Deadly Intent: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 4) (21 page)

There’s a non-confrontational urgency in his voice, and I comply without resistance. Collins does the same.

“Turn and lean on the car,” he says to me.

I do, and he starts patting me down. I look across at Collins, who’s going through the same thing. I raise an eyebrow, asking a silent question. He replies with a subtle shrug.

Great.

I happen to look down at the ground as the guy moves his hands up and down my legs, and I see a large metal sheet in the dirt, directly underneath the car.

Looks like a scale. Thought so—they’ll measure the weight of the car and passengers. Standard security I suppose, nowadays.

I frown.

I wonder if they’ve weighed the car and thought it’s too heavy for just Collins and me? If they search it, they might find my bag… and that would certainly prompt a few more questions. Questions I don’t really want to answer. I look up again at Collins, concern flashing into my eyes. He sees my look and understands, but shakes his head slightly from side to side, as if to say there’s nothing to worry about, and I absolutely shouldn’t kill every guard here.

I’m not panicking. Panic suggests fear, and I’m not afraid of anything—certainly nothing that springs instantly to mind. What I
am
doing, however, is expressing concern over the possibility of wasting more of my valuable time. I’ve got less than twelve hours before Clara puts a bullet in my girlfriend’s head. I can’t afford to stand here any longer flirting with these Police Academy rejects.

The look in my eyes tells Collins I’m losing patience. He responds with a look that pleads me to ride things out. Against my better judgment, I stand still and let a random Communist continue to feel my legs.

A few more moments pass, and the guard finishes frisking me. He stands and signals to his friend by Collins to join him. They huddle together over by the security hut without a word to us. We both remain where we are, exchanging silent questions. Then my guard walks back over to us.

“Here are your papers,” he says, handing my documents to me. “Enjoy your trip to Ukraine.”

He spins on his heels and steps away to the side, looking at the vehicle behind, waiting to gesture them forward. The other guy hands Collins his papers without a word, and we both get back in the car.

“Heh… that was tense!” he says as he starts it up and drives slowly toward the barrier.

“I’m not sure those guards realize how close they were to being killed just then,” I say.

The barrier lifts for us and Collins eases through and builds up speed on the other side.

“So this is it,” says Collins. “The home stretch. Ya have any idea what’s waiting for ya in Pripyat?”

I shake my head but say nothing. I honestly don’t know what kind of presence the Armageddon Initiative has in the deserted city, but I know I’ll find out soon enough.

27.

20:46 EEST

I hear a faint ringing noise, and realize my cell is in my bag, still hidden away under the back seat. I reach behind and retrieve it, dragging it back through to the front. I open it, take out the phone, and answer it.

“Yeah?”

“Adrian, it’s me,” says Josh. “Where you up to?”

I look over at Collins. “Where are we?” I ask as I place the phone on speaker.

“We’re about eighteen klicks out from Pripyat, traveling along the P-56,” he announces.

“You’re making good time,” observes Josh. “And… Hi, Collins.”

“Mr. Winters,” he replies professionally.

I raise an eyebrow. “Mr. Winters?” I ask.

Josh is laughing on the line. “Shut your face. Listen, I’ve got someone on the other line who wants to speak to you.”

“Who is it?”

“He’s an FBI agent.”

My spider sense immediately starts to tingle. “How’d he get your number?” I ask. “What have you told him?”

“Relax,” says Josh, recognizing my concern. “Bob put them in touch with me.
They
reached out to
him
. Look, I’ll let the guy explain, but I’m inclined to trust him.”

“Whatever,” I say, choosing to remain skeptical following recent events. “Put him on.”

The line falls silent for a moment, and then another voice speaks. “Adrian?”

I frown. I know that voice. I scratch my head trying to remember where from.

“Adrian, it’s Special Agent Tom Wallis, FBI.”

There it is!

“Tom?” I say, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. “Jesus! How are you doing? It’s been a long time.”

Close to three years, to be exact. I worked with Agent Wallis when I agreed to help the FBI, back in San Francisco, when I had that thing with Danny Pellaggio. My God, that was a lifetime ago…

“I’m good, considering. You’re a hard man to get hold of.”

“I know... What can I do for you?”

“I’ll cut straight to it,” he says. “A couple of local agents came to see you over a week ago about the murder of three men who were found in a car near where you live in Texas.”

It was more of a statement than a question, but I felt obliged to confirm it all the same. “That’s right,” I say.

“Adrian, I’m now working on a Counter-Terrorism taskforce for the FBI. As part of my job, I have to liaise with other agencies regarding any issue pertaining to suspected terrorist activity. As I’m sure you can understand, I’ve been hearing your name a lot recently.”

I shrug. “Is there such a thing as bad publicity?”

He chuckles for a moment then falls silent. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asks.

“Not really.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You mind if I ask why?”

“No, I don’t mind. Me and you go back a little ways, Tom, and I’ll admit I think you’re a good guy. At least you were when I knew you. But in the current climate, I hope you won’t take offense if I tell you that I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”

“No offense taken,” he says. “In fact, that’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for. I’d be worried if you trusted me, given what I know.”

I shift in my seat. “You have my attention…” I say.

“Josh, are you still on the line?” asks Wallis.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“Okay. So, Adrian’s currently sitting atop the CIA’s most wanted list, and GlobaTech are the only focus of the NSA right now… anybody wanna tell me why?”

“I would if I knew,” I say. “A lot of things don’t make much sense at the moment, if I’m honest.”

“I’m gonna level with you,” says Wallis. “I’ve got a pretty good idea what you and GlobaTech have been doing. While it’s not a matter a private military contractor has any jurisdiction over, or any right whatsoever to be involved in, that’s not to say we’re not glad of the help. In fact, on behalf of a government agency who is essentially trying to do the same thing, I want to thank you for your efforts so far.”

“You’re welcome,” says Josh. “Just a shame no one else seems to be so grateful.”

“And why is that, do you think?”

“No idea,” I say. “But it’s getting real old, real fast. I’m involved in this whether I like it or not. It just so happens that GlobaTech has had an eye on things for a while, so I decided to help them out where I can.”

“I wanted to get in touch with you to propose the same thing.”

“What, you want my help?”

“I’d like to compare notes, yeah.”

“Remember when I said I didn’t trust you?”

“Yeah…”

“I still don’t. Everyone else is trying to kill me, what makes you think I’ll believe you aren’t as well?”

“They’re not trying to kill you, Adrian. They’re just trying to stop you from interfering in an inter-agency investigation.”

I glance at Collins, who is driving quietly and now looking a little confused.

“Is that what they told you? I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure they’re trying to kill me, Tom. In fact, scratch that—I
am
an expert, remember? My first clue was the special ops team that the CIA sent to hijack and blow up my plane…”

Wallis says nothing.

“Then there was the twenty-man NSA squad, all armed to the teeth, who stormed a GlobaTech safe house and opened fire on me without any provocation,” I continue.

Still nothing.

“Tom, if they want me to stop, they just need to ask. I’ll gladly step away from all this if they’re willing to take over. But I don’t think they are. I think, for whatever reason, myself and GlobaTech are being set up. Whether the acronyms are being fed bullshit information, or whether they’re running the show themselves—I dunno. But what I
do
know is that it’s me against them, whether I like it or not. And I’m sure you can’t blame me for assuming your acronym isn’t any different.”

I hear Wallis sigh heavily on the line. “Just out of interest,” he asks after a moment. “What happened to all these men that were sent to kill you?”

I massage my forehead as I stare out of the window at the desolate landscape passing by, remembering everything I’ve been through recently.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to, Tom.”

He sighs again. “Shit. Okay… I’ve made contact and asked for your help, so my job’s done. After everything me and you went through back in ’Frisco, I hope you can see past whatever’s going on here and trust me long enough to accept my help. I’m not asking you to trust the FBI. I’m asking you to trust
me
. Josh has my number if you change your mind.”

He hangs up, leaving Josh and myself on the line.

“What do you think?” he asks me.

“I think I’m about twenty minutes from Pripyat and need to focus on getting Tori back. You?”

“I think we should trust him. He stuck by you back in the day, despite everything they knew about you. Forget who he works for, for a moment. I don’t think he’d have made contact with you to set you up.”

I shrug. “Fair point. Okay, you have my blessing to call him back and give him as much or as little information as you see fit. If it helps us, or them, then that’s a good thing.”

“Agreed. Listen, keep your earpiece in and the line open. I’m watching you via satellite, and I’m here if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

“Watch your back, don’t do anything un-necessarily stupid, and get your girl back, okay?”

“Fuckin’ A.”

He hangs up, and I look at Collins. “What do you think?” I ask him. “Should we trust the FBI?”

He glances at me briefly, maintaining focus on the road ahead. “Man, I don’t trust anybody.”

“Good answer. How far out are we?”

“As you say, it’s a little over quarter of an hour before we reach the city limits. I’ve got a face mask you can use in the trunk. It covers your nose and mouth. It’ll give you that extra bit of protection against the low-level radiation, just while you’re finding your way around.”

“Thanks, Collins. You’re a good man.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I’m many things, Adrian, but I’m not a good man.”

“Well, you’re helpful at the very least. Sure you won’t join me? There’ll be lots of terrorist types to kill… it’ll be fun.”

“Ya really are fuckin’ crazy, aren’t ya?”

“Insanity is very much a matter of opinion,” I say casually. “I’d say I was… driven.”

He laughs. “Wait ’til I tell the boys about this one… No, as soon as your ass is outta my car, I’m heading back over the border. I’ve got a job to do.”

“Understood.”

We cover the rest of the journey in silence. I try to steel my mind, focus on the task at hand, and forget about the million things that could go wrong. I’ve got my Berettas, which are all I need. I’m trying hard not to keep thinking about Clara Fox, too. I’d buried Adrian Hell, along with his demons, and his shit list, when I left Pittsburgh. Thanks to her, they’ve all been dug up, and I’ve made a conscious effort not to let them take control of me again. But as I look out the window and see the haunting skyline of the abandoned city of Pripyat, I can’t help but think I could probably do with a little controlling right now…

We enter the city limits and blast through the empty streets. It’s a very strange feeling, driving through a completely deserted city that used to be home to nearly fifty thousand people. When Chernobyl happened, back in ‘86, the entire city was evacuated within a couple of days. Radiation levels have dropped way below fatal in the thirty-one years since then, but it’s still uninhabitable long-term.

“Slow down a bit,” I say to Collins. “Stick to a speed limit or something. We don’t want to attract any attention.”

“Okay,” he replies, slowing to a steady cruise at forty.

I look around, seeing the decaying buildings, the occasional abandoned car, and broken windows in storefronts along each side of the street.

“Welcome to Terroristville…” I mutter quietly.

“Ya think they’ve got eyes all over the city?” asks Collins.

“It wouldn’t surprise me, but I doubt it. Not practical or necessary. They’ll have set up a perimeter around their underground lab, but that’ll be it. The place is a ghost town—they’ll see or hear people coming from miles away.”

Almost subconsciously, he slows to thirty as we take a left, passing by a school on the right hand side. I reach in my bag and retrieve my earpiece. I sync it with my phone and put it on, dialing Josh.

“We’re here,” I say as he answers.

“I’ve got you,” replies Josh. “Tell Collins to take the next right and pull up.”

I do, and he does.

“The underground facility is a couple of klicks east of your location,” he says. “You’re better off on foot from here.”

“Copy that,” I say, grabbing my bag and getting out of the car. Collins follows suit.

“End of the road,” I say to him as we stand side by side at the trunk. I extend my hand. “Thanks for the ride.”

He shakes it. “It was an honor,” he says. He pops the trunk and gestures inside. “A parting gift.”

He leans in and lifts up the floor, revealing another hidden compartment underneath. He takes out the mask he told me about and hands it to me. It’s a wraparound that covers the bottom half of the head. It’s black and elasticized, with hard plastic at the front to cover the nose and mouth. On the front of it is the bottom half of a skull, crudely painted on. I look at it for a moment and smile, feeling my Inner Satan stretching and cracking his knuckles, like a beast awakening from his hibernation.

“
This
is cool as fuck,” I say to him. “Thanks.”

He smiles. “Thought ya might like it. There’s this, too.”

He hands me a body harness, designed for tactical operatives to carry their weapons and tech in the lightest, most maneuverable way possible. I rest my bag at my feet, and then put my arms through it, fastening the clasps down my side. The front and back has holsters and pockets for a variety of different things. The straps are a thin, flexible carbon fiber, running vertical over each shoulder and down to another strap that fits around the waist. There are two more diagonally across the front and one horizontally across the back. After some minor readjusting for comfort, I stretch and quickly get accustomed to it.

“You’ll need this to go at your back,” he continues, handing me a pump-action Ithaca shotgun. I take it in my right hand, feeling the weight. It’s an impressive weapon. Good for crowd control and close quarters combat.

I suspect I’m about to see quite a lot of that…

“Jesus… this is like Christmas,” I say. “Thanks, Collins. If I get out of here alive, I definitely owe you one.”

He smiles. “I’ll hold you to that. Good luck.”

He turns and gets back in the car, reversing down the street, and then turning back the way we came. I watch him go for a moment, then re-focus. I take my holster out of the shoulder bag and strap it to my back. I slide both Berettas in place, storing every spare mag I have in the various compartments of my harness. I slide the Ithaca over my shoulder and down my back, slotting it in place. Finally, I take the remaining proximity mine from my shoulder bag and clip it to my hip. I then throw the empty bag to the side of the street and take a deep breath, before sliding the half mask over my head, adjusting the front so it fits comfortably over my nose and mouth.