“Adrian, what the hell’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re all together.”
The pilot comes back on to tell us we’re making our final descent, and will be landing in a few moments, so we both sit back and strap ourselves in.
By the time the wheels touch the ground, I’ve played out every outcome I can think of in my head, and decided on the best course of action. What I’m about to go up against is unprecedented — not just for me, but for everyone. I’m not going to be able to do it on my own, but I’ve never asked anyone to willingly fight alongside me before. I don’t need to ask Josh, because I know he will, whether I want him to or not. But involving people in my fights isn’t something I’ve ever been comfortable doing. But what I know now is about to change everything.
We taxi to a stop and the stewardess opens the door for us. I thank her, and the pilots, and step off the plane to see Josh waiting for me. The weather is welcoming and warm, despite the late hour — a nice change from the harsh winds and perpetual dullness of Eastern Europe. We shake hands, and he hugs Tori before saying anything.
“The rest of us are inside,” he announces. “I took the liberty of speaking to Agent Wallis and inviting him to the party. I trust him, Adrian, and we need all the help we can get.”
I nod gravely. “I know we do,” I say.
He sees the look and becomes instantly concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
I hand him the pile of papers and files. “We took these from the underground lab in Pripyat,” I explain. “Clara had them, along with a slideshow of the Cerberus blueprints.”
“What are they?” he asks, briefly skimming through them.
“They’re classified CIA documents, mostly.”
His eyes widen. “Clara had these?”
“She did. But more importantly, the Armageddon Initiative had these. Let’s get inside. I don’t care who’s in the room with us anymore, Josh. I know enough to make an educated guess what’s really going on here, and if I’m right — and I hope I’m not — then we’ve got a helluva fight on our hands.”
There’s a Jeep waiting for us at the end of the runway with an MP in the driver’s seat. Josh climbs in next to him, and I help Tori up into the back before stepping in next to her. He drives us across the base, following the road system past the barracks and training grounds. There’s a small presence of troops doing exercises and marching, but they ignore us.
“Are we safe here?” I ask Josh.
He looks over his shoulder to reply. “As far as I know, the military don’t give a shit about what the government-funded acronyms are doing,” he says. “I don’t think they’re on our side, but they definitely aren’t on theirs, so this is neutral ground and safe enough.”
The driver stops outside the main office building in the center of the compound, and we all get out of the Jeep without a word. The building is low and wide — only two stories high, but it takes up most of the road. It’s a basic, low-cost structure, which is typical for the army. Cheap, simple, effective — should be their motto.
We follow Josh inside, and he leads us down a corridor, past the guard on the front desk on the right hand side, and into a conference room, which is the last door on the left. Inside, sitting around a rectangular table is Sheriff Raynor, Bob Clark, and Agent Tom Wallis of the FBI. They all stand as we enter. Raynor’s the first to approach us, and Tori throws her arms around him, giving him no choice but to awkwardly pat her back.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” he says. She lets him go and steps aside, and he extends his hand to me, which I shake gladly. “Glad you’re home safe too.”
“Thanks, John. I’m sorry I’ve roped you into all this.”
He waves his hand dismissively. “I’m about due for some action — nothing’s happened in Devil’s Spring for ten years, not since someone stole Hoops’ sign from outside his shop.”
I smile regretfully. “Well, taking out the NSA is one thing,” I say, before turning to the rest of the room. “But what we’re up against now is something else entirely. You might wanna sit down for this.”
Everyone exchanges looks of concern and take their seats, except Wallis, who walks over to me. He’s looking good — new suit, slightly more weathered complexion than the last time I saw him, but then, I do tend to have that effect on people. Life’s always a bit more stressful after I’ve been in town, sadly.
“I know you’re reluctant about my involvement,” he says. “But I can help you, and Josh trusts me, so I hope you will too.”
I nod and pat his arm. “It’s good to see you, Tom. And yes, I trust you. Frankly, right now, I need all the help I can get.”
He nods back and takes his seat. I walk to the head of the table on the left of the room and look at everyone. Josh and Clark are on my left; Raynor and Wallis are on my right. Tori is at the opposite end to me, looking very out of place.
I drop the files I took from Clara on the table in front of me.
“Guys, we have a big fucking problem.”
32
The room is silent with anticipation — a morbid curiosity to know the full extent of the threat we face. I gesture to the documents in front of me.
“I took these from the underground facility in Pripyat,” I begin. “Clara Fox had these in her possession. She also had a detailed presentation on a big screen showing blueprints of the Cerberus satellite. Tom, are you up to speed on what we all know so far?”
Wallis nods. “Pretty much,” he says. “I wasn’t really any help, as you guys knew everything I did, and filled in most of my blanks for me.”
“To be honest, I thought that might be the case. But I just want to say I’m very grateful for your help here — having a government agency on our side is a luxury we didn’t expect to have, and it’ll make a big difference, if you can make sure your people, and your bosses, understand that everyone in this room is trying to help.”
“We do,” he says, nodding.
“Good. So here’s the story so far: back in New York, when I first took Yalafi Hussein’s laptop, he was meeting someone dressed in a four-star general’s outfit that had protection from guys in dark glasses and earpieces. He was almost certainly American, but remained an unknown factor. My flight out of New York was hijacked by a CIA black ops unit called D.E.A.D, who re-directed my plane to Colombia and tried to kill me. I escaped and linked up with a local outfit that turned out to be a cartel, run by one Carlos Vega. In keeping with tradition, after an hour or so in my company, they too tried to kill me. I escaped again, but not before torturing Vega and getting some information out of him.”
“Hang on, I thought the cartels were extinct?” asks Wallis. “Since President Cunningham’s reforms on the world drug trade, they can’t make any money?”
“That was our initial thought, too,” I reply. “But it turns out he was running guns for someone in the U.S. who uses the codename Ares. He shipped weapons all over the world for him, in return for a large paycheck. We already knew from GlobaTech’s investigations that this Armageddon Initiative was on a recruitment drive. We then found out their interest in the Cerberus satellite from the laptop I stole. Hamaad El-Zurak is the guy we all think is running things. We found out Clara Fox had taken Tori, and tracked them to a base in Ukraine. Our intel also said Hussein and El-Zurak had fled to Afghanistan, following my intervention in New York. With me so far?”
Everyone nods and mutters, so I continue.
“But then, we have the CIA black ops unit trying to kill me, saying the laptop I stole was government property, and we have the NSA raiding GlobaTech, then my bar, before sending a team in to kill us at a safe house in Arkansas.”