Josh, on the other hand, still managed to get a few hours, despite everything that’s happening. I don’t know how he switches off like he does, but today he’s wide awake, refreshed, and his usual, loud, cheery self.
It’s irritating the piss out of me.
After we left the chaotic scene outside the restaurant last night, we found a low-key hotel to spend the night. Most parts of my body were, and still are, aching from the fight I had in the kitchen, so I’ve been taking painkillers like they’re candy to help take the edge off. But fatigue, and the fact I only have one coffee inside me, has shortened both my temper and patience dramatically.
We’re standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the steps leading to the large, glass building on the corner of 7th and Union, which serves as the North American headquarters for The Sterling Group. It’s one of many buildings that towers over the city of Seattle, though none of the others hold as much significance right now.
“You ready?” asks Josh.
I shrug. “I’d feel better with some more caffeine inside me, but I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“If this guy’s on the Committee, there’s no way he’s not expecting us. Especially after the welcome party last night. We need to approach with caution. Maybe let me…”
I stop listening. Heading down the steps toward us are five men, wearing suits and earpieces. Their arms are crossed low and awkward in front of them, which suggests they’re both concealing, and preparing to reach for weapons they have holstered inside their jackets.
I take a breath, steeling myself for whatever comes next.
“…you even listening? Adrian?”
I turn to him and point to the men. He looks ahead and sighs. “Oh. Right.”
“So much for approaching with caution.”
Four of the men quickly surround us, with the fifth stopping in front of me, blocking our way. He stares at each of us in turn. “Mr. Sterling is expecting you.”
I raise an eyebrow, acknowledging the obvious. “I figured. Are you boys the tour guides, or… what?”
He turns his body to the side and gestures to the steps. “Follow me. And try not to cause a scene—this is a respectable business.”
I exchange a glance with Josh. Try not to cause a scene… Is he being serious?
The men usher us up the steps and lead us through the revolving door of the main entrance. Inside, the lobby is spacious and minimalistic, with the company’s name and logo emblazoned across the wall facing me, and a long desk just in front of it. We stop, and the men fan out, forming a loose semicircle behind us.
Sitting behind a computer monitor is a young woman wearing a navy-blue blazer, typing feverishly while talking into a headset. She looks at us and hurriedly gets to her feet. She makes her way around the desk, revealing the matching skirt that makes up her business suit, and her long, slender legs beneath it. She’s undeniably attractive, wearing minimal make-up, with her dark hair tied up in a ponytail. She smiles professionally as she approaches. “Gentlemen, Mr. Sterling is—”
I hold a hand up. “—expecting us. Yeah, we get that. Just take us to him already.”
She seems genuinely taken aback, and I immediately feel bad. Perhaps I shouldn’t have assumed every single person in the building is drinking The Order’s Kool-Aid. I shouldn’t let my—
Ow!
She just slapped me across the face! What the hell?
She steps closer to me. The smile has gone. “You’ll see Mr. Sterling when he’s ready for you, you ignorant prick. And you would do well to watch your tongue.”
I glance over at Josh and shrug. I must admit, I’m a little embarrassed. Not because I just got my bell rung by a woman—God knows I’ve come across my fair share of female bad-asses in my time… No, it’s because it took me so completely by surprise, and consequently threw me off my game. I felt bad because I snapped at someone who I figure didn’t deserve it. But in doing that, I ignored my instinctive paranoia. I should’ve assumed every single person in here works for The Order. Guilty until proven innocent. But once again, my emotions clouded my judgment.
Time to pull your head out of your ass, Adrian.
The receptionist takes a step back, and the professional smile returns, as if she just put on a mask. “Now, Mr. Sterling’s office is on the seventeenth floor. My colleagues here will escort you.”
She gestures to the side of the front desk, where the lobby stretches back to a bank of elevators. The group of men surround us both once more and hustle us toward it. The clacking of our collective footsteps resonates all around.
“You okay?” whispers Josh.
“Uh-huh.”
“That was a pretty mean swing she had…”
“Screw you.”
I look over and see him smiling to himself. How is he still so upbeat? I either need more sleep or I need to take whatever he takes in a morning. Jeez.
As we reach the elevators, the men behind us clamp their hands down on our shoulders. The two either side of us move in front and turn to face us.
“Arms out to the sides,” says the one in front of me.
“Move, and we’ll put you down,” says the other.
Shit.
We do as they say, and they begin frisking us. Obviously, it doesn’t take long for them to find the Berettas. They both hold them up to show us, dangling them on a finger looped through the trigger guard. The one in front of me tuts repeatedly and shakes his head. “Did you really think you could walk in here armed? Are you that stupid?”
I smile. “Worth a try, right? Now, make sure you take good care of them. I’ll be back to collect them when I’m done with your boss, and, so we’re clear, if I see so much as a scratch on either one of them, me and you are gonna have a problem.”
He exchanges a look with the man beside him, both raising an eyebrow with disbelief. They step to the side, and the fifth guy presses the button for the elevator. The doors slide open straight away.
Without a word, we step inside. The fifth guy files in after us, pushing his way to the back so he’s behind us. Josh hits the button for the seventeenth, and the doors slide shut. A moment later, we begin the smooth climb into the belly of the beast.
I roll my eyes to myself at the thought. If we’re going up to the belly, it means we started at the ass. Figures.
Josh looks over at me, narrowing his eyes, staring as if he’s trying to read my mind.
He’s doing that because A… he’s known me long enough that he probably can read my mind, and B… he’s known me long enough to know that he doesn’t need to.
I spin my body clockwise, whipping my cast back, connecting with the guy’s gut. His eyes pop wide with shock, and I feel the wind rush from his lungs. He bends over instinctively, wheezing. I continue turning my body as he does and bring my left elbow down hard on the back of his neck. He hits the floor, unconscious.
Easy.
I crouch beside him and quickly retrieve his weapon. It’s a Glock 17. Nice. I eject the mag, allowing it to drop into the palm of my right hand. It’s full. I slam it back in place and stand. Josh is still staring at me, almost impassively.
I shrug. “What?”
He shakes his head. “Oh, nothing. Just, y’know… wondering for the billionth time since the day I met you if you’ve lost your fucking mind, that’s all.”
I take a deep breath, tightening my grip around my newly-acquired gun. “Look, we’ve established Sterling knows we’re coming, but this could be a trap. For all we know, there could be a hundred assassins waiting for us when these doors open.”
His eyes grow a little wider. “I… ah… I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe I should be more insanely paranoid, like you.”
I smile. “Good job I’m here, isn’t it? If we sit down with this asshole, maybe get some answers, that’s great. But if I’m right, and we’re about to step out to face a firing squad or something, I’ll handle it, don’t worry.”
“Why, do you have a hundred bullets for that Gl
ock?”
“Ah. No… no, I don’t.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Good job I’m here, isn’t it?”
I laugh as I glance up at the display above the door. “Well, at least I’ll go down shooting.”
Fifteen…
I quickly lean forward and press the button for sixteen. The elevator starts to slow. I tap Josh on the arm. “Give me a hand, would you?”
He frowns. “With what?”
I gesture with my thumb to the unconscious security guard behind us. “We don’t want everyone to see him, do we?”
There’s a ding, and the doors slide open. Josh sighs, and crouches next to the guy, hooking his hands underneath his arms. He hoists his body up and drags him out, the guy’s heels dragging on the floor. I peer out and see a deserted waiting area with some seating just to the left of us. Josh lifts the guy onto one of them, positioning him so he’s sitting normally, albeit with his head hung forward. He puts his hands on his shoulders, trying to adjust the balance of his weight so he stays upright, which he manages. He jogs back inside, and I press the button for the seventeenth again.
I tuck the gun in my waistband behind me and adjust my jacket to cover it. “Nice work.”
Josh closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath. “God, I wish I knew what you were doing…”
I smile. “Me too.”
The elevator stops and the doors slide open once more. Standing just in front of us is a woman, dressed similarly to the receptionist in the lobby, except her dress suit is light gray. She’s smiling at us, “Gentlemen, if you would follow me please, I’ll show you to Mr. Sterling’s office.”
She turns and walks left. We exchange a glance, shrug, and step out. I take a good look around. No sign of any assassins, and the woman seemed unfazed by the fact our escort was no longer with us. Sterling must really be looking forward to seeing us.
We follow her along a wide network of corridors, until she stops outside a thick, wooden door. There’s a brass nameplate on it that says GRANT STERLING, CEO.
She knocks once on the door before opening it, and steps inside, holding it for us. Josh goes in first, and I take another look around before following him. The woman smiles politely, and leaves, closing the door gently behind her.
In front of us, standing beside a huge, solid mahogany desk, is Grant Sterling. He’s wearing a fitted, charcoal-gray suit, with shiny black shoes. The first thing I notice is his watch—it’s thick, and gold, and it looks as if he should have trouble lifting his arm when he wears it. He has thick, dark, styled hair, a chiseled, clean-shaven face, and a salesman’s smile.
He flashes his whitened teeth. “Gentlemen, so nice of you to come. We have much to discuss.”
16
10:04 PDT
He looks younger than I expected. His voice is smooth, and his accent is very proper, as if he was Ivy League-educated. I get the impression he belongs to a yacht club or something. Y’know, when he’s not trying to rule the world.
I move in, and stand next to Josh, keeping my left arm by my side, ready to draw my weapon if I need to. I quickly look around his office, taking in all the details I need. Ahead, and to the left, is all glass, offering a panoramic view of the city of Seattle. Along the right wall are some cabinets, with a safe in the corner by the window. His desk dominates the room, with several small stacks of paper piled up across it.
So, I have no cover from potentially being shot by a trained killer with a sniper rifle, but this guy is likely storing useful information in his office.
Every cloud, right?
Josh and I exchange a glance, and he clears his throat. “Mr. Sterling, I’m sure you’re wondering—”
Sterling holds up a hand, his smile sitting somewhere between friendly and smug. “Save it. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture of innocence, but we all know who the other is, and why you’re really here, so let’s dispense with the pleasantries. I’d offer you both a seat, but I doubt you’ll take it.” He moves to sit behind his desk, resting comfortably back in his chair. “I’m actually impressed you made it this far, although Pierce’s fuck up made it easier for you both, I suppose.”
I scoff. “Pierce didn’t fuck up. I just beat him. Literally. To death.”
“And I’m sure you’re so very proud of yourself. I assume it was he who gave me up?”
“We were coming here anyway, but he told us you were on the Committee, yeah.”
He shakes his head. “I really wish he hadn’t done that. Horizon ought to keep a tighter leash on his pets.”
“What does The Order want with Fuelex?” asks Josh.
Sterling laughs. “Straight to the point, I like it. But no, that’s not how this works, Mr. Winters. You don’t come here and demand answers from me.”
With hardly any movement, I whip the gun out from behind me, and aim it unwaveringly at Sterling’s face. “Actually, that’s exactly how this is gonna work.”
He smirks. “Adrian, please. Do you think I’m afraid of you?”
I shrug. “I think if you were as smart as you’d have us believe, you’d know that you should be. Josh, get the door.”
He moves back and clicks the lock in place.
Sterling’s gaze flicks between Josh and myself for a moment, before he smiles again. “Okay, I’ll play along. But, please, understand that whatever you do here is nothing more than a futile attempt to delay the inevitable.”
“Duly noted.”
He nods. “Okay. We bought Fuelex because The Order wants to control the flow of crude oil into the parts of Europe and the Middle East that Sayed bin Mawal was helping with his… charity work.”
“Why?” asks Josh.
“To control those regions, of course. Without resources, they can’t rebuild in the aftermath of 4/17. Fuelex was giving them those resources at practically no cost. But now, The Order controls how much they get, which means we control how they rebuild.”
I frown. “So, that’s it? It’s a power play?”
Sterling nods. “What were you expecting?”
“It must be part of a bigger plan, surely?” says Josh. “What’s your endgame?”
“I suppose it is, depending on how you look at it. But the acquisition of Fuelex was the plan, and it was executed almost to perfection.” He turns to me. “Obviously, Lily involving you prolonged the intended outcome, and created an additional problem we would’ve preferred to do without, but nevertheless, mission accomplished.”
Josh paces away. I watch him as he stares at the floor, putting some more pieces of the puzzle together. After a few moments, he stops, and looks over at Sterling. “So, The Order are nothing more than power-hungry thugs. There’s no elegance or intricacy to you. You’re not some Illuminati-types hell-bent on changing the world. You just want power…”
I see where he’s going with this.
I gesture with my gun. “…and you’re using your influence to make subtle changes here and there to get what you want. Nothing too major, nothing that draws too much attention to you, but enough that the right people control the right things. Sonofabitch.”
Sterling smiles, but frowns, as if he’s confused. “You sound almost… disappointed?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. I just think Horizon exaggerated The Order’s aspirations a little.”
He laughs. “Yes, he does get carried away sometimes, but the man’s a believer, and cannot be faulted for his work ethic and dedication to the cause. He’s very good at spotting opportunities to expand our reach, and for scouting men of talent to help us. Men such as yourself, Mr. Hell. Such a shame you didn’t work out.”
“Oh, I’m gonna enjoy killing every last one of you arrogant bastards…”
“No, you’re not. You’ll be lucky to survive the next hour. Besides, the little… tweaks we make to this world do serve a higher purpose. A purpose far greater than you and your empty threats. You’re not the first person to try to stop us, and while some of my fellow Committee members may disagree, I pe
rsonally doubt you’ll be the last. It’s human nature, after all. The majority of people crave the security and simplicity of being controlled, so long as they’re allowed to remain ignorant of it, while a small minority think they’re better off navigating their future alone. Make no mistake, over the years we have become very adept at dealing with that minority.”
Josh walks over to the desk, and leans forward, resting both hands on the surface. “So, why me? What purpose does killing me serve? GlobaTech won’t go the same way Fuelex did just because I’m dead.”
Sterling waves a dismissive hand, frowning as if offended by the question. “I’m not interested in what GlobaTech do. It’s great that your company is helping people who need it, and, for now at least, the way you’re going about it doesn’t concern us.”
“So, why send me to kill him?” I ask.
Sterling tilts his head slightly. “Your friend has more than one job.”
I look over at Josh and watch his expression change as a realization dawns on him. “You want influence on the White House,” he says, finally.
It wasn’t a question.
“The new president isn’t as… open-minded as the last,” replies Sterling. “Of the entire National Security Council, he holds your opinion in the highest regard. Someone in your position could do great things for The Order.”
I shake my gun at him. “Whoa, back up. Cunningham was in The Order?”
He laughs. “God, no—that man was a lunatic. However, we did have someone high up in his administration who proved useful.”
“Unbelievable…”
“I hate to break it to you,” says Josh. “But it’s my opinion he holds in high regard, not the opinion of whomever is in charge at GlobaTech. My replacement probably wouldn’t even be appointed to the Security Council. Killing me wouldn’t help you in the slightest.”
“Perhaps. But we believe the person who runs GlobaTech would be capable enough to command the same respect you do, and would therefore be afforded the same responsibilities you are, so it’s a chance we’re willing to take. Schultz doesn’t share The Order’s vision for the United States, or its wider view of what’s best for every country on this planet, and we intend influencing him to see our way of thinking.”
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