A Necessary Kill

by James P. Sumner

  “If we live a little, we might end up dying a lot!” I sigh. I can’t physically summon the strength required to argue my point any further. “Ah, fuck it—knock yourself out.”

  She squeals like a teenage girl at a pop concert and jumps at me, throwing her arms around my neck and pulling me down to her height, hugging me tightly.

  “Thank you!”

  She lets me go and moves around to the driver’s door. It takes her a few moments to get inside, and a few more to disable the alarm and hotwire it. She starts it up and guns the engine. The loud roar reminds me of The European’s sales pitch about his new Ferrari.

  I climb into the passenger seat beside her, slightly cramped in the small space.

  “New Jersey, here we come!” she says, smiling with genuine excitement.

  I shift in my seat as I struggle to find any level of comfort. “Just get us there in one piece, please.”

  She scoffs and smiles. “Pussy.”

  She pulls onto the street and heads right, putting her foot to the floor and weaving through the light traffic until we hit the freeway.

  I stare out the window watching the low skyline of Greensboro fade into the distance as dusk falls.

  I’m glad to see the back of this place…

  14

  MEANWHILE…

  20:58 EDT

  President Cunningham strode urgently into the Situation Room through doors held open by one of the marines stationed outside. On his heels was Gerald Heskith. As they entered, the people sitting around the table got to their feet. Cunningham was in no mood for pleasantries. It was yet another irritating occasion when he needed to act like any other president would despite knowing the horrific truth that others didn’t.

  “Take your seats,” he said to the room before sitting at the head of the table. Heskith sat to his immediate right. “Somebody talk me through exactly what happened.”

  An analyst sitting to Heskith’s right cleared his throat. “Mr. President, there were two explosions on a street in Greensboro, North Carolina, a little over two hours ago.”

  He paused to nod at the man sitting across from him, who stood and walked over to a workstation at the back of the room. Within seconds, the large screen on the wall facing the table flickered to life, showing a topographical map of the area as well as satellite feeds and local news reports.

  The analyst continued. “The first was a vehicle, and we believe a single gunshot to the gas tank triggered the explosion. The second was the building across the street, roughly seven minutes later. The entire structure was destroyed, and the buildings on either side suffered extensive collateral damage.”

  Cunningham stroked his chin absently, processing the information. “Casualties?”

  The analyst let out a taut breath. “Twenty confirmed dead, with the same number missing or injured. Emergency services secured the scene within minutes…”

  Heskith looked down the table at the man sitting at the opposite end. Dennis Atkins, the director of national intelligence. He was a short man who had served in the navy before retiring to take up the position offered to him on Cunningham’s council.

  “Director Atkins, has anyone come forward to claim responsibility for this?” he asked.

  Atkins shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was deep and deliberate. “No, Gerry, they haven’t. There’s been no indication thus far that this was an act of terrorism.”

  “So what are we looking at here?” asked Cunningham.

  “At the moment, we don’t know. The evidence from the scene is being worked over by the FBI, and I’ve asked to be personally kept in the loop on this. As soon as we have anything, I’ll let you know, Mr. President.”

  Heskith had a notepad in front of him. He quickly scribbled a single word on it, and then turned it to show the president.

  Cunningham looked first at Heskith, then at the pad, and frowned.

  Matthews…?

  The president sighed heavily. This attack certainly wasn’t something he had anticipated as part of his ongoing agenda. So he had to proceed like anyone else in his position would.

  He addressed the room. “Okay, in light of everything recently, I want this treated as an act of terrorism until proven otherwise. I want to know who was behind it, and I want the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to personally put together a retaliatory response strategy within the hour. We’re trying to help, but we cannot allow anyone to attack us, whether it’s because of misplaced blame for what happened or something else. It is our responsibility to lead the people of the country, and the world, toward a new future. And we must show that we are strong, which means we will take swift and decisive action against anyone who threatens that future.”

  The analysts around the table exchanged nervous glances.

  “That’ll be all,” he said. “I’d like the room for a moment, please.”

  Everyone stood and walked toward the door except Heskith and Atkins, who knew to remain seated. Once the last of them had left the room and the door was closed, Cunningham addressed his intelligence director.

  “Dennis, what really happened?” he asked.

  Atkins fixed his commander-in-chief with a focused stare and spoke, each word measured. “Mr. President, may I speak freely?”

  “Please do.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He cleared his throat. “Mr. President, you need to strongly consider removing General Matthews from his post as CIA director. This,” he pointed to the screen, “was his mess.”

  Cunningham let out an impatient sigh and clenched his jaw to subdue his anger. He glanced at Heskith briefly before replying. “You know that for sure?”

  Atkins nodded. “Over half the casualties caught in the second blast were CIA agents sent there to apprehend Adrian Hell, who we believed would be there.”

  Heskith held up a hand. “Sir, you may want to consider leaving the room before this de-brief continues.”

  Cunningham shook his head. “No, I want to know. In a little over twenty-four hours the second phase of our plan begins, and if there’s anything that could jeopardize that happening, I want to be aware of it.”

  Atkins nodded. “Very well, sir. General Matthews approached one of the assassins from the list we recovered back in Maine, and recruited him before Adrian Hell got the chance. His mission was to kill everyone else on that list, including our primary target. What you’re seeing here is this assassin’s failed attempt to do just that. He checked in with his assigned handler at the agency to advise he’s heading to Atlantic City to eliminate his final target.”

  “So he doesn’t realize he failed in Greensboro?” asked Heskith.

  Atkins shook his head. “It appears that way, yes.”

  Cunningham scratched the back of his neck and shook his head, regretting not asking more about this endeavor before giving his consent to it. “And why did the CIA have a team there?”

  “The assassin explained that he’d trapped Adrian Hell in the building by securing a bomb to his chair. The CIA unit was to disarm it upon arrival and take Adrian into custody. Unfortunately, Adrian managed to escape and rig the device so that it exploded as the agents were entering the building.”

  Heskith shook his head. “Sonofabitch…”

  “Okay,” said Cunningham, leaning forward in his seat. “Dennis, from now on you will personally take control of both Cerberus and the operation to take out this bastard. I want him dead, and I want whatever information he has on his person destroyed.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  He turned to Heskith. “Gerry, I want you to reach out to this assassin. Warn him about Adrian, and tell him to finish his job in New Jersey as planned. Then give him his new target. Do I make myself clear?”

  Heskith glanced down at the name he wrote on his pad. “Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

  “Good.” He turned back to Atkins. “Director, thank you for your time.”

  “Of course, Mr. President. I’ll be in touch.” He stood and took his leave.

>   The room fell silent. Cunningham leaned back heavily in his chair and stared at the polished surface of the mahogany desk. Next to him, Heskith allowed the president a moment of reflection before producing a file, which he slid across the surface of the table.

  “Sir, this is everything I’ve managed to find on Adrian Hell.”

  Cunningham opened the file and skimmed through it. The more he read, the wider his eyes became.

  “I spoke with Julius Jones about this over at Langley,” continued Heskith. “He knew Adrian way back when because they founded the D.E.A.D. unit together. When he left to pursue a career as a gun for hire, most of what little paperwork existed about him was destroyed.”

  “This man’s a living, breathing weapon…” observed Cunningham.

  “He’s a dangerous adversary, yes.”

  “Matthews should’ve done his homework.”

  “Maybe. But his plan to send a snake to kill a snake was still a sound strategy under the circumstances. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before we take him out, sir.”

  “I’m leaving it in your capable hands, old friend. See that Director Atkins gets this information.”

  “I will, Mr. President. So, how are our friends overseas?”

  “They’re waiting for our word.” He let out a long, calming sigh. “I tell you, Gerry, this has been a long time coming. And despite GlobaTech’s involvement, it’s still played out pretty much as I expected.”

  “It was a smart move awarding them the job of providing foreign aid. Though they probably saw it as something we did in exchange for them keeping their mouths shut about what they knew.”

  “Well, I never wanted to include them in anything, but because of Adrian Hell’s interference, I had no choice but to let them conduct their investigations and provide assistance. The public was crying out for it. I knew we could control the flow of information so they would never find anything incriminating. But then they figured out how Cerberus fitted into it all. I was forced to play my hand early and make my statement about El-Zurak being apprehended.”

  “I wouldn’t worry, Mr. President. It doesn’t matter what intel Adrian has. We’ll stop him before he can use it.”

  “How do you know he hasn’t already?”

  Heskith shrugged. “Honestly, sir? If he made his intel public, I’m sure we’d have found out by now. I know how his mind works—he believes he’s only alive because of it, so he’ll keep it close to his chest, thinking he’s safe.”

  “See to it you’re right, Gerry. It’s all falling into place, and I want to make sure nothing else gets in the way. We’re ready to take the next big step forward, and we can do so without any of the sacrifices we were expecting to make to our own military forces. It’s beautiful! Is Fielding ready?”

  “He is, sir. He’s ready to give the order on your command.”

  “Good. I trust Atkins will deliver Adrian Hell to us soon. And I’m leaving Matthews’ retirement to you.” He took a breath and allowed himself a small smile as, for the first time in a long while, he could see a clear picture in his mind of the endgame.

  He flipped idly to the back page of Adrian’s file, frowning as he glanced over it.

  “Adrian owns a bar in Texas?”

  Heskith nodded. “He does, sir. He retired there a couple of years ago.”

  “Hmm. I wonder if he has anything else waiting for him back in Texas…”

  15

  ADRIAN HELL

  April 29, 2017

  10:57 EDT

  Ruby and I are sitting side by side at a table by a window overlooking the small parking lot and the busy intersection in front of the Applebee’s on the corner of North Michigan and Baltic. Sunshine is periodically glimpsing through the gray clouds above, looking to put an end to the dismal weather of the last few days.

  We left our ride at the convention center and continued on foot through the city. The car served us well and made the thirteen-hour journey a little less of a chore.

  It’s busy inside, with a mixture of late breakfasts and early lunches. We’re sharing a pot of coffee between us, and I’ve got a plate of actual food in front of me—bacon, eggs… the works. I look at Ruby, who’s regarding her stack of pancakes with reluctance.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask. “Do you want me to shove them inside a donut for you?”

  I smile as she gives me the finger.

  “I’ll shove them somewhere in a minute…” she mutters.

  I chuckle and take a sip of my drink. “Right, we need a plan. I’ve contacted Jonas and brought him up to speed on everything since Greensboro. I’ve told him not to get here until midday tomorrow, which gives us a full day to find The European and take him out. I think it’s safe to assume he’s already in the city. He’s not expecting Jonas until tomorrow, so he’ll be lying low somewhere. Now, I’m not sure he knows we’re still alive, so we might be able to get the jump on him, if we can find him. Any ideas?”

  She shrugs as she finishes a mouthful of food. “I don’t know. Can’t we just wait for Jonas to get here and use him as bait?”

  I shake my head. “Nice idea—and a little ruthless—but no, we can’t afford to just sit and wait. We need to start taking the fight to these bastards. The European is their weapon now, which means we need to find him and take him out of the game.”

  “Yeah, fair point. Hey, speaking of ruthless—why did you tell Fernando where Jonas would be, anyway? You practically handed him over on a silver platter…”

  I shake my head. “No, I told him because this way we know roughly where that prick will be. It saves us wondering and looking over our shoulders. We know where he is and what he intends to do, so that’s advantage us, the way I see it.”

  “Okay, so what’s your bright idea for taking him out before Jonas arrives tomorrow?”

  I sigh, take another sip of coffee, and stare absently out the window. “I’m working on it.”

  Outside, the traffic is heavy and the sidewalks are cramped. I hear the roar of a loud engine and glance across in time to see a sports car drive into view. The driver’s revving the shit out of it, presumably trying to showing off despite doing the same ten miles an hour that everyone else is in their cheaper, more modest vehicles…

  My first thought is the person driving is a guy, early thirties, probably wearing a suit and works in an office where he’s paid an obscene amount of money for talking shit to strangers. A little presumptuous, maybe, but I’m sticking with my first impression that the guy’s an asshole.

  But my second thought is a stroke of genius. The sound of the engine made me think about The European’s fancy Ferrari…

  “Ruby, do you know much about cars?”

  She shrugs. “I can drive one…”

  “Your ex drives a top-of-the-line Ferrari. Wouldn’t something so exclusive have a built-in GPS tracking device? Like as an anti-theft measure or for Triple A or something?”

  “Possibly. Sounds like something they would do nowadays. Why does it matter?”

  “Because… if someone was able to hack the signal, they could pinpoint the location of the vehicle. I think.”

  “You think?”

  I shrug. “Not my area of expertise, but it sounds clever, doesn’t it?” I smile as I stand. “Besides, I know a man who can…”

  “Where are you going?”

  I gesture outside with a nod to the window. “I won’t be a minute.”

  I head out the door and take out my burner phone, dialing Josh’s number as a pace away from the junction, so it’s a little quieter. He answers on the second ring.

  “Yeah?”

  I frown. His British accent sounds tense. Josh never gets tense…

  “It’s me,” I say. “You alright?”

  He lets out a tired sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. Seriously, man, what’s wrong? I know when something’s bothering you.”

  “Mate, you don’t wanna know about my problems, trust me
. You’ve got enough of your own.”

  “Yeah, I know, but—”

  “Adrian, seriously. I’m running one of the largest corporations in the world single-handed, despite having practically no experience in such things. At the same time, I’m deploying soldiers from a private military—which, at last count, isn’t too far behind this country’s own armed force in terms of number of boots on the ground—to all corners of the globe in an effort to keep the peace in nations that have very recently been blown in half. I’m just… I’m just stressed, okay?”

  I don’t say anything. I can just about imagine the kind of pressure he’s under. Everyone has a bad day, and everyone sometimes needs to vent in order to stop things from getting on top of them.

  I’ll just give him a moment…

  He sighs heavily. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just been one of those days, y’know? And at this level, ‘one of those days’ is pretty fucking bad. What can I do for you?”

  “Y’know what? It doesn’t matter. I’ll sort it.”

  “Adrian, don’t be a dick. What do you need?”

  I roll my eyes. “Well, I was wondering if you’d be able to track down the location of a specific car if I told you the owner’s name… Maybe hack into its GPS signal or something.”

  I’m met with silence.

  “Josh?”

  “Huh? Sorry, I just fainted for a second because you asked me something incredibly smart and technical… Who are you? And what have you done with the assassin?”

  I smile. There he is.

  “Just when I thought I was starting to miss you, you remind me how much of a douchebag you are.” We pause for a second to laugh. “I did tell you that I listen when you talk… So, can you help me or not?”

  “Man, you’ve changed… Pretty soon you won’t need me at all!”

  “Now we both know that’s never going to happen, Josh!”

  He laughs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Okay, gimme a sec… Seriously, you have no idea how good it is to be given something easy to do for a change! What’s the guy’s name?”