Trent looks both angry and, for what I imagine is the first time in his life, a little afraid. But he holds his ground and my gaze, and speaks without skipping a beat.
“You don’t intimidate me, Adrian. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve seen it all. I don’t even think you’re that good a hitman. That bitch I hired to take you out came damn close more than once. If you were as good as you think you are, she’d never have gotten near you.” He chuckles to himself, gaining confidence with each word he utters. “And you’re gonna what? Click your fingers and finish me? Surrounded by sixty-five thousand witnesses? Go right ahead, you fuck!”
I smile. Then I slowly holster one Beretta, followed by the other. I put my left hand in my pocket and lean left against the doorframe. I casually look over at Josh, who’s doing his best to hide his excitement over what’s coming.
“You got anything you want to say to any of your boys here?” I ask, gesturing with a nod to the five men in the room.
“Ha! Why? You intend taking them all out with your bare hands?” he replies.
I look over at the five bodyguards, who are shifting nervously on the spot. I look each one of them in the eye with an apologetic expression. Josh takes a small step away from them, leaning against the far wall of the box. I look back at Trent. He frowns at me in disgust, not buying into the little show I’m putting on for him at all, which makes this whole thing even sweeter…
I wink at him and click my fingers on my right hand. His five bodyguards instantly drop dead on the floor.
Trent’s jaw hits the floor a moment after the bodies do. I stand up straight and draw one of my Berettas again, taking aim at him. Josh steps over the pile of corpses and stands by my side.
“Wha… how… what the fuck just happened?” asks Trent, completely dumbfounded.
“Simple—I just killed five of your men by clicking my fingers,” I reply.
“Oh, oh, can I have a go?” asks Josh excitedly, before making a point of moving his hand around like a magician and then clicking his fingers. Trent frowns with more confusion.
“And what the fuck are you supposed to have just done?” he asks, regaining some of his composure.
“Me? I just robbed you of two hundred and fifty million dollars,” replies Josh with a smile.
Trent’s eyes go wide. I think under normal circumstances, if someone had said that he’d have laughed them out of the building, but given what he’s just seen me do, he’s probably more inclined to believe him.
“You’ve robbed me?” he asks him.
“Of every last penny, you sanctimonious nutsack!”
“You see, Trent,” I say. “This is what happens when you make an enemy out of me. I don’t just get my revenge—and Lord knows I’ve been dreaming of doing that for the last ten years of my life… but I also beat you. I outplay you every step of the way and take everything you’ve ever had in this world away from you. Your power, your money, your bodyguards… everything. I’ve systematically picked you apart, and now you’re standing in front of me, an absolute nobody with nothing to live for.”
That is a no holds barred lesson in antagonizing someone, and he just got schooled.
He lets out a cry of unbridled fury, like a warrior on the battlefield standing over a fallen adversary. Given his height and weight, I’ll admit his rage is an impressive sight. I can see out of the box and, in the general crowd, a section has stopped and turned to look, to see what the noise is.
I expected some kind of retaliation from him, obviously. But I honestly never thought he’d react like I would… He charges me, ducking down to his left, and dropping his right shoulder as he does. Despite his size, he’s fast, and he’s on top of me before I realize he’s moved. He slams into my gut and sends us both flying backward out of the box and into the corridor. He’s knocked the wind out of me, and I’m lying flat on my back coughing; my gun’s flown out of my hand and is out of reach.
Trent leaps to his feet and runs back into the box, tackling Josh as well. I sit up, regaining my composure as I look on. Despite the few blocks he’s managed to get in the way, Trent has overpowered Josh, slamming his large fists into his head and body before grabbing him by the throat and hurling him almost single-handedly through the glass and out of the box, into the crowd below. That’s a good ten foot drop! I can hear screams from the crowd outside, which grow louder and louder like a wave.
“Josh!” I yell, scrambling to my feet and running at Trent, who turns around just in time to catch the right elbow I’m throwing at full speed. It connects with his jaw and sends him crashing to the ground.
I can’t afford to give him a moment’s reprieve… I’m sure Josh can handle himself for the time being.
I pounce on Trent, straddling his barrel-like chest in a full mount position, and proceeding to hammer down blow after blow on his face and chest.
“Fuck you, Trent!” I scream. “This is for my family, do you understand me?”
I emphasize every other word, timing them with my punches for added effect. I unload punch after punch until my knuckles bleed. His face is starting to swell underneath his eyes. His nose is broken and a couple of his teeth have gone flying out of his mouth, but I’m still bombarding him with my assault. I grit my teeth, ignoring the pain in my hands, determined to pummel his head into a bloody pulp.
My arms are tiring, and I’m out of breath, so I pause for a moment, letting out a similar, guttural war cry to what Trent had done moments before. I sit up straight and look up, resting back on my haunches. I close my eyes as I try to catch my breath.
I fly forward, feeling a pain in my back. Trent must’ve brought his knee up and slammed it into the base of my spine. It takes me by surprise, as I didn’t expect him to have any more fight left. I hit the wall beneath the window with a grunt.
“Shit…” I murmur.
I drag myself to my feet and turn just as Trent charges me once more. I have no idea how he’s even still standing, let alone fighting back. He tackles me again, and we both topple over the edge and fall out of the box, down into the crowd.
We land among a large group of people, which cushions our fall somewhat. But this causes a domino effect and innocent football fans are flying in every direction, falling down the steep steps that lead to the different levels of the stand. It’s a total frenzy around me, and it takes a moment to fight my way through the masses of people just to get to my feet.
As I stand, Trent does the same. Shards of glass are sticking in my back and legs from the fall, but I quickly pull them out, ignoring any pain. I’ve got more important things to deal with.
Our eyes meet across the crowd, and we charge for each other once more, as best we can in the chaos. Over Trent’s shoulder, on one of the other stands, I catch a glimpse of security guards running toward us, and a quick glance across the field at the large TV screen shows our fight is being broadcast to the entire stadium. Over the screams of people nearby, I can faintly hear the cheers and jeers of people urging us to keep fighting.
It’s always confused me how people can have such a blind fascination with violence, seemingly to the point where they’d happily endanger themselves purely to get a glimpse of it.
We thunder toward each other and meet in the middle on one of the staircases that separates the rows of seats, about halfway up. I think he’ll lead with a desperate straight right punch, so I immediately duck down. A right hand flies over my head, and as his momentum carries him past me, I stand and step to the left, throwing a left hook into his ribs, just under his armpit. The impact knocks him off-balance and he falls, prompting more screams from the crowd as they watch his body tumble and bounce down the concrete steps, coming to a sickening halt as he hits the wall at the bottom rolling down the steps. People are simultaneously trying to get out of my way as I walk slowly down the steps after him, at the same time as trying to stay close enough to me to see what’s going to happen next.
I reach the bottom and stand over Trent, looking down at h
is battered body. His face is a crimson mask, with blood flowing freely from a gash he’s sustained on his forehead from the fall. It looks like he’s broken his ankle too, given the shape of it, and from the quick, ragged way he’s breathing, I suspect he’s got a couple of busted ribs on top of all that.
He’s done.
I reach behind me and draw my remaining Beretta. I take aim at his head and feel every ounce of pain and guilt that I’ve carried on my shoulders for so many years just… float away. He looks up at me, and I see regret in his eyes. And fear. Wilson Trent is afraid of me.
“Any last words?” I ask him. “Any more insults you want to throw at me? Do you want to brag some more about killing my family, perhaps?”
He closes his eyes slowly, taking as deep a breath as he dared.
“Go to Hell… Adrian,” he rasps.
I smile. “Been there, bought a holiday home…”
My finger tightens on the trigger as I prepare to end this miserable bastard’s pathetic life, but I feel a hand on my shoulder that stops me. I spin around to see Josh standing there. He visibly winces with every deep breath he takes. His right arm is hanging loose, close to his side, which looks to me like a dislocated shoulder. He has blood around his mouth too, and coupled with his painful breathing, I suspect he also has busted ribs and some internal bleeding to go along with it.
“Christ, you look like shit,” I say.
“Thanks,” he replies with a weak smile. “Listen, Adrian… you can’t do this here.”
I shake my head. “This ends right here, right now, Josh. Everything we’ve been through has led me here. It’s over.”
“And I completely agree—this is over. But you can’t blow his fucking brains out while you’re on TV…”
He points over to the big screen that, sure enough, is still broadcasting the drama and giving the security guards my exact location. Outside the ground, over the screams of the crowd, a cacophony of sirens grows louder by the second.
I sigh and curse to myself. I’m this close, but I still can’t end the prick.
I look down at Trent, who’s slowly crawling back up the steps, pausing every few seconds to cough up some blood. The crowd has given us a wide berth now, and I know that the stadium security isn’t far away, with the cops close behind.
I walk over to him and crouch down over him, pressing my gun to his temple as he lies face down on the steps.
“Open your mouth,” I say to him.
His eyes widen in horror, as he realizes what my intentions are.
“Oh, Jesus…” I hear Josh whisper behind me.
But I don’t care. I can’t fire my gun? Fine... But Wilson Trent is dying before I leave this stadium, one way or the other.
“I said, open your fucking mouth!” I repeat.
Reluctantly, he does, closing his eyes tightly. I stand up and take a look around. People have fled the immediate area, but the rest of the crowd are on their feet, trying to see what’s happening while security do their best to usher them away to safety. On the field behind me, even some players have stopped their pre-match training, wondering what all the commotion is.
My eyes meet Josh’s uncomfortable gaze. We stare at each other for a moment, and then he slowly nods, giving me his unspoken blessing before walking off up the steps.
I take a deep breath. An image of Janine and Maria flashes into my head. They’re running together in a park. The sun’s shining and they’re laughing together. They both look so beautiful. But the image soon disappears and everything is black and empty.
I step forward and, without breaking stride, bring my boot down hard on the back of Trent’s skull, the force driving his head forward. With his mouth open, the step splits his head horizontally, taking his jawbone almost clean off and killing him instantly.
There are no screams of shock and horror around me. No mad rush or panic to flee the area. There’s just… silence. Every person in the crowd who just witnesses Trent’s demise is standing and staring at me.
I have no idea what I thought I’d feel like when I finally killed him. I guess I figured I’d feel relief, or happiness maybe… But I feel nothing.
I walk up the steps toward the exit, where Josh is waiting for me.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod silently as a wave of numbness slowly wash over me.
“You feel you got the closure that you wanted though?”
I regard him for a moment, trying to thinking of the honest answer. But I come up with nothing. There’s just an empty void where my soul should be. No closure, no celebration, no regret… nothing. I just feel dead inside, and for the first time in my life I’m afraid. Without saying anything, I simply walk off, leaving Josh standing there, surrounded by the carnage I’ve created.
33.
20:05
I quickly retrieved my other gun from Trent’s box, and then we managed to make it back out to the parking lot and into the Winnebago, where Frank was waiting, with minimal fuss. We’d navigated the panic-stricken hordes of fans rushing to the nearest exit simply by feigning the same fear, blending into the masses and easily dodging any security guards.
The real police are arriving just as we’re driving off. We sitting in a queue, anonymous, like any other vehicle scrambling to get away from the horrors inside the stadium, so no one gives us a second thought as we drive past.
“Is it done?” Frank asks after a few minutes of silence, fighting through the traffic and anxious to put some distance between Heinz Field and us.
“Yeah,” I reply, sounding vacant.
“And did everything go down like you’d planned?”
I reach into my left pocket and pull out a small box, no larger than a USB pen drive, with a switch on it. I hold it up for him to see. “Like a charm.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “I still don’t get how it worked…”
“They’re basically an EMP over Wi-Fi,” I say, explaining absently. “I bought a handful of them from Oscar Brown. They’re the size of a button and very expensive. A standard EMP will let out a blast that disables all electrical equipment, but is essentially harmless to humans. These things are black market, designed by some tech firm in Japan. They emit a small pulse as normal, but at a higher amp, causing it to affect the human heart. When Josh frisked the bodyguards, he slipped one into each of their pockets, and then all I had to do was flick this switch, and all their hearts stopped simultaneously.”
“So, to Trent, it looked like you just clicked your fingers and killed them with your mind or something?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“You should’ve seen him,’ Josh shouts from the back. “It was beautiful!”
Frank smiles to himself as he looks ahead at the road. I don’t think he’s smiled once since he walked into my hospital room yesterday evening. I guess a lot’s changed in those twenty-four hours…
We fall silent as we head into the center of the city, toward Trent’s penthouse. The second part of the plan involves taking control of any physical assets on the premises, ensuring Trent’s legacy is completely buried. It’s not going to be easy—aside from the few legitimate businesses that occupy the first couple of floors, the rest of the thirty story building houses several illegal enterprises run by many of Trent’s less-than-reputable employees. Getting to the top floor from the bottom will be close to impossible, so we need patience and discretion if we’re to make it undetected.
Sadly, I’m involved…
We pull up across the street and look over. The entrance to the lobby has guards either side of the door, and a front desk just visible through the glass. I can just about see three men around the desk, but there will likely be more inside.
Darkness has descended, and the rain has started to fall at a steady rate. High above us, clouds rumble in preparation for a storm.
“So what’s the plan?” asks Josh. “Basement? Service entrance? Disguise?”
“I was thinking front door,” I say.
&nb
sp; “You mean the well-guarded, very public, glass front door over there?” he counters. “Of course you do…”
I shrug. “They’ll already have received word about their boss’ demise, if not from one of their own, then from the national news. They’ll be disorganized and running scared, which means they’ll be easy prey.”
Frank taps my shoulder and points down the street at two black vehicles approaching the building. “Who’s this?” he asks.
We look on as the doors open on the first vehicle and four men step out. One of the guys who were traveling in the back looks like a prisoner. I’ve never seen him before. They escort him over to the entrance to Trent Towers and stand, waiting. After a moment, the doors on the second vehicle open. As before, four men step out.
“Shit,” says Frank, pointing to one of the men who have climbed out of the back. “That’s Duncan, one of Trent’s two personal bodyguards.”
I look over at him. He’s a big guy, very well built and he certainly looks intimidating. Not someone you’d take for granted in a fight. I watch as he walks around the vehicle and opens the back door nearest the curb.
“Is that…?” asks Josh, looking on.
“Sure looks like him…” I confirm.
We watch as Duncan grabs Jimmy Manhattan by his arm and leads him to the front door. But before he gets chance to open it, another man comes out to meet him. He’s of similar build and height, and judging by his tense and nervous body language, I figure he’s heard about his boss.
“That’s Bennett,” Frank informs us. “Duncan’s partner in crime, and Trent’s other personal muscle.”
“Those two guys are enormous,” Josh observes.
“I did some research on them—both former cage fighters who got banned from the independent MMA circuit for excessive violence and persistent breach of health and safety regulations. They went from working the doors to protecting Trent pretty quickly.”
I study them both with a professional eye. I’m no slouch in a fight, but I know I can’t take any chances with these two, should I ever confront them.
One Last Bullet: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 3) Page 22