Deadly Intent: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 4) (29 page)

I wait for the door to close.

“Everyone alright?” I ask.

They all nod.

I look at Tori. “Are you okay, babe? Did they hurt you?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine,” she says. “They didn’t touch me.”

“Any idea what’s happening now?” asks Josh.

I nod. “I had a chat with General Matthews. He told me where they intend taking us, but it doesn’t matter. We’re getting out of here and stopping El-Zurak from taking over Cerberus. End of story.”

Clark looks around the interior of the truck and pulls on his chain.

“Doesn’t look good, Adrian,” he says. “So where are they going to take us?”

I sigh. “Guantanamo Bay.”

“Oh, shit…” says Josh.

“This is bad, isn’t it?” asks Tori.

“It was meant to have been closed years ago, but apparently it’s been re-opened. And yes, it’s pretty bad.”

“It’s where terrorists are taken to disappear,” adds Josh.

“But we’re not terrorists!” shouts Tori, panicking.

The truck starts up, and we move off.

“That doesn’t seem to matter anymore,” I say.

I lean back against the side of the truck and close my eyes.

Now what do I do?

35.

??:??

Why is the CIA so bothered about me? And GlobaTech, for that matter... There’s no way they can seriously think we’re terrorists. It’s obvious we’ve been trying to help all along. And they
must
know about the genuine threat, so why ignore it?

I’m sitting in the back of a truck with everyone in this world that I trust, secured to the floor by my wrists, as we’re driven to a place where the U.S. government absolutely does
not
torture terrorists for the rest of their lives.

I’ve been in worse situations.

Can’t think of any right now, granted, but I’m sure I have been at some point.

I look over at Josh, who’s leaning back and staring at the roof. He’s thinking of a way out of here—I recognize the look on his face.

Next to him, Bob Clark is staring at the floor. He’s a corporate guy. Smart, loyal… a little stupid sometimes, but he’s been there to help me when I’ve needed it for the last few years and I can’t forget that. But he’s not cut out for this. In a board meeting, he’d be deadly. But in the line of fire, he’s useless. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. I just mean that his mind will start to panic and he’ll shut down, rendering him incapable of doing anything useful. So, by definition, he’s useless.

Opposite him is John Raynor. My local sheriff and one of the most honorable men I’ve ever known. He’s a good man, and a good friend. He’s stuck by me simply because I live in his town, and he sees me as his responsibility, which is nice. But I feel bad for dragging him into this. He should’ve cut and run after Arkansas when we ditched the NSA.

I say ditched… I mean when I killed them all.

In between him and me is Tori Watson, my girlfriend. The only woman on this planet I’ve ever loved besides my wife. She never knew the old me. She never knew Adrian Hell. She fell in love with the person I became when that part of me died. Clara Fox kidnapped her so I’d go looking for her—part of a plan for her to satisfy her twisted quest for revenge against me that she’d harbored for years. When it boiled down to it, I realized she’d become irrelevant to me. But Tori went through a lot, and now she’s here, backing me up unquestioningly.

These people are risking their lives to help me. The least I can do is make sure they don’t have to sacrifice them as well. I need to find a way…

What’s that noise?

I sit up, straining over the mechanical rumbling of the noisy engine.

That sounds like…

“What is it?” asks Josh, seeing me concentrating.

I shush him and hold my hand up so everyone knows to stay quiet.

Is that…?

The noise gets louder and the others hear it too.

Clark looks up. “Is that…?”

“I reckon so,” I say.

“What is it?” asks Tori.

“There’s a helicopter approaching,” I say. “How long have we been on the road? Anyone?”

“I’d say no longer than fifteen minutes,” offers Josh.

“This type of truck is designed for long haul transfers. If we were only going a few miles, we’d have been moved in the same type of van we were brought in.”

“What does this mean?” asks Raynor.

“It means, I doubt very much we’re being switched to a helicopter this far into the journey,” I explain. “It’s getting closer, so it makes sense to be on an intercept course with us, but whoever it is isn’t here to move us anywhere.”

“So what do they want?” asks Clark.

I shrug. “I imagine we’ll find out soon enough,” I say, sitting back and trying to relax.

Sure enough, after another couple of minutes, the truck brakes sharply, and we screech to a halt. I hear both doors of the cab open, and boots drop to the ground, followed by faint sound of raised voices over the loud whirring sound of helicopter blades.

There’s nothing for a few moments, then the whirring gets louder as the chopper takes off and flies away. Silence descends, and everyone exchanges concerned glances.

Then the back door unlocks and opens, and we see Special Agent Tom Wallis standing there, holding a set of keys.

“I swear to God, this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done!” he says as he steps inside and starts unlocking our cuffs.

“What the hell?” asks Josh.

“Long story,” he says. “I asked Freeman to contact the CIA office that you were taken to, to make sure you were okay. He told me they told him you’d been questioned, admitted your guilt, and were en route to a secure facility to be processed.”

“That’s bullshit,” I say.

“I figured. I got an FBI chopper to fly me to the CIA building, and from there, we covered a ten mile radius until we found you.”

“What happened to the driver?” asks Tori.

“Him and his friend are outside on the ground, knocked out.”

He frees the last of us, and we pile out onto the street.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Just outside of Jacksonville, Florida,” says Wallis.

I look around. The sun’s rising, and there’s already a warm breeze blowing.

“How long since we were taken from ComForce’s building?” I ask.

Wallis frowns at the question.

“It’s been a disorienting few hours,” I explain.

“Ah, right.” He checks his watch. “Maybe eighteen hours in total.”

I look at Josh. “We’re… what? Five hours from Atlanta?”

He nods. “Easily.”

“Shit. Okay, first two cars we see, we take—no questions asked. Wallis, I’m really grateful for you sticking your neck out for us like this. I can’t ask you to do it anymore. I don’t expect you to come with us…”

He waves his hand to dismiss my concerns. “I’m already in way over my head,” he says. “If I go back now, I’ll definitely lose my badge and probably my freedom. At least with you guys, I can do something good before I lose everything. I’m in.”

I stare down the road and see a car approaching.

“Well, you’ve not lost that badge yet,” I say, pointing to the car. “Use it.”

Wallis flags the car down and feeds the poor driver the standard line about it being official government business, and the FBI appreciating his co-operation. He then holds the driver’s door open as they climb out and looks at me.

“You take this one,” he says. “I’ll flag another for the rest of us.”

I nod. “Okay. Tori, John, you’re with me—get in.” Raynor slides in behind the wheel and Tori climbs in the back. I turn to the owner of the car. “Sorry, but I need your cell phone.”

The guy hesitates for a second, but takes another look at the FBI badge and sighs, handing it over. I turn to Josh. “I’ll call you on Wallis’ cell if I need you. I doubt you’ll be too far behind us, anyway. You and Clark figure out a way to stop Cerberus being hacked, let Wallis do the driving.”

He holds his hand out, and I shake it.

“This time,” he says.

I nod. “This time.”

I turn and get into the passenger side of our newly acquired four-door saloon car, and Raynor guns the engine and spins us round. We speed off toward Atlanta, and the ComForce building, for the second time in twenty-four hours. The CIA will soon get word we’ve escaped, so they won’t be far behind. The FBI will be on the hunt for Wallis, so they’ll be on our tail as well. We need to be quick and lucky, if we’re to get there in time.

“So what’s the plan, assuming we reach Atlanta without being arrested again?” asks Raynor.

“I’ll tell you when we get to Atlanta,” I say.

APRIL 17
TH
, 2017

07:30 EDT

Truth is I actually
do
have a plan this time. Or, at least, the beginnings of one. Which is a lot more than I normally allow myself to have when I’m preparing for a fight. But I don’t want to share it in case we get caught. Plausible deniability, I think the politicians call it. If anyone asks, they can tell the truth and say they had no idea why we were heading to Atlanta. It’s better for them.

Problem I have now is that I have no weapons. I’ve lost both my Berettas, which I’m pissed about, and Raynor’s lost his gun, too, so we’re unarmed and driving full speed to launch an arguably futile attack on a terrorist network…

Retirement’s more stressful than when I was an assassin.

I place the borrowed cell phone into the hands-free kit and dial Josh’s number. Unfortunately, I’m not the best when it comes to technology—I thought I pressed dial, but for some reason I’ve managed to turn the radio on.

“For God’s sake…” I mutter as I move to turn it off again, but Raynor stops me.

“Hold on,” he says, turning it up.

It’s in the middle of a live news report.

“…have been here for several hours. So far, there are no casualties or demands, but a video has been transmitted to local stations showing hostages on the sixteenth floor. For those of you just joining us, we are now in the sixth hour of a siege at an office building in downtown Atlanta, where an unknown number of suspected terrorists have taken control of the ComForce Securities office. Their motivation is unclear, and so far, they have made no demands. Local police have set up a perimeter around the building, and an FBI negotiator and SWAT team arrived on the scene a couple of hours ago. More on this breaking news story as it happens.”

Raynor flicks the radio off and looks at me.

“We’re too late,” he says. “They’ve taken the building.”

Overcome by an inexplicable rage that I’ve not felt in a long time, I let out a guttural scream, thumping my fist on the dashboard.

“Fuck!”

Behind me, Tori squeals as she jumps in shock. Raynor raises an eyebrow and looks ahead, leaving me to my frustration. It subsides as quickly as it came, and I start thinking rationally again.

“No way is this over,” I say, dialing Josh’s number again. “Not after everything we’ve been through.”

I try calling Josh again, and it works this time—the ringing sounding out over the speaker system in the car.

“Have you heard the news report?” I ask as the call’s answered.

“No, what’s happened?” replies Josh.

“They’ve taken the ComForce building. As of six hours ago.”

“Shit!”

“We’re easily three hours out still. How long would it take them to gain control of the satellite?”

“Jesus, I don’t know, Adrian… they’ve got to get access, then use it to control our nukes, then launch them… assuming that’s what they want to do. If they’re trying to hack someone else’s, it’ll take longer, but—”

“Best guess?”

He sighs. “Best case, twelve hours. Worst case, they already have control of our nuclear arsenal.”

“Fuck… Right, well, we’ll assume they haven’t cracked it yet, as the news reporter said there haven’t been any demands. We just gotta hope we reach them in time to stop them.”

“What’s the plan once we get there?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you when we get there.”

36.

09:36 EDT

The drive seemed to drag, probably because I was clock-watching the whole way. I don’t suffer with nerves, but I’m very anxious. I feel a sense of urgency—a physical need to be somewhere I’m not, and the fact I can’t travel to where I need to be instantaneously is infuriating. I have very little patience at the best of times, but knowing a bunch of insane assholes are trying to start a third World War in the middle of Atlanta has shredded every last ounce of it. Now, I’m just angry.

Raynor turns right on East Mitchell Street, and as I see the Georgia Dome loom into view on the left, a sense of déjà vu hits me.

“Let’s try this again…” I mutter to myself.

Up ahead, I see the ComForce building on the left. There’s a full-blown media circus out front, starting from the middle of the road, and heading away from the building in every direction. On the sidewalk out front are at least four large Hummers, painted a faded dark green. They’re parked at haphazard angles, and all the doors are open.

“Take the next left,” I say to Raynor. “See if we can work our way around back.”

He nods and turns onto Spring Street, just before we hit the outer rim of the police cordon.

“Should we tell Josh to do the same thing?” asks Tori from the back.

I shake my head. “I know Josh, he’ll think exactly like I did.”

The street isn’t busy, although I imagine they’re treating the ComForce building as toxic, so the cordon around it will probably stretch quite far under the circumstances.

“Keep going,” I say to Raynor. “Take the second right, not the first—keep an eye out for any local law enforcement.”

Sure enough, as we pass the first right turn, I see a small patrol—two squad cars, four cops—parked across the width of the road.

“How are we actually gonna get near the damn place?” Raynor asks.

“We’ll wait for the others and approach on foot,” I reply.

We carry on and take the next right on Simpson Street, which as I suspected has no police or media presence visible.

“Pull up on the left,” I say.

We do, and Raynor kills the engine.

“What now?” he asks.

“We wait,” I reply.

Ten minutes pass in tense silence. Tori shifts nervously behind me. Then a car turns onto the street and pulls up behind us. I check it in the rearview.

“They’re here,” I say. “Let’s go.”

We get out and walk to meet the others. They all get out and slam their doors shut. Josh stands opposite me on the sidewalk. Clark and Wallis appear at his side; Tori and Raynor appear at mine. We form a close circle and regard each other for a moment. I look at Josh and nod a curt, urgent greeting.

“So, what’s the plan, Boss?” he asks.

I clench my jaw muscles and take a deep breath, looking at everyone in turn before replying.

“The plan is: there is no plan,” I begin. “Not this time.”

Josh nods, while everyone else exchanges confused glances. I feel Tori’s hand on my arm.

“Adrian, you need to tell us what to do…” she implores, struggling to keep the emotion out of her voice.

I look at her and smile weakly. I haven’t got the mental capacity to be nice at the moment, but I’m trying really hard for her benefit. She didn’t ask for any of this. She’s not here through choice. And she’s so far out of her depth; she probably can’t comprehend the gravity of the situation or what’s at stake.

“We know what to do,” I say, more to everyone than to her specifically. “Look, this is it. Whatever the fuck is happening ends right now—one way or the other. We know who’s in there, and we know what they’re trying to do. We’re all smart, capable people. We have to stop them; it’s that simple. I don’t know the best way of doing that. I just know that we have to do it, and we’re probably gonna need to kill a lot of people before we can. This isn’t gonna be easy, but I need you to stay close, trust me, and do what I say.”

They’re silent, which I take as a sign they’re on board. I look at Josh.

“I need you to stay here with Tori and do what you can to stop, or at least delay, those assholes from taking control of Cerberus.”

He nods. “Sure thing, man. There are media and FBI trucks all over the place. I’ll find one I can use and talk my way inside.”

“Good idea. Sheriff, Clark, Wallis… you guys are with me. You see somebody you don’t know, put a bullet in them. Hesitate for even a second, and you’re dead. We know they’ll be on the sixteenth floor, so that’s where we’re heading. We’ll figure the rest out once we’re up there. Questions?”

“We don’t have any weapons,” says Clark.

I grimace slightly, thinking about how what I’m about to say will be received.

“There are four cops on the next street over,” I say. “They’ll be armed, and I’m sure they won’t mind if we borrow their guns.”

Clark looks at the ground. “Sorry I spoke…” he mutters.

I see a half smile flicker across Josh’s face.

“Everyone ready?” I ask.

They nod. I turn to Tori, placing my hands on her shoulders.

“Stay with Josh,” I say to her. “Listen to him, trust him. I’ll be back before you know it.”

She goes to speak, but I kiss her lips for a moment. When we part, I smile and wink at her, and the tension relaxes and the doubt leaves her eyes.

“Go get ’em,” she says with a brave smile.

Without another word, I turn and move quickly across the street, hearing everyone else follow me. We head past a park on our left, and through the courtyard of a Plaza, approaching the corner of Baker and Peachtree. I drop to a crouch, gesturing with my hand behind me for everyone to do the same. I peek round and spot the four cops halfway down Baker Street. We’ll be coming at them from behind, but we need to be quick and quiet, if we’re to take them out without raising an alarm. I look behind me.

“Once these guys are down, we won’t have very long before someone checks in with them and finds they can’t answer,” I say. “Once that happens, the alarm will be raised and any advantage we had will be gone.”

I look back up the street. There are rows of shops on either side. Some have bigger doorways than others, which will have to make do for cover.

“Split up, keep low, and stick to the doorways,” I say. “Stay out of sight. I’ll get the weapons.”

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to see Wallis with a look of concern on his face.

“Adrian, you’ll need help disarming them,” he says. “There are four guys and—”

I shake my head. “I do it alone. If they see four guys, they’ll report four guys when they come to. If they only see me, no one will know you three are here, which might just help keep our advantage a bit longer.”

He sighs. “But…”

He trails off as Raynor puts his hand on his shoulder.

“I think Adrian will manage just fine,” he says to him, before looking at me and smiling.

I nod and set off round the corner. I move quickly and duck into the first doorway on my right. I press myself against the door, keeping out of sight from the cops ahead of me. I look behind me and see the guys moving one at a time down the street, occupying doorways across from me.

I wait until everyone’s in place and hidden before peering out again. The cops still have their backs to us. I look across the street and see the next vacant doorway that would provide adequate cover. It’s close enough that, from there, my next move will be to take out the cops.

I look at them more closely, now that I’m nearer to them. The four of them all look the same—like they’ve come off a production line at The Stereotypical Police Company. All of them are white males of varying ages. All look a little heavy around the mid-section. Their body language screams complacency and routine boredom.

I almost feel sorry for them…

I wait until I’m sure they’re pre-occupied among themselves, and then make my move across the street. I keep low, and move a little faster than a walk, holding my arms out and my palms facing outward, signaling to everyone to stay where they are. I reach the doorway opposite, slightly further along the street, and press my back against it. I pause to slow my breathing right down and compose myself.

I look round at them again. As I expected, they haven’t seen me. I step out and walk toward them. The two squad cars are at an angle with their hoods close together, like an arrowhead in front of me. The four cops are on the other side of them, facing Spring Street.

Time to act stupid.

I change pace and walk nonchalantly toward them, staring at the sidewalk as if I’m minding my own business and going about my day. I get level with the car on the left before I attract their attention.

“Hey,” shouts one of them. “You shouldn’t be here. This street’s closed.”

I look up, feigning surprise and confusion. “Hmmm? Sorry… me?” I ask absently, pointing to myself.

“Yeah, you. Street’s closed—go back the way you came.”

I frown. “What’s going on?” I ask innocently. “Is this a crime scene?”

Another cop, looking slightly irritated, takes a step toward me.

“We got a situation and it’s not safe to be here,” he says, pointing back down the street toward the Plaza. “Take a walk, alright?”

“But I need to get to my office, which is this way,” I say, pointing ahead of me.

The second cop takes another step toward me, and a third speaks up from the group.

“Hey, asshole—today isn’t the day, alright? Take the long way to work. Now fuck off before you get yourself arrested.”

I’m standing just in front of the cars, level with the four of them. One guy is about ten feet away from me. I need to get the rest of them closer…

“The long way round? That’s not fair! I pay my taxes, alright? You can’t talk to me like that! What’s your badge number? I’m going to report this!”

The other three join the first one and move closer still, putting them in a line about seven feet from me. The first guy that spoke puts his right hand up, moving his left to rest on his belt.

“Sir, you need to go back the way you came. It’s not safe here.”

“You got that right…” I say with a smile.

I step forward and grab his right wrist with my left hand, pulling him toward me. He loses his balance, having not suspected the attack. As he stumbles toward me, I whip my left leg forward, keeping it low and sweeping his right knee out from under him. He goes down, and I take two quick steps into the line of cops, striding over him and putting myself second from the left out of the four.

I crouch slightly and smash a straight left into the stomach of the guy to my right. As he creases forward, I stand and slash my right elbow behind me, catching the guy to my left on the jaw, sending him down and out for the count.

I look forward again, and bring my right knee up to meet the jaw of the guy I hit in the stomach. It connects flush on the side of his chin, and he drops to the ground, unconscious.

I sidestep quickly and lunge for the fourth guy who’s furthest from me. I grab his collar and swing him counterclockwise, lining him up with the first guy, who’s just getting to his feet. I push hard, sending one into the other. They fall like dominoes and I dash over them, crouching down and delivering a short, sharp right punch to both of their noses, causing them to jerk and twitch before going to sleep.

I stand and survey the scene, making sure I incapacitated all four of them.

“Okay guys,” I shout. “We’re good. Hurry it up and pick a weapon.”

I hear them jog toward me as I crouch back down and take the gun from the last guy I hit. It’s a Glock 22, which is a semi-automatic with a black chamber on an olive frame. He has two spare mags with him, each of which holds twenty-two .40 caliber Smith and Wesson rounds. It’s a very good handgun; lightweight and accurate, due to the muzzle break on the later models that reduces recoil.

I stand, tucking the gun in the back of my waistband. “Come on, tick-tock gentleman!” I say, urging them to move faster.

I watch as they gather the weapons, and then set off back the way we came, hearing them behind me. I pause at the corner and look back at them.

“Everyone good?” I ask as they reach me.

They all nod.

I glance around the corner and look down Peachtree Street. At the far end, I see lights, the hustle of the media, and the police. The ComForce building takes up most of the block, with just a few small stores on this side. I quickly glance at my watch. Stores should be open as usual, but I bet they’ve closed up because of everything that’s happening. There may still be people inside though…

“Okay, we go in one of these stores,” I say. “There must be a back way out… it’ll lead us to the back of the ComForce building.”

“Hold up,” says Wallis. “If you’re right, and we
can
gain access to the rear of the building, we’ll be pinning ourselves inside the alleys behind these stores. If they have people covering that side, we’ll be sitting ducks.”

I shrug. “You got any better ideas?”