They talk for a moment, and I watch as Duncan’s body language changes to match that of his colleague’s. Then they both drag Manhattan and the other prisoner into the building and out of sight.
“What you wanna do, Boss?” asks Josh.
“We wait.”
“For what?” Frank asks.
“Just playing a hunch. Give it half an hour, and then we’ll make our move.”
20:38
I hate being right. Not all the time—especially when I’m arguing with Josh. But when I trust my gut about how bad I think a situation might get, I definitely don’t like it when I’m dead on.
As the rain pours down, and the night sky periodically lights up with lightning, the loud wail of police sirens drifts across the city, gradually getting louder like a crescendo of broken justice. After a few minutes, pretty much the entire Pittsburgh Police Department descends on the building. There must be over twenty cruisers, blue lights flashing, blocking the road and the entrance to the building. Cops pour out, covering the street outside the entrance and blocking the road off, side arms in hand, taking up position behind the cover of their open car doors.
“Shit,” I say.
“You figured they’d call in every corrupt cop they’ve got?” says Frank, more of a statement than a question.
I nod silently, formulating a plan in my head that would get me to the top floor without getting shot. Or, at least, I’m trying to…
“We need to get rid of them if we’re to stand any chance of getting inside there,” says Josh.
“What you thinking?” I ask.
“Well, those cops might be more bent than a boomerang factory, but they’re still cops… If there’s a big enough crime reported, they’ll have to respond, surely?”
I shake my head. “No one would dare commit a crime that Trent didn’t orchestrate himself in this town, and all those cops know it… No, we need something else.”
We fall silent again, and I lean against the window and look up at the building that towers over the street. We need to get to the top floor, and the only way in or out has the entire police department guarding it. If only we can…
“Sonofabitch…” I say, piecing together a new game plan in my head, somewhat annoyed at myself for not thinking of it sooner.
“What?” asks Frank, skeptically.
I smile. “We need to think bigger.”
21:00
I’d called Oscar Brown, to make sure he was still in the city. Luckily, he was. He’d been surprised to hear from me again so soon after my last purchase, but said he was happy to help.
Frank’s driving. I’d told him to head back over to Oscar’s place and asked Josh to pull together some of our newfound fortune, ready to spend. As we approach Oscar’s warehouse, Josh appears behind me.
“I’ve moved one point five million into one of our accounts,” he announces. “I’ll move more if Oscar applies any insanity tax—which I’m sure he will, because this idea of yours is fucking crazy, Adrian. Even for you.”
“Just playing another hunch is all,” I reply.
We arrive at the warehouse facility, screeching to a halt in front of the entrance. I step out into the pouring rain and glance around. The other buildings are all quiet and look completely deserted. Only Oscar’s has a light on in the main office, which floods out through the open door, where he’s standing, leaning against the frame waiting for us.
“Back again?” he shouts over to us. “I could get used to this—you’ll be putting my kids through college at this rate!”
“Hoping I’m about to give you the means to buy your own damn college,” I reply, smiling.
Josh and Frank appear next to me, and we all stop just outside Oscar’s door.
“Guns all you got?” I ask.
He goes to reply but stops himself, taking a moment to regard me with more curiosity than usual. He shifts almost nervously on the spot before answering. “What makes you ask that?”
“Just the fact that all those warehouses over in Allentown, and those two of there, appear empty—but if they were, and you were the only show in town, you’d have moved into one front and center by the entrance, not tucked yourself away in the corner. Also, I say appears because there are fresh tire tracks in the mud by those two units, so there’s definitely something inside them. I figure, seeing as you probably own this entire estate, you got more than guns in some of these other warehouses.” I look behind me and gesture at them with my thumb. “I’ve got close to two million dollars to spend on what I hope you’re hiding over there.”
Oscar eyes each of us in turn before stroking his chin, as if in deep thought. He bursts out laughing.
“You ain’t as dumb as you look!” he says. “Just like ol’ Jimmy told me. Lemme just get my coat and I’ll give you the tour.”
As he disappears into the office, Frank nudges my arm. “What’s going on?” he asks. “What do you think he’s got over there?”
“Something much bigger than a few racks of guns,” I reply.
Oscar re-appears and leads us all across the complex to the first of the two hangar-sized warehouses. The rain’s coming down hard, and more thunder rumbles in the dark clouds overhead. Time’s running out if I want to get to Manhattan before what’s left of Trent’s organization decides it’s simply easier to kill him than question him.
As we near the warehouse, I see there’s no front office—it simply has two large hangar doors padlocked shut. He stops just short of the doors and spins around to face me with a serious look in his eyes.
“Now… a betting man would wager his annual salary that you fellas are fixing to do something real stupid… am I right?” he asks.
“Stupid’s a pretty broad term,” I say. “I prefer to think of this as necessary insanity.”
He smiles and walks over to the doors. He unfastens the padlock and heaves both doors wide open.
“Insanity’s right…” he says.
As the fluorescent lights flicker into life, illuminating the hangar interior, I hear Josh and Frank both audibly gasp in shock. In front of us is a UH-60A Black Hawk helicopter, painted jet black.
“Holy shit…” mutters Josh.
It looks in amazing condition, considering they’ve been out of active service in the military since ‘89. I walk inside the warehouse and slowly circle the helicopter.
“Somewhat of a collector’s item, I admit,” Oscar explains. “But she’s in perfect working order. I’ve had a few enquiries about her over the years, but never could bring myself to part with her.”
“Well, I don’t want to buy it,” I say. “Just borrow it.”
“Mind if I ask what for?”
Josh and Frank gather around too, eager to hear my plan.
“There’s a tower block in the city that’s surrounded by cops, and I need to get to the top floor. The way I figure it, it’s easier to go in from the roof than it is from the ground, under the circumstances.”
“Genius…” says Josh. “Except you can barely walk straight, let alone fly one of these things… What about you, Frank? Don’t suppose you’re a helicopter pilot are you?”
He shakes his head.
“Josh, will you just relax? Ol’ Oscar here’s gonna fly it,” I say, turning toward him. “Aren’t you?”
“Well, I… I mean, I can fly it, don’t get me wrong…”
“Good. I’ve got a million dollars to rent your machine, and half a million for your time and risk. Can you be ready to take off in fifteen minutes?”
Everyone exchanges looks of shock and concern, but says nothing.
“I’ll take that as a yes… c’mon, let’s get ready.”
I walk quickly back to the Winnebago, leaving the rest of them standing inside the hangar. The rain’s getting worse by the minute, and as a flash of lightning illuminates the industrial estate, it looks like the storm that’s threatened for days is finally unleashing its fury on the city of Pittsburgh.
I can totally relate…
21:20
We’re flying across the city, huddled in the back of the Black Hawk as Oscar expertly pilots us toward Trent’s building. We’re sitting and strapped into our seats. Josh and I have traveled in the back of a chopper many times during our days in the military, but Frank looks a little under the weather.
“You okay?” I shout to him over the roar of the blades.
He simply shakes his head and continues his deep breathing. I look over at Josh and smile.
“I don’t think he’s a very good flier,” I say.
We’ve left the Winnebago at Oscar’s place and kitted ourselves out with every weapon we have. I’ve got my Berettas at my back. Frank has opted for a Mossberg 500 shotgun, while Josh has chosen an M-16 assault rifle.
As we near our destination, I see the blue flashing lights below us, blocking off the entire street. We bank left and approach the building from the back. There’s no hiding the fact a huge helicopter is overhead, but there’s no sense in making things too easy for them on the ground. As soon as we got near enough that we’d be heard over the storm, calls would’ve been made to every single piece of shit inside that building, making sure they’re ready for us.
Definitely not the most discreet entrance I’ve ever made, but I’ll take easy over quiet any day of the week.
The tower has a flat roof with a fire escape on it, and Oscar hovers low so we can jump out. Josh goes first, followed by Frank. I pat Oscar on the shoulder.
“I owe you one, thanks,” I yell.
“Bullshit!” he yells back. “You paid me a helluva lot of money for not much work. If anything, I owe you!”
“See you again, Oscar.”
I jump down, landing on the roof with a thud. I draw both of my Berettas and take a deep breath, composing myself. Frank appears on my left, the double-crunch of him cocking the Mossberg loud in the rain.
“I’m ready,” he says, nodding to me. “You’ve killed Trent, now let’s kill his legacy.”
On my right, Josh stands next to me with his M-16 locked and loaded.
“You good?” I ask.
“I live for this shit, Boss!” he replies, barely able to contain his excitement.
We all stand side by side, our eyes fixed on the fire escape in front of us. We’re soaked to the skin from the torrential rain that’s pelting the ground around us. I take another deep breath. The numbness I’ve felt since killing Trent is finally letting up, allowing me to lose myself in the task at hand. Allowing me to start appreciating what we’ve accomplished. Taking down an entire criminal empire on your own is no mean feat, but we’ve done a pretty good job so far.
“You ready?” asks Josh.
I turn to look at him, finally letting my Inner Satan off its leash. I feel the fire behind my eyes—the anger… the untamed fury… the pleasure… and I simply smile back.
“Yeah… you’re ready,” he says.
We head for the door, full of purpose and ready for war. But, deep down we all know that getting in is the easy part… the challenge will be getting back out.
34.
MEANWHILE…
20:16
It had been a long and silent journey from Allentown, and the weather had taken a drastic turn for the worse along the way. As they finally came to a stop in front a tower block, thunder rumbled over the noise of the pouring rain outside.
Duncan got out of the car and walked around to the other side, opening Jimmy Manhattan’s door and dragging him out. Ahead of them, the other vehicle had pulled over and the three men were dragging an injured Tarantina across the sidewalk.
Without a word, Duncan escorted him toward the main entrance, flanked either side by, what he assumed, was Trent’s private security. As they approached, the door flew open and a man came running toward them, visibly shaken.
“We got a problem,” he said, ignoring Manhattan completely.
“Bennett, what’s happened?” asked Duncan.
“It’s the Boss… he’s dead,” he replied.
His eyes went wide. “Mr. Trent? How?”
Manhattan chuckled, just loud enough that they could hear him. “I bet I can tell you how,” he said.
Duncan turned to him. “You—shut the fuck up,” he ordered before addressing Bennett. “Was it him?”
“Yeah, Adrian Hell and his partner attacked him at the Steelers game. I saw the news as it was happening. They had a big fight in the crowd. Hell was a maniac, man.”
“Let’s get up to the office and sort this from there. We gotta make some calls.”
They all marched Manhattan and Tarantina into the building, across the lobby and straight to the elevator.
“No one who ain’t invited comes through here without my say-so,” said Duncan to the man sitting behind the front desk as they walked past.
They came out on the top floor and turned right, walking straight into a penthouse office.
“Sit there,” he said to Manhattan, pointing to one of the leather sofas in front of the desk. Behind them, the three other men escorting Tarantina entered, shoving him down on the sofa opposite Manhattan, before grouping together at the side of the desk, in front of window looking out at the storm gradually raging across the city.
“So what do we do?” asked Duncan.
“We prepare for him coming here,” replied Bennett. “It’s the only logical move he could make. He wanted to finish Trent off, right? Well, now he’s killed him, he’ll come after what’s left of his organization.”
Duncan nodded in agreement then turned to the men standing with them.
“You four, go and gather every man in the building, tell them to arm themselves and call me if they see anything. Then get ten of your best and get them on this floor, guarding the elevator.”
21:23
An hour or so passed without as much as a word spoken to either Manhattan or Tarantina. Different men were in and out of the office, reporting to Duncan and Bennett.
Manhattan looked on with a bemused expression on his face. It was refreshing to see people rushing around in blind panic at the prospect of Adrian Hell coming for blood, and he not be one of them.
“You alright?” he asked Tarantina, who sat facing him, barely conscious.
“I’m good, Boss,” he replied. “Just lost a lot of blood—not feelin’ too great, y’know?”
“This will all soon be over, don’t worry.”
Duncan and Bennett walked over to them as the other men left to carry out their tasks. They stood side by side, arms folded, glaring down at them.
“So, you’re the guy who took out Johnny King and staked his claim in Allentown, huh?” asked Duncan. “Mr. Trent was gonna make an example out of you, so I figure that job now falls to us.”
“On the contrary,” said Manhattan, unfazed. “I believe Wilson Trent was going to extend the olive branch and embrace a mutually beneficial partnership between both our organizations. Something I now believe would be in your best interest to honor.”
“How you figure that?” asked Bennett.
“Because I have no doubt in my mind that Adrian Hell is on his way here with the sole intention of killing everyone in this building. But with my help, that could be avoided.”
“I think we can handle him,” said Duncan. “We’ve got nearly cop in the goddamn city stationed out front.”
“You don’t handle someone like him. You could have a squadron of Marines down there and it wouldn’t make a blind bit of different. No, you need my help if you wish to see tomorrow. Or, you can go ahead and kill me, ensuring the complete and total destruction of Trent’s empire. Your call, gentleman.”
Manhattan relaxed on the sofa and crossed his legs, catching Tarantina’s questioning eye long enough to let him know he was confident he’d done enough to guarantee their survival.
The two bodyguards looked at each other, their bodies tense, seemingly angry at the fact they knew Manhattan was right and didn’t want him to admit it.
“Okay, what do you have in mind?” a
sked Duncan, after a minute.
Manhattan stood and walked around the sofa, gazing at the room almost carefree, acting the part beautifully.
“To clarify something—yes, I ordered Mr. King be killed, but it was Adrian Hell who pulled the trigger. Mr. Hell and myself have somewhat of a history together, and going into business on my own, I’d rather stick with the devil I know, so to speak. He agreed to take the contract I offered him to eliminate Johnny King—a move anyone in my position would’ve done, from a business perspective—in exchange for a future favor. He carried out the contract and found out King worked for Trent. He called me to tell me that Trent is likely to seek retribution and would be coming for me. I presumed he would forcibly summon me to him first, which he did.”
“How is any of this helping us?” asked Bennett, crossing his arms impatiently.
“After doing some research,” Manhattan continued, ignoring the interruption, “it came to my attention that Adrian and Trent also had a history, so I let things play out, figuring the favor he would call in from me would likely be related to attacking Trent. From experience, I would never bet against Adrian Hell, and I was right. And now, as I predicted, I’ve wound up exactly where I thought I would, in a position to have this very conversation.”
“Get to the point, or I’ll shoot you,” said Duncan.
“My suggestion would be to have you willingly install me as your new employer. Give me control of this business, instantly merging it with my own, giving me power over the entire state. Once Adrian arrives, I’ll convince him to walk away and leave things to me before he starts shooting our people. Given our recent dealings, I believe he will see it as an opportunity having me in charge—an unlikely, yet useful, ally who’s able to do him a bigger favor than originally thought... Once he’s convinced there’s no threat from me, I’ll bury the sonofabitch. I’ve been setting him up from the very beginning, to have my revenge. Everything’s going exactly as I’ve planned.”
“Can you guarantee that you can stop him?” asked Bennett, unable to hide his growing concerns.
One Last Bullet: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 3) Page 23