“You make it sound so glamorous,” I chuckle. “But yeah, that’s pretty much it. I learnt my lesson the hard way not to take jobs in my hometown. So now, I don’t live anywhere—makes it much simpler. Over the years, I’ve earned my reputation and made plenty of money doing something I’m very good at. Things could be a lot worse.”
“It must be lonely though, all that travelling on your own?”
I shrug. “I’m used to it. I’ve always got Josh to talk to and I’ve learned to embrace my anonymity.”
“You’re hardly anonymous though, are you? Every criminal in North America who’s worth a damn has heard of you.”
I smile. In truth, my reputation isn’t limited to North America and it isn’t limited to criminals. Let’s just say I’ve been around…
“That’s as maybe,” I say, smiling. “But I still can’t be found unless I want to be. I’d call that pretty anonymous.”
I take another sip of my drink and glance around the bar. Outside, through the front window, I see a black Humvee pull up. It mounts the curb at a decent speed, sliding to halt with a loud screech. The doors fly open and four people step out.
What the…?
Are they holding guns?
I see them form a line in front of the bar.
Yes, those are definitely guns… assault rifles, in fact.
They take aim…
Oh, shit!
“Everybody get down!” I yell.
I grab Clara’s hand and drag her out of the booth as the bullet start flying. The air fills with the rapid, pumping roar of automatic gunfire and the stench of cordite.
“What’s happening?” she shouts as I overturn a table, pulling us both down behind it.
“I’m pretty sure we’re getting shot at,” I say.
I look around and see people running and screaming in blind panic. The furniture and decor are getting shredded by the onslaught from outside. The glass behind the bar shatters, exploding everywhere. Nearby I can hear the dull squelch as bullets impact someone’s body, piercing their flesh with an unholy fury. A lucky few seem to have found cover, but nothing’s going to protect anyone for long against this.
I risk a quick peek over the table to get a glimpse at who’s attacking us. I can see the four figures through the smoke and haze. There’s a woman who, judging by her figure and outfit, I’m assuming is Natalia Salikov—the super-scary assassin Clara mentioned yesterday. The other three are guys I’ve not seen before. But if Natalia’s here, that means Dark Rain has found me.
Or found Clara.
I look over at her as she looks at me, clearly coming to the same conclusions.
“You packing?” she shouts.
I reach behind me and produce my two babies. “Always,” I say, handing her one. I reach into my pocket and hand her a spare magazine. She nods at me gratefully, checking how full it is and loading the gun.
I motion for her to stay under cover where we are and she nods in agreement. I take another quick look at the front and, happy they’re all momentarily pre-occupied with causing as much damage as possible, I run to my left and fire three rounds blindly in their general direction. I slide on my knees and stop behind another batch of tables, taking cover again. I look over at Clara, who’s doing her best to return fire.
I tense my jaw muscles as I think. We’ve got no chance of winning a straight up shootout against these people—we’re too heavily outgunned. I glance around for some inspiration and see the door at the far side of the bar area. That must lead into the back area and hopefully out of the building…
Clara breaks cover and runs to my side, letting off four rounds that cause one of the gunmen to duck down momentarily. I look at her as she crouches down beside me. She can certainly handle herself, I’ll give her that. Right now, I have to admit I’m very glad to have her on my side.
“We can’t stay here,” I shout to her. “There’s a door behind us. We’re gonna have to make a run for it.”
She nods in agreement, as she squeezes off a few more rounds just as the table splinters just above her head. I look over to see which of the gunmen has locked on to us. They’re standing in a line, with Natalia second from the left. The guy on the far right is emptying another clip in our direction.
I duck back down to avoid another burst, then spring up and unload three more rounds at the guy on the right. The first one misses, but the second and third hit the spot.
One hits him in the chest, making him stagger backward and spray bullets in a wide arc toward the ceiling. The other catches him on the jaw, and the bottom half of his head explodes in a pink and white mist, as bone and blood fly off in all directions.
The guy standing next to him looks at his comrade and shouts something as he watches the body crumple to the ground. In a blind rage, he then takes a few steps forward into the bar, fanning his bullets left and right wildly.
Clara looks at me as she reloads and I can see the concern creeping across her face. We’re both down to our last few bullets.
“C’mon, we’re leaving,” I say.
I stay low and fire blind as I run off to our left. She follows me, doing the same. Ducking down at the side of the bar, I point at the door just behind it and count down from three on my left hand…
Three…
Two…
One…
We both run, barging through the door and slamming it shut behind us. It won’t be long before the gunmen follow us. Probably just a few seconds.
There’s a fire exit ahead of us to the left and the entrance to a cellar on the right, halfway down the corridor.
“There’s gotta be a way in and out through that cellar,” says Clara. “That’s where they unload the barrels from the delivery trucks out back.”
It’s sound logic, and I think she’s right.
“Okay, you take the cellar, I’ll go out back. If we can split them up, we stand more chance of surviving this thing. Meet back at my motel room, okay?”
“Okay,” she says. “Be careful, Adrian.”
I smile. “You too.”
She opens up the cellar doors and descends into the darkness below as I cover the door we just came through. Once she’s inside, I shut them behind her just as our attackers burst into the narrow corridor. I fire at them, aiming awkwardly behind me as I run for the fire exit up ahead, forcing them to duck back inside the main bar area and buying me a few more valuable seconds. I push through the fire exit shoulder first and come out in a small parking lot at the back.
“Freeze!” someone shouts.
I skid to a halt and look to my right. There are three police cars, each with two officers standing behind their open doors, aiming their guns at me.
You’ve got to be kidding me…
15.
17:51
THINKING QUICKLY, I instinctively hold my arms out to the side, so I don’t look like a threat—despite the fact I’m holding my gun in my right hand.
Time slows down and every second that ticks by feels like an hour.
“Drop your weapon, now!” another officer yells.
I frown, feeling my jaw muscles tense as I try to subdue the frustration.
“Guys, you’ve caught me at a really bad time here,” I say.
Before anyone can reply, bullets explode into the door behind me, interrupting the standoff. Without thinking, I duck down and dive away to my left, taking cover in a small alcove. I look over and see the police are doing much the same thing—ducking down and resting their guns in between their open doors and the body of the cruiser. They’ve got their guns trained on the fire exit.
One officer shouts over to me. “Stay where you are!”
“Don’t worry about me,” I shout back. “Worry about what’s coming through that door!”
There’s another burst of gunfire and the fire exit door swings open, falling from the frame onto the floor.
Two of the gunmen step out, holding their assault rifles in front of them and standing ceremoniously in front of t
he police. They’re using AK-47s, which makes sense given Dark Rain's run by former Russian soldier.
A moment later and Natalia steps out and walks over to them, standing in between her comrades. She’s got two Heckler and Koch MP7 submachine guns, one in each hand. Officially classed as Personal Defense Weapons, mostly used out in Afghanistan; they’re some serious pieces of hardware.
Natalia’s dressed completely in black, similar to Clara when I first saw her. But her outfit looks slightly different. It’s more of a cat suit, and there’s visible padding over vital organs and limbs. I figure she’ll survive a stray bullet at the very least, which doesn’t bode well.
They must know I’m here, but I’m assuming the six armed police officers are more of a concern to them than I am right now.
I watch the scene unfold, keeping quiet and behind the wall of the alcove as much as possible.
Natalia steps forward. She’s got bright, flame-colored red hair and dark eye make-up. She glances over at me, confirming they know I’m here. She has the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. The excessive eyeliner accentuates them even more, so they look like searchlights. I stare back at her. There’s something in her eyes… a void where normal human emotion should be.
For a split second, I’m forced to re-live the dark moments from my past, when I’d find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror, with the exact same look, contemplating putting the barrel of my gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger...
This woman has some serious, unaddressed anger management issues and that could become a problem.
She looks back at the police officers, who haven’t said anything since Dark Rain emerged through the fire exit. They’re exchanging hesitant and frightened glances.
With no warning, Natalia and the gunmen level their guns at the small squadron of cops.
They wouldn’t…
She screams something loud in Russian that I don’t understand, and all three of them open fire, emptying their clips at the police.
“No!” I shout, unable to suppress my anger and surprise.
The loud clunking noise of bullets hitting metal fills the air and the officers scatter, not even bothering to return fire. The three cars are about thirty feet in front of the Dark Rain assault team, and it doesn’t take long for the middle one to explode.
The noise is deafening and leaves me with a ringing in my ears as the heat from the blast forces me to duck completely into the alcove. I look back round at the scene—an eerie silence broken only by crackle of the flames from the destroyed cruiser. The gunmen seem unfazed by it, despite their close proximity to the blast. The force from the explosion shifted the other police cars out to the sides a good twenty feet, removing any chance of cover the cops might have had left.
Through the smoke and fire, I can’t see where the officers have run off. The firing stops and Natalia turns her attention toward me. As I see the maniacal grin on her face, I realize I’ve been standing here watching like an idiot instead of putting distance between the hit squad sent to kill me, and me. One gunman turns away and runs off to the right, presumably going after Clara…
I hope she’s managed to get a decent head start.
As the remaining gunman aims his weapon at me, I re-focus on the situation and, like a reflex, take aim, and unload three bullets, which all hit him dead center, square in the chest. He falls to the ground as my gun clicks down on an empty chamber.
I look at Natalia, who momentarily regards her fallen comrade with complete indifference before looking at me and raising her MP7s.
“Oh, shit!” I yell as I turn and run around the corner of the building, narrowly avoiding a burst of gunfire that chips away at the brick just behind me.
I turn down an alleyway that runs alongside the bar and leads back to the main street. As I emerge back out on the sidewalk, I’m genuinely shocked to see that it looks like a warzone. There’s broken glass everywhere. The Humvee is still parked outside the bar at a hurried angle; the doors are all open. The building itself looks derelict, having been almost completely destroyed in the gunfight.
The street is littered with bodies—some dead, some alive but injured. There’s constant screaming and a cacophony of sirens approaching from a distance. A crowd of onlookers has congregated a short distance away, all talking excitedly into their phones or taking pictures and videos of the scene for the internet.
I can’t head into the crowd because Natalia won’t think twice about firing at them to get to me…
I look behind me and see Natalia rounding the corner and heading for the street. I run quickly over to the Humvee, carefully pick up a shard of glass from the ground nearby, and use it to slash the front tires, before sprinting away to the right, down the street.
As I pass the alleyway again, Natalia is just stepping out onto the sidewalk. She shoots from the hip, a spray of bullets arcing upward in my general direction. I raise my arm, shielding my head—which I know is futile, but instinctive nevertheless.
The sirens are getting louder. I need to get off the main street…
Seeing another alleyway off to my left, I head down it, not bothering to look if Natalia is in pursuit. I quickly reach into my pocket and put my Bluetooth earpiece in, dialing Josh as I navigate the alleyways.
“Josh?” I say, wincing in pain. I’m still hurting from chasing after Marcus Jones and now I’m breathing heavily yet again, my bruised ribs are actively complaining.
“Hey, Adrian, are you alright?” he asks. “You sound… flustered.”
I can barely manage to say more than a few words at a time as I gasp for air. “Long story… gunfight… Dark Rain…Google Maps... my motel…”
“On it,” he says, fully understanding my request and knowing it’s not the time to ask questions. That’s the good thing about the two of us—we’ve known each other for so long, we’re like brothers. We understand each other very well and it’s times like these when that comes in handy.
I chance a look behind me, but can’t see Natalia. As Josh works his magic, I briefly think of Clara, hoping she got away alright.
“Right,” says Josh. “Take the next left up ahead. On the right is an alleyway that cuts through the block and brings you out two streets over from your motel, but approaching from the back. That’s the best I’ve got.”
“Thanks,” I reply before hanging up.
I run as fast as my body allows me, following Josh’s directions. I step out of the alleyway and slow to a casual walk, taking deep breaths in through my mouth and out through my nose, to slow my heart rate down quickly. Two police cars speed past me with their sirens blaring. I remain calm, knowing they won’t be looking for someone so relaxed and so far away from the scene. As long as I don’t draw attention to myself and remain anonymous, they won’t show any interest in me.
I wait until they’re out of sight and jog over to the back of my motel. I walk around to the front and look around to make sure I’ve not been followed before going inside.
I walk past the front desk, through the double doors and down the hallway toward my room. As I approach, I see the door’s open slightly.
I take a quiet breath to steady myself and draw my gun. I know it’s not loaded, but no one else does. Usually the sight of a gun is enough to throw anyone off their game.
I can’t imagine Clara leaving the door open, which means Dark Rain must’ve found out where I’m staying. These guys are worryingly adept at going after people…
I push the door open gently and walk in, dropping to one knee and raising my gun. I look around and see the room has been completely trashed. It’s a mess, with drawers open and clothes scattered across the floor.
But two things in particular catch my attention… The first thing is that my mattress isn’t on the bed frame anymore—it’s been upturned and thrown in the corner. This means that whoever did this now has the deeds to the Uranium mine…
The second thing, and arguably the more concerning of the two, is that Clara’s lying
face down on the floor in a pool of steadily expanding blood.
Jesus Christ…
“Clara?” I say, holstering my gun.
No response.
Shit.
I kneel next to her body, being careful not to step in any blood. I feel for a pulse—it’s there, but weak.
“Clara?” I say again.
Still nothing.
Double shit.
I quickly assess her, calling on some long-buried first aid knowledge and come to the conclusion there are no broken bones. The blood’s coming from underneath her and I can’t see any exit wounds on her back, so I know the bullet is still inside.
I grab her right shoulder and roll her over gently on her back. I examine her body again. There’s a bullet wound in her left shoulder, just below her collarbone and to the left of her breast. It’s not fatal, but she’s lost a lot of blood because she’s been lay on her front. She needs urgent medical attention, but under the circumstances, a general hospital probably isn’t the best idea.
Triple shit…
I look back over at the bed, quickly thinking about the land deeds. If Dark Rain is responsible for this, then I’ve drastically underestimated them. They've managed to track me down and nearly kill me before I’ve barely had chance to learn their name.
I look back down at Clara.
Maybe they’re not after me at all… or maybe not me exclusively. This attack could very easily have been an attempt to kill Clara, not me. They might not consider me a threat—just an obstacle to overcome in order to get the deeds to the land…
My other Beretta, that I leant to her, is lying on the floor a few feet away. I pick it up, holstering it next to its brother at my back. I look around the place, my mind going into survival mode. The room’s under a fake name, and I paid cash up front, so no one can link me to the scene. I quickly move around, wiping down surfaces and checking the bathroom for any trace of forensic evidence. I then grab my shoulder bag and jacket—which thankfully hadn’t been taken as well—and with one last glance at Clara, I leave the room.
True Conviction Page 12