I smile, and after a moment, she smiles back, albeit shaking her head.
“Maybe you’re right… You never cease to amaze me,” she says. “Finding a silver lining in every cloud seems to be one of your many talents.”
I shrug with light-hearted humility. “Years of practice creating the clouds,” I reply.
Chambers takes a deep breath and leans back again, rubbing her neck. I can imagine how she feels. My instinct is to rush over there and put a bullet in Pellaggio’s head, but there’s no way it would be that simple. For one, I doubt very much he’s still there. And two, it’s probably more important to find out what he’s done, or intends to do, with the stuff on that list.
I look at her. Even though she’s tired, she still looks great. She wears very little make-up, but doesn’t really need any. She stretches her arms up and arches her back. I feel bad for so many reasons, but I can’t help but steal a quick look at her. The way her white blouse falls and rests on her body, clinging to the right places, and showing off all the work she puts in at the gym.
I look away quickly, which I think she spotted, but to her credit she says nothing.
“When was the last time you got any sleep?” I ask, feeling I should say something to steer any attention away from myself.
“I don’t remember,” she replies wearily.
“Grace, you’re no good to anyone if you’re running on empty. Go and get your head down for a couple of hours. Wallis and Johnson can manage here, I’m sure.”
She smiles, which I think is out of appreciation for the gesture, but I know what she’ll say. She’ll say she won’t rest until the thing is over, or something along those lines.
“Thanks, Adrian. But we have no idea what’s coming next from Pellaggio, and I will not stop until this thing is over.”
Told you.
I nod, understanding completely, and stand up to stretch. My back is aching from my fall.
Talk about getting the shaft…
I smile to myself and walk over to the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asks, half seriously and, I think, half flirtatiously.
“I thought I might catch up with Johnson, see if he’s got a fix on that address yet. I wouldn’t mind having a look at the place myself. If that’s alright?”
She thinks about it for a moment.
“Fine, but play nice,” she says.
She smiles and looks back at the screen, re-reading Pellaggio’s shopping list. I turn and walk out of the conference room, across the open plan area and then right into the corridor. I follow it along as it doglegs to the right, and head left into the larger open plan area, which is full of activity.
I stand in the entrance, scanning the busy office, looking for Johnson. I see him on the right hand side, about halfway down. He’s at a bank of desks with four computer monitors on it. He’s standing behind a chair, leaning over and discussing something with the person sitting in it.
I make my way over to them, nodding politely to the people who stop and stare as I walk past. Johnson turns to look at me as I approach. I expect he’ll greet me with some sort of confrontational or sarcastic retort…
“Hey,” he says. “Check this out.”
Hmmm, a pleasant surprise.
He points to the screen, which is showing a slightly grainy, black and white, top-down image of a warehouse.
“What am I looking at?” I ask.
“This is a real-time satellite feed on the address you got from Turner. It’s a warehouse on a disused pier near the Alcatraz ferry way.”
The feed shows a man standing alone, looking out over the water from the pier. In front of him, tied up, is a small speedboat. It looks like he was pacing back and forth, smoking a cigarette.
“Is that him?” I ask, struggling to hide the excitement in my voice.
“We don’t know,” says Johnson. “We can’t get a good enough look at him to allow the facial recognition software to complete a scan.”
“Can we not view it from a different angle?”
The agent sitting in the seat working the computer turns to look at me and launches into a very technical and detailed explanation about why that isn’t possible.
I won’t lie, I zoned out shortly after the guy said, “Well, to put it simply…”—whatever he’s saying didn’t even sound English to me. God, I wish Josh was here.
I picture him lying unconscious and oblivious to everything that’s happening. Chambers quickly interrupts my train of thought. I look over and see her standing across the office. She’s holding her cell phone and looks worried.
“Adrian, it’s him. And he’s asking for you.”
I rush over with Johnson close behind. I take the phone off her and put it on speaker.
“I’m here,” I say.
“Good,” replies Pellaggio.
His voice is different this time. He’s not distorting in any way and there’s a hint of old Italy present in his surprisingly deep voice. He sounds just like his old man.
“Are you taking me seriously now?” he asks.
“No,” I reply with a shrug. “You’re still a worthless bastard, Danny, and you’re still gonna die.”
He laughs. “I’m so glad you finally figured out who I am. I left you enough hints. So, tell me, how’s your little friend?”
I clench my jaw muscles and take a breath to compose myself.
“He’s fine,” I say. “Unlike you, he’s not a little pussy who cries off from a bullet wound or two. He’s sitting in bed watching Downton Abbey, or whatever it is British folks watch. You shoot like an old woman, you know that?”
Again, he laughs — a little longer this time.
“Adrian… Adrian, Adrian, Adrian… ever the macho asshole. I know full well he’s in a coma and not likely to survive. Your false bravado won’t do you any good now. You think my last attack was bad? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
I exchange glances with Chambers and Johnson, who are looking increasingly more concerned as the conversation goes on. Before I can speak, Wallis comes running down the corridor toward us. He immediately senses the mood and holds back, gesturing he’ll remain quiet.
“So, what, you just rang to brag about it?” I ask. “Is this all part of your twisted little game? If you’ve got a problem with me, why don’t you come and get me and we’ll settle it like men?”
“Typical Adrian, thinking this is all about you.” His voice seems to darken. “Have you not figured it out yet? I fucking hate you and I intend watching you die, but if you think I went to all this trouble just for little ol’ you, then you’re much more stupid than you look.”
“So what’s your endgame, Danny?”
“You know where I am, don’t you? Why don’t you come and find out?”
The line clicks dead.
Christ.
I look at Chambers. “We have a serious problem,” I say.
“Yes, we do,” interrupts Wallis.
“What have you got?” asks Chambers, turning to him.
“Two things,” he replies. “The first is a report detailing a missing shipment of weapons coming in from Afghanistan, which was originally scheduled for delivery to Hawthorne Army Depot in Nevada, where they were to be decommissioned. They never made it there. The full inventory is quite extensive, but it includes everything on Pellaggio’s shopping list.”
“Okay, so we know where Turner got the weapons,” she says, nodding. “I normally wouldn’t want to ask the military for help, but under the circumstances…”