Thicker Than Blood

by James P. Sumner

  “Trying to kill you…”

  “Whatever. The Order makes all that look as if this whole time a shopkeeper’s been chasing us down the street because we stole a candy bar. They’re an adversary we can’t see, whose size we can’t comprehend, whose resources are truly limitless, and who can hit us from all sides at any given moment without any notice. They’re a whole new kind of threat, and we need to up our game if we’re going to get through this.”

  Josh looks at me, his mouth a thin line on his grave face. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were scared.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m not scared. I’m just aware of how deep in the shit we are. They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

  “And yet, from what you’ve told me, you’ve done nothing but ask questions for the last month, which is basically what got us both into this mess.”

  I don’t say anything. I know he’s joking, probably, but he’s right. It’s my fault we’re both in this situation. I need to figure out a way to—

  “Stop it.”

  I turn to look at him. “Huh?”

  “Stop it.”

  I frown. “Stop what?”

  “Sitting there feeling sorry for yourself, blaming yourself for everything. We don’t have time for crap like that.”

  I go to speak, but catch my words, smiling silently. I’ve missed him.

  He stands. “Okay, here’s what we do. We get something to eat, get that device out of your head, and then we sit down and figure this whole thing out, from the beginning. We find ’em, and then we find a way for you to kill ’em.”

  I get to my feet. “Sounds like a plan.”

  We continue walking along the path, side by side, at a steady pace. I look across at him. “Does this mean—”

  “Still not forgiven you.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  I look away, but not before I see him smile to himself.

  5

  13:39 PDT

  I push the empty plate away from me as I wipe the edges of my mouth with my napkin. I swallow a mouthful of beer and lean back in my seat. “Oh, man… That was a damn good burger.”

  Across from me, Josh sips a glass of water. “Thought you might like it.”

  We haven’t spoken much since we got here. We’re in some bar about a half-mile from GlobaTech’s compound. Josh said it was popular with the employees, as it’s the only place anywhere near here worth drinking in. It’s also quiet at this time of day, which is a good thing. News of my execution traveled fast, and the world’s media was quick to run with the story Schultz felt compelled to feed them, to hide the truth behind what really happened. And don’t get me wrong, I get it—the country needs to believe in its own government. Telling them what Cunningham really did would only add to the problems, not help fix them. Consequently, Schultz told everyone I was a crazy, lone gunman who needlessly shot the president, which meant I died with everyone in the world knowing who I was, and believing I was a traitor to the United States. Regardless of the reasons, my lifetime of ruthless anonymity is over, and now that I’m back, I need to keep a low profile.

  This whole place feels like a saloon in the Old West. The tables and chairs are made of old wood, but are sturdier than they look. Same with the floor. The bar itself is a stained, waist-high counter, with thin posts periodically inserted along it, for aesthetics, rather than necessity.

  We’re sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the main area, close to the entrance, about halfway between the door and the bar. Over in the opposite corner is a pool table, with a jukebox mounted on the wall across from it. It’s the kind of place I would choose to drink in, and bears an uncanny resemblance to the bar I myself owned until a couple of months ago.

  The feeling of nostalgia is still strong, and I force myself to ignore it. I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. “It’s weird, man. Everything I did, the choices I made, it was supposed to give me freedom. But the reality was, I never felt more trapped in my life. Eating that cheeseburger just then, it felt as if today’s my first day out of prison.”

  Josh goes to speak, but his cell phone starts ringing. I smile as Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne sounds out in the near-deserted bar. He leans sideways and reaches into his pocket to retrieve it. He looks at the screen and slides his finger across it to dismiss the call. “Sorry about that.”

  I wave my hand. “Don’t worry if you need to answer your phone, Josh. You’re an important guy now, I understand.”

  He smiles sheepishly. “Nah, it can wait.”

  I fix him with a hard stare. “Hey, just because I showed up and ruined your day, it doesn’t mean your life gets placed on hold, man. You’re running a multi-billion-dollar company—you have more important things to worry about than me.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He sighs. “I’m telling you, Adrian, it’s stress like I can’t describe. I have shareholders breathing down my neck, I have Washington on the phone what feels like every hour, I have tens—maybe hundreds—of thousands of security personnel deployed all around the world, and billions of dollars invested in more projects than I can fathom, which all require constant monitoring and assessment.”

  I frown. “So, quit ignoring your phone. Anyway, don’t you have, like, several thousand subordinates to do all that shit for you? I thought the whole point of getting promoted was to do less work for more money?”

  “If only,” he says, laughing. “I guess I just don’t trust the employees to do as good a job as I can.”

  I shake my head. “Okay, let’s take a moment to think about what your reaction would be if I said something stupid like that.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I just… I don’t know. I just—”

  “You’re just you, Josh. That’s always been your greatest strength, and your greatest weakness.” I take another swig, empty the bottle, and push it to one side. “Why do you think I kept you around all those years?”

  He sips his water and smiles. “Since when did you become Dr. Phil?”

  “I had my eyes opened a little these last few weeks. Probably the only good thing that came from it all, if I’m honest. A little perspective was long overdue, and I like to think I made a lot of progress in a short space of time.”

  “Was that because of… what was her name? Kaitlyn?”

  I nod. “Yeah, my therapist.”

  “Well, I’m impressed you not only realized you needed help, but took it upon yourself to get some, too. There’s hope for you yet.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “She sounds smart and good for you. You should call her, now you’re free from The Order’s grip.”

  “But I’m not, am I? Not really. You’re still their target, and I’m the one that got away. We’re both gonna be running for a long time, unless we find a way of taking them down. Calling her now would only put her back in the firing line, and she’s suffered enough because of me.”

  “Fair enough.” He gets to his feet. “I’m gonna get the drinks in, and then we’ll talk about what we’re gonna do about this Horizon asshole.”

  He walks over to the bar, signals the barmaid, and starts talking to her. I watch him. It’s encouraging that he said ‘what we’re gonna do’. If we can work together, there’s a chance we might get through this. But he’s got a life, and a job—a pretty important one, by all accounts. He can’t lose focus on that to help me. This is my mess, my problem, and it’s my responsibility to fix it. And to protect him. I owe him that much.

  He’s heading back over now, holding another bottle and another glass of water. He places them on the table as he sits back down. I point to his drink as he sips it. “What’s with the whole not drinking thing?”

  He shrugs. “The official reason is I’m trying to stay healthy. I have a physical once a week, so I have to watch my diet.”

  “Really?”

  He nods. “Yeah. I’m insured for millions. Look at everything I do. It’s in a lot of people’s interests to make sure I stay alive and wel
l. Besides, it’s not as if I’m getting any younger.”

  “Maybe we can ask some of those people for help?”

  We share a brief laugh. He shakes his head. “It’s not just that, though. Honestly, the last few weeks, believing you were dead… it was hard. Really hard. I figured if I started drinking beer for comfort, it would be a very easy habit to get into. Then, before you know it, I’m sipping whiskey from a hipflask during meetings with the Joint Chiefs.”

  “That’s sensible, man. I’m sorry I had to put you through all that.”

  “Did you?”

  “Did I, what?”

  “Have to put me through it. Did you really have no choice?”

  I shrug. “I was sitting in a cell, probably in some CIA-sponsored, off-the-books detention center, waiting to be executed because I killed the president. It was a long-ass twenty-four hours, and I had a lot of time to think about things. I mean, I put this life behind me. After years of running from myself, of ignoring your subtle pleas for me to move on, I finally did. I had The Ferryman, I had Tori… I even had a dog. All that was missing was a white picket fence, y’know? I was—dare I say it?—happy. And then, like a goddamn boomerang, my old life came back around and ruined everything. I got dragged into this whole conspiracy thing, which resulted in me fighting a corrupt government, and watching the end of the world from the front row.”

  Josh holds up a hand. “Hey, I didn’t drag you, Adrian. I asked for your help and then tried to talk you out of it when I saw what you had. Don’t turn this around on me.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not saying you dragged me into anything, Josh, relax. I’m saying I did. My Inner Satan did. Adrian Hell did. And d’you know what? It was the right thing to do. How could anyone with the ability to help not want to, knowing what we knew? But what I’ve lived, loved, and lost in the last two months is enough to fill three lifetimes, and I’m tired. I sat in that cell, barely able to move under the weight of the guilt I put on my own shoulders, and I felt…”

  He leans forward, frowning. “You’d given up, hadn’t you?”

  I nod slowly. “I didn’t like it, but I’d accepted it, yeah. After the life I’ve led, the things I’ve done and been through… yeah, I was ready to die.”

  “Christ…”

  “But then, this Colonel Sanders lookalike appears, tells me he represents The Order of Sabbah, and they’ve been watching me this whole time. He said my hit on the president impressed them, and he was there to offer me a way out, to join their ranks, and fight the good fight. The proposal shocked me, and he disappeared before I could answer. As it turned out, he switched the chemicals in the lethal injection and hired me anyway, but I would’ve taken the coward’s way out, Josh. I would’ve said yes, despite knowing what it would do to you. So, to answer your question, yeah… rightly or wrongly, I felt I had to do what I did. It was selfish, and cowardly, but that’s the choice I made.”

  He takes a sip of his water and stares at the surface of the table. He absently scratches at a stain with his fingernail, clenching his jaw muscles, frowning with deep thought. Finally, he looks up at me. “There’s this guy—married, two kids, nice house, the works. He had a well-paid job that gave his family a good life, but he lost it because of a mistake, leaving them with nothing. He spent a few weeks spiraling, drinking, taking it out on his loved ones, before finally deciding to kill himself. He blamed himself. He felt terrible about making his family unhappy, and he figured the world was better off without him in it. He drove to a bridge, climbed out over the side, and stood on the edge, looking down at the water below, prepared to jump. Is he a coward?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s choosing the easy way out, and leaving his family to deal with the consequences of his mistakes, instead of facing them himself.”

  “Correct. But, you see, just as he was about to step off, he had an epiphany. He realized how much he loved his family, how he would do anything for them, and decided right there and then to fix the problem, no matter how difficult it might be, because he owed it to his family.”

  I don’t say anything. I can see where this is going, but I’ll let him make his point. It was a good story, after all.

  He leans back in his chair. “Adrian, by sitting in that cell, accepting the lethal injection, and giving up because you felt you deserved it… that was the coward’s way out. The Order offered you a second chance, a way of continuing your own fight. You stepped away from the edge, despite knowing how difficult it would be. Despite knowing the consequences, and how your choice would affect others. You decided to keep living, and that takes a strength few people are blessed with.”

  I imagine it took a lot for him to say that, after everything that’s happened today.

  I smile. “Thank you, Josh. That means a lot to me.”

  “You have to understand, Adrian, it’ll take time for me to… y’know… deal with all this, and get past it. But, please, don’t think for one second I’m not glad you’re alive.”

  I extend my hand across the table, curling it into a fist. He nods and bumps it with his. I finish my drink. “So, now what?”

  Josh gets to his feet, his chair scraping on the floor. “Now… we do what we always do. We learn what we can about our target, and take ’em out.”

  I laugh. “I admire the enthusiasm, man, but we’ve… ah… we’ve got a lot of targets.”

  He shrugs. “We best get started then, eh?”

  I laugh again before getting to my feet. I stand and stretch while Josh throws some money down for the food, and then we walk out of the bar, side by side.

  Time to go to work.

  6

  18:10 PDT

  I’m sitting across from Josh in his office. He’s behind his desk, tapping feverishly away on a laptop he’s borrowed, as his computer is still in pieces on the other side of the room. His secretary nearly fainted when she saw me, but he said she can be trusted to keep my presence here a secret.

  I had the device removed from my neck a couple of hours ago. They gave me a local anesthetic, and the procedure took maybe twenty minutes. The doctor from the mountaintop earlier today performed the surgery and he was keen to analyze the tech afterward.

  Josh also had his medical personnel work on my cut. They re-stitched it and secured it with some kind of surgical glue. It had already begun to heal, but now the wound looks a lot healthier, and it meant I no longer need a bandage around it.

  They examined my hand, too, but conceded there was little more they could do. It’s still next-to-useless, but they’ve given me another cast, which allows for some minimal movement without sacrificing any support.

  After all that, I’m feeling slightly more human than I have in a few days, and it’s nice to take a moment to relax while Josh does his—

  “Adrian, can I ask you something?”

  He’s looking at me over the edge of his laptop.

  I shrug. “Sure.”

  He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s a random question, I know, but have you… ah… have you ever heard of a guy named Sayed bin Mawal? He was a Saudi Prince.”

  Oh.

  Well, this is awkward.

  Play it cool, Adrian.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Why d’you ask?”

  “He was a client of ours, paying ridiculous money to receive the best personal protection we could offer. He was murdered in his hotel suite a few days ago, along with the men we sent to protect him. In Abu Dhabi…”

  Ah, shit.

  I let out a heavy breath. “Okay, yeah, about that…”

  He holds up a hand. “Before you say anything…”

  He spins the laptop around and presses a button, which starts playing a video file. It’s clearly security footage from the hotel, because it shows me, in glorious, grayscale hi-definition, taking out a bunch of GlobaTech employees in a hallway before disappearing inside bin Mawal’s suite.

  I smile regretfully. “That’s not how it looks.
”

  He turns the laptop back around, closes the lid, and leans back in his chair. “Funny, because it looks a lot like you killing my men, and my client…”

  “Okay, so it’s exactly how it looks.”

  “Would you care to explain?”

  I take a deep breath as I recall the events of three days ago. It makes me think of Lily, which creates this… bubbling inside me, like an emotional volcano preparing to erupt, filling me with both anger and sadness at the same time.

  “Adrian?”

  I shake my head. “Huh? Sorry. So, yeah, Abu Dhabi… Remember I told you about Lily?”

  He nods.

  “Well, The Order originally gave her the job of taking out bin Mawal.”

  Josh frowns. “Do you know why?”

  “No, but I’ll get to that. Anyway, she failed to kill him, but lied to The Order about it. She then showed up on my doorstep to ask for my help in eliminating him before Horizon realized he was still alive.”

  “Go on…”

  I feel as if I’m being interrogated. All that’s missing is a light shining in my face.

  “So, I talked my way into his suite. Now, by this point, I was already doubting The Order’s true motives, so I thought I’d quiz bin Mawal as to why someone might want him dead, to maybe give me some clue about what Horizon’s planning.”

  “And…?”

  “And when I got there, I noticed GlobaTech was protecting him. I knew The Order would be pissed with me for getting involved in the first place, but I also knew if I violated their rules by allowing someone from my old life to find out I was alive, they would kill me without hesitation.”

  “Right, so you figured my guys would report the incident back to me, and I’d review the footage and see you weren’t dead?”

  I nod. “Pretty much, yeah.”

  He massages the bridge of his nose between this finger and thumb. “I’m trying really hard not to lose my shit here, Adrian…”