s had chance to even get out of their seat.

  I’ve clearly retained the element of surprise—it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. They’ve got no idea what’s hap
pening and probably never will.

  I cover the thirty-odd foot drop quickly, emptying both clips of the MP5s at the table. I’m not worrying too much about aiming—with a gun like this, the fire rate and the close proximity to the targets means that if you get the general direction right, the guns will do the hard work for you. I spray the bullets slowly back and forth, wiping out another seven men in the process, leaving just Pellaggio and the two men sitting nearest to him on either side.

  I land heavily on the table and quickly detach the repel hook from my belt. I throw down the empty MP5s and draw both of my Berettas. I scan the room quickly. Bodies slump across the table and a river of blood flows steadily across the floor. Looking at them, I can just see large shapes turning blue, as they lie motionless on the ground—the heat escaping their bodies, leaving nothing but a cold corpse.

  I’ve got my back to Pellaggio. I turn to my right and put a bullet through the head of the guy in front of me. That’s twelve out of fourteen from the table down in less than thirty seconds by my count.

  A door off to my left suddenly bursts open and another five men run through, firing blindly in the smoke. Their muzzle flashes light up in the mist like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I figure they’re the remains of the patrols from outside. I look quickly at Pellaggio, who doesn’t seem to have fully grasped what’s happening or who I am. The look on his face is a mixture of confusion and sheer terror as he watches his empire crumbling around him.

  The five men fan out as I jump off the table into a crouch. I fire at two of them, hitting one in the chest and narrowly missing the other.

  “He’s over there!” one shouts, as the staccato roar of a thousand bullets fills the air.

  I stand and run to my right, firing as I go. I hit another in the chest and head, his red glow fading to blue through my goggles. I add him to the tally in my head. That’s two out of the five down, leaving three, plus two at the table, including Pellaggio.