But then, having said that, the hospital is going to be a media circus and impossible to get inside unseen. Plus, like the reporter just said, everyone thinks it was a team of killers. Even if the guy talks, he doesn’t know what I look like and no one will believe just one person did all that.
With Jimmy Manhattan in police custody for the foreseeable future as well, it’s probably not worth worrying about. Pellaggio’s business will have imploded within hours of me killing him, given I managed to slaughter most of the people involved in its day-to-day running.
No, it’ll be fine—it’s all over now.
The waitress comes over and takes my plate away, replacing it with a plate of bacon and eggs. She tops off my coffee and leaves me to enjoy the food. I figure I’ll finish up here and head back to the bus terminal. I’ll get a ticket for the next Greyhound out of here and head north.
I manage one mouthful of bacon before my phone rings. I look at the caller ID—it’s Josh. I put the phone down on the table. I’ll let it go through to voicemail. I need to eat.
It keeps ringing.
I look at it and sigh, slightly frustrated.
I’m trying to eat… but he never rings me unless he needs to.
I put my fork down and answer the phone.
“Hey,” I say, swallowing a mouthful of food. “I’m just eating my breakfast. What’s up?”
Josh sounds uncharacteristically flustered. “Adrian, we have a serious problem.”
I grimace at the words. I was this close...
“What’s happened?” I ask begrudgingly.
“Okay, let me explain,” says Josh, trying to compose himself.
“Take your time.”
He’s properly worked up about something, which isn’t like him at all. He’s normally pretty calm, given how logical he is in his approach to anything. He’s borderline unflappable, so for him to get so worked up to the point where he can’t even think straight enough to get his words out, it must be pretty bad.
But, seriously, after this week, how bad can it really be?
“Right, so you know GlobaTech are planning a strike today, yeah?”
“Yeah, this morning you said, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, well I’m working with their analysts right now. We’ve re-established an uplink and have access to the satellite imagery from the area for the first time. We’ve detected a massive heat signature coming from within the compound, somewhere underground. It wasn’t there the last time they looked, which was yesterday. There’s always a signal blackout for a few hours due to the satellite’s orbit around the Earth, but—”
“Josh, spare me the technicalities,” I say, interrupting him. “Do they know what it is?”
“They’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”
“So... what is it?”
“Adrian, by the looks of it, judging by the size, the gut feeling here is that it’s an armory of missiles.”
I sit up straight and push my plate out in front of me, resting my left elbow on the table and my head in my left hand.
“What kind of missiles, Josh?” He doesn’t say anything. Surely he can’t think… “Nuclear?”
I hear Josh take a very deep breath.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Josh!” I hiss, trying to shout and whisper at the same time, given I’m in a crowded restaurant. “Are you saying Ketranovich has a fucking nuclear warhead?”
“It’s the worst case scenario, granted, but they’re considering it a viable option.”
I just had to say it, didn’t I? How bad can it really be? For fuck’s sake…
“How?”
“We don’t know. Clark’s on the line with the Secretary of Defense now, working on a strategy.”
“I’m definitely on the first bus out of here. Josh, leave this to the military, and get out, now. You hear me?”
Another pause.
“Adrian, there’s something else.”
“Of course there is... Please, enlighten me—tell me how this ten-story fuck-up can get any worse.”
“I’m sending you a photo. The image was taken via satellite thirty minutes ago.”
“Hang on.”
I take the phone away from my ear and look at the screen. I click on the attachment as it arrives and open the image file. It’s black and white and a little grainy—clearly edited to zoom in a little, and then cropped down. But it’s still a good quality photo nonetheless, and the scene it depicts is unmistakable.
It’s Clara. Her hands are behind her back, and she’s got an armed man either side of her, escorting her somewhere.
Dark Rain must’ve caught her and now they’re holding her captive in their compound.
I put the phone back to my ear, but say nothing. I don’t have any words… My mind feels numb, like it’s racing to focus on a million different things, but can’t find any of them.
“Adrian, I’m sorry, man.”
“We have to get her back.”
“I’ve already told Clark about her. He says he’s going to give the order for the ground forces to retrieve her if they can. But he warned me that the priority is neutralizing Ketranovich and seizing whatever weapons systems they have.”
I bang my fist hard on the table, causing a few customers to turn and stare at me. “That’s not good enough, Josh! We have to get her out of there!”
“Adrian, I know! I don’t like this anymore than you do. Okay, wait—I’ve got a call coming through from GlobaTech. Give me a minute, okay?”
He puts me hold. I sit with the phone to my ear, staring into space. My appetite has disappeared, and my anger’s returned with a vengeance. I take some deep breaths and close my eyes, trying to calm myself, but it’s not working.
I can’t believe Clara’s been captured. Whatever happens next, she’s as good as dead. There’s no way someone like Ketranovich will allow her to live when he’s branded her a traitor to his cause. He’ll be looking to make an example out of her. I figure the way he sees it he’s close to victory. He’ll parade her body in front of his troops to send a message.
Josh’s voice reappears, disturbing my train of thought—which I’m grateful for.
“Adrian, you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“We’ve got another problem.”
“Josh, the novelty of you saying that is rapidly wearing off, do you know that? What is it this time?”
“That was Clark, confirming the new plan following his discussion with the Secretary of Defense. Schultz has been in a meeting with the President and the Joint Chiefs for the last hour, assessing the situation. They’ve just made their decision.”
How the hell have I managed to stumble into something that the President’s ended up getting stressed over? If anyone asks me to work in Nevada again, remind me to shoot myself.
“Okay, so, what’s the master plan?”
“The U.S. government is going to get involved but take a back seat and only offer military support to GlobaTech. Given that GlobaTech already has a presence in the area and existing involvement in the situation, they’re going to let them take point on the ground. However, to support them, they’ve ordered the US Air Force to launch a pre-emptive airstrike within the hour. Three F-22s are going to take off from Holloman Air Force Base in New Mexico and carpet bomb the holy hell out of the entire compound. The intention being that they bury whatever arsenal of missiles they have there and kill everyone before any kind of launch can be attempted.”
“Christ! That’s an aggressive play. They must be convinced the nuclear theory is a real threat… So, presumably, GlobaTech will then move in on the ground, storm through the front door and clean up whatever’s left?”
“Basically, yeah.”
Which is all well and good, but…
“What’s their stance on any civilian casualties?” I ask, thinking of Clara.
Josh sighs loudly. “Acceptable.”
27.
08:36
I DROP A twenty on the table, pick up
my bag, and leave the restaurant. I walk fast down the street and around the back of the building to the parking lot. Josh is still on the phone.
“Tell me where I can find Dark Rain’s compound and the fastest route to get there,” I demand.
“Adrian, I know exactly what you’re thinking, and I’m not going to let you do it. It’s suicide!”
“I’m not asking, Josh.”
“And what are you going to do when you get there? You won’t even get in the front gate before you’re gunned down. I’m not sending you to your death, Adrian. I’m sorry. I understand how you feel—believe me, I feel the same way. Clara’s worked well with us, and I know you like her—despite your protests. But this is the U.S. government, okay? Those F-22 fighter jets are already being mobilized—in little under an hour, they’re gonna come screaming across the skies, sweep over that compound, and reduce the whole place to dust. It’s a done deal. Game over, Adrian. Nothing positive will come from you going there all pissed off and guns blazing. I wanna get Clara back too, but we have to let GlobaTech handle that and hope that she survives the airstrike.”
I’m silent for a moment, so I can compose myself before speaking again. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.
“The address, Josh.”
He sighs, realizing after years of experience when it’s pointless to argue with me.
“Ah, bollocks. I’m texting you the details now,” he says with resignation. “Should take you just over fifteen minutes from where you are in current traffic.”
“Thank you.”
“Adrian, try not to get yourself killed, alright? If you’re not bothered about coming out of this in one piece, fine. But do it for me, okay?”
I hang up without replying and scan the parking lot. I quickly look over all the cars before resting my gaze on a black Audi, which looks reasonably new, pretty durable, and most importantly, very fast. I walk over, taking out one of my Berettas and smashing the driver’s side window with the butt as I approach the car, immediately setting off the alarm. I duck inside and place my bag on the passenger seat before reaching beneath the steering wheel and pulling the wires out, working quickly to stop the alarm and start the car.
Eleven seconds, start to finish.
I close the door and drive off, the tires screeching as the back end drifts out from the reckless acceleration.
I’m driving as fast as I dare, weaving in and out of traffic. I have absolutely no plan. I’ve not got round to thinking past the anger yet. Ideally, I’m going to drive straight through the front gate and get out shooting, taking out every single one of them bastards until I find Clara.
That’s what I want to do.
However, despite how I’m feeling, even I realize that if I actually do that, it’s very unlikely I’ll make it within fifty feet of the front gate, let alone out of the car with a gun in my hand.
I’ll think of something though. I check my watch. I’m running out of time.
I turn on to the main highway and leave the city limits behind me. I follow it for a couple of miles until it meet the state road, then I head left, out toward the mountains that border Heaven’s Valley to the west.
As I’m driving along the road, pushing ninety, I can’t help but look around at the scenery—the mountain backdrop and the desert, stretching out to the horizon in all directions. Despite everything, I find my smiling as I realize I’m blasting down the same road I walked down when I first arrived here a few days ago. I marvel at the irony that things are seemingly going to end exactly where they started.
I just hope I’ll be able to walk back down this road again someday...
I’m following the directions Josh texted me. After a few miles along the state road, there’s a right turn down an unmarked dirt track. I make my way down it, feeling the suspension of the car wrestling with the uneven surface underneath. A couple of minutes later, I see a dusty, damaged signpost at the side of the track, attached to a telegraph pole. It says that there’s a military-controlled testing site a mile ahead. Someone’s spray-painted Welcome to Paradise across it.
I drive on slowly for another minute before pulling over. It’s probably best I make the final approach on foot, to minimize visibility. No point in announcing my arrival any earlier than I need to.
Keeping low, I move cautiously in a wide arc to my left—the intention being to approach out of the line of sight of any guard posts on the main gate.
I check my watch again. I reckon I’ve got maybe thirty-five minutes before the airstrike hits.
I make my way up a small slope and navigate a cluster of rocks, before coming to the edge of a small rise. I crouch down and take a look around.
Laid out In front of me is the base. It’s much bigger than I thought it’d be, sprawling out across the landscape behind a huge fence. I’ve brought the scope from my sniper rifle with me. I put it to my eye and adjust the focus, then scan the vast compound.
It’s large and impressive, with a razor wire fence surrounding the perimeter. Either side of the main gates, there are two guard towers. From my position, I’m looking down at it from a slight angle. Behind the fencing is an array of buildings that vary in shape and size. There are barracks, a hangar, a vehicle depot, and a large concrete building with a huge, metal door in the center of it.
I can also see a large camouflaged tent at the far end of the compound, which has tarpaulin covering two large rectangular objects that look like massive boxes.
I study the entire area. I look over every inch twice. My spider sense is going haywire. Something definitely isn’t right...
The place is deserted.
There are no vehicles parked anywhere. There are no soldiers stationed at any of the lookout posts. In fact, there’s no troop movement within the grounds of any kind. You’d be forgiven for assuming that there would be at least some activity, given the fact they’re meant to be a large militia planning an imminent attack on American soil.
I put my scope away and sigh with a mixture of confusion and concern.
Where the hell is everyone?
08:57
I scramble down the slope and land almost level with the corner of the fence. I crouch down and look around, but I still can’t see anyone. I slowly approach the main gate, instinctively reaching behind me and grabbing a Beretta.
Even though it’s still early, the sun is blasting down at a ridiculous temperature. There’s no shade out here—there’s not even any clouds. The sky is blue and clear and on any other day, this place would look stunning. The western mountain range looms ominously in the distance. I look over to my right, away from the compound and see the other range of mountains, with a reservoir at the foot of it. But today, it looks like a graveyard.
Hopefully not mine.
The main gate is padlocked shut. I look through the fence, squinting in the sun. The light breeze swirls dust and sand across the open yard. But there’s still no sign of life.
If Josh’s intel is correct—and there’s no reason to think it wouldn't be—then somewhere underneath this base is an armory of missiles with suspected nuclear capabilities. Also, somewhere within this seemingly abandoned compound, is Clara.
I take out my phone to dial Josh, but there’s no signal. I remember him saying Clara likely would’ve had the same problem when she was out here earlier, which is why we never heard from her.
It looks like I’m on my own.
In the interest of saving time, I take aim and shoot the padlock off the gate. The sound of bullet on metal at close range echoes for miles around.
Well, if this place isn’t deserted, they sure know I’m here now.
I unravel the chain and push open one of the gates, making my way inside. With gun in hand, I walk cautiously across the courtyard, constantly checking around in a full three-sixty, trying to cover every angle on my own. On my left is a large mess hall, with two even larger buildings either side that both look like they’re living quarters. Past them, at the far end, is a helipad, which
is currently unoccupied.
To my right is a large garage with at least eight black Humvees parked inside that I can see, in two rows of four. Next to that is the large concrete structure with the metal door, which looks enormous up close. As I approach it, I can see a keypad just to the right of the door. This must be the entrance to the underground labs where they’re storing whatever missiles they have.
Next to that, further along, is a large hangar. The doors are closed. There must be a runway of some kind leading out the other side. In the center of the courtyard is a flagpole, but there’s no banner flying.
I walk down to the far end, toward the camouflage tent. The two rectangles covered with tarpaulin are huge—easily twenty feet long and ten feet high. I’ve got no idea what they are, but they look out of place and are clearly newer than the rest of the installation. I approach them and reach out to remove one of the tarpaulin sheets, to see what’s underneath. Just as I grip the material, I hear a loud metallic banging sound off to my right, followed by a motor of some kind kicking in. I look over and see the hangar doors rolling open.
Shit!
I duck in the narrow gap between the two rectangles, just out of sight. My hand clenches tight around the butt of my Beretta. I peek around the corner and watch as the doors fully open and five people emerge from within, walking purposefully in my direction.
Ketranovich is in the middle.
On either side of him are two soldiers, dressed in black and carrying AK-47s. On the far right is Natalia Salikov; on the far left is her brother, Gene. Both are armed.
Do they know I’m here?
I close my eyes and shake my head, cursing my own stupidity.
Of course they know I’m here…
The question is what’s going to happen next? Natalia’s the wildcard here, because there’s every chance she’ll ignore any order given to her and start firing at me as soon as she lays eyes on me.
I quickly try to play out every possible outcome in my head, in an effort to find something I can work with.
“Adrian Hell,” booms Ketranovich’s voice.
Oh… looks like the outcome’s just been decided for me.
True Conviction Page 23
