True Conviction (9 page)

I walk over to them, picking up the chair I kicked on the way past. I stand it up and sit in front of them. I rest my gun on my lap so they can see it, occasionally tapping my leg with the barrel as I take a moment to slow my breathing down.

“Now,” I say to them both. “Where were we?”

My entire body is screaming in pain, but I fight to keep my face expressionless for the purposes of making a point.

“Let’s get something straight,” I say to Pellaggio. Well, I think I said it to him—I can see three of him, so I’m playing it safe and talking to the middle one. “I don’t give a shit who you are, or how much of this city you own.”

He seems calm, despite the fact I’m sitting in front of him looking like a car wreck with a gun in my hand.

“You arrogant sonofabitch! You’ve cost me millions!” he replies, standing and slamming his palms on the desk in frustration and anger.

“Shut your mouth before you give yourself a heart attack, you old prick. I’m in no mood for any of your
Godfather
shit right now, okay?”

In fact, at this precise moment, medical attention and a shot of single malt are numbers one and two on my list of priorities.

“You’re in way over your head,” I continue. “You didn’t properly research Jackson’s involvement in all this. You have no idea what you’re up against. That was your first mistake. Your second is that now you’re dangerously close to underestimating me as well, which will not end well for you. You want my advice? Cut your losses and move on. Find somewhere else to expand your empire.”

There’s a moment’s silence in the room. I’ve noticed Manhattan hasn’t said anything, or even moved, since I came back in. Pellaggio clenches his jaw muscles repeatedly as he thinks of what to do with me.

“‘Jimmy,” he says, finally. “Fix this.” He points a finger at me as he speaks.

I have to hand it to the guy—he isn’t easily intimidated. I can understand why—guy like him, head of a crime syndicate with half the city on his payroll and more money than half the country put together. He’s probably been building that empire of his since he was a kid. People quake at the very mention of his name. Why would
I
worry him?

Manhattan looks at me, and then at my gun. He remains calm and I can see him planning his next words with care.

“Adrian, I don’t think you fully grasp the situation you’re in,” he says. “Mr. Pellaggio requires the deeds to that land. Life will become very difficult for you if you don’t do what we’ve paid you to do. You say Jackson is dead? That’s fine. But you need to find a way to get your hands on that paperwork.”

“Jimmy, let me save us both some time. You can’t make me do shit. We’re done here. You can keep my fee—I don’t care. That corpse out there was probably the best guy you had, which means we both know there’s no point sending anyone else after me. I see either of you again, I’ll kill you. And it will be slow, painful and horrific, you have my word.”

Manhattan stares at me. I can see in his eyes that he believes me and if it was up to him, I suspect that would be the end of the matter. But I can also see the conflict inside, because it’s
not
up to him and his boss is in the room, red-faced and frowning, looking really pissed off. He told him to handle it and he did anything but.

“There’s nowhere for you to hide in this city where we can’t find you,” he says, tapping into some hidden reserve of confidence. “If you start down this road, it will be the end of you, Adrian. I can promise you that. Mr. Pellaggio doesn’t forgive, or forget. You should know that better than anyone—it’s the very reason you’re here.”

“So, what, you’re gonna hire me to kill myself?” I scoff in disbelief. “You fucking idiot. Take a look around, Jimmy. You hired me because I’m the absolute best at what I do. There’s no one you can bring in who can take me out, and we all know you’ve got no one on your payroll that can do it either. How’s about you quit with the empty threats, accept defeat like a man and call it a day, yeah?”

Manhattan glances at Pellaggio, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I’m guessing because the longer this goes on, the more obvious it becomes that I’ve won, and that makes him even angrier.

“Let me explain something to you, kid,” says Pellaggio, his voice condescending and angry. “You need to fucking appreciate exactly who I am. You talk about my payroll—my payroll includes the police. And the local officials. And a lot of hired help up and down the West Coast.”

“Is that meant to impress me?” I reply casually.

“It’s not just this city you can’t hide in,” he continues. “It’s the state, the time zone, the whole fucking country! You cost me millions and I’ll make you pay, you arrogant sonofabitch!”

I appear to have touched a nerve with the big boss. And like a shark smelling blood in the water, I’m going in for the kill…

“Give me a moment to finish quaking in my boots...” I say, pausing for effect. “Now, let me explain something to
you
. You keep banging on about me having nowhere to hide from you... What makes you think I’d be hiding? I promise you, if there ever comes a time when I want to the settle the score between us, you have my word that I’ll come to your house, knock on your front door and smile as I wipe you off the face of this earth. You can get whoever you want to come after me—I’ll send them back to you in pieces. You must already know my reputation, but if you’re still in any doubt—ask around. I’m pretty sure you’ll find that most people out there know that I’m not one with whom to fuck. Now, from here on out, I’ll stay out of your way, you stay out of mine. Sound good to you?”

They both stare at me; there’s a palpable tension in the room, and Manhattan looks close to being afraid. But Pellaggio is defiant in his anger. Neither one of them reply.

“I’m glad we’re all in agreement,” I say.

Content that’s the end of the discussion, I stand and back out of the room, keeping my gun aimed at them until I reach the door. Manhattan moves around the front of the desk and perches on the end, his hands clasped on his lap. Pellaggio’s staring a hole through me. He hasn’t said anything, but I can almost taste his anger. He obviously isn’t used to not being able to scare people or get his own way.

I leave the office and close the door behind me. I head back through the red curtain and make my way slowly across the empty club. Now everything’s settled, the place looks like a war zone. I re-holster my gun and stare at them one last time through the hole I made in the mirror. Then I turn and walk out of the club and out into the night.

I turn left and head down the street, passing people who were in the club who have congregated out front to stare at the scene. In the distance, I can hear sirens. Time I wasn’t here, I think.

I cross the street and duck into the first alley I see. I break into a slow jog, anxious to put some distance between the club and myself, but preferably without causing myself any more pain by doing something taxing, like breathing.

God, I need a drink.

August 22
nd
, 2013

OH… MY… GOD…

What did I drink last night?

I open one eye and look around. I appear to be lying face down on the floor of my motel room at the side of the bed. My shoes are just in front of me by the desk.

I close my eye again and try to kick-start my brain into telling me what’s happening. My head’s throbbing and it’s hurting to take the slightest of breaths.

I open my eyes again. Images of broken glass and pickaxes come rushing to the forefront of my mind.

Oh… I remember now.

I take a few deep breaths, getting myself familiar with the stabbing pain in my chest so I can learn to ignore it. Slowly, I push myself up, using the bed for support. I stand upright for a brief moment, but decide it’s probably best if I sit down for the time being.

I massage my temples with my right hand and groggily look around the room. I try to stretch, but my back tells me I’m not quite ready for that yet. I let out a heavy sigh and frown.

What’s that noise?

I look around again, more alert this time and realize I can hear the shower running in the bathroom. The door’s closed as well.

Did I leave it on last night when I got back? I really don’t remember anything after leaving The Pit and the mild concussion I have isn’t helping. I suppose it’s my own fault for getting thrown through a window.

I stagger over to the bathroom door, listening for any movement. I reach for the handle just as I hear the shower stop running. Someone’s in there… Shit! I’m in no condition to…

The door opens, nearly dragging me to the floor because I’ve not let go of the handle. I stumble forward, regaining my balance and look up. Clara Fox is standing in front of me, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel. She smiles at me.

I don’t understand...

I blink hard and shake my head. The ability to think of anything intelligent to say eludes me.

“Huh?” I say. It isn’t Shakespeare, I admit.

“Morning sunshine,” she says, pushing past me and walking across the room, drying her hair with a towel and leaving wet footprints on the carpet. “Well, afternoon... Jesus, you look like shit.”

“Uh… thanks?” I say, still confused. “You look like you’re wearing a towel...”

“I am.”

“Oh, okay. Any particular reason?”

“I just got out of the shower,” she shrugs as she sits down at the desk and finishes drying her hair in the mirror.

I massage my temples again in the hope I can stimulate my brain enough to form actual sentences and questions.

“Yeah, what I mean is, why are you showering and walking around in a towel in my motel room?” I ask, still a bit dumbstruck.

She looks at me in the reflection of the mirror. “You got your ass kicked last night, you know that, right?”

“You should see the other guy,” I reply, dismissively.

“I followed you to the club. Figured you might need some back-up.”

“So where were you when Pick Axe threw me through a window?”

“Who?”

“The other guy.”

“Ah, right. Strange name.”

“He carried a pickaxe with him. He liked to throw it at people.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.”

“So, wait—why did you follow me? Why would you care if I needed help?”

“Well, forgetting for a moment that I pulled a gun on you, then you elbowed me in the face and pulled a gun on
me
—more than once, I might add—yesterday in the hotel suite was somewhat of an eye-opener.”

“Now there’s an understatement,” I say, remembering the whole Uranium mine thing and the reason I went to the club last night in the first place.

She turns to face me, crossing her legs and causing the towel to ride up slightly. I feel myself go wide-eyed momentarily, so I stare at her eyes and make a conscious effort not to look anywhere else.

“Why did you offer me that money?” she asks.

I sit back down on the bed and think. I might as well be honest. “The truth? I kinda felt sorry for you.”

She looks offended. “Do I look like I need your pity?” she asks, with a hint of hostility in her voice.

“You look like you need to get dressed.”

She glares at me with her green eyes, which are filled with a suppressed anger. I sigh. I never could talk to women…

“Look,” I begin. “I meant no offence, alright? While I’m sure you’re an extremely capable and highly experienced person, I could tell yesterday that you had no idea how bad this situation with Dark Rain actually is. You looked out of your depth and you looked mad at yourself for letting it all get away from you like this.”

Her expression softens and she looks away.

I continue, hoping I’ve managed to turn this around. “As soon as I realized that you had no idea about the Uranium, I admit I felt kinda bad for beating on you the way I did.”

She looks back at me and pulls a face, but says nothing.

“I don’t need the money and I didn’t want you getting caught up in this any further. Easiest way to leave a situation like this is quickly and with a shitload of cash. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

She lets slip a small smile that I think she intended hiding. “My hero,” she says.

“Think of me more like your big brother.”

She smiles again, this time without trying to hide it. “Thank you.”

“I think I should be thanking
you
,” I reply. “I’m guessing I got back here with your help last night?”

“I was keeping watch on the club. I saw you enter and when I saw everyone come running out screaming, I guessed the mob hadn’t taken your news too well.”

“I didn’t tell them about the deeds. I just said I killed Jackson and he didn’t have them on him.”

“And they bought it?”

“They seemed to. They were certainly mad enough to suggest they did.”

“That was simpler than I thought.”

“Yeah, sometimes the best lies are the most straightforward ones.”

“So, what now?”

“Not sure. I definitely need to shower and change. Are you sticking around then?”

She stands up and looks at me. Her dark green eyes dazzle like emeralds on her face, highlighted by the still damp blonde hair slicked to her head and resting on her shoulders. Also, her towel isn’t anywhere near long enough. I’m annoyed that I keep having the urge to stare at her legs and it’s making me uncomfortable. I keep eye contact with her. I can tell by the look on her face that she’s picking up on my distress and finding it very amusing. But to her credit she doesn’t mention it.

“I can’t just walk away from Dark Rain, they’ll find me,” she says. “I don’t care how much money I have. I’ve seen too much of their operation for them to allow me to leave.”

“Well, I could use your help finding them,” I reply.

“Are you as good as the stories say you are?”

“Stories?” I ask, innocently.

“Come on, you must know what I’m talking about? You’re
Adrian Hell
!”

I swear to God, she just air-quoted when she said my name!

I say nothing. I know what she meant. I know why there are stories about me. I’ve done a good job of keeping my emotions in check so far since arriving in Heaven’s Valley. But Clara’s referring to the times when I’ve not been able to do that—the results of which have never been pleasant for anyone involved.

I look at her, taking a deep breath and fixing her with a reassuring and earnest stare.

“You have my word,” I say. “I’ll burn the bastards to the ground. Every last one of them.”

She stands quietly for a moment, looking into my eyes and deciding whether or not she believes me. Then she smiles, lighting up her entire face and making her eyes sparkle. “Good,” she says. “Now go have a shower. I know exactly how we can start.”

I showered and changed my clothes and took some painkillers. I’m standing by the door, waiting for Clara to put her boots on. I feel slightly more human than before. A moment later, she stands.

“You good?” I ask.

She nods, and I open the door, holding it for her. I step out into the hall after her and close it again and we walk side by side down the corridor and out the main entrance to the parking lot.

The sun is bright and it’s hot as hell outside. I squint until my eyes adjust and the painkillers kick in. I follow Clara over to her car, which is a bright red Dodge Viper GTS with a vertical, white double stripe down the middle.

“I’m impressed,” I say, genuinely surprised. “That’s a nice set of wheels.”

“Sure is,” she replies. “It’s a classic—a V10 engine pumping out four hundred and fifty brake horse power. Zero to sixty in four seconds.”

I look her up and down, admiringly. Not in a physical way as such, I’m just impressed that someone who looks as good as she does, and is as physically capable as she is, also happens to own a muscle car. To many men, she’s the perfect woman.

She sees the look on my face.

“What can I say?” she says. “We all have our toys. You have your guns, I have Princess here.”

I raised my eyebrow, questioningly. “Princess?”

“What?” she shrugs, smiling.

I shake my head and duck into the passenger seat. She climbs in gracefully next to me and fires up the engine, revving it and savoring the noise of a tamed beast.

“So, where are we going?” I ask.

She pulls out of the parking lot and turns right, stopping at the set of lights.

“I clearly don’t know as much as I thought about Dark Rain,” she says. “We need to prepare if we intend going up against them by ourselves. I figure we can do some recon, ask around and see what we can find out about their intentions. I know a good place to start.”

I admit I like the way she’s talking as if we’re a team. I’ve never really had a partner. Well, not out in the field anyway. Josh is my go-to guy—always has been, always will be. But Clara’s operating on the same wavelength as me down here on the front line and it feels pretty good not going it alone for once.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say.

We drive mostly in silence and I take in some of the surroundings that whizz by outside. I’ve only seen a small part of Heaven’s Valley so far, and wherever we’re heading seems to be taking us all round the center of the city. We briefly pass through the business district, where I first saw Clara with Ted Jackson a couple of days ago. I see the large fountain where I sat waiting. We take a left turn and shortly afterward hit the freeway, settling into nice, steady eighty miles per hour cruise.

“There’s a courier service with a depot on the other side of town,” she says. “Dark Rain has a guy on the inside who helps them transport weapons and money around when they need it.”

“They seem pretty well organized,” I observe.

“They really are. GlobaTech have given them a lot of money and they’ve invested it well. The Colonel is a smart man and they’re well rooted in the city. They’ve got contacts and safe houses all over the place. It’s strange to think that the people who live here have no idea that their entire city is being used to organize an operation like this.”

“Yeah, it’s not a pleasant thought. When I spoke to Manhattan yesterday, I told him then that he was in way over his head and had no idea who he was dealing with. I’m starting to think I don’t, either.”

“We just need to know exactly what their plan is, and how they’re carrying it out. Then we can figure out how to stop them. Simple.”

I have to smile. “Your optimism is encouraging, I’ll give you that.”

“I feel better now that I’m doing something positive. I felt so bad the other day when I realized what I’d gotten mixed up in. I’ve done some questionable things in the past, don’t get me wrong, but for the most part I have no regrets. But this is off the scale. I mean, Uranium? We could be talking about black market nuclear weapons. It’s insane.”

“I completely agree. What’s worse is we don’t know their endgame. That’s why I’ve been running interference with the mob. Pellaggio’s outfit pretty much owns this city. To be honest, I’m surprised Dark Rain’s been able to do what they have without Pellaggio finding out. But the mob isn’t military, and if they got their hands on either ready-made nuclear weapons or the raw materials needed to manufacture them, that just wouldn’t end well.”

Clara navigates the traffic with ease, taking the left exit just coming up on our left.

“My idea is to scope out the courier’s place, hope to get lucky and see our guy making a delivery. We can then tail him and see what we find,” she says.

“Or we could just go and talk to him?” I suggest.

“Seriously?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t do subtle, do you?”

“She says in a bright red Dodge Viper…”

“Touché,” she concedes, laughing. “But he won’t say anything. Ketranovich has everyone wound up tight. They’d die for his cause, so there’s no way you’d get anything out of him.”