I look down at my right hand. Goddamn, it’s a mess! There’s a deep gash running horizontally across my palm. I try to clench my fist, but I can’t. It’s as if there’s something physically stopping my fingers from moving that close together.
“You need to get that looked at.”
I look over and see Pierce staring at my hand.
I nod. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad, but there’s no time for that now. What’s our next move?”
He gestures down the street with his thumb. “Our SUV is parked down there. We have plenty of ammo and some spare guns in the trunk. You can take it and get the fuck outta the city. You need to re-group before you try taking Lily out.”
I shake my head. “I’m not running. Not my style. I know roughly where she is right now, so I’m gonna finish this before she causes any more damage. Unless… y’know, you wanna go and do it?”
Pierce smiles and shakes his head. “That’s not my job, it’s yours. My job is to keep you alive long enough to do yours, not do your job for you.”
“Fine.” I turn to nod at the building, which looks like it’s getting ready to completely collapse. “But right now, she’s desperate. She’s not thinking straight, which makes her all the more dangerous. I can handle myself, and shit like this… innocent people could die. I can’t allow that.”
He smiles faintly. “Ever the white knight, eh, hero? But this isn’t a discussion. Collateral damage isn’t your concern. You work for The Order—don’t forget that. I saved your ass because I was told to. Now, don’t be a dick. Don’t stop using your brain after what we just went through. Get… the fuck… out of here. Re-group and come back stronger. As things stand, you’re in no position to take her out, so don’t try. If you turn cowboy, everything I just did for you will have been for nothing, and that’ll really piss me off.”
I take some deep breaths and stare at the ground. My vision blurs slightly as I consider my options. There aren’t many…
I re-focus and look at my arm. WWJD. Yeah… Josh would tell me that, as much as I hate it, Pierce has a point. I need to get Kaitlyn out of harm’s way and get back to full strength before I try to do anything else. I’m sure The Order can clear up this mess—it’s not my problem.
I move over to Kaitlyn and sit beside her. I nudge her gently with my elbow. “Hey. You alright?”
She turns to me.
Oh, man, she looks pissed!
“No, I’m not okay, Brad… Adrian… whatever your name is!” She points to the smoke billowing in the air from her office building. “That was my life! I moved here to start over. To start up a private business, which I did, quite successfully, I might add. And you’ve just reduced it to dust! I have nothing now!”
She lashes out and hits me twice in the chest. Compared to all the shit that hurts right now, her strikes don’t even register. But I let her hit me, and I’ll keep letting her for as long as she needs to. She has every right to be pissed at me. I brought this on her. Like an idiot, I thought I could offload the emotional crap from my life onto her without consequence.
This is me. There are always consequences.
She hits me maybe five times before she runs out of steam and simply starts crying. I put my arm around her and she falls into me.
“I’m gonna keep you safe, okay? You have my word. But we gotta get out of here, alright?”
I stand, and a moment later, so does she. I look at Pierce and hold out my good hand. “Gimme the keys to your SUV. You’re right. This is gonna take some time.”
He nods and throws them to me. I catch them easily. “Thanks for this. I know what my job is, and I’ll do it.”
He stands tall. “I know you will. All this…” He shakes his head. “…doesn’t change shit, Adrian. The Order understands that sometimes a job isn’t straightforward. Sometimes, things go wrong, and sometimes we have to react, as opposed to being the pre-emptive machines we’re all trained to be. For those times, people like you have people like me. Now get the fuck out of here.”
I nod once, take Kaitlyn’s hand, and set off walking along the street as quickly as we can without drawing attention to ourselves. The SUV is parked one street over, maybe a block away. It’s a black Suburban. I throw the keys to Kaitlyn. “You need to drive.” I hold up my right hand. “I doubt I’ll be able to steer with this.”
She nods and climbs in behind the wheel. I get in beside her and slam the door closed with my left hand.
“Where to?” she asks.
I shrug. “Not sure. Just get us away from here. Head out into the desert. It’s away from the city, away from people, and the open terrain will make it easy to spot anyone following us. I’ll make a call once we’re out of Abu Dhabi and we’ll go from there.”
She takes a deep breath and seems to compose herself. She doesn’t question me. She just guns the engine, quickly spins the car around, and hits the gas as we drive away, leaving the carnage in the rearview.
19
21:30 AST
Kaitlyn and I are sitting side by side, leaning forward, and resting on the bar in a small restaurant. It’s a discreet little place just off the main strip running through the center of Doha. The décor is shiny black, with a blood-red trim all around. It’s filled with the low noise of multiple conversations from the modest crowd as they finish their meals. Families, couples, large parties… all sitting together, laughing without a care in the world.
We got here about ten minutes ago. As soon as we hit the city limits, we found an underground parking lot and ditched the Suburban. They’re not exactly the subtlest of vehicles, and from this point on, we need to be keeping a low profile. We both loaded up with as much weaponry and ammunition as we could carry between us without it looking obvious, and set off on foot through the center of the city. This is the first place we came across that looked quiet. We told the waiter who greeted us that we weren’t hungry, but needed a drink. I ordered a beer and Kaitlyn a large glass of red wine.
I glance sideways at her. She’s vacantly staring at the counter. She hasn’t said anything since we sat down. We didn’t speak much on the journey here, either. We chased the sunset all the way along E11 until we reached Qatar. Credit where it’s due, she’s been a real trooper—she drove all the way here without any questions or hesitation, and we only stopped once for a bathroom break. We were pretty lucky with traffic, and it took a little over five hours.
I take a sip of my beer. “How you doing?”
She doesn’t reply.
I let out a long, heavy breath, which hurts more than it should. “Look, I know you’re angry. I know you’re afraid. But we need to be on the same page if we’re going to survive this. I can protect you. I can take Lily out. But I need your help. I need you—”
She snaps her head round to look at me. “You need my help? How can I help you, exactly? By carrying around your…” She pauses and leans in closer to whisper. “…your guns? Or maybe you need my help making someone disappear, or whatever you people call it? Or how about…”
She trails off. She’s breathing fast and not blinking. I can see the resentment in her eyes, which I completely understand.
I nod. “It’s okay, Kaitlyn. You have every right to be mad at me. I blame myself for everything that’s happened to you.”
“Good. I blame yourself, too.”
I look away for a moment. This is turning into one of those times where, despite agreeing with the person who’s pissed at me, I’m starting to lose my patience with the whole ‘blame Adrian’ thing. I’m trying to remember that she’s not like me. She’s… normal. She won’t understand my frustrations. She won’t think I’m entitled to them.
I look back at her. “Okay, look. I understand you need to be angry at me. But you need to start moving past that. Now. We have bigger problems to deal with than whose fault this is. Do you get that? We have somebody…” I lower my voice. “…We have somebody trying to kill us. Normally, that wouldn’t bother me all that much, but this person knows exactly where w
e are at all times, which means we don’t get to rest. We don’t get to recharge and regroup. It means we have to keep running until we’re in a position to fight back.” I hold up my right hand, which I crudely bandaged using the medikit from the SUV on the way here. “Which might be a while… And it’s not just anyone who’s after us, either. Lily’s an assassin good enough to be recruited by the organization responsible for recruiting the deadliest killers the world has ever known. The same organization that recruited me.”
Kaitlyn’s eyes grow wide as my words slowly start to sink in. “I don’t understand… What do you mean? What does any of this mean?”
I sigh. “I know this is a lot to process. But I need you to understand the very real danger we’re both in right now. I’m essentially one-handed, and I have to focus on protecting you as well as figuring out how to take someone down who has the distinct advantage of knowing where I am at all times. We’re pretty much swimming into a shit tsunami, and I don’t need you being mad at me while I’m trying to save your ass, okay?”
She doesn’t say anything. She stares at me for a moment and then looks away. She’s quiet for a few, long minutes, then she picks up her drink, downs it in one, and slams the glass back down on the bar.
She takes a few deep breaths and then looks back at me. “I want answers. I need to understand what’s happened that could lead me here, to this moment, sat with you.”
If she was anyone else, I have no doubt she would’ve crumbled under the pressure of this long before now. I guess it’s her training as a therapist that’s given her the ability to remain mentally strong and focused, almost detached… despite the dire circumstances she’s in.
I nod. “I know you do, and I promise, I’ll tell you everything. But now isn’t the time. What I will say, is that I’ve never lied to you. I admit I… substituted certain elements of the things we discussed with metaphors to gloss over the more morally questionable parts, but I never lied. And I never will.”
She looks away and catches the eye of the barman. She holds a hand up to signal she wants a drink, and then points to her empty glass. The barman nods and sets about preparing another for her. He walks over and places a full glass of red wine in front of her, with a small napkin beneath it. She picks it up and empties it in another, quite impressive, gulp. She slams it down again and pushes it away.
Man, this woman can drink! Josh would love her.
Goddammit. There I go again!
I silently curse myself for the observation and re-focus on Kaitlyn. She’s staring at the surface of the bar, and I can see her trying to control her breathing. After a few moments, she finally looks back at me. “Okay. So, what’s our next move?”
I smile. “As much as I hate to admit it, I could do with getting to a hospital. I’m worried about my hand, and I’ve not even thought about the state my back’s probably in from all that glass. Plus, it’ll be somewhere we can rest and be relatively safe, at least for a little while. It’ll give us chance to get you up to speed and think about what comes next.”
She stands and looks across at the barman again. He smiles and moves over to us. “Yes, ma’am?”
He’s a well-dressed, well-groomed man with impeccable English.
Kaitlyn smiles. “Can you please call us a cab?”
He nods. “But of course.”
He disappears around a corner that leads into the back, presumably where the kitchen is.
Kaitlyn looks back at me and nods to my beer. “C’mon, drink up.”
I raise an eyebrow and smile.
June 4, 2017
01:09 AST
One of the benefits of unlimited wealth is that you rarely have to wait around for anything. Money will always buy priority.
The cab dropped us at the main entrance to Rumailah Hospital, which is a short walk from the semicircular bay that makes up the coastline of Qatar, overlooking Old Palm Tree Island. It’s a large, low building made of clean, beige brick, and reminds me of something from the seventies.
However, despite its somewhat humble exterior, inside tells a very different story. It’s actually a state-of-the-art facility, clinically immaculate and mostly white throughout. The front desk that faces the entrance looks as if it belongs on the deck of the USS Enterprise. There’s a large screen hanging behind it, displaying information about the hospital. On the desk itself, there’s an array of monitors and touchscreen equipment.
To the left of the entrance is a waiting area, which was mostly deserted, given the time we got here. Opposite, on the right, the area was blocked off. I think this place has undergone some major transformations in the last six months, and a lot of the work seems to be still ongoing.
Another shining example of what can be done by the governments of the world that found themselves thriving in the aftermath of 4/17. Over here in the East, they’ve invested heavily in transportation and healthcare, which is creating jobs and, ultimately, a better way of life for not only the people who already live here, but also the people seeking refuge.
I acted out the part of a victim a little, figuring my injuries were of the extent that, if I looked as if there was nothing wrong with me, it would probably raise more questions than I would like. But I soon realized any acting was unnecessary—I’m actually in a lot of pain! The act had been me ignoring it all night, but getting to the hospital allowed me to relax a little, and the agony had quickly taken over.
The woman behind the counter took one look at me as Kaitlyn and I approached and immediately called for two orderlies to come and assist. I refused the wheelchair they offered, and they walked me through the facility and straight into my own room, which was one of many lining both sides of a wide hallway.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and asked Kaitlyn to take the cover off the bottom pillow. We were each carrying a handgun with two spare mags, so we stashed them in the pillowcase and hid it under the bed. About thirty seconds later, a doctor appeared. He was probably no more than a couple years my senior, but because his long beard was mostly gray, it made him look much older.
He had closed the door behind him and set about asking me a whole bunch of routine questions about how I sustained my injuries. Kaitlyn had taken a seat in one of the chairs facing the bed and remained quiet as I explained what had happened to me, using as many facts as I could without implicating myself in anything.
I then peeled my T-shirt off to show the doctor my back, which was an unpleasant experience. I just figured, with everything that had happened, and the climate being what it was anyway, the fact my T-shirt was sticking to me was just sweat.
It wasn’t.
Prior to getting here, I had no idea what the extent of the damage was after absorbing most of the RPG blast, but my first clue came when the doctor took one look at my injuries and muttered “Holy mother of God…” under his breath.
You don’t need a medical degree to know that’s never a good sign!
He patched up as many of the wounds as he could, carried out a full assessment to see if I had any other injuries, and then arranged an x-ray for my right hand. I was in and out and back in bed within thirty minutes, and he advised me a surgical consult would come and look at my right hand soon.
That was almost two hours ago, so I’m hoping they’ll be here any time now.
The meds he gave me have kicked in, and right now, I’m sitting up in bed enjoying the reprieve from the pain that’s been coursing through my upper body for half the goddamn day.
Kaitlyn’s asleep on the chair, curled up in a ball. I don’t think I’ll be getting any rest anytime soon, despite being in dire need of a few hours’ sleep. My mind’s far too busy trying to figure out how to stop Lily without killing her.
I know, I know…
But I don’t like being manipulated, and that’s exactly what Horizon’s doing, which makes me not want to kill her just to piss him off. That’s not the only reason, obviously, but it helps.
Don’t get me wrong, I get why The Order’s pissed at Lil
y, and despite everything that’s happened—everything I’ve done… I kind of agree with them, to a point. I mean, I’ve been doing the whole ‘killer for hire’ thing for a long time. I know what it takes to survive in this world, and I know what it takes to be the best. There’s no way I would’ve made the mistakes Lily did, and the fact she made them at all makes me wonder what it was she brought to the table in the first place that made The Order interested in her.
That said, mistakes do happen. Whether it’s directly or indirectly, sometimes shit just goes sideways, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Your only option is to react in the best way you see fit to try to rectify whatever the situation is. Which is exactly what Lily’s done. She knew she couldn’t fail The Order, so she came to me and asked for help.
If I’m being completely honest, the cynic in me thinks this is nothing more than the excuse Horizon’s been waiting for to justify getting rid of her. This whole thing seems to be a very disproportionate response to Lily’s mistake, especially given she didn’t technically break any of The Order’s precious little rules. This seems very personal. I might be way off, but that’s what my gut’s telling me. I mean, I quite brazenly broke one of their rules, and all I got was a stern talking to and an opportunity to redeem myself.
On top of that, given my almost genetic reflex to rebel against any kind of authority, I’m not blind to the fact I’ve been pissing Horizon off more and more each time we speak. Him giving me the contract on Lily’s life is probably just his way of putting me in my place and exerting his authority over me. He most likely knows Lily and I were growing close, and he knows there’s nothing I can really do about it because of the fucking bomb in my head…
I sigh heavily and lean back against the pillow.
I need to focus. I’m letting my mind run away with itself, letting it worry about too many worst-case scenarios. I need to make a list of my problems and tackle one at a time.
Good Intentions - Adrian Hell #6 (Adrian Hell Series) Page 18