Deadly Intent: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 4) (6 page)

8.

08:46 CDT

I’m sitting in my pick-up truck, staring at my phone. There’s a number typed in on the screen, but I’ve not pressed the call button yet. And I probably won’t either. But I’m thinking about it.

I had to leave before all the sirens arrived, as I wasn’t in the mood for answering questions. Tori had said she would make a start tidying up the bar. I said I needed a bit of time, so I got in my truck and drove for a good half hour. I’ve pulled up on the side of the road, heading toward San Antonio. I probably won’t actually go there, but I like the drive and need to clear my head.

I have absolutely no idea how my entire life got turned upside down so quickly. It started with three men walking into my bar and culminated in my dog being shot and killed. It sounds like a sick joke.

What the hell am I going to do? I’ve no idea who these people are, or why they first wanted me to work for them, before deciding they wanted me dead. So far, they’ve sent a total of eighteen men after me. I’ve killed fifteen, with Raynor’s help, and someone else took out the other three. The FBI told me they think the first three men had ties to some guy called Yalafi Hussein, so a good bet would be that the other fifteen did as well. I could do with finding out who this guy is, and why he would want me to work for him…

But I was never too great at the fact-finding side of things. That’s why I’m sitting, looking at Josh’s number on the screen of my phone.

We lead different lives now, Josh and I. There are no ill feelings between us or anything. I still regard him as family. I just don’t want to call him up unexpected and interrupt his new life, purely to drag him back into mine.

No, I’ll leave it. I’m sure I can figure this out on my own.

My phone rings, breaking my concentration.

“Hello?” I say as I answer, not recognizing the number.

“Adrian?” asks the voice, which sounds very familiar…

“Who’s askin’?”

“Son, it’s Ryan Schultz.”

His name hangs in the silence for a moment while I compose myself. I’ve not heard from him since… Jesus—since San Francisco! I remember reading in the news that the new president had appointed his own secretary of defense when he got sworn into office, but there was nothing about what Schultz intended doing instead.

“Something else from my past coming back to haunt me…” I say, absently. “How’ve you been, Ryan?”

“Better than you, I believe.”

“News travels fast.”

“Not as fast as we’d like, sometimes.”

I frown. “What can I do for you, Ryan? I’m a little busy.”

“Can we talk?”

“We are doing…”

“In person?”

I sigh. “Where are you?”

“I’m standing in what’s left of your bar, son.”

I take another minute to process. Something definitely isn’t right.

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” I say.

I hang up, spin the truck around, and head back to Devil’s Spring.

09:21 CDT

I pull up across the street and walk over to my bar, where a whole host of people are busying themselves out front. I see Tori standing off to the side, a blanket draped over her shoulders, with an EMT fussing over her.

“How you holdin’ up, babe?” I ask her as I approach.

She looks up and smiles weakly, and then bursts into tears without a word.

I feel awful for having exposed her to all this. I walk behind and put my arms around her, kissing the top of her head as she buries herself in my shoulder.

“It’s okay, Tori. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

I look around as someone behind me clears their throat to get my attention. It’s Sheriff Raynor.

“Adrian, you got a minute?” he asks, apologetically.

“Sure,” I say as I hold Tori away from me and look at her. “I’ll be right back, okay? Head around back and get yourself upstairs to bed while all this is going on down here. Get some rest.”

She nods and walks off vacantly, aided by the EMT. Shock was definitely setting in, but she’s a tough woman—she’ll be fine. I turn to the sheriff.

“How’s it going, John?” I ask.

He strokes his mustache and takes a long, deep breath. “Bit of a circus, but necessary I’m afraid,” he replies. “Got my deputies workin’ crowd control—stop the locals from seein’ too much… Look, I know this ain’t the best time an’ all, but there’s a guy here askin’ after you. After what you told me earlier, I didn’t know if he knew you from, y’know… way back or whatever…”

I smile, appreciating his tactfulness. “I know, it’s okay. He called me to say he was here, that’s why I’m back so soon. Where is he?”

“He’s inside,” he says. “Follow me.”

Raynor leads me inside, signaling to a deputy that it’s okay for me to be there. There’s an FBI crime scene investigation team over where Styx is still lying. I try not to look over as I gaze around the room. The place looks like a goddamn warzone. I feel genuine sadness that my bar—the thing that’s symbolized my new life since I moved here—is in tatters.

Raynor points over to where what remains of the jukebox is standing. I follow his finger and look across the room, seeing Ryan Schultz standing around, looking like he’s in charge.

“Thanks, John,” I say and walk off.

Schultz looks well. He’s dressed casually, wearing a business shirt tucked into dark blue jeans and some brown shoes. He’s got slightly less gray hair than I remember him having, and he’s definitely put on a few pounds since he left the White House, but it suits him. Being a Texan himself, he probably feels right at home here.

“Adrian,” he says as I walk over. “Been a long time.”

I nod. “Indeed. Been keeping yourself busy since getting sacked by our commander-in-chief?”

Okay, so I still think the guy’s a dick, despite him reluctantly being on my side the last couple of times I’ve had dealings with him. I don’t like him or trust him.

He smiles humorlessly. “Like you wouldn’t believe…” he says.

“So what brings you to my recently demolished part of the world?”

“There someplace we can talk?” he asks, looking around at all the FBI agents walking around.

“What’s wrong with right here?”

“Too many people. What we need to talk about is of a… delicate nature.”

I sigh, tiring of things happening that I don’t understand and have no control over.

“Come on,” I say to him.

I walk outside and get in my truck. He follows and climbs in the passenger side. I drive off without saying a word, turning left at the end of the street and driving up the hill I’d jogged up with Styx earlier this morning.

Styx…

I’m sad that he's gone, despite doing my best not to think about it, so I can focus on figuring out what the hell’s going on around here. He was a big part of my new life, and things won’t ever be the same without him.

I turn into the police station parking lot and pull up, turning slightly in my seat to face Schultz.

“Talk.”

He’s silent for a moment, I’m guessing to try to figure out where to start. “Are you still—?” he begins.

“No, I’m retired,” I say, interrupting him before he can finish his sentence. “Talk.”

“Okay… okay, son. So, you had a few visitors in the last couple of days?”

“I’ve had one or two, yeah. No idea why though.”

“The first three guys that came here were the recruitment team,” he starts to explain. “They send them in to coerce you into joining their cause.”

“Who’s
cause
? Who sends them? Yalafi Hussein?”

“Nah, Hussein’s just a middle man, though as best we can tell he’s very connected to the people we’re interested in.”

I regard him silently, listening with a professional ear to what he’s telling me.

“Next would’ve been the retrieval team, sent in to take you by force. Not surprising they failed, truth be told. Hell, even
they
must’ve doubted their success, because they sent in the death squads to take you out at pretty much the same time! That’s when we knew we had to step in.”

“Could’ve stepped in a bit earlier, asshole, I might still have a bar and my dog.”

“You had a
dog
?” he asks with a smirk, somewhat sarcastically.

“Yeah, I did, and I loved that little guy, and he got shot. I can’t say I care for your tone, Ryan, and I’d advise you going forward to remember that while I’m retired, I’m no less capable of ripping your throat out. We clear?”

He smiles nervously. “Hell, I meant no offense, son. I’m here to help—our past be damned.”

I take a few deep breaths to pacify my anger. “And who’s
we
?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You keep saying ‘as best
we
can tell’, and ‘
we
knew we had to step in’… Who’s
we
?
”

He clears his throat but remains sheepishly quiet.

“Ryan, how did you know what was happening here? Who do you work for?”

He hesitates, clearly thrown off whatever game plan he had when he came to meet me. “Adrian, what’s important is what’s happening, not who I represent. Let me just—”

He stops talking as we see another car appear behind us in the rearview. It’s a nice sedan, black with tinted windows. It pulls up behind us in the parking lot and sits there, its engine still idling.

“Friend of yours?” I ask him.

He sighs. “Yeah...”

“Let’s go and say ‘hi’ then. Maybe they’ll give me some straight fucking answers!”

I climb out of the truck and walk toward the car; Schultz is just behind me. As I near the vehicle, the driver’s door opens and a man gets out. He’s dressed like Schultz—nice jeans, boots, a fitted shirt tucked in with the sleeves rolled up, mirrored sunglasses and short blond hair, styled and spiked. He shuts the door and stands in front of me, smiling.

“Hey, Boss,” he says, in a ridiculously happy British accent.

I feel my eyes go wide. I’m genuinely shocked…

“Holy shit… Josh?”

9.

09:57 CDT

“How you doin’, Adrian?” he asks, smiling. I’m guessing he loves the look of confusion and surprise on my face right now.

I can’t think of anything meaningful to say. After everything that’s happened, seeing Josh in front of me is just too much of a curveball to deal with at the moment.

“Where’s your hair?” I ask him, finally.

He laughs. “Figured it was time for a change. Needed to smarten up a bit, y’know… you like?”

“You look less like someone who listens to rock music and still lives with his parents, if that’s what you mean?”

We look at each other for a moment in silence, and then both burst out laughing before embracing like long-lost brothers. We pat each other’s backs.

“Man, it’s good to see you, Josh. What you up to nowadays?” I ask.

“What else?” he replies. “Watching your back!”

I frown. “Something really weird’s going on here, and I’m guessing you know what…”

He smiles that knowing smile of his, the way he always did when he knew things and didn’t want to tell you
how
he found them out.

“Josh…?”

“Okay,” he begins. “You’re about to get a lot of information, and you’re gonna have questions… can you please just wait ’til I’ve finished? I know you want to know everything all the time, but this thing is big and it’ll take time to explain.”

I shrug and nod. “Whatever,” I say, gesturing with my hand for him to start.

“Okay… when we went our separate ways, I went and got myself a job at GlobaTech, working with our old friend, Robert Clark. What I did was really complicated, and I won’t bore you with the details, but it was to do with their research and development business. Anyway, when Ryan here got the boot from the new president, Robert offered him a job as a consulting director…” He leans forward slightly. “You ask me, it’s one of those jobs they give a fancy title to that requires you to do absolutely nothing. Y’know, the kind of job that they award old people with too much time on their hands…”

He smiles, winks and stands up straight again, casting a quick glance to an unimpressed Schultz, who’s leaning against the hood of Josh’s car. I smile. The more things change, the more they stay the same…

“But seriously, Schultzy has done good for us since he came on board, so respect where it’s due. Anyway, we as a company were approached soon after by a couple of people with… questionable intentions, shall we say. Think Dark Rain, but more evil.”

“Lovely,” I say, remembering very clearly how
that
ended.

“Obviously, since the era of Bob Clark began, we don’t get into bed with such unsavory characters. But alarm bells were ringing nonetheless.”

He moves over to his car and leans against the door as he talks. I’m standing with my arms folded across my chest, waiting patiently for the part that explains why the last few days have gone to shit.

“We kept a close eye on the movements of these people, using the vast array of technology at our disposal. This was about a year ago, and there’s been very little to go on until the last couple of days when, you guessed it,
you
got involved!”

He laughs as I shrug innocently. “Hey, I didn’t ask for this,” I say.

“I know, I know… this shit just kinda finds you,” he replies with another knowing smile. “So anyway, we track these people all over the world—they’re on some mad recruitment drive, hiring the best and the baddest killers, mercenaries, scientists… you name it.”

“What for?”

He holds his hand up. “Ah-ah-ah, save the questions for later… I figured it was only a matter of time before they tried to recruit you. I mean, you’re the best assassin there is.”

“Was…”

“Whatever. Point is, retirement or not, these people knew where to find you and, in keeping with tradition, asked you to join them and tried to kill you when you said no.”

“Okay, Josh, the FBI has already told me something along these lines. A terrorist network nobody seems to know anything about has been going around recruiting people to work for them, for reasons unknown. The first three guys who came to me were apparently linked to someone called Yalafi Hussein. They were found dead in their rental car parked at the side of the interstate. Nothing to do with me, by the way. But they then sent two hit squads to kill me, and
those
guys I killed without prejudice. A real mixed bag of assholes, too, from all over the place. What’s going on, Josh?”

He sighs and looks at Schultz, who shrugs. “Just tell him,” he says.

Josh nods and looks back at me. “We do know
who
they are… they call themselves the Armageddon Initiative. They’ve got active cells all across the globe and seem to run what we think is their main base of operations from somewhere in Ukraine. Every time we try to track them via satellite, they disappear completely. We’ve got it narrowed to a thirty mile radius, but…”

“That doesn’t sound all that narrow,” I observe. “Are they underground?”

“That’s what I think, yeah.”

“So what do these guys want? What’s their plan?”

“We don’t know. That’s why I’m here. To ask you a favor.”

I take a deep breath. I can see what’s coming. “You want me to sign up with these assholes, don’t you? Be the man inside?”

Josh smiles. “That was my original plan, yeah. But that went to shit when you started killing them.”

“So what can I do? I just wanna be left alone, Josh.”

“I know, and I hate asking you… but we have a bead on Hussein. We have reason to believe he’s going to be in New York in the next twenty-four hours. We know he’s not in charge, but we think he has access to the people who are.”

“You seem to have the same information as the FBI—I wonder if they know where he’ll be tomorrow? Why don’t you just work with them?”

“Because GlobaTech has its own army, its own weapons, and its own planes. We don’t answer to the government because we’re in the private sector and, consequently, not funded by them. As long as we work under the radar, we’re very good at doing whatever we want. The government tends to make things like this public so they look good killing terrorists. But we both know that killing them doesn’t always stop them. We’ve got no one to impress, so we’ve taken it upon ourselves to lend a hand.”

“So you want me to go to New York and capture this Yalafi Hussein?”

He nods. “And bring him back in one piece to one of our sites for questioning.”

I sigh heavily. I’m retired—I don’t want any part of this. But I appreciate that a large, well-funded terrorist organization that hasn’t yet made it known what their plans are isn’t the best thing to leave unchecked. And I know Josh wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.

I think about my bar. I’ve got no business to run for a while, so I’ll only be sitting around with my thumb up my ass anyway…

What about Tori? She needs me, and I don’t want to leave her.

I wonder if Josh knows about her?

“I own a bar here, called The Ferryman,” I say to Josh, changing the subject. “It’s very recently been closed, pending some much-needed renovation. A bunch of terrorists shot the place to bits trying to kill me. You can still see it, though. Plus, there’s someone I want you to meet. Come on.”

I walk back to my truck, get in, and drive out of the police parking lot, with Josh and Ryan Schultz following behind me.

10:22 CDT

I arrive back at my bar as the chaos is winding down. The FBI crime scene team is still on site, but Sheriff Raynor and his deputies have gone, save for one who’s standing outside deterring anyone who tries to find out what’s happened by giving them the official, ‘There’s nothing to see here…’ line.

I walk around back, with Josh and Schultz in tow, and head up the stairs that lead to the main entrance to my apartment above. We walk inside and see Tori sitting on the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest. She turns as I enter and smiles. Her usually sparkling eyes are red, and tired from crying.

“Hey,” I say. “How you holdin’ up?”

“I’m fine,” she lies. “You alright?”

“I’m okay.” I smile and walk over to her, lean down, and kiss the top of her head. “I wanna introduce you to someone.” I take her hand, stand her up, and move her round to face the others. “Tori Watson, this... is Josh Winters.”

She smiles and extends her hand. “So
you’re
the famous Josh, are you?” she says, showing signs of her old self again. “Adrian’s told me a lot about you.”

He smiles and takes her hand. “Whatever he told you is either a lie, or I was drunk at the time...” He looks at me, smiling. Like a proud father would look at a son. “I’m happy for you, man. You have a good life here. All you need is a dog and a white picket fence, eh?”

Tori starts to cry and walks off, slightly embarrassed. I sigh and smile apologetically.

“Shit… something I said?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I actually
had
a dog,” I explain. “A stray wolf dog I called Styx. He’s under a blanket downstairs. He was with me nearly two years, and he caught a bullet in the attack earlier and died in my arms. I loved that dog, Josh.”

“Jeez... I’m sorry, Adrian.”

I glance over at Tori, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed across the room, staring at the floor. I turn back to Josh. “It’s alright, you didn’t know. Listen, I don’t know if I can help you with this,” I say. And it hurts me to say it. “I’ve got a life away from all that now. I can’t leave her, Josh. I love her.”

He nods, understanding and respecting my decision. “We’ll do what we can to keep you out of it from now on,” he says. “You have my word.”

“Thanks.”

Schultz steps forward holding his phone to Josh. “This is bullshit,” he says, interrupting. “He should just do as he’s goddamn told! Show him the photo already.”

We both look at him.

“Ryan, shut the fuck up, will you?” says Josh.

I love it when he loses his temper and curses—his accent is perfect for it!

“Ignore him,” he says to me.

“What photo?” I ask.

“Adrian, forget it.”

“What photo, Josh?”

Schultz sighs and thrusts his phone in my face. There’s a picture displayed on the screen. I move back slightly and grab hold of it, examining the image.

Josh mutters under his breath. “It’s nothing, Adrian, honestly. You’ve got your life here now, and I don’t want you involved. It’s not fair.”

I don’t acknowledge him. I’m too busy looking at the image. It’s a file photo, black and white, showing a man and woman talking. Judging by the background, it looks like somewhere in the Middle East. I don’t recognize the man. But the woman is very familiar.

“Josh…” I say, looking up from the phone and staring him straight in the eye. “Is this…?”

He lets out a heavy sigh and nods. “Yup…
that
is Clara Fox.”