“What? No it wasn’t, it… screw you!”
“I’m just saying…”
I lower my gun. “Well, just don’t. If it wasn’t you following me, then who was it?”
“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug. “What did they look like?”
“Like you — head to toe in tight clothing, almost certainly a woman. They were on a blue and white motorcycle wearing a black helmet.”
Clara falls silent. I can tell by the look on her face she’s figured something out and isn’t happy about it.
“What?” I ask.
“Natalia Salikov,” she says.
“Gesundheit.”
“This isn’t a joke!” replies Clara. “She’s one of the Colonel’s top assassins. If she’s on to you, you need to leave town… now. Forget everything you’ve seen or done and just go.”
I raise an eyebrow. This Natalia Salikov seems to have Clara spooked a little. And she doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who scares easily.
I tuck my gun in my waistband and cover it with my jacket. I’m happy there’s no threat here now. I step toward her and extended my hand.
“Hi,” I say, confusing her. “We’ve not been formally introduced. I’m Adrian Hell.”
She goes quiet for a moment and looks me up and down. Then she bursts out laughing. She holds her stomach as she properly laughs until she’s gasping for breath.
“You know, a guy could develop a complex…” I say.
“You’re Adrian Hell?” she asks when she’s calmed down. “The Adrian Hell?”
I smile sheepishly and shrug. “You’ve… heard of me?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of you. You’re a legend in the killing business. I just didn’t expect you to look like, well, like you do.”
I stand there in silence, feeling my self-confidence nose-dive and crash into a huge ball of fire. “Well,” I say, recovering quickly. “I’m just gonna go right ahead and assume that’s a compliment.”
Clara rolls her eyes, which I ignore.
“The point of me introducing myself, and unknowingly leaving myself open to a verbal bitch-slapping, was to point out that I’m not fazed by a woman on a motorcycle who’s supposedly a good assassin. I’m going to see this thing through to the end and fix it. I’m not sure how, but I will.”
She smiles, softer this time, more genuine and less insulting.
“I believe you. I do. But don’t underestimate what you’re up against.”
“I never do. For a start, I need to know how they knew about me before I’d even found out they existed.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I have my ways. But seriously, Clara, get the hell out of here, okay?”
Before she can say anything else, I pick up the keycard to the suite off the desk and put it in my pocket. I take out a handkerchief and wipe down the briefcase and the tray. Then I walk over and do the same with the table and the sofa. I haven’t touched anything else, so I’m confident I’m not leaving any incriminating forensic evidence in there. I turn and walk back over to door.
Clara’s looking at me somewhat bemused. “Erm, Adrian?”
“Yeah?”
She nods at Jackson’s corpse, still tied to the chair on the other side of the room. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” I say. “He’s not going anywhere. I’ll sort it later.”
I open the door, taking the Do Not Disturb sign off the inside handle and placing it on the outside one. I step out into the hall and turn back, grabbing the handle. I look back at her one last time.
“Trust me, I’m a professional,” I say with a wink before closing the door and walking off toward the elevator.
10
“Uranium?” shouts Josh down the phone. “Are you kidding me?”
After I left the Four Seasons, I made my way back to my motel, taking a very roundabout route back in case anyone was following me. Once I got there, I had a proper read through all the documents I’d taken from Jackson’s briefcase. They were definitely the deeds to the land that Pellaggio is paying me to retrieve. All sorts of legal crap I didn’t understand over a dozen or so pages, with space for a signature on the last one. Thankfully, Jackson hadn’t got round to signing it.
I grabbed a quick shower and thought about how I was going to handle Jimmy Manhattan in light of recent events. I was quite open with him before, but I know a lot more than I did this morning and there’s no way in Hell I’m giving the mob access to this land. As things stand, I’ve only got to deal with one crazy group of extremists. If the mob knowingly got their hands on a Uranium deposit, they’d sell it to all the other crazy groups of extremists as well, which would be a devastating turn of events.
I’ve concluded there’s no easy fix here, so I gave up trying to find a solution for the time being. Instead, I rang Josh and brought him up to speed on the day’s developments.
“That’s right, Josh,” I say. “Uranium.”
“Oh my God!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”
“I can’t believe it!”
“Okay… Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“You need to calm down.”
He takes a deep breath. “Got you.”
There’s silence on the line for a few moments.
“You good?” I ask.
“I’m good,” he replies.
“Okay, so, riddle me this: who are Dark Rain, and how did they know to tail me before I’d even made a move against Jackson?”
“Well, the only people you’ve interacted with are the mob, correct?” he asks, thinking clearly again.
“Yeah,” I reply, sensing where he’s going with this. “You thinking there’s someone in Pellaggio’s crew who’s working for Dark Rain?”
“That’s one logical scenario that springs to mind, yeah.”
“I agree. Which leads us nicely on to my next problem… What do I do about Jimmy Manhattan?’
“Well, you can’t give him the land.”
“I know that. But I can’t tell him why, either.”
“Can you not just say that Jackson didn’t have the documents with him?”
“No, because he would’ve expected me to keep him alive long enough to find out where they were — that’s partly what he’s paying me for.”
“Ah, good point.”
“I’ll think of something. The priority now is Dark Rain. I need to know where they are and what they’re planning. Can you look into this Roman Ketranovich guy that Clara mentioned?”
“I have been while we’re talking.”
“Show off.”
“Whatever. Adrian, this guy is hardcore. He served in the Russian military and was a member of the Spetsnaz Special Forces for nearly fifteen years. He was in the thick of it back in the 80s, when Bin Laden was over there fighting and killing Russians on the CIA’s payroll. He fought against the Afghans, and was known for his brutal torturing and relentless killing, apparently.”
“Well, he sounds delightful…”
“Seriously, this guy is up there with Hitler, Stalin and Simon Cowell! He was badly injured in a firefight and left for dead by his comrades. He survived and has been underground ever since. There’s very little on him after they declared him K.I.A. in the early 90s. Dark Rain must be his revenge.”
“So he’s pissed at America, pissed at Russia, and is after some nuclear material? Well, this couldn’t possibly end badly…”
“Exactly… Plus, if this guy is working with GlobaTech Industries, he’s got some serious backing. It’s conceivable that he could infiltrate the local mob.”
I sigh. I’ve been sighing a lot since I arrived here. Probably because, so far, everyone I’ve spoken to in Heaven’s Valley is either trying to kill me or other people. You could argue I bring this shit on myself by doing what I do, but there’s no denying how astonishingly screwed up this situation is, even by my standards.