His eyes go wide, the fear apparent as he looks all around as if searching for a lifeline. I see his gaze rest on his briefcase, which is standing on the floor next to the desk. I can see the cogs start turning again, and his desperation changes to opportunity.
“I’ll give you quarter of a million dollars to let me go right now, to pretend this never happened,” he says quickly.
I smile and shake my head. “While I have no doubt you can afford such a generous offer, that’s not how I operate. I stand by my contracts, Ted. You can’t buy your way out of this.”
He leans forward as much as he can, which isn’t much. His eyes are watering. “P-p-please...” he begs. “I have a family!”
I sigh. “No, you don’t,” I reply, matter-of-factly.
He holds my gaze a moment longer, realizing that lying and bargaining aren’t working, then he sits back in his chair and sighs heavily with defeat, staring at the floor as a tear rolls down his cheek and splashes on his lap.
I regard him for a few minutes, trying to figure him out. Any confidence he once had has long gone. He looks full of regret and almost ashamed.
My eyes flick over to the woman for a second. She still hasn’t looked up or changed her expression. I look back at Jackson. “Ted, tell me why you backed out of the deal.”
He closes his eyes and swallows, sensing there’s no option left but to talk. I almost feel sorry for him. “GlobaTech Industries assigned me to a special project involving the land,” he explains. “I had no choice, I swear!”
I nod slowly, trying to piece together everything in my head. But very little about any of this makes sense to me. “And why do GlobaTech Industries have such an interest in a plot of land in the middle of the Nevada desert?” I ask.
He sighs again, pursing his lips together in a subconscious act of defiance. There’s obviously a lot more to this thing than he’s telling me and he seems very reluctant to divulge any information. Usually, people in his current predicament will say anything if they thought it could save their life. That tells me he’s probably under immense pressure from his employer and that whatever deal he’s part of involving this land must be big. If that’s the case, I can see why he walked away from the Pellaggio deal—if it’s big enough that he’s effectively willing to sacrifice himself for it, he wouldn’t have thought twice about turning his back on the mob.
I’ll try another approach.
“Who’s she?” I ask after a moment, gesturing to the woman next to him.
“She’s my personal bodyguard,” he says.
I look at her. She’s looked up now the conversation has changed to her. She’s staring at us both in turn with a curious detachment, remaining almost stubbornly silent.
“You’re being protected by a girl? Jesus, Teddy, is that not emasculating at all to you?”
The woman huffs in disgust at me, which I don’t acknowledge. Although at least I know I can get a reaction out of her, which might be useful later. I simply smile back at her, causing her to roll her eyes and look away. Jackson says nothing, although he clearly wants to. I’m trying to goad him into giving me information and he probably knows it. But his consistent reluctance is starting to become an issue for me and I need to put a stop to it.
“Not your standard security detail, I’m sure you’ll agree,” I continue, turning back to Jackson. “So, come on… who is she?”
He looks me right in the eye and I can see his inner torment. He wants to tell me everything, I can see it. He’s your typical, sleazy businessman—out to make as much money as possible, but self-preservation always comes first. His instinct is to do whatever he can to save his life, but there’s still something stopping him. Something he apparently fears more than me.
He should really fear me more…
In one swift movement, I stand and use my free hand to throw the table in front of me across the room. The spontaneous, violent act takes Jackson by surprise. He gasps in shock, and without warning, I shoot him in his other foot. He screams and blacks out.
“Oh, Teddy…” I say. “Now that’s just embarrassing.”
8.
17:24
HAPPY THAT JACKSON will be absolutely terrified of me when he wakes up again, I turn my attention to our mystery woman. Despite the commotion, she’s remained silent, but shooting Jackson again clearly took her by surprise as well. I can see her thinking… assessing her situation, trying her restraints, looking around the room, and finally coming to the realization that she’s screwed. She relaxes back in her chair and looks at me, clearly opting for a different approach to her situation, just like I would.
“I can’t believe you hit a woman,” she says, eventually. She doesn’t sound pissed off—well, no more than anyone else would be after they’d been elbowed in the face. I think she’s toying with me, seeing what reaction she can get. I know the tactic very well.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I say, before stopping myself from apologizing further. “Actually, I’m not—you had a gun on me so you deserved everything you got.”
“I only had a gun you because you were going to try to kill the guy I’m supposed to protect.”
“Well, I was only going to kill him because he screwed a gangster out of millions of dollars.”
“Oh, well, that’s alright then!”
She wrinkles her nose and sticks her tongue out, and I find myself thinking we probably sound like a pair of bickering siblings. To be honest, we sound like Josh and me…
“Why are you protecting him anyway? What makes him so special?”
“I’m just following orders, like you.”
“I don’t follow orders. I don’t answer to anyone—a benefit of being self-employed.”
“Are you always this argumentative?”
“Are you always this much of a bitch?”
“Oh, your words cut me like a knife...”
“There’s no need for sarcasm.”
“There’s no need to tie me to a chair!”
“You had a gun on me!”
“What, that again? Get over it, you pussy.”
I sigh. What is it with this woman? I don’t particularly want to shoot her, but she’s testing the restraint of my trigger finger while pitching her tent on my last nerve.
“Enough,” I say. “You’re going to answer my questions or I’m going to shoot you in the face. Understand?”
She says nothing, but raises a quizzical eyebrow—either to show she understands, or to silently call my bluff. I assume it was the former, because I don’t bluff.
“What’s your name?” I begin.
“Does it matter?” she replies.
“Yes.”
She holds my gaze for a moment. “Fine, my name is Clara Fox.”
“Thank you. Okay, Clara, who do you work for?”
“Right now?” She motions with her head to Jackson, who’s still slumped in his chair next to her. “Him.”
“So, what, are you freelance?” I ask.
“I go where I’m told to. I don’t ask questions.”
“That’s a weird answer to a perfectly straightforward question.”
“Take it or leave it, I don’t care.”
“Do you know why you’re protecting him?”
“Yes.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
She sighs. I don’t think she’s losing patience, as such, I think she’s just unhappy because she doesn’t strike me as being comfortable when she’s not the one asking the questions. I don’t know what it is about her, but I actually kind of like her. Not in that way. I just think she’s a… kindred spirit.
“My assignment was to protect Jackson while he closed a business deal between our respective employers for the sale of a plot of land in Heaven’s Valley. We knew that the local mafia had been involved in a previous deal to buy up the land, so we assumed there would be some comeback. I was assigned to Jackson to make sure he remained safe while he finalized the deal.”
“Would this deal be wi
th Dark Rain, by any chance?”
She frowns for a split second, looking both surprised and confused. She clearly wasn’t expecting me to know that and I can see her trying to figure out how I do. But she quickly composes herself again and merely shrugs, as if it’s not important information.
“Yes,” she replies.
“And you don’t know why the original deal was cancelled by Jackson?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. I do what I'm ordered to do. If I need to know something, I'll be told.”
“You’re the consummate Army brat, aren’t you? Tell me, where are you from? Your accent’s very... multicultural.”
She smiles, like she’s flattered that I’d noticed. “I was born in Russia. My father was a soldier and died when I was a little girl. My mother was a Swedish nurse and we moved to America when I was seven.”
“Well, you sound great. You should work in a call center or something.”
“I’d kill my boss within minutes.”
I can’t help but smile. “I don’t doubt it,” I say.
There’s a moment’s silence, which is interrupted by the groans of a man regaining consciousness after being shot for the second time in the last hour.
Jackson looks groggy and he gazes around the room slowly like a man with a bad hangover. He looks at Clara, who’s staring at him curiously. He turns to me. I’m also staring at him, but I have a gun aimed at his head.
I turn to Clara. “Be right with you, honey,” I say.
She rolls her eyes and sighs heavily.
I smile, satisfied I’ve wound her up enough, and turn back to Jackson. “Teddy, so nice of you to join us. Clara and I are just getting acquainted. She’s lovely, don’t you think?”
He groans, clearly in pain. “What do you want from me?” he asks, sounding fatigued and beaten.
“I want you to answer a few questions, completely and honestly.”
“P-please don’t sh-shoot me again,” he begs.
“I can’t promise anything, Ted, because you’re an asshole. But, if you do as I ask, you’ll be giving yourself the best chance you can of avoiding a third bullet.”
He takes a moment and I can see him weighing up his options in his head, searching for one last Hail Mary plan that will ultimately save him. I watch, somewhat pleased with myself, as the realization of pending defeat finally dawns on him.
“Wh-what do you want to know?” he says eventually with a sigh.
“Finally…” I say. “Okay, first question... Why did you revoke your offer to Pellaggio without telling him?”
He hesitates, which isn’t a very good start.
“Ted, don’t even think of lying to me.”
“I... I can’t tell you. They’ll kill me.”
He glances at Clara as he speaks. It’s just a quick look, but I spot it and look at her.
“Are you going to kill him if he talks to me?” I ask.
She stares at me blankly, like I’m an idiot. She’s really good at looking at me like that… and I don’t care for it.
“I’ve just finished telling you I’m meant to protect him. Why would I kill him?” she says.
I sigh again. I’m going round in circles here and I’m starting to lose my patience. I’m wasting time… I maybe need to take a slightly more drastic approach. I stand and walk across the room, picking up my silenced Beretta from over by the door where Clara had thrown it earlier. I check the magazine out of habit as head back over to them and stand behind Jackson. I extend my arm over his shoulder and past his head, so my gun appears in his line of sight. I then fire four bullets at the sofa in front of us. Each one causes a small cloud of white stuffing to erupt from the pillows.
See, what most people don’t realize is, when you fire a gun the barrel gets really hot—a result of the mini explosion that initially propelsthe bullet out. So, after four shots, the barrel is so hot you could fry an egg on it.
The shots terrify Jackson, who’s opened his mouth in a silent scream. Without warning, I place my gun on the side of his neck and hold it there. His silent scream turns into a very loud, guttural one. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clara squirming uncomfortably in her seat at the low hissing noise causes by his flesh smoldering from the heat.
I give it seven seconds before removing my gun. I walk around and crouch down in front of him.
“Teddy, I swear to God, I’m going to make you tell me everything I need to know,” I say, matter-of-factly.
I gesture to his neck with my gun. The skin has blistered and burst, leaving him with blood and puss oozing down his shoulder and chest.
“That was nothing compared to what I’m both capable of and willing to do to you.”
Jackson starts crying and I put the barrel of my gun near his neck again, to give him further incentive.
“Okay, okay!” he yells. “I’ll tell you everything.”
“That’s the spirit,” I say smiling. I stand and sit back down on the bullet-ridden sofa, gesturing with my hand for him to speak. “In your own time…”
He sighs and composes himself, occasionally wincing from the pain, which I assume by now he’s feeling pretty much everywhere.
“I saw that GlobaTech Industries had this land on their books that they weren’t doing anything with,” he begins. “I’d read about Pellaggio’s plans for expansion in the area and I approached him with the deal so I could make some money on the side. I didn’t think for a second that GlobaTech would notice. The land had been purchased for next-to-nothing over seven years ago.”
“So you wanted to make a sneaky bit of cash? Makes sense,” I say. “So why pull out at the last minute?”
“A few days ago, one the directors assigned me to a new project with a militia organization called Dark Rain. It was off the books, which was why I’d found no record of the land being part of it. The project was being overseen by a small division within GlobaTech that worked outside of the standard protocols and operating guidelines. This project required the use of the resources found on that land, and it was my job to set things up with Dark Rain. I had no choice but to walk away from Pellaggio’s deal. I knew I was causing myself problems with the mob, but I also knew that I'd be protected by this deal, so I went along with it and kept my mouth shut.”
I look at Clara, who I can see already knows some of what Jackson is saying, but is either confused or disinterested with the rest. I look back at him.
“What do you mean when you said ‘the resources found on that land’?” I ask.
He sighs, momentarily reluctant to continue, but knowing he has no choice. “That land sits on top of the only natural uranium deposit in the United States.”
Huh…
Well, I did not expect that.
A private military contractor and a militia organization working together to mine Uranium on U.S. soil… what could possibly go wrong there?
For the first time today, words fail me. All accept two...
“Holy shit.”
9.
17:42
SILENCE DESCENDS ON the room as I’m left reeling from the bombshell Jackson had just dropped.
Perhaps bombshell isn’t the best choice of words, under the circumstances…
I do my best to gather my sense again and I aim my gun at Clara who, if I’m honest, looks as shocked as I am.
“Tell me about Dark Rain,” I demand.
“I don’t know much about them,” she replies, somewhat absently. “They only recruited me a couple of years ago.”
“What are they planning?”
“I don’t know.”
I put my gun an inch away from her forehead. “Don’t lie to me, Clara.”
She remains calm, but her eyes betray her concern. “I honestly have no idea. My mission was to protect Jackson and keep him safe. That’s it.”
She’s very matter-of-fact about it and my instinct is to believe her. I’ve already concluded she’s good at her job, but I get the impression she got the short straw assignment because sh
e’s relatively new to this Dark Rain outfit. Plus, the look of shock on her face when Jackson mentioned the Uranium was genuine. I turn back to Jackson and put my gun against his forehead instead. He starts crying again.
“Ted, you gotta start talking. Uranium? What’s the big picture here?”
“W-we were going to mine it and then process it in one of our labs.”
“Process it, how?”
“We’d use gas centrifuges to enrich the material highly enough that it becomes weapons-grade.”
“Weapons-grade? As in, the stuff that goes in nukes?”
“You could use it in nuclear bombs, yeah. Having control of our own deposit meant we could sell it on for a hundred percent profit. GlobaTech approached Dark Rain after learning of the mine’s location and proposed the operation.”
“So, you were going to sell the land to Dark Rain but do all the mining for them? That doesn’t make any sense. If they owned the land, wouldn’t they technically own the Uranium? Why would GlobaTech offer to sell something on someone else’s behalf?”
“The United States and Russia set up a joint program back in ‘93 to convert all highly enriched Uranium into nuclear fuel. Ever since then, practically all weapons-grade material has been disposed of. We saw an opportunity to fill a massive gap in the market.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’d give it to Dark Rain?”
“Having weapons-grade Uranium isn’t exactly legal. If they owned the mine, they would have liability.”
Ah... I think I’ve figured it out now.
“So you offered to do all the mining and processing and selling to make it look like you’re doing them a favor—but you were just setting them up to take the fall while you reaped the profits?”
He shrugs. “That was the plan.”
“Christ, is there anyone you won’t screw over?”
Jackson shrugs again. “It was simply too much money and too good of an opportunity to overlook.”
“But you essentially gave an underground militia control of a Uranium mine!” I say. “Is the almighty dollar so important you’d risk the lives of millions?”
True Conviction Page 6