Good Intentions - Adrian Hell #6 (Adrian Hell Series) (17 page)

I gesture to the side with my head. “Throw your gun away, sweetheart.”

He glares at me angrily, but does as I ask. I kick it over to the other one.

“Now, both of you, on your feet, nice and easy.”

They stand and hold their hands out to the sides. I’m facing them with the elevator on my right. The one on my left smiles. “You have any idea what you’re doing, asshole?”

I shake my head. “Not usually. I figure it’s harder for people like you to anticipate my next move if I don’t know what it is myself.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Okay, whether or not you see tomorrow very much depends on the answer to my next question… How many of you are there on the floor above us?”

The men exchange a glance, then the one on my right looks at me. “The suite upstairs belongs to the prince. There’s maybe fifteen of us.”

And, of course… triple shit!

I nod. “This is good. We’re being honest with one another. Is there a way to the roof from here without having to go up a floor first?”

The first guy shakes his head. “No, you have to be upstairs. There’s a maintenance stairwell against the west wall, and a private elevator that runs up to the helipad. Why?”

I shrug. “I’m meeting some friends of mine up there, and I’m trying to avoid any more violence.”

The second guy smiles. “You’re shit out of luck there, man.”

“Story of my life… Right, here’s what’s gonna happen. You—call the elevator.” He does. I look at the first guy. “You—if you move before I want you to, you’re dead. Understand?”

He nods reluctantly. I look over at the elevator and watch the lights count up as it approaches.

“So, there are fifteen guys above us?”

The first guy nods again, but stays silent.

I raise an eyebrow. “Wonderful.”

Hey. Adrian. It’s me. Listen, I know we’re like, y’know, partners or whatever nowadays, but seriously, this is some dumb shit you’re planning on doing, you know that, right? I mean, you’ll be in a metal box, with nowhere to run, most likely facing a large group of armed guys who want to shoot you. You’re making it too easy for them, man. It’ll be like shooting fish in a fucking barrel! Listen to your Inner Satan, man… Find another way.

Believe it or not, I actually told Kaitlyn about my Inner Satan in one of our early sessions. I didn’t call him that, but I told her I had this voice in my head sometimes. It wasn’t as if I had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other… It was more like my devil had grabbed a hold of my angel, snapped its neck, and was now just whispering sweet nothings in my ear while drinking whiskey.

She had laughed at the analogy, and then launched into a detailed explanation as to why people like me—and by that, she means people suffering with survivor’s guilt or whatever—seek independent reassurance or support for our actions. And if we can’t find it, we create it, to help us get through the ordeal we’re re-living.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was way off, and I am, in fact, listening to one of my more prominent and useful demons.

But I’m—
he’s
right. Simply going up in the elevator is pretty stupid. Which is why I’m gambling on them not expecting me to do it.

The elevator arrives with a ding, and the doors slide smoothly open. I gesture toward it with my gun. “Inside, both of you.”

They step into the carriage and I follow quickly behind them. I maneuver myself behind them and press the button for floor sixty-six. I raise my gun, holding it with both hands, keeping them covered. “Now turn around.”

They both comply as the doors close and we begin the short ascent.

I’m taking slow, deep breaths, keeping myself calm. It’s so easy in situations like this to allow your adrenaline to flow freely and let your instincts take over. I know, because I used to do it. Whenever I was neck-deep in shit like this, I’d just step aside and let my Inner Satan take over. He was the side of my personality that cared very little about my own well-being. He simply got the job done in times when I couldn’t find the strength to do what I needed to.

But nowadays, that doesn’t happen. I take my time. I access that hidden reservoir of violence when I choose to, and use it the same way I use my gun. It’s nothing more than a weapon I’m trained to wield.

DING
.

The doors slide open. I take one more deep breath, and time slows to a crawl. My eyes flick in all directions, absorbing every detail of what lies before me, allowing me to plan my attack.

Ahead of me is a wall of windows that offer a breathtaking view of the city outside. There are three steps leading down from them into the middle of the suite. Six men armed with SMGs are standing casually in a line, holding their weapons loosely by their sides. Just in front of them, standing either side of a low, glass table in the center of the room, are two more guys—equally armed, and equally casual.

I take one step forward, extending my peripheral view of the room. Away to the right, three sofas form a U-shape. They’re white leather, pristine and comfortable-looking. There’s one guy sitting with his back to me, and another standing by his side.

Across from them on my left, three large decorative pillars are positioned in front of more windows, following the slight natural curve of the room. Three men stand like sentries, more alert than the others. Just beyond them, I see a set of doors leading out to the roof and, presumably, the helipad.

Jesus…

For the first time… ever, I think… I don’t know where to start. It’s not so much the numbers that I have an issue with, it’s their layout. There’s too much space between the different groups. If I aim at one side, I won’t have time to spin around before I’m shot by the others.

I’m not second-guessing my abilities, I’m not being negative or thinking too much, I’m not scared… I just know a lost cause when I see one. It might look as if I rush blindly into every situation, but I only do that when I know enough about that situation to know I can handle it. This… this isn’t happening. I need to find another—

Holy mother of God!

Just as time resumes its normal pace and people start to look over at us, a helicopter appears in front of me, rising from below and hovering level with the windows. It’s an attack chopper, painted jet black. I know the kind, but I’ve never seen a model like this one before. It’s a fucking beast! It looks like a flying tank. The level of armor alone is terrifying. It’s symmetrical in design, with two sets of vertical blades on the tail—one either side—and four large horizontal blades on the roof. Attached to both sides of the undercarriage is a frighteningly big rotary cannon—basically, it’s six Miniguns joined together in a long cylinder, which spins quickly, essentially causing an endless stream of bullets. A few years ago, you could be looking at upward of six thousand rounds a minute. God only knows what this thing would do…

Everyone in the room is reacting as I am. They’re all standing, frozen, and stunned, staring out the window. I can’t see inside the cockpit, as the windows are tinted, but I can tell from the position and the angle of the chopper that I’m going to need to find some cover when that thing—

“Holy shit!”

I push both guys standing in front of me out of the elevator and press myself against the side as the chopper opens fire. It takes a split-second for every pane of glass to shatter, letting in the deafening noise of its blades as it hovers menacingly outside. The roar of the bullets is insane! There’s an almost continuous cracking as the tiling on the floor splinters under the onslaught from the twin cannons.

Screams sound out for a brief moment, and then end abruptly as every man in there is annihilated. I’m holding my breath, forcing my body against the side of the elevator, almost pushing my way through it, desperate for some cover.

The whirring of the cannons sounds loud, but quickly fades as the firing stops. I wait a few moments and then stick my head out to look around.

I raise an eyebrow. “Sweet Jesus…”

The place looks like a warzone. Remember the lobby scene in The Matrix? When Keanu Reeves brings all the guns through the metal detector, and half the world tries to shoot him? And when it’s over, all the walls are destroyed and chunks of plaster and marble are scattered everywhere?

Well, this entire suite kind of looks like that, only a million times worse!

I walk out and hold my gun with both hands, keeping it low, but ready. I scan the whole room, opting to ignore the chopper for a moment. I’m assuming whoever’s in there is on my side.

I hear a shuffling behind me. I spin around and see a guy crawling slowly toward me across the floor. Half his right leg is missing, and the trail of blood behind him is… significant, shall we say. His face is a mess. He’s looking up at me, trying to speak, but there’s no sound. His mouth is just—

BANG!

One side of his skull disappears in an explosion of deep crimson. I spin around, raising my gun. The chopper has turned side-on, and the door is now open. Pierce is standing there, holding on with one hand, and still aiming his pistol in the other. He smiles at me and signals with his weapon for me to head up to the roof.

I nod, tuck the gun in my waistband behind me, and walk quickly toward the doors in the far corner. I pull them open, brushing two piles of rubble aside as I do. I walk through and head up the small metal stairwell to the fire door at the top. I push it open and step outside. Despite the temperature, at this height there’s still a cold wind, made even more prominent by the blades of the chopper that’s slowly landing in front of me.

As the wheels touch down, Pierce steps out and makes his way over to me, ducking slightly as he passes under the blades. I’ve not seen the guy since back in Vietnam.

“Heard you could use some help,” he says, smiling.

I tuck my gun behind me. “Yeah, thanks.”

“C’mon, get in.”

He turns and I follow him over to the chopper. Seeing it hovering outside before didn’t give me a clear sense of how big this thing really is. The design is flawless. It’s a flying fortress, heavily fortified, and could probably win a war single-handedly. I don’t know where they got this kind of machine from, but I’m glad it’s on my side.

I climb aboard, and we’re airborne before I even sit down. The interior is deceptively spacious, with enough room for ten people, easily. I know that, because in addition to me and Pierce, there are eight people sitting down. One of them is Lily—she’s sitting on the far left, nearest the opposite door. I sit with my back to the cockpit, and Pierce moves next to me. He pulls a gun and jams it into my ribs, and then reaches behind me and takes mine. He casually tosses it to another guy sitting across from him. Everyone except myself and Lily are armed.

Pierce leans close. “Sorry, Adrian—orders from on high. See, unlike you, I actually obey the rules I’m given.”

I turn and stare into his eyes. “You gonna kill me so soon after saving my ass?”

He shakes his head. “No. Horizon wants to see you both. I’m just here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid on the way there.”

“Now what makes you think I’d do something stupid…?”

He smiles humorlessly, but doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, and Pierce? Just so we’re clear, when all this is over and the dust has settled, me and you are gonna have words about you pulling a gun on me. Understand?”

He remains impassive, smiling the same smile and staying silent.

I turn and look at Lily. Her large brown eyes are full of regret and apology. I nod at her. “You okay?”

She nods back. “For now, yes.”

I sit back in my seat and stare at the riveted chrome floor.

I think this is one of those times where shit’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.

15

13:27
AST

We’ve been flying for about an hour. No one’s said much since we left Abu Dhabi. Lily’s barely looked at me. I don’t want to say she seems afraid, because I don’t think she even understands the concept of fear, but there’s definitely some concern there. And judging by our current predicament, I’d say any concern was completely justified.

I look around the cabin. I recognize the rest of Pierce’s team from Vietnam, and they’ve brought along three more guys for good measure. This is a big unit to send after two people. Even if we are elite assassins, you could argue this is overkill, considering how well trained these guys are. It says a lot about how much they respect both of our abilities. I guess I should be flattered, but I’m not. I’m trying to figure out what’s coming next, and I’ve no idea.

We bank left and I feel the chopper begin its descent. I lean forward slightly and gaze out the window. I see the outline of the
Burj Al Arab Hotel below us, getting closer with every second that ticks by.

You have to hand it to them, The Order sure knows how to treat its employees.

I feel Pierce’s hand on my shoulder as he forces me back in my seat. “You’ve done so well—don’t go getting any ideas about misbehaving now, asshole.”

I glance at him before staring at the floor again. I try to make it look as if I’m completely dismissing him as a threat. I’m not—far from it—but there’s no harm in having him think I’m underestimating the trouble I’m in. But right now, I’m more concerned about what’s waiting for us both down there.

The Burj Al Arab is quite easily the most opulent and luxurious hotel in the world, and sits about six miles east of the man-made Palm Island in Dubai. It’s shaped like a huge, three-dimensional sail, and as we fly low and circle around to approach the helipad that juts out from the peak, I’m given a pretty good view of the place.

Clear blue seas surround it, and the glare of the scorching sun is blinding as it reflects off the copious amount of windows. I can make out a small group of people standing on the helipad, all dressed in black.

Another welcoming committee. Great.

I stretch my leg out and tap Lily’s foot with mine. She looks over at me and I smile, trying to look calm and reassuring. “You alright?”