06:47 CEST
I feel the wind on my face, carrying with it an unearthly silence I know cannot exist. I swallow, tasting the air of that day, which feels so long ago and yet could have easily happened yesterday.
Images flash into my mind like bolts of lightning. Vivid memories of blood and pain and darkness. Thinking back, in that terrible moment, I genuinely had no idea what had happened. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t feel anything.
I thought I had died.
When I first focused on the horrified faces of Josh and Ruby standing before me, I wished I had. I knew right then that I had lost one of them. I sensed the sudden absence of life. I was alive, which meant someone close to me wasn’t.
I remember the pain on Ruby’s face. The shock. The fear. I was convinced it was her. But I realized the moment Josh fell that she wasn’t in pain. The shock and fear she felt was because she knew what I didn’t. She knew Josh was gone before I did.
I rub my palm on the ground, feeling the grit and dust bite at my skin. In the distance, I hear movement. I hear voices.
I close my eyes.
It was my fault.
It really wasn’t.
It was. You’re dead because of me.
And yet, I’m still here, talking to you.
You’re just in my head. You’re my brain giving a voice to my own sanity. You’re not really here.
Brother, if I’m the voice of your sanity, you’re screwed.
I’m sorry.
For what? You didn’t pull the trigger, and you punished the man who did. And the guy who told him to. We’re good.
But you’re not here, and that’s because of me.
Look, just because bodies die doesn’t mean the person does. As long as you remember me, I’m never truly gone. I’m stuck inside your head with no one but your pet Satan for company. And let me tell you… I had no idea how troubled that fella was until I met him.
I’ve never forgiven myself.
Well, you should. I had enough of your pity party when I was alive. Adrian, you were never to blame for any of the bad shit that happened in your life. That’s what I spent my last years trying to make you understand. I’m just glad you have Ruby—someone to carry the torch for us poor bastards whose job it is to keep you alive.
It’s not the same. Nothing is.
I know it’s not. Ruby is way hotter than I was. Plus, you’re also getting laid way more often now. Good for you. I bet she’s—
All right—eyes front, soldier.
Sorry. I don’t know where the line is until I cross it.
I’ll put a bullet in my head right now just to shut you up.
Please don’t. Now look, I know this is hard. I know how upsetting this must be. But I need you to do me a favor now, okay?
What?
I need you to focus, Adrian. I need you to snap out of this and focus. Remember where you are. Remember who you’re with. Remember what’s happening.
Why should I? I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to see this world anymore.
Shut the fuck up and focus! Come on, Adrian.
“Come on, Adrian!”
Get up.
“Get up!”
We need to move.
“We need to move!”
I open my eyes. My brow furrows as I stare the ground, adjusting to the daylight.
Josh sounds a lot like Rayne.
I look up and stare into Rayne’s wide eyes. He’s screaming at me, but the words aren’t quite audible yet. He’s gesturing wildly with his arms—at me and at the world around us.
My surroundings are rushing back to me, as if everything’s being played in reverse, pulling me back to where I was a minute ago. The noises are close by. Cars screech to a stop. Doors open. Heavy footfalls.
I narrow my eyes, trying to zoom in on Rayne’s mouth.
What the hell’s he saying?
“Come on, Adrian! Get up. We need to move!”
We need to move.
That’s what Josh said.
Did I?
Yes. You just…
Oh. I see. That wasn’t you, was it?
It really wasn’t.
Ah, crap.
What’s going on?
I slowly stand and turn to look behind me. Rayne’s protests have fallen quiet. I look over at the intersection. Among the sea of cars abandoned by panicked drivers are two that don’t belong. They aren’t trying to leave, fearful they might be the next victim of the drone’s superior fury. No, these two just arrived. Men are standing around them, holding guns. Seven in total. Six are wearing the same matching black outfits worn by the guys who attacked us in London and took the team.
Tristar Security.
Well… those guys are dead.
The seventh is standing next to the hood of one of the cars, resting a short-barrel shotgun over his shoulder. He’s much bigger than the rest, and he’s smiling at me like a man who knows something I don’t.
I hate that.
I step toward the group. Rayne reaches out for my arm to stop me.
“Adrian, what the fuck are you doing?” he asks.
I don’t reply. I stare at him through deadened eyes until he removes his hand, then I look back at the group and take another step toward them. I stop in the middle of the street, maybe fifteen feet away, and gesture to the big guy with a flick of my head.
“Hello, Falikov,” I say.
He responds in Russian.
I roll my eyes. “Hey, we’re in Italy, dipshit. Speak English.”
He laughs, his voice booming. “Good to see you again, Comrade.”
“Is it? First time we met, you kinda shot at me. A lot.”
He moves his hand back and forth between us. “This is how we understand, yes? How we show respect in our world.”
“I mean… it fucking isn’t, man. Say hello, buy me a beer… don’t destroy my home and kidnap my friends. That, by the way, was a really stupid thing to do.”
Falikov laughs again. “It was necessary. Horizon sends regards.”
“Horizon, Holt… whatever you want to call him. He’s on borrowed time.”
“Now, now, Adrian.” He lowers his shotgun, loosely aiming at me from the hip. “I understand you are angry, but please, this is not fight you win.”
“Oh, I’m not angry.” I look back at Rayne. “Do I look angry to you?”
He raises his eyebrows. “You look bat-shit crazy to me, Boss.”
I smile and turn back to Falikov. “No, I’m not angry, comrade. I’m so far beyond angry, I’ve come all the way back around. I’m actually quite calm, all things considered.”
The Tristar men snap their weapons up in unison, aiming at Rayne and myself.
Our bags are a few feet away from us. I have my Raptors at my back. I don’t know if Rayne is armed. It doesn’t matter. He can sit this one out. Save his ammunition.
I’ve got this.
Falikov continues laughing. “Good. Positive outlook makes dying easier.”
“Then I hope you’re feeling positive today, asshole.”
My hands disappear behind me. Time slows to a crawl. The Tristar guards are spread out in front of me, forming a wide semicircle. Falikov’s in the middle of them. I grab my Raptors and bring my arms back around. I start shooting almost instantly. My aim follows the shape of the semicircle. I fan the bullets back and forth as I first cross my arms, then move them back out to the sides.
Both hammers slam down on empty chambers. I throw the Raptors behind me for Rayne to catch and reload. Time resumes as I sprint toward Falikov. In my periphery, I watch all six men drop to the ground, their faces and torsos riddled with bullets.
Falikov has no time to react. I reach him and immediately step across him, deflecting the shotgun away from me before he fires. I deliver a forearm to his throat as the shot goes off. He staggers back, stumbling over the hood of the car. I brush the weapon from his grip and throw two more punches in quick succession—one to the sternum and the other to his
jaw. He slides to the ground, wheezing.
I step away, kicking the discarded shotgun farther out of his reach. Then I bend down and hoist him up to his feet by handfuls of clothing. I push him back against the car.
Three more blows to the head.
He glances to his side and spits out blood.
“How many more men does Holt have with him?” I ask. “Tell me!”
Falikov turns his head slowly toward me and smiles. His teeth are stained with crimson.
Oh, shit.
He plants his feet, places two giant hands on my chest, and launches me backward. I easily clear six feet, then land awkwardly on my back with a heavy grunt.
Considering this guy’s size, he moves like a college athlete.
No sooner have I cleared the cobwebs, he’s on me, raining blow after blow into my body. He’s got fists like bowling balls. I turtle up for a moment, weathering the storm, then thrust my legs out and kick him away. I roll back and up onto my feet in time to see him sprinting toward me again.
He drops his shoulder, preparing to spear tackle me. I quickly shuffle to the side and lash my foot out, as if kicking a field goal. I catch him flush on his jaw. Gravity takes over, and he plummets to the ground. His head bounces off the hard blacktop.
I lean forward, resting my hands on my knees to catch my breath. I watch him for any signs of movement, but there aren’t any. I think he might be out.
I hear groaning. His arms start to move, trying to push his massive frame back upright.
Okay, maybe not…
“Come here, you giant prick.”
I grab the back of his jacket and drag him over to one of the cars. The passenger door is open. I’m breathing heavily through gritted teeth, snarling at the exertion my body isn’t quite strong enough to deal with. I pull him and drop him, resting his head on the bottom of the doorframe so that it’s pushed against the side of the seat.
He tries to move, but I jab him in the ribs to subdue him.
I grab the edge of the open door with one hand. I use it for leverage as I push myself back to a vertical base.
“Last chance,” I say, gasping for breath. “How many men does Holt have with him?”
He spits out more blood. “Fuck… you.”
I sigh. “Fine. Have it your way.”
I place my other hand on the door. With every ounce of strength I have left in my body, I slam it closed. His body jolts as the door collides with his head. I pull it open, then do it again.
And again.
And again.
Maybe six times in total. Each time, I slammed it shut as hard as I could.
I heard cracking. I heard squelching. Each time I did it, the door got closer to the car. I kept going until the body stopped twitching on impact.
I stagger away and drop to one knee, resting in the middle of the now-empty intersection. I’m sucking in air so quickly, it hurts. The adrenaline carried me this far, and now that it’s subsiding, the pain it was hiding from me is taking over.
I stand and arch my back, staring up at the morning sky as I unleash a primal scream, expelling any rage left inside me.
I look over at Rayne. He’s standing on the sidewalk, mouth open, eyes wide, holding both my Raptors.
I walk over to him, and he holds the guns out for me without hesitation. I take them from him and slide them back into their holster behind me.
“You good?” I ask.
“Uh-huh.” He shakes his head. “I mean… are you? Jesus.”
“I’ll be fine once we get our team back. Come on. Only one more house call to make now.”
We grab our bags and head over to the nearest of the two vehicles Falikov and the Tristar men arrived in.
“What was that back there?” Rayne asks. “On the corner, before these guys showed up, you checked out big time.”
I shrug. “Reminiscing, I guess. It’s fine. Let’s just… get the job done, so we can go home. Schultz is gonna be pissed about all this. Sooner I tell him, the sooner he can get over it.”
As we reach the car, I look up, instinctively searching the sky. In the distance, across the river and beyond the Piazza dei Tribunali, I see the drone circling around.
“No time to waste,” I say to Rayne. “You’re driving. You know where to go.”
He sees it and nods. “You got it.”
He climbs in and starts the engine. I linger a moment longer, staring at the drone as it bears down on us once again.
“Come and get me, you sonofabitch.”
28
07:21 CEST
Rayne is a much better navigator than I am. Within minutes of leaving the intersection massacre, we’re driving along a freeway, putting the center of Rome in our rearview. Buildings flatten and disappear, trees sprout to border the roadside, and traffic is moving fast enough that we can really punch it.
There is a downside, however.
We’re completely exposed, with no hope of finding cover, and we’re surrounded by innocent people who are unaware of how much danger they’re in. Oh, and Holt’s heavily armed drone is pursuing us, and it’s much faster than we are.
Two streams of orange light tear up the road on either side of us, strafing wildly back and forth. Vehicles panic and swerve, causing accidents all around. Rayne expertly navigates them, weaving around them while managing to evade the drone’s assault.
So, yeah… there’s that.
“How far is Holt’s base of operations?” asks Rayne.
I glance back through the rear windshield, checking the position of the drone.
“About a mile north of the airport,” I reply.
He brakes hard, fishtailing around the flaming metal husk of a car in front of us, which was struck by the drone moments ago.
I brace myself against the sudden movements. “Just put your foot down. We have to make it. That thing will pull away when we get close. It won’t risk hitting the building Holt’s in.”
Rayne swerves left again, then back across two lanes to accelerate through a gap in the traffic up ahead.
“Adrian, if we stay on this road, that drone is gonna keep shooting. More people are gonna get hurt. Or worse.”
I reach for one of my guns. “Don’t you think I know that? But if we don’t make it to Holt and stop that thing, thousands more will almost certainly die. Not to mention its impact on the world if the Vatican goes up like the Fourth of July.”
He glances at me. “So, we have to choose between endangering the people here and protecting the people back there?”
“We do. Welcome to my life—it sucks.”
“Hey, this is my life too.”
“Yes, but you’re following orders. The buck stops with me. The president will hold me accountable and no one else. I’m just banking on him forgiving a couple of hundred casualties to prevent a couple of thousand deaths.”
“Man, I would hate to be you.”
“I know I do. Why should you be any different? Now try to keep us steady.”
“What for?”
“I’m going to shoot that piece of shit.”
I twist in my seat and lean out the window. I hold onto the headrest for balance with my right hand as I aim with the Raptor in my left. If we’re doing less than eighty, I’d be surprised. But the wind’s pushing at me from behind, which might help the bullets. Plus, now that I’m actually staring out at it, this drone is… really fucking close!
I duck back inside just in time to avoid a fresh stream of gunfire from it.
“So, how did it go?” asks Rayne.
I roll my eyes. “Shut up and drive, will you? I got this.”
The shooting stops. I lean back out to try again. This time, I’m able to unload the entire magazine at the drone. I think I saw a spark from impact once. I didn’t make a dent. Honestly, I didn’t really expect to. I was just hoping to get lucky and hit one of its missiles.
I move back inside and buzz the window up.
Rayne doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.
“It’s better than sitting here doing nothing while you drive,” I say.
There’s an exit coming up on the right with an image of the airport on it. He speeds across the lanes and takes it, braking to slide around the curve of the road that leads us off the freeway.
He’s a damn good driver. I’ll give him that.
The drone zooms past us, following the freeway. We watch as it circles right, coming around to line up behind us again. Luckily, the road ahead seems pretty clear, and Rayne puts his foot down accordingly.
I look over my shoulder, out the rear windshield. The drone is leveling off, having now taken position on our tail once again. It’s not as close as it was before. It doesn’t seem to be looking to get too close, either.
Why’s it hanging back?
I look over at Rayne. He’s not going any faster than he was before.
“What’s it waiting for?” I ask.
Rayne checks his mirror. “I dunno. Maybe it’s just lining up its kill shot?”
“A little pessimistic.” I see the airport on our left, whizzing past us. “That’s why.”
“Public airspace…” says Rayne.
“Too risky to fly and engage so close to air traffic control, even for Holt.” I look back. The drone peels away. “Yeah, it’s gone. We’re close to Holt’s base now. Good work.”
“We got a plan for when we get there?”
I shake my head. “I figure we just drive through the front door and shoot anyone we didn’t come to rescue.”
He glances at me. “Are all your plans that vague and violent?”
I shrug. “I just stick with what works.”
“That shit works? Seriously?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I? What do you think I’ve been doing for the last twenty years?”
He focuses on the road, which is following a gentle curve to the left. The airport’s behind us now. Coming up, I can see the one road that’s going to lead us right to Holt’s front door.
I point to it. “There.”
I check that both mags are full in my Raptors, then secure them at my back. Then I reach behind and take an assault rifle from one of the bags.
We turn and speed along the narrow road, which is little more than a dirt track cutting through an empty field. Awaiting us at the end, having just appeared over the slight rise in the road, is a small industrial complex. It looks exactly like the satellite photos Schultz arranged for us. Two main buildings stand side by side, one bigger than the other. A tarmac runway is behind it, although I can’t see it from here.
The Devil You Know Page 21