True Conviction (13 page)

I dial Josh, letting out a heavy and painful breath as it rings.

“You make it back to your motel then?” he asks as he answers.

“Yeah, thanks for that before,” I reply. “But I got back to find Clara unconscious and bleeding on the floor.”

“Shit, what happened?”

“We tracked down a guy called Marcus Jones, who’s a courier in the city that Dark Rain employs to move stuff around for them. After some initial resistance, he told us they’ve kidnapped a scientist for the purposes of processing the mined Uranium to make it weapons-grade.”

“Which I’m assuming our friends at GlobaTech are blissfully unaware of?”

“I think that’s a fair assumption, yeah. So afterward, we grabbed a drink and started planning our next move, but a Humvee pulled up outside, four people got out and proceeded to completely annihilate the place. We fought our way out and split up—I know I killed two of them and I’ve not seen the one that peeled off to chase Clara. The only one who survived is a woman called Natalia Salikov. Some big-time Russian mercenary who has Clara spooked. I got away and that’s when I called you before. I got back and found Clara.”

“Oh my God, Adrian—what the hell have you stumbled on here?”

“I’m trying to figure that out. But it gets worse… Whoever broke into my room and shot her also took the deeds to the Uranium mine.”

“Shit!”

“That’s what I said.”

“Okay, this is bad… You gotta be careful, Adrian, seriously. Dark Rain is two steps ahead of you and you’re alone in a town where everyone seems to wanna shoot at you as soon as they see you.”

“I’ll cross those bridges when I get to them. Right now, I need a few things. First, can you to find out which hospital Clara's been taken to and what condition she’s in?”

“I’m on it.”

“Also, I need to find out where they could be holding this scientist… Can you look into any well-known or respected scientists that haven’t been seen lately? See what comes up. If we can find out
who
they’ve taken and when, I might be able to work with Clara and get an idea of where they’ll have taken them.”

“Yeah, I’m on that too.”

The line goes silent for a few moments, and then Josh speaks again.

“Ah…bollocks,” he says, absently.

“What’s the matter, Josh?” I ask.

“I’ve just searched all hospital databases within a twenty-mile radius.”

“That was fast.”

“It’s not exactly hard to do, Adrian.”

“Alright, show-off. So, what’s with the British cursing?”

“No one’s been admitted today fitting Clara’s description. No Jane Does, no gunshot wounds, nothing.”

“I definitely rang the ambulance. There’s no way they didn’t get to her.”

Now I’m worried. After everything that’s happened, for Clara to disappear after being shot and left for dead is the last thing I need to deal with.

Could Dark Rain have gotten to her before the ambulance arrived? I checked the area before I left and there was no one around, but if they found my room and took the deeds, it’s feasible they were hiding somewhere nearby.

Shit!

“Adrian, you alright?” asks Josh.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” I say. “Goddammit! I shouldn’t have left her.”

“You did the right thing, don’t blame yourself.”

“Listen, I’ve got to find her. Can you focus on finding this missing scientist?”

“Will do. What are you thinking of doing?”

“I was going to find somewhere else to stay, but I’m going to head back to my old motel and see if I can find anything that might give me more of an idea what happened to her.”

“Okay, well watch your back, man.”

I hang up and look around, more paranoid that I’m being watched. I take another minute to relax and focus then make my way out of the park and back toward the motel.

AFTER SEARCHING THE room and the surrounding area carefully and discreetly, I found no clue as to what happened. Clara was gone and the old guy working the front desk confirmed an ambulance arrived… So where the hell was she?

I decided it was becoming less productive to keep focused on what’s happened, so I made my way back toward the city center and started thinking about what’s going to happen next. I lost track of time and must’ve been wandering around aimlessly for a good couple of hours before I finally made it to the center.

Most of the stores have closed and streetlights are flickering into life periodically as the sun creeps further down behind the horizon. The bars and restaurants are starting to fill up for the night and the sidewalks are bustling with people out for the evening.

Up ahead, I can see a street vendor on the corner, selling hot dogs and burgers out of his cart. I walk over to him, realizing I can’t quite remember when I last had something to eat. He’s an older man, probably mid-sixties. He has dark skin with gray hair and dark eyes. He’s whistling a tune to himself and looks happy and carefree. I get the impression he’s been standing on this street corner with the same cart for many years.

“Hey, can I get a cheeseburger please?” I ask.

The guy looks at me and his eyes widened slightly. He looks me up and down.

“Oh, man, you look like shit!” he exclaims, laughing. “You alright?”

I must admit, I’m not in the mood for small talk, but I’ll be courteous. “Rough day,” I reply with a humorless smile. “I’ll be better when I’ve eaten.”

“Man, I heard that,” he says with a smile. “I’m gonna give you the works, my friend!”

He produces a burger from inside the cart and places it between two buns. He then lays a slice of cheese on it, another burger, some relish, ketchup, mustard, and another slice of cheese. Finally, he tops it off with a sprinkling of grated onion. He wraps it in a napkin and hands it to me. I look at it admiringly.

“That’s gotta be the best-looking burger I’ve ever seen,” I admit, impressed.

“You’re welcome,” he says with a confident smile, secure in the knowledge that it’s definitely the best-looking burger I’ve ever seen.

“How much do I owe you?” I ask.

“For you… gimme five bucks,” he says. “The extras are on me—it looks like you need ‘em.”

“You’re a kind and generous man, thank you.”

I pay him the five dollars and walk on down the street. I take a bite of the burger and I feel my eyes go wide. It’s the nicest cheeseburger I’ve ever tasted… and I’m not just saying that because I’m so hungry!

I step to one side and lean against the front window of a closed store to finish eating, not wanting to walk and not appreciate the food. I remember back in the day, whenever I was on a mission somewhere; I could easily go a couple of days without the opportunity for food. You soon learn to eat all you can, when you can—and be damn grateful for it. You never know when or where your next meal will be…

Finishing up and tossing the napkin in a trashcan near the curb, I walk on down the street. There’s a crossing up ahead and I glide past a small group of women who are out for the night to stand at it, waiting for the green light.

A black, stretched limousine pulls up in front of me, stopping on the crossing and prompting other drivers to sound their horns angrily. The window buzzes down, and Jimmy Manhattan leans out of the window.

“Get in,” he says.

I let out a deep breath in frustration.

At least he waited until I’d finished my cheeseburger… Nothing pisses me off more than someone interrupting me while I’m eating.

“That’s a little forward, don’t you think?” I reply, casually.

The driver’s door opens and I look over to see my old friend, Stan, getting out. He stands up straight and pulls his jacket apart, showing me the gun he has holstered at his side. I look back at Jimmy, who’s smiling.

“Get in,” he says again.

He opens the door and gestures to the seat in front of him. I wait a moment, taking a quick look around before climbing inside.

The interior is very nice—smooth leather with a dark walnut trim all around. The windows are tinted, so there’s total privacy inside as well.

I sit down in the seat opposite Manhattan. I don’t like the fact I’ve got my back to the driver, but I figure if anything’s going to happen to me, it’ll be Manhattan who attempts it.

“I think we have some things to discuss, don’t you?” he says as the car pulls away and we drive off.

He produces the gun from inside his jacket and aims it at me. I say nothing. I just stare at him, smiling.

“Under the circumstances, I don’t see how you have much to be happy about,” he says.

Let me tell you why I’m smiling. Yes, it’s partly to wind him up—because that’s just what I do before any kind of fight… and yes, I’m working on the assumption that sometime soon, they’ll be a fight, during which I intend to break Manhattan’s neck.

But the main reason I’m smiling is because for the first time in three days, I actually have an advantage in terms of knowing something that nobody else does. Before I got in the car, I had a look around and happened to see a black, leather-clad figure on a blue and white motorcycle parked across the street. I couldn’t tell for sure that they were looking at me, because of the helmet, but I’d recognize Natalia Salikov anywhere.

I tend to remember the people who try to kill me.

I also heard her bike start up as we set off. I subtly glance over Manhattan’s shoulder out the rear window and see a single headlight behind us. I know she’s not exactly on my side, but it’s going to be very interesting when she catches up with us.

Still, let’s keep that a surprise for now.

“Jimmy,” I say, my smile fading. “I told you to leave this alone. In fact, I explicitly told you I’d kill you if I ever saw you again.”

He says nothing, but reaches into the other side of his jacket and produces some papers, which I recognize instantly as the deeds to the land from my motel room.

“Let’s start with you explaining why you lied to me,” he says, nodding to the papers.

I stare at them for a moment, not saying anything. I can’t find any words, because I’m too busy processing the fact it was clearly Pellaggio’s men who'd raided my room and shot Clara. I need a minute to let my anger subside. If I weren’t in a moving vehicle, Manhattan would already be dead. As it is, right now isn’t the time or the place to rip his throat out.

“Like I told you and your boss last night,” I reply, as calmly as possible. “You’re in way over your head here. The best thing you can do is walk away. Whatever money you believe you’ve lost as a result of all this, you can easily recoup elsewhere.”

He says nothing.

“Now let me ask
you
a question,” I continue. “Was it you personally who broke into my room?”

Manhattan smiles. “You’re wondering if I pulled the trigger and shot your little girlfriend?” he says. It’s more of a statement than a question. “How touching.”

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Jimmy. I suggest you tread carefully.”

“We don’t intimidate easily, Mr. Hell, as I’m sure you can understand. Besides, you’re hardly in a position to be making threats, are you?”

I look behind him again. The single headlight is still there and gaining slowly.

“How do you figure that?” I ask.

“I have the deeds to the land for Mr. Pellaggio, which I managed to get without having to pay you a cent. Your girlfriend's been shot and is currently lying in a hospital bed somewhere. After seeing what was left of that bar earlier, I can only assume you’ve managed to get on the bad side of a few other people along the way...” He pauses, seemingly for effect. “Stop me if I’ve missed anything...”

“Actually, yeah, you’ve missed one very important fact.”

“Which is?”

“Those other people I’ve pissed off? Right now, they’re more pissed at you than me.”

His eyes narrow slightly with a mixture of concern and doubt. I continue.

“And I’m the only one who can tell you why. Do you wanna know?”

“Enlighten me,” he says.

I figure now is as good a time as any to introduce him to the rest of the players on the field.

“You ever heard of Dark Rain?” I ask.

“Should I have?” he replies.

I shrug. “I guess not. They’re an independent military outfit based somewhere in Heaven’s Valley and, as far as I can tell, they have designs on committing an act of terrorism on U.S. soil. Ted Jackson’s company is funding them—some kind of off-the-books deal. Originally, he was going to sell that land to you on the side to make some money for himself. But then, by pure chance, GlobaTech Industries ordered him to broker a deal and sell the land to Dark Rain. That’s why he screwed you over.”

“I don’t care about any militia outfit. Roberto Pellaggio runs this entire city, and owns half of it. They’re of no concern to us.”

“Yet again, you underestimate the game you’re playing, Jimmy.”

Before Manhattan can speak, Stan's voice sounds out over the intercom to announce we’ve arrived at our destination. Moments later, the limo slows to a stop. I hear Stan get out and then he opens the door for us.

“Get out, nice and slow,” says Manhattan.

I step out and stand up, stretching slowly to my full height, being careful not to show my ribs are sore. As I do, Stan hits me flush on the side of the head with a big straight left. It takes me by surprise and, given the beating I’ve taken over the last twenty-four hours, it’s enough to drop me to one knee. He reaches behind me, taking my guns away. Then he picks up my shoulder bag and drags me to my feet by the scruff of my neck.

I look around but don’t recognize where I am. I figure we’re close to the city limits, as there are no buildings anywhere—just desert and the vague silhouette of the mountains in the distance. In front of us are the beginnings of a construction site. There’s a digger parked over to the left, and straight ahead are a couple of those portable cabins that people use as offices. Far back on the right is a large billboard with floodlights along the top edge, illuminating it in the night, despite it not having a poster on it yet.

I look back the way we came but see no signs of the motorcycle that’s been following us. I’m certain it was Natalia, and I must admit it’s concerning that she’s disappeared.

Manhattan gets out after me, making a point of showing me the gun in his right hand.

“Here we are,” he says, standing next to me. “This is what you’ve been so desperate to keep from us.”

He waves the deeds at me and walks on ahead. Stan still has his hand wrapped around my neck, and he pushes me forward, following Manhattan as we head over to one of the cabins.

My headache’s back with reinforcements thanks to that punch, but I’m still able to think clearly enough to figure out where we are.

I’m walking on a goddamn Uranium mine.

We enter the cabin and they sit me down in front of the desk at the far end, opposite the door. Manhattan sits on the edge facing me as Stan ties my hands behind me and, for good measure, hits me across the face again.

This is nowhere near as much fun when you’re the one sitting in the chair...

The cabin’s practically empty, save for the desk and a notice board on the left hand wall. There’s a small window in the wall opposite with vertical blinds pulled together.

Stan steps to one side, letting Manhattan look at me. He’s sitting on the edge with his hands clasped on his lap. He’s holding the gun loosely still—not aiming it at me, just making sure I know it’s there. The deeds are next to him on the desk.

“I’m almost offended that you’ve only brought Donkey Kong over here with you for backup,” I say to him, gesturing toward Stan with my head. “Especially given I’ve already handed his ass to him once this week.”

I turn to Stan and smile.

He unleashed another big right hand that catches me square on my left cheek.

Oh man, that hurts…

My head’s spinning and my brain’s shouting at me to stop getting hit, but I ignore it and laugh at him.

“Come on, asshole,” I say, taunting him. “This isn’t a tickling competition. Give me a shot that doesn’t feel like it came from a girl scout.”

He winds up his right hand again, and in all honesty, I reckon he would've taken my head off if he’d thrown it. Thankfully, he didn’t get chance.

“Enough,” Manhattan says. “We want him alive long enough to get what we need. Then he’s all yours.”

Stan smiles at me. I throw him a dismissive look with my eyebrows to show my complete lack of concern before turning back to Manhattan.

“So, what now? You gonna threaten me some more?”

“Not at all,” he says.

He reaches behind him and opens the top drawer of the desk. He pulls out what looks like a medical kit. It’s a small, green box with a zipper going all the way round. He places it next to him on the desk in front of me and opens it up so I can see. Inside is an array of stainless steel surgical equipment—all of which looks very sharp.