Atkins sighed heavily. He tried to speak a couple of times but the words seemed to fail him, and he hesitated.
“Director…?” prompted Heskith.
“We had word last night from our asset in New Jersey regarding the Adrian Hell situation,” he said finally.
Cunningham tensed. “And?”
“And… The European found them in a suite at Caesar’s. He advised he was proceeding with the hit.”
“So, what happened?”
“We heard nothing, so I sent a small team to recon the area. They arrived there a few hours ago. They found The European dead on the floor, his neck snapped. They also found…” He closed his eyes momentarily, knowing what he was about to say would not be well received. “…They found General Matthews there, too, sir. He was slumped on the floor with a hole in his head and his brains all over the wall.”
Cunningham put a hand over his mouth and processed the information. “So… what? The European took out Matthews, and then Adrian took him out?”
Atkins shook his head. “No, sir. We checked surveillance footage from the hotel’s security feeds. Matthews walked into the suite where Adrian Hell was staying before The European made his move. He was holding a briefcase…”
Cunningham looked over at Heskith, worried. He said nothing, remaining silent in order to stop the flash of anger inside him from bubbling to the surface.
Heskith stepped forward. “Dennis, was there any sign of the briefcase in the suite?”
Atkins took a deep breath, understanding the implications of his next statement. “No, Gerry—it wasn’t there.”
“Fuck!” yelled Cunningham, taking both men by surprise. “Fuck!”
In a fit of rage, he turned and grabbed the first thing he saw from his desk, which was a paperweight made of thick glass in the shape of a globe. He spun back around and launched it across the room. It smashed against the back wall, just to the left of a portrait of Thomas Jefferson.
Heskith stood still but held his hands out in front of him—the universal gesture to try calming someone down. “Sir, you need to relax. This isn’t—”
“This isn’t… what?” he challenged. “As bad as I think? The only man alive who could feasibly ruin this has in his possession every last shred of evidence that will help him do just that. You tell me how this isn’t as bad as I fucking think, Gerry!”
Heskith swallowed hard. “Sir, I was going to say, this isn’t worth worrying about… yet. We don’t know for certain that he has the briefcase. Or, if he has, that he’s realized exactly what it contains.”
Cunningham looked at both men in turn, disbelief and fury etched on his face. “Right now, Secretary Fielding is in the Situation Room organizing this nation’s armed forces, preparing to launch a counterstrike against the North Koreans. That will happen tomorrow. When it does… when we officially declare war, our allies across Europe are going to rally behind us, looking to our country—to me—for leadership. If there’s a chance, no matter how miniscule, that Adrian fucking Hell could jeopardize that support, jeopardize this entire country, by bringing to light what we’ve done here, we have to stop him. Do you understand me?”
Atkins stepped forward. “Sir, let’s think about this for a moment. Let’s say he has the briefcase, and he knows exactly what’s inside it. What could he do with it, really?”
“The Director’s got a point, sir,” added Heskith. “He can’t go public with it—the media will easily find out who he is, and when they see he’s still wanted by every government agency in the United States, anything he says will immediately be disregarded.”
“Exactly,” agreed Atkins. “And there’s no sense giving it to GlobaTech, because they’re too busy fighting a war for us. If we’ve learned anything about this man it’s that he’s smart. He’ll know these things, and he’s likely frustrated because he’ll feel he has a magic bullet but no gun to fire it from. I think any concern is unjustified at this point, and we shouldn’t let this distract us from the mission.”
Cunningham took a few deep breaths, moved around his desk, and sat heavily in his chair. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together in front of him. He stared absently at the Great Seal imprinted on the carpet.
Just then, the phone on his desk rang. He stared at it and frowned before picking up the receiver.
“President Cunningham…”
25
ADRIAN HELL
14:37 EDT
We’re standing outside Veronica’s house in a tight circle at the edge of the sidewalk, next to the Mercedes. The sky has clouded over and the wind’s picking up. Our disguises are in place, and each of us looks drastically different than normal. Ruby’s friend is exceptionally talented, no doubt about it.
I can barely feel the fake nose on my face. I’ve shaved my head, so my hair is back to its usual length. I quickly stroke my smooth chin, which feels strange. I had become somewhat accustomed to the coarse beard I had grown over the last couple of weeks. I looked in the mirror when Veronica finished, and it was like looking at a photo of a stranger.
The others look very different, too. Oscar especially. He’s not a thin man—a fact he would happily admit himself—but the way she’s applied makeup to his face, he looks twenty pounds lighter.
I asked Veronica to take some pictures of us with our makeup in place. I left them attached to a blank draft e-mail for Josh. He’ll use them for the ID badges we’ll have as part of our disguise.
Ruby and Jonas are dressed appropriately in business attire for their journey to the State Department. Ruby can look great in just about anything. And absolutely nothing, as I’ve found out on more than one occasion… But Jonas looks uncomfortable in a suit. I suspect he feels a little restricted, especially with his bulky frame.
Veronica has kindly donated her ride to our cause—a small two-door city car with a barely there back seat, which will be carrying them to Washington. Oscar and I will take the Mercedes to Annapolis.
We’re about to split up and go our separate ways, but there’s something I need to do first. I take out the cell that belonged to the former CIA director.
“Okay, listen up. I’m gonna turn this on and make a quick call. It’s a safe bet that they’ll be scanning for the signal, so we’re about to become very visible to the bad guys.”
Jonas frowns. “If that’s the case, why do it?”
I smile. “Because it’s time they knew what they’re up against.”
I switch it on, enter the code Matthews gave me, and dial a number I found in his briefcase.
“Everyone, stay quiet,” I say as it starts to ring. “Let me do the talking.”
I put it on speaker just as it’s picked up.
“President Cunningham…”
Everyone’s eyes go wide with surprise, and they exchange glances that silently ask if they can really believe it’s him on the other end.
I smile. “Hey Charlie.”
“Who is this?”
“I’m the ghost of Christmas future, asshole.”
“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? Or how much trouble you’re in? How did you even get this number? I can have this call traced and—”
“Yeah, yeah, save it, will you? I know exactly who you are. And I got your number from a mutual friend—General Matthews.”
There’s a moment’s silence on the line.
“Adrian Hell, I presume?”
“Guilty. So, how’s your day going, Mr. President?”
“You’ve got some nerve, calling me. Do you have any concept how quickly I could have you killed? Have you squashed like a bug hitting a windshield? Because that’s all you are, Adrian. You’re an insect. An insignificant speck of crap on my shoe. You’re in way over your head.”
I exaggerate a yawn. Oscar hangs his head with disbelief. Ruby smiles. Jonas simply raises an eyebrow.
“Big talk for a guy hiding behind his advisors and fancy screens in the Situation Room, watching the world fall apart.”
He scoffs. “I’m not hiding, you arrogant sonofabitch. I’m standing in the middle of my Oval Office, preparing to lead this country into war.”
I smile. Now I know exactly where he is. Sucker. Seems my initial gamble paid off…
“A war that you started.”
“I don’t know what would possess you to make such outlandish claims, but I’m—”
“Charles… Charlie… Chuck… Chuckie… Chuck-a-roo… Chuck-a-reeno… Let me stop you right there before I throw up. I’m not recording this call. I’m not live on Fox News. I’m not streaming this on YouTube, alright? It’s just me and you having a conversation. So, please, for the love of all that is holy, quit with the bullshit.”
Another moment of silence.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“Me? I don’t want anything. I just thought it was time we had a chat, that’s all. You’ve been chasing me up and down the East Coast for days now—indirectly, of course. I wouldn’t expect you to get your hands dirty because you’re a fucking coward—”
“I’m a coward? Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment!”
I frown. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, Adrian, you’re the one who’s running away from everything. You’re the one who’s letting your friend do all the real fighting for you. And you’re the one who left your little girlfriend back home, all alone, to embark on this foolish crusade.”
I fall silent, gripping the phone so hard I think I might actually crush it.
“What, nothing to say?” he continues. “No smart-ass comment? No—I didn’t think so. We’ve had our eye on her since the beginning, you know—ever since you escaped back in Atlanta after witnessing General Matthews commit the most heinous, most treacherous of acts. An act I had no knowledge of or involvement in, by the way. Yes… maybe I’ll send a couple of CIA agents over to that backwater town of yours in Texas, bring her in for aiding and abetting a known terrorist. That could get her life in prison, if I wanted…”
I take a deep breath. The following words won’t be easy to say, but they’re essential.
I crack my neck. “Do whatever you want. She doesn’t mean anything to me, anyway. All that matters to me is my next hit. I’m an assassin, remember? And we both know I’m far from insignificant, so stop kidding yourself that you’re in control here. You’ve been trying to kill me for almost two weeks, and yet here we are, talking like old friends. I imagine by now you’ve found out Matthews is dead and I have the documents that can bury both you and your entire administration.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Adrian. Now, if you have a point to make, I suggest you make it. I’m a busy man.”
“My point, Mr. President… Mein Führer, whatever you prefer to be called, is simply this: It’s over. I know everything, and I’m going to make sure the rest of the world does, too. You’re not going to swoop down and save the day because GlobaTech is going to kick North Korea’s ass all the way back to the Stone Age. And you’re not going to kill me, because I’m better than you. And smarter than you.”
“You have a very high opinion of yourself, Adrian.”
“I’ve never been one to fly in the face of public opinion…”
“You arrogant prick! You do realize I have the resources of the most powerful country on Earth at my disposal. Every intelligence agency is looking for you. The military will soon be patrolling the streets of every city in every state, protecting the American people from the threat of war. You are but one man. Are you honestly trying to tell me you think you can beat me? That you can stop what I’ve spent my entire life planning?”
I pause and look into the eyes of each person standing with me. People who, in a short space of time, I’ve come to respect and trust and believe in. People who are prepared to fight with me. People who are prepared to die for my crusade.
There’s only one answer I could possibly give…
“There’s an old saying, Charlie: ‘It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.’ You’re the worst thing to ever happen to humanity, you steaming-hot piece of shit, and there’s no escaping what’s heading your way. You can’t hide from it, you can’t stop it… Nothing in this world can save you from what’s coming.”
“Really? And what exactly is coming?”
“Me.”
I hang up the phone, drop it on the ground and stamp down hard with my heel, smashing it.
Ruby steps forward and puts a hand on my arm. Her eyes are soft, her expression genuine. “Adrian, I’m so sorry…”
I smile gratefully at her. “Ruby, it’s fine. She’ll be fine. I need you to focus, okay?” I look at Jonas briefly, then back at her. “The two of you have an important, and difficult, job ahead of you. You cannot fail, do you understand?”
They both nod in agreement, and Ruby reluctantly steps back, moving next to Jonas.
I thought I could keep Tori away from all this. I guess I was kidding myself. But what Cunningham said did nothing except add more fuel to the fire. I just have to trust that I’ll stop Cunningham before he finds a way to use Tori against me.
I close my eyes. I allow myself three seconds for every negative and unhelpful emotion to swirl around inside my head, screaming and tearing away at me.
I take a deep breath… hold it… and breathe out slowly, expunging all those feelings. They’ve had their fun, now I’m done with them. All that’s left inside me now is determination and fury. My Inner Satan is watching me. Normally, I can feel him ready to fight against logic and break free. But not this time. This time, it’s different. There’s nothing holding him back anymore. He’s standing unrestrained, looking on with curiosity. I don’t need to lock him away behind a door anymore. He’s no longer the personification of unbridled primal rage. He’s a weapon. A tool I’ve finally mastered. I’m in complete control, and it feels both liberating and terrifying at the same time.
“Okay,” I say to everyone. “We ready?”
There’s a silent collective nod.
“Good.” I pick up the briefcase, which has been standing beside me, and hand it to Ruby. “Do whatever you gotta do to get this in front of Secretary Phillips.”
She takes it off me with a deep breath and nods again. “We’ve got this, Adrian. You focus on what you need to do, and we’ll see you in Washington in a few hours.”
I look at Ruby and Jonas in turn. “Good luck. Both of you.”
I walk over to the Mercedes and slide in behind the wheel. A moment later, Oscar gets in beside me. I watch in the rearview as Ruby and Jonas get into Veronica’s car and drive off.
“You sure you’re okay, Adrian?” he asks.
I rub my tired eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. This is the home stretch. Just need to get it done.”
“I don’t mind driving…”
“Oscar, I’m fine. But thanks.”
I start the engine, ease away from the curb, and soon settle into an easy cruise, which should see us all the way to Annapolis.
16:39 EDT
We’ve taken 301, which runs across the state line and cuts through Maryland, crosses the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, and leads us into Annapolis. Ruby and Jonas will be on I-95 heading for Washington, DC, which is a slightly longer run. We’ll meet up to prepare our approach once Oscar and I have the van.
We’ve traveled mostly in silence, broken up by the low radio in the background. I can’t even begin to tell you what’s going through my head right now. Tori was meant to be safe. I’ve kept my distance purely for that reason. Maybe I’ve been kidding myself this whole time. Was she really ever going to be safe with me out here doing what I’m doing?
Oscar looks across at me. “You okay?”
I shrug. “I guess. You?”
“Man, I’m shitting bricks over here, I’ll be honest.” He laughs nervously. “But I’m good. Just glad I can help out.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I know you didn’t even want to give me the weapons…”
�
��It’s fine. But seeing as you didn’t give me a choice about joining the good fight, you can be expecting an invoice for the guns!”
I glance at him and see him smiling. I relax a little. “Oscar, if I’m still around at the end of this, I’ll pay you double.”
“You will be. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. Same look I saw when I dropped you on that rooftop back in Pittsburgh a couple years back. It’s the kinda look that makes me grateful to God I’m not the one who’s pissed you off.”
I smile to myself. “I feel it, y’know? It’s pumping through my veins… that urge to walk in through the front door and shoot at anything that moves.”
“So, why don’t you? Even I know you hate all this bullshit planning and strategizing. Why not just do what you normally would? It always works out.”
“Because I’m smarter than I look. So people tell me, anyway. Not giving a fuck and going in guns blazing has worked before, yeah. Many times, in fact. But it wouldn’t work now. And I can’t afford to fail. Too much is riding on it. I don’t wanna sound like an overdramatic douche and say the fate of the world is hanging in the balance or something, but, y’know… it kinda is.”
He lets out a heavy sigh and glances out his window. We’re crossing the bridge, approaching the toll booth that lets us back onto the mainland.
“Yeah, this is a doozy, I’ll give you that,” he says. “You ever thought about what happens if we actually pull this off?”
I frown. “How do you mean?”
“Well, let’s say you kill the president and North Korea gets its ass kicked. What then? Knowing what I know, I can’t say I like Cunningham, or what he’s doing, but even you must be able to acknowledge the positive things he’s accomplished for this country. There’s very little crime, there’s hardly anybody homeless or unemployed anymore. Everyone’s living the American dream. And what he did for us was starting to rub off on other countries, wasn’t it?”
I nod. “I agree these are prosperous times. Or, at least, they were. Seems to have all gone to shit now, doesn’t it? Makes you wonder… why do it? What could he possibly achieve that he couldn’t have achieved carrying on as he had been?”
A Necessary Kill Page 21