“Josh, it’s me,” I say. “Can you talk?”
We’re riding in the rental car that GlobaTech provided for me. Raynor’s insisted on driving, despite having his right arm in a sling, and I have Josh on speaker.
“Yeah, I’ve got a few minutes,” he replies, still sounding flustered. “You manage to get away?”
I shake my head instinctively, even though I know he can’t see me. “Nope. I hid upstairs in the building across the street to see who was coming for me.”
There’s a moment’s silence on the line. I’m guessing Josh is questioning my sanity, although that’s a debate that’s raged on for years between us, and he knows damn well I don’t think like normal people.
“And?” he asks eventually.
“And… there was a thirty-strong team of armed, suited-up G-men who searched my bar and left again in a hurry.”
“Shit.”
“That’s what I said. There’s something else, too, that I couldn’t tell you earlier.”
“More good news?”
“Clara’s kidnapped Tori.”
I let my words hang in the air and, after more silence on the line, I hear banging and swearing. I can picture Josh hitting everything around him in a fit of rage. He’s a passionate guy — an emotional guy… He may well be my conscience and Guardian Angel, but he still has his own battles to deal with, and sometimes things get to him as they do to us all.
“That fucking bitch!” he yells. “That absolute slag! I’m gonna kill her, Adrian — I swear I’m gonna kill her myself. I’m gonna pull out her spine and knock her head off with it! I’m gonna…”
“Josh…”
He pauses, breathing heavily. “What?”
“Calm down and get in line — the bitch is mine.”
He takes some deep breaths. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I appreciate the sentiment. And you know I love it when you get mad and swear — you sound so British…”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Raynor shake his head and let slip a half smile.
“Adrian, this whole situation is messed up…” says Josh.
“What have you got, Josh?” I ask, sensing he has more news since the last time we spoke.
“We’re in deep, deep shit. Like, ‘up to our necks’ deep. Those guys who came after you were NSA.”
“Great — another acronym joining the party. What do those guys want?”
“I have no idea, but they’ve raided GlobaTech. They stormed our head office earlier today. They seized control of everything. Not just the systems and information relating to this whole Armageddon Initiative, Yalafi Hussein thing… everything. They closed us down, seized our assets, put an indefinite hold on all operations and research, and ordered every operative we have overseas back to the U.S. straight away.”
“What? How? On who’s authority? Does anyone even have that kind of authority?”
“According to the suited stiff who was in charge when they barged through the front door, their orders were signed off by President Cunningham himself.”
“I don’t understand…”
“You and me both. Luckily, I was able to get off-site before they could take any of my stuff, and Clark is still in New York, so the only two copies of the data from Hussein’s laptop weren’t taken by the NSA.”
“Well, that’s something. Have you spoken to Clark yet? Do you guys have anything new?”
“No, nothing yet. I got the message about the NSA raid to him and he’s gone dark. We’re meeting up at a safe house as soon as we can.”
“I’ve got John Raynor, our local sheriff, with me, so we’ll join you. I’m gonna need your help getting Tori back.”
“Good, I’ll text you the location. Memorize it, then ditch your phone. I’m doing the same. We’ll just meet you there. If anyone’s not arrived in twenty-four hours, we’ll assume the worst and carry on without them.”
“Sounds fair. Where’s Schultz?”
“Ryan went along with the NSA to try to straighten everything out with them and find out what the hell’s going on.”
“I don’t like this, Josh. Any of it.”
“Me and you both, Boss.”
“Okay, text me the address, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Watch your back, Josh. I mean it. No risks.”
“Understood. You too.”
He hangs up, and I look at Raynor.
“So, how does it feel to be wanted by the NSA with no idea why?”
He keeps looking at the road, focusing on the light traffic as we hit a nice cruise down the Interstate.
“Pretty shitty, if I’m honest,” he replies.
I smile.
A text message comes through on the phone. I quickly read it, memorize the address, and then take the SIM card out of the phone, snap it in half, and throw everything out the window.
“We need to head for Jonesboro, Arkansas,” I announce.
Raynor whistles. “That’s easily a thirteen hour drive,” he says.
“Keep to the speed limit,” I say to him. “Stay off the main roads where we can when passing through any major cities. We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.”
“Smart.”
“We need to swap cars, too. We’re driving around in a GlobaTech asset, so we have to assume they know where it is. We have to go completely dark until we’re sitting in a room with Josh and Bob Clark.”
I sit back in my seat and close my eyes. I last twenty seconds before I need to open them again. Every time I so much as blink, I see in my mind everything that’s happening come rushing toward me at once. I can’t focus on it yet. I just have to hope that by the time we hit Arkansas, I’ll have figured it all out, and determined who I need to kill to end this.
22
It was a long drive. It’s definitely one thing I don’t miss from my life as a hitman — the constant traveling. The good sheriff and I took it in turns driving, doing two- or three-hour stints all the way here.
The journey was mostly uneventful. There was an hour or so as we went through Little Rock where we thought we might have picked up a tail, but in hindsight, I think we were just overly paranoid — which is forgivable, under the circumstances. We found a cheap motel there for the night, and did our best to recharge our batteries. We got some breakfast and made the two hour drive to Jonesboro.
We’re parked outside the safe house, across the street. We switched cars twice on the way here, and we’re currently riding in an anonymous, rusty red pick-up truck that we… acquired in Jacksonville. The seats are torn and dirty, and there’s a funky smell coming from somewhere, but it’ll do for now.
I’m looking over at a warehouse, seemingly long-abandoned. It’s a large building that takes up most of the block, and the outside of it is a mixture of boarded windows and illegible graffiti.
“Doesn’t look very safe,” observes Raynor, looking out of his window.
“The whole point of a safe house is that it’s somewhere you can go where no one will think to look for you,” I explain. “This is perfect.”
I look up and down the street, but can’t see any other parked vehicles. I assume if Josh or Clark are here, that they’ve left their cars somewhere else.
“We headin’ inside?” Raynor asks.
I glance once more up and down the street, checking the rearview, just to be safe. “Okay, yeah — let’s go,” I say.
We get out of the truck, stretching as we stand, and look around. There’s a light breeze, but it’s not cold, despite the gray clouds masking the sun. The district we’re in seems mostly abandoned. There aren’t any residential buildings nearby, and any neighboring industrial complexes, like the safe house, look like they’ve been empty a while.