“I understand. Thank you, Mr. President.”
The line clicked off, and the room fell silent for a moment. It was Heskith who spoke first.
“What’s next, sir?”
“I need to read through these papers,” he tapped the pile of reports on his desk as he spoke, “and then speak to Secretary Fielding to finalize things before the next phase goes live. In the meantime, I want you to find out everything you can about Adrian Hell. I want his entire life story — there might be something we can use against him.”
“Don’t you think Matthews can get the job done?”
“Let’s just say his track record does little to inspire any confidence. I want this done as a precaution.”
“Yes, Mr. President. I’ll see to it personally.”
“Thank you, Gerry.”
Heskith nodded, then walked back toward his office, closing the door gently behind him, leaving Cunningham alone.
The president walked over to a small table against the wall and took the stopper from the crystal decanter that held a sixty-year-old single malt. He lifted it to his nose and took in a deep, appreciative breath. The coarse, burning aroma of the whiskey, which had been a gift from the prime minister of the United Kingdom when he took office some two and half years ago, lingered in his nostrils. His mouth watered, and he poured himself a generous measure into a matching tumbler in front of him. He cradled it in his hand for a moment before taking a large sip and walking back to his desk. He sat down in his chair, carefully placing this drink on a coaster with the presidential seal printed on it. He took the first report from the top of his pile and opened it in front of him.
“GlobaTech Industries — deployment and financial records,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s see the secrets behind your magic, shall we…?”
10
Oscar agreed to help us out, and we left with a large bag of weaponry and the promise he’ll deliver more to us if we need it, whenever and wherever I ask. He refused to accept any money, basing his charity on the fact that if he’s sponsoring my attempt to change the world as we know it, the publicity he’ll get if I succeed will earn him untold fortunes.
I appreciate his faith in my ability to do this, if nothing else.
We didn’t want to risk exposing ourselves any more than we already had, so we decided to lay low in Allentown overnight before moving on in the morning. We’re holed up in a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city. It’s a basic place — parking lot facing a row of rooms, each identical to the next inside, with a double bed, crappy TV, and basic bathroom facilities.
Ruby’s been in the shower for almost an hour.
I’m lying on the bed, staring up at the broken ceiling fan, trying to think of a plausible and effective way to assassinate the leader of the free world. I’ve never struggled to carry out a hit before, at least not in terms of how to go about it. Some jobs have been harder than others, granted, but the difficult part was always carrying it out, never deciding how to approach it in the first place. This is new, unfamiliar territory to me, and right now I would give anything to have one conversation with Josh. He would know what to do in a heartbeat.
I rub my hands over my face, wiping away the fatigue. I haven’t slept in forever. I just can’t silence my mind long enough. I mean, forget trying to kill Cunningham for a moment, I still need to figure out what the guy’s actually trying to accomplish. I know Josh is probably all over that, too, but I need to know so I can prepare for it.
Why do all this? Why kill nearly half a billion people and make a quarter of the world’s land mass uninhabitable for the next God knows how long in the process? He already had it all. America’s the richest country in the world. He single-handedly eradicated organized drug-related crime. Unemployment, the homeless, poverty — all at an all-time low. Why destroy other countries?
Ah, fuck it. My head hurts.
I stand just as the bathroom door opens. Ruby appears with a towel wrapped around her.
“Oh my God, that feels good!” she declares loudly.
I stare at her. The towel isn’t doing a good job of covering her body. It’s high on her thigh and low on her ample chest. My gaze is drawn to her upper body. The image burned into my mind of her standing before me, back in her cell, as naked as the day she was born, covered in a frightening network of self-inflicted wounds.
Wounds which no longer seem to be there…
“Hey, I’m up here,” she says, smiling.
Flustered, I look at her emerald eyes, which are playfully taunting me. “Sorry, I was…”
“You were staring at me again. This is becoming a bit of a habit, isn’t it? Here…” She grabs hold of her towel in both hands and opens it like a curtain in a theater, revealing her naked body. “You want a better look?”
I put my hand up to block my view and turn my head away. “Jesus, will you stop flashing me? Do you even know what dignity is?”
She closes the towel again, laughing. “Dignity’s for pussies.” She gestures to her body. “This is as much a weapon to me as a gun is.”
“And a mighty fine weapon it is, but that’s not why I’m looking. What happened to your scars? The ones that ‘keep your demons in’—or whatever it was you said…”
And yes, I just air quoted then. Got a problem?
“Oh, those?” She smiles. “Just before I got myself committed, I had a makeup artist friend of mine put them on for me. I figured they’d help with the charade.” She moves over to the chair in the opposite corner by the window and sits down, crossing her legs with unnecessary exaggeration. “It’s just a body wrap, essentially. Like those fake tattoo sleeves you can get.”
I sit back down on the bed facing her. I’m impressed with her commitment to the role, if nothing else. She still has a glimmer of insanity behind her eyes, but as I look at her now, she’s a far cry from the woman I rescued this morning. She looks normal… feminine — not a hint of the feral, twisted, killer I first saw.
“So, talk me through the whole criminally insane thing. What was your reasoning behind it?”
She shrugs. “I slipped up on a job and got caught.” She leans back in her chair as she speaks. “If I had been tried, I’d have been given the death penalty without question. I knew I needed to get out of it, and, if I could, I knew I needed to lay low. For a long time. I didn’t have a lawyer, but I’d watched enough TV to know that pleading insanity was probably my only option. I ran through the routine in my head over and over again. Then on my last court appearance before sentencing I got in character, and within minutes they sent me to Stonebanks in Baltimore.”
I smile. “Well, I’ve seen you play the part, so I can understand their reaction…”
“Once I was inside, I actually thought it could work quite well… I figured I could sneak out whenever I had a contract and hide out there between jobs. No one would ever think to look for me in an asylum, right?”
I nod, understanding the logic. “Kinda like a Winter Soldier thing? Nice idea.”
She frowns. “Who?”
I really need to lay off the comic-slash-movie references when Josh isn’t here — it just confuses people…
I shake my head. “Never mind. So what went wrong?”
“It turns out I kinda played my part a little too well. They put me in solitary on a priority watch, which made it impossible for me to get out. Luckily, the last visit before my ass was hauled off to the funny farm was from my friend who managed to put the body wrap on me for the scars, so at least I could keep up the act once I was inside and be left alone. Not sure what I would’ve done long-term if you hadn’t come for me, though.”