True Conviction

by James P. Sumner

  I holster the Beretta in my left hand and retrieve a frag grenade. I pull the pin and roll it over to the door. I dive away to my right as it explodes, splintering the wooden decor of the room and taking out one of the patrol guys, who’s standing near the entrance.

  The guy at the table stands and attempts to drag Pellaggio to his feet. He’s overcoming the initial shock of what’s happening and is doing his duty of trying to save his boss. I take aim and shoot him square in the chest three times. Pellaggio cries out with panic.

  A burst of gunfire hits the wall just above my head. I duck and return fire, missing my target but causing them to dive to the floor for cover. I run around the far wall, making my way back to the table from the other side. The two remaining guys have spread out around the room. The smoke’s starting to clear thanks to the hole I’ve made in the skylight, and they’re able to make out my position.

  I can see one of them in front of me to the left, trying to stay close to Pellaggio. The other’s moving away to the right, trying to outflank me. He needs to go first... Once he’s out of the way, I’ll only have one target to aim for, because the last man is standing next to Pellaggio, so they’ll be easy pickings.

  I drop to my knee and fire, hitting the guy on the right in the leg and again in the chest. He crashes to the floor with a thud.

  I quickly turn back around and walk slowly over to the table. An unearthly silence falls in the room, giving me goose bumps. The one remaining guy walks over to meet me, cutting me off from the table. Unfortunately, he chose to walk toward me then lift his gun to shoot. I, on the other hand, have had my gun raised the whole time, so as soon as he moves, I fire once and put a bullet between his eyes. The squelching noise of the round penetrating his skull and pushing through his brain, forcing its way out the other side of his head, echoes as he falls backward to the floor.

  And then there was one…

  I stand next to Pellaggio, who’s rooted to his chair. His knuckles are white as he grips the arms. He’s looking up at me, eyes wide and mouth open—the look of a man who hasn’t yet realized that he’s lost everything and is about to die. I lift my goggles up, revealing my face.

  “Oh my God!” he yells, his voice quivering. “You’re a goddamn monster! P-please, I’m begging you!”

  I raise my gun and place it against his forehead.

  “What’s the matter, Roberto?” I say. “Where’s your anger? Where’s your big mafia boss speech where you call me kid and insult me?”

  “I’m... I’m sorry, okay! Please, just don’t kill me—I’ll give you whatever you want!”

  I find it surprising, and maybe even a little disappointing, how easily he begs for his life, considering everything that’s happened before. But it’s too late. He’s made his choices, and now he has to live with the consequences.

  Although, not for very long…

  “You’re pathetic. I told you, and I told you, and I fucking told you to drop this. To leave me alone and forget about that land and your money. I warned you quite clearly that if you didn’t, this is how it would end. But still you wouldn’t let it go, would you? You stubborn, arrogant, deluded little prick! And now… now you’ve got nothing. In less than an hour, I’ve single-handedly destroyed your entire operation.”

  “Adrian, please… I’ll give you anything you want! You want paying for the Jackson hit? No problem. What was it—a hundred grand? Let’s call it two hundred! Just, please, don’t kill me!”

  “Holy shit… really? After all the grief you’ve given me, you’re now going to offer to pay me? You can shove your money straight up your ass!”

  Pellaggio sighs. I can see it in his eyes—he knows now that he’s beaten. I just hope for his sake he sorts his head out and goes out like a man.

  “You should’ve made sure you killed me with that car bomb. Now it’s time to reap what you sew, you piece of shit.”

  “Wha-what are you talking about? I don’t know anyth—”

  I fire once just to the left of his head to silence him. I’m not in the mood to listen to anything else he has to say.

  “You know what? I told you and Manhattan that you’re the only two people I’ve ever warned more than once. That you’re in an exclusive club... Well, even more exclusive than that are the group of people who have seen exactly why people call me Adrian Hell and lived to tell the tale. Want to know how many of them there are?”

  He nods nervously.

  I fire again, putting a bullet through his brain. The spray of blood from the exit wound hits the fire behind him, causing the flames to dance momentarily. His head snaps back and his lifeless body slumps forward to the right. He falls off his chair and sprawls face down on the floor at my feet.

  “None.”

  And just like that, it’s all over.

  I let out a heavy sigh and walk over to a chair that someone had knocked over in the initial panic during my descent. I stand it up and sit down, looking around me at the bodies and blood everywhere. The place looks like a battlefield…

  I allow myself a couple of minutes to calm down. My heart rate slowly returns to normal. There’s a deathly silence around me as I look at the carnage I’ve caused.

  Is there something wrong with me?

  I mean, no normal human being should be capable of this much violence, surely? And I feel absolutely nothing. It’s like there’s a black hole inside me. I don’t feel bad, or guilty, or upset… if anything, I feel relief because I know that I’m in the clear and Pellaggio won’t try to come after me.

  I guess that’s the thing, isn’t it… after everything I’ve been through in my life, I’m not a normal human being. Not anymore. And if I’m being honest with myself, I like it. I’ve made a living out of embracing that very fact and seeking comfort in it.

  I’m Adrian Hell… This... this is what I do.

  I take another deep breath and sit back, feeling the door close once again, trapping my inner Satan behind it.

  26.

  August 24th, 2013

  01:15

  I LEFT PELLAGGIO’S estate as soon as I heard the sirens in the distance. I walked for an hour or so, clearing my head and relaxing myself, allowing the adrenaline to subside. I’d left all my equipment there, except my Berettas, obviously. It was all clean and untraceable, so I wasn’t worried about them being found.

  I did a quick sweep of the grounds, to make sure there were no stragglers and to retrieve my Bluetooth earpiece, which was sadly broken beyond repair. I took it with me anyway—the less evidence that I was ever there, the better. I’d taken off my black coveralls and ditched them in a trashcan a mile or so from the estate.

  It feels like I’ve walked through most of Heaven’s Valley, but I suppose I am taking the most indirect route I can find back to the bus terminal. I’m trying to clear my head, but there’s something gnawing away at me. It’s not really the lack of closure I feel having killed Pellaggio and all of his men. I’ve already dealt with how indifferent I feel toward that.

  No, it’s something else…

  A sense of… I don’t know—dissatisfaction? Restlessness, maybe?

  I don’t know what it is, but I know what’s causing it.

  Dark Rain.

  Robert Clark has said he’s going to work with Josh and co-ordinate an assault on their base. I know Clara’s gone doing some recon work to help out. I feel like I should be doing something too. Pellaggio was my personal battle, but Dark Rain is everyone’s war.

  I take out my phone and call Josh.

  “Adrian!” he says as he answers. “Where the hell have you been? What happened back there? Are you alright?”

  I smile. “Hey, man. I’m alright, don’t worry. It’s all over.”

  “I know, I watched via the satellite uplink. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: I’m glad you’re on my side, Boss!”

  “And I’m glad you’re on mine.”

  We both laugh.

  “How come you went dark?” he asks.

  �
��I banged my head as I jumped up to the roof that second time. My earpiece fell out.”

  “Ah, fair enough. I’m just glad you’re alright. Feels weird to admit this, but there was something almost magical about watching that satellite feed. Just seeing body after body drop and turn cold. Knowing it was just you and your guns. It was poetry in motion. You’re one scary bastard, d’you know that?”

  “I don’t know about scary. I think it’s more accurate to say I probably have some serious issues.”

  Josh laughs, but doesn’t disagree.

  “Listen, I was thinking about Dark Rain...” I say.

  “I’m due to link up with GlobaTech in a couple of hours,” he says. “They've scheduled their assault for later this morning. They have ground forces en route to the city as we speak. Air support is standing by.”

  “Sounds like you’re all good to go. How are they managing to move so many armed troops in broad daylight on U.S. soil? Surely it’s not the most discreet of things to do? Hasn’t anyone questioned it?”

  “They’re using the old ‘training exercise’ line, which I suspect the media have gotten used to not questioning. Plus, they’ve got permission and support from the U.S. government, so they’ve got free rein to pretty much do whatever they feel they need to.”

  “Unbelievable. I appreciate their help and everything, but do you think it’s wise granting a private contractor that much power?”

  “I know what you mean, but right now isn’t the time to ask that question. They’re the only people who have fought on our side since you got there. You know what they say about a gift horse and its mouth.”

  “Fair enough, I guess. You heard anything from Clara yet?”

  “Not a thing. She might just be having communication issues though—we’ve found out Dark Rain has taken over a disused military base out in the desert, a few miles outside the city limits. The phone signal out there will be patchy at best.”

  “Do we know what this base is like?”

  “The place is an abandoned military compound from what I’ve seen of it. It’s got its own airstrip, hangars, bunkers—you name it. Not to mention access to an old underground lab. According to the intel that Jackson fed Clara and GlobaTech, they have everything they need there, including a few thousand soldiers and enough weaponry to seize control of a small country. Although, there’s been no movement in the last few hours. No sign of anyone, in fact.”

  “Hmmm, that’s odd… What are GlobaTech bringing to the party?”

  “Well, you saw the level of tech they’re working with from the care package they gave you. They don’t just provide private security—they manufacture weapons for the military. Their R&D budget is frightening. They’ve got the manpower—all ex-military, highly trained in combat and used to conditions like desert warfare. They’ve been running contracts in Afghanistan for the past five or so years. The standard of operative is very high. You’re not going to want these guys coming after you.”

  “Sounds like they have a new addition to their fan club as well,” I say with a laugh.

  “Hey, I’m just saying,” replies Josh, somewhat defensively. “These guys are the market leaders in every area. They’re what everyone else tries to be, and you can see why.”

  “Might be an idea to stay friends with them then, eh? You never know when we might need to call in a favor.”

  “Absolutely! So, what do you intend doing now?”

  “I need to swing by the bus terminal and pick up my bag from the locker. Figure I’ll get some breakfast then get a ticket for the next bus out of here. I might head north to Minnesota; lay low for a few days. Give you chance to finish up here before finding me another job.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll give you a shout when the operation’s underway.”

  “Thanks. And if you hear off Clara in the meantime, tell her to give me a call, okay?”

  “I will,” he says.

  I can tell he’s smiling, and I know why.

  “It’s not like that,” I say.

  “Whatever,” he replies.

  I hang up and walk on toward the city center. It’s not long before I reach the bus terminal. The place is empty, despite being open twenty-four hours. I see an empty bench at one of the stands. I’m all alone and in no great hurry. I might as well get some rest. I sit down, stretching my legs out and crossing my ankles. I clasp my hands together across my chest and close my eyes.

  08:01

  I snap awake at the sound of footsteps nearby. Opening my eyes, I immediately squint as the morning sun blinds me. I sit up straight, giving my eyes time to adjust. People around me are giving me strange looks. I guess I do kind of resemble a tramp, sleeping on a bench in a bus terminal…

  Looking around, it’s a lot busier now. Buses will have been running for a good couple of hours and people are dashing around, going about their day without a care in the world.

  I stand and walk over to the lockers, retrieving my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. I feel a twinge in my stomach and realize how hungry I actually am.

  When was the last time I had something to eat?

  Jesus… it was that cheeseburger about thirty-six hours ago.

  No wonder I’m starving!

  After everything that’s happened in the last few days, I’ll be glad to get back to what resembles normality in my life. Eating and sleeping at fairly regular intervals and not worrying about so many people trying to kill me.

  I walk for a good fifteen minutes and find a diner that’s offering a full breakfast and a jug of coffee for eight dollars. At this stage, it isn’t going to take much to entice me into somewhere for food, but that does sound like a good deal to me.

  I go inside and sit in an empty booth in the far left corner, looking out at the rest of the diner. It’s busy, going through the morning rush before everyone starts work. There are three waitresses working the floor, with another two manning the counter. Guys are going back and forth through the doors leading to the kitchen, picking up the latest orders and leaving a plate of food behind for the previous ones.

  Most seats and tables are occupied. The booths are standard, red leather two-seaters, one either side of a table that perpetually stinks of disinfectant. There are bar stools lined up at counters either side of the entrance that offer a view of the street outside, if that’s your thing while you’re eating breakfast.

  A waitress walks over within a couple of minutes, so I order the full breakfast and a jug of coffee—black, no sugar. The coffee appears after a minute or so, followed a short time later by the first course—a stack of six pancakes with a small jar of maple syrup. I remember Josh telling me once about what British people refer to as a full breakfast, or a full English, as they call it. Along with the usual bacon and eggs, they have sausages, tomatoes, beans and something called black pudding. He did tell me what it was, but I’ve forgotten. I certainly don’t recall it sounding all that appetizing... Give me a waffle, some bacon, sausage, and my eggs over easy any day of the week. And a pot of steaming hot black coffee, obviously.

  You know what? When all this is over, I’m going to take Josh on vacation. Take him on a trip across the pond and see his homeland for a change. It must be years since he’s been back there.

  When we first met, which seems a lifetime ago, I was briefly stationed over in the U.K. for a training exercise. He never used to shut up about all the ways he thought they did things better over there than we did.

  I smile in fond recollection at one night in particular, when me, Josh and a couple of the boys from our unit went for a few drinks at a bar in London. It took maybe twenty minutes for us to get into a bar fight! Despite Josh being happy nowadays, sitting behind a desk, playing with his computers, back then you couldn’t ask for a better man to back you up in a fight. But after the first couple of years running black ops, it became clear we functioned better as a unit under his guidance, so we agreed to take him out of the field and put him in charge of our operations center. We had a damn good run
with him working the intel.

  I re-focus on my breakfast and tuck into the pancakes—which are excellent—and wash them down with coffee. I check my watch. I imagine Josh will be linking up with GlobaTech any time now, planning the attack. I still feel like I should be doing something to help. But at the same time, like Robert Clark said, I know I couldn’t have taken on an army by myself. And GlobaTech won’t need my help at this stage. Probably best to just leave it to them.

  I find my mind wandering to Ketranovich and his psycho soldier, Natalia Salikov, thinking about how they’re likely going to be dead in a few hours.

  Serves them right, if you ask me.

  I glance up at the TV on the wall opposite. It’s showing the news. A woman in a red suit jacket and white blouse is sitting behind a desk, with a picture of a large house behind her. The headline at the bottom of the screen says ‘MANSION MASSACRE’. I raise an eyebrow.

  A waitress walks past my table.

  “Excuse me? Can you turn that up a bit please?” I ask, pointing to the TV.

  She smiles and kindly does so. The woman behind the desk is in the middle of her report.

  “...in the early hours of this morning. It’s been confirmed that the deceased include local businessman and suspected crime boss, Roberto Pellaggio. His body, along with several others, was found inside the mansion. Police have no suspects at this time, but sources close to the investigation have said that, based on early forensic evidence and details found at the scene of the crime, it’s thought the mass slaying was a mafia hit, carried out by a team of professional killers. Detectives are waiting to question the one survivor of this horrific event, twenty-seven year old Daniel Pellaggio—Roberto Pellaggio’s youngest son. He was found with bullet wounds in his leg and chest and is currently listed as being in critical condition. More on this story as it develops. In other news, a local man has found...”

  Holy shit, someone’s survived? That’s unexpected. He’s a lucky bastard, no doubt about that. I should probably go and kill him to tie up the loose ends…