He smirks. “That a threat?”
I nod. “It is. Orders from up high. This is beyond any definition of top secret you’ve ever heard of. From the president himself. Can’t risk anyone finding out about it.”
He relaxes a little. “Fair enough.”
Silence falls. The piercing wind gently swirls around us. I shiver involuntarily.
Rayne suddenly looks toward the farmhouse, then back at me.
“Shit! What about my mission? My team? How the hell are we going to explain any of this?”
I stand. “Oh, yeah. Almost forgot.”
I open the door and retrieve the briefcase. I lay it on the hood and open it. Rayne moves beside me and stares at the content.
“Whoa…”
I smile. “Yeah. Ain’t she something?”
I take out the parts of the sniper rifle and begin assembling it.
He reaches out tentatively, as if hesitant to touch it.
“It’s one of three rifles collectively known as the Holy Trinity,” I explain. “It was confiscated by GlobaTech a couple of years back. I know the guy in charge and asked for it back. He kindly obliged.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he says. He points to an engraving on the stock. “What’s that?”
It’s a small emblem, etched into the frame with gold. Three bullets standing on end.
“That means this is number three in the Trinity.”
“Where are the first two?”
I shrug. “No one knows. These things are the stuff of legend.”
“Okay. Why do you have it here, then?”
With the rifle fully built, I move around the front of the Jeep and stand facing the river. I flick the legs of the stand down and rest the rifle on the hood.
“I’m doing you a favor. Let’s call it a gesture of goodwill.”
Rayne frowns. “Which would be… what, exactly?”
“I’m going to complete your mission for you, so your boys don’t get in trouble.”
He stares at me, stunned silent.
“Grab that spare scope from the briefcase.” I position myself behind the rifle. “You can walk me through it.”
With my legs spread shoulder-width apart and my back straight, I lean forward and line up my right eye behind the scope of the Trinity rifle. For a split-second, my mind is overrun with flashbacks of the last time I held this gun. The last time I looked through this scope.
It was two years ago, and I was staring at Josh.
I shake the images from my head.
I focus on the store at the intersection, a little under a mile west. Rayne moves beside me, holding the scope to his eye.
“You see it?” I ask him.
“Copy that,” he says. “Point nine miles. The wind’s coming in from the northeast. Five point three miles per hour.”
He’s getting the details from the HUD on the spotter’s scope.
“Sounds about right,” I say. I adjust the dial on my own scope to compensate.
We watch, frozen with purpose.
“There,” he says after a couple of minutes. “The window on the south wall. Top right.”
I nudge myself a millimeter to the right.
“I see it,” I say. “Can you zoom in, get a positive ID?”
“On it.”
I wait.
I have to say, I’m impressed with him. He’s held his own so far. He’s been patient. He’s questioned me without being confrontational, despite me trying to goad a reaction out of him. He’s shown me he’s a man of principle, and the moment the gun came out, he was straight to business, no questions asked. Not only that, but he’s given me an accurate read of a shot from a mile away while fighting the effects of a mild sedative.
I definitely made the right choice with this guy.
“Okay, I see him. That’s a solid confirmation on the target. Got a good visual.”
I pause. My finger’s resting on the trigger.
“You sure? It’s dark, and he’s a mile away.”
“That’s affirmative. One hundred percent. The target is in the window. His back is to us.”
“Okay…”
The shot is already lined up. Fifteen hundred meters isn’t exactly straightforward, but his assessment of the shot was sound. Plus, I’m me.
I take one breath and squeeze the trigger gently. The shot rings out, echoing around the mountains like a shockwave.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.
I watch through my scope as the target’s head disappears. I stand and begin disassembling the rifle without another thought. Rayne lowers his scope and looks at me.
“Holy shit. You made that look… effortless.”
“What can I say? I’m good.”
“I mean, I’m not bad with the long gun. But I know guys who are exceptional by SEAL standards, and they would struggle with that shot. You barely had time to line it up.”
I take the scope from his hand and toss it in the briefcase, then close it.
“Yeah, well, that’s the problem with people like you. You think too much. This gig is about instinct. You trust your gut. Always. You see a shot, you take it. You don’t go through a forty-step checklist and file a report for every bullet that leaves your magazine. That’s not how the world works. Not anymore.”
I put the briefcase on the passenger seat, then walk around to the driver’s door. I open it and look over the roof at Rayne. He’s staring at me blankly.
“Three days,” I say to him. “I hope you make the right choice. You’re too good to be wasting your time in the minor leagues.”
I climb in and start the engine before he has the chance to reply. As I flick the headlights on, he steps back, out of the way. The glare of the lights cuts through the darkness like a laser beam. I look at Rayne through the passenger window. His dark eyes glisten with the spark of life.
I smile to myself as I drive away, leaving him in my rearview.
Yeah… I reckon he’s in.
8
November 10, 2019 – 15:18 GMT
I’ve been asleep for almost two days. I’m still not entirely sure I know what time it is. I headed straight for the airport after talking with Rayne and left Karachi about one a.m. From there, I flew straight here, to London. I lost five hours in the process, which essentially means that I’ve just lived through two thirty-hour days.
I’m not sure my brain can process that, never mind my body.
The team is due to arrive tomorrow, so Ruby and I are taking some much needed down time and strolling around London. Not exactly the weather for it. I can’t honestly remember the last time I was in the U.K., but I do remember it was cold and wet pretty much year-round.
We’re walking along the banks of the River Thames. Across the water stand the Houses of Parliament. There are a lot of people around, all rushing with their heads down, focused on their destination.
Reminds me of New York. Perhaps just a little smaller.
Ruby’s beside me, linking my arm with hers. She seems relaxed and content. Every now and then, she closes her eyes for a moment and lets the wind hit her face. She smiles as her hair dances around her.
“You okay?” I ask her.
She looks at me. “Uh-huh.”
“You sure?”
“Of course. Why?”
“I dunno. You just seem…”
She laughs. “What?”
I shrug. “You seem at peace.”
She holds my gaze, staring at me with those dazzling emerald eyes. Then she looks ahead, resting her head against my shoulder.
“I am. I’m happy to be with you. I’m happy to be here too. I’ve never been to London before.”
“It’s been a while for me too.”
“Isn’t this where Josh grew up?” Ruby asks. I hear hesitation in her voice.
I smile with bittersweet recollection. “Yeah. Not where we are, though. I think it was a place called Croydon.”
“Did you ever come here with him?”
&nbs
p; “Only once, back in the D.E.A.D. days.”
“Never as Adrian Hell?”
I shake my head. “Never any cause to. Not a big market for assassins here. I think everyone’s too polite.”
She smiles. “Yeah, this place is like Canada, except they get the names of things wrong and serve food in newspapers.”
I laugh. “Oh, if Josh were here now, he’d be all irate and British about such a sweeping generalization.”
We share the moment of reprieve.
“It’s a shame you never came back here with him, though,” she says. “He must’ve missed his hometown.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. He was in the military his entire adult life. I don’t think he was sentimental about where he was. He was all about the job.”
“I guess.”
We climb a flight of cracked, concrete steps beside a large fountain, which brings us out onto Westminster Bridge. We head left, crossing the water, heading toward Big Ben.
“Speaking of which,” I say, “do you think we managed to get all three recruits?”
Ruby doesn’t hesitate. “Damn right, we did. That’s one hell of a team. No way they won’t step up.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Do you not think so?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m pretty confident Rayne is in. From what you said the other day, March is likely on board too.”
“You mean Link?”
I glance over to see her smiling mischievously.
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. It’s Vickers I’m not sure of. She seemed the most skeptical. I just think I could’ve done a much better job of convincing her.”
She squeezes my arm with hers, offering some friendly reassurance. “Quit doubting yourself. We both believe this Blackstar gig sells itself. And we believe in Schultz. That’s why we’re here. If the president can convince us, we can convince anyone.”
I smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Bitch, I’m always right!”
I laugh. God, I love her.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s enjoy the last day of peace. Buy a girl a drink already.”
We reach Big Ben and stand for a moment, gazing up at the towering structure.
“That is a big fucking clock,” I observe.
Ruby laughs. “You missed your calling as a tour guide, babe.”
She steps away from me and begins gesturing with her arms in the middle of the sidewalk.
“If you look to your left, you will see a big fucking clock. And to your right, the statue of some old bastard in a hat.”
I start laughing. People move around her, casting confused glances, to which Ruby’s oblivious of.
I pull her toward me and kiss her, then take her hand and dash across the street between gaps in the traffic. We head along Parliament Street. A sign says Trafalgar Square is at the other end. There’s bound to be a bar along here somewhere.
I look at her. “Did you just call me babe back there?”
Her eyes pop wide. She places a hand over her mouth. “Oh, shit. Did I?”
I grin. “You did.”
“Oh my God, how embarrassing!”
I poke her arm playfully. “You love me.”
“Shut your goddamn face right now, I swear to God.”
I laugh. She joins in a moment later, unable to keep up the illusion of offense any longer.
We walk in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, casually navigating the busy sidewalks. We take in the vibe of a foreign city, forgetting the challenges that await us in the days and weeks ahead.
I see a building up ahead that makes me stop in my tracks.
Ruby looks at me and sees the surprised look on my face. “What’s wrong? You okay?”
I nod toward the building. “The Red Lion. It’s a bar.”
“Great! We can get a drink.”
I shake my head. “It’s… I know that place. I forgot it was here, but…”
“What is it, Adrian?”
“Josh used to drink in there when he was a kid. The one time we came here, back in the day, he took us there.”
“Are you sure? There must be hundreds of bars called that in this city.”
I shake my head. “That’s the one. It was near Trafalgar Square. I didn’t think about it until I saw it.”
“You wanna go inside?”
“I… I don’t know.”
I had told her about using the Trinity rifle in Pakistan. About what it meant to me. About the memories it brought back. She pointed out that I lost someone I cared about, and it’s not difficult to see something that reminds me of him in my everyday life. She said it’s just evidence of how important Josh was to me. How big a part of my life he was.
She’s right. It’s not something I should be afraid of or run away from. But it’s still hard. A casual reference or a silly joke that triggers a memory of him is fine. But when it’s something significant… I struggle to suppress the guilt.
“Come on,” Ruby says, pulling me gently toward the bar. “Let’s walk where he walked. Drink where he drank. It’ll be nice.”
She smiles to offer comfort. I smile back to hide my pain.
When I hesitate, she pulls me again.
“What better way to honor his memory than by bringing it back home for him?” she says.
Damn, she’s good.
Finally, I nod. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
“Good. Besides, do you really think he would condone you delaying me getting a drink?”
I chuckle. “Probably not.”
We head inside and walk over to the bar. It’s not overcrowded, but it’s busy enough that there are no visible empty seats.
The interior looks a hundred years old. Dirty white walls with black paneling. Thick, wooden beams in the ceiling. The bar looks brand-new, though. It has a clean and polished mahogany surface, with brass fittings. The wall behind it is stocked with liquor.
I signal to the man behind the bar for two beers. He nods. A few moments later, he places two large glasses down in front of us.
“What the hell is that?” asks Ruby, studying the glass.
“It’s a pint,” I explain. “And I believe you’re drinking something called Dizzy Blonde.”
She glares at me. “The fuck did you just call me?”
I roll my eyes and point to the pump on the bar. “It’s the name of the beer.”
Her expression softens.
“Oh.” She takes a sip. “Why is it room temperature?”
I take a gulp myself. Not bad.
“No idea,” I say. “But these people eat from newspapers and drive on the wrong side of the road, so it’s probably best not to question their traditions.”
We move to the end of the bar and stand, taking a moment to glance around. My gaze settles on a table in the corner, by a window overlooking the street. There are four chairs positioned around it, all currently occupied.
Ruby sees me staring. “What is it?”
I nod toward the table. “When Josh and I came in here… that’s where we sat. Feels like yesterday.”
Ruby smiles and raises her glass. “To Josh. I can’t believe he drank this shit.”
I smile and raise mine, clinking it against hers. “To Josh.”
She takes a sip, shuddering slightly as she swallows.
“What do you think he would make of Blackstar?” she asks.
I think for a moment. “I think he would’ve gotten behind it. Even if he were still at GlobaTech. The more, the merrier, he would say.” I pause, smiling fondly. “Did I ever tell you about the bar fight he and I got into in Chicago?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
“It was a few years ago now. We stopped off on our way to Pittsburgh.”
“Trent?”
I nod. “Yeah. It had been a long day on the road, so we stayed overnight in Chicago. Went into this bar. Dark, dirty, rock music playing—that kinda place.”
“So, your favorite type o
f bar, then?”
“Exactly. We were sitting near the pool table. There was a group of kids there, being all loud and obnoxious and carefree.”
She smiles. “Those bastards…”
“Then a song came on, and Josh just… he went off into his own little world. Picked up his air guitar, and suddenly, he was performing to a sell-out crowd. He never gave a shit what anyone thought of him. And not in the way that people say when they secretly do care. I mean genuinely. Not one shit. This was when he still dressed like an extra from Point Break too.”
She laughs along, enjoying the story.
“So, I was distracted about going after Trent, understandably. But I saw some of the girls were checking him out. They probably liked the fact that he didn’t care. Anyway, one of their boyfriends clearly noticed too. Didn’t take too kindly to it. Not that Josh was actively doing anything, but you know how kids can be.”
Ruby closes her eyes, laughing. “Oh, no…”
“I let him know that he might have some shit heading his way. He asked me not to shoot anyone, which was a fair request. But I just sat back and watched. Told him he needed the practice after hiding behind a desk for so long, booking my plane tickets.”
“I bet he loved that!”
I wave it away. “Ah… I just said it to fire him up. Couldn’t have him being gun shy.”
“So, what happened?”
“The guy stepped up to Josh and started mouthing off. He had no idea! Josh didn’t even lift a finger. He just belittled and embarrassed him so completely by being sarcastic, the guy just shrank away with his tail between his legs.”
She laughs. “Sounds like Josh.”
“Yeah. Problem was, the guy tried to save face by getting physical with his girlfriend, who had been smiling at Josh.”
“Sonofabitch…”
“I obviously wasn’t going to let that slide, so I stepped between them. Pushed the girl behind me and explained in no uncertain terms to the guy that he was risking his long-term health. As I walked away, the dumb prick swung a pool cue at the back of my head. I spun around and caught it in my hand. Poor kid nearly shit his pants. Ended up having to put him down. We left shortly afterward to avoid any more drama.”
“My hero,” Ruby says with a warm smile.
I shrug it away. “Wrong is wrong. I don’t care who you are. Josh spent the next morning telling me how scary I can be. The rest of that trip, you already know.”
The Devil You Know Page 6
