“But, Adrian, I mean… that’s an impossible shot, even for you!”
I shrug. “Booth and Oswald managed it.”
“Yeah, but they didn’t have the obstacles we face today — the security, the technology. You won’t get within fifty miles of the guy if you have a weapon. Christ, in your situation, you’ll be lucky if you get within a hundred miles!”
I take a deep breath and sip my beer. “I know. You’re right. Which is why I’m here. I need help, Ash.”
He shakes his head and sits back down. “Uh-uh, no way are you dragging me into this shit, you crazy bastard!”
“Heh, relax — I’m not here for that. I figured you were either too smart or too much of a pussy to sign on for this.”
He shakes his head and smiles. “Hey, fuck you, alright?”
I hold my hands up. “Okay, so you’re too smart. But I did kinda hope you’d know a few people who maybe aren’t as smart, who might be interested?”
He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. What kind of payday are we talkin’ here?”
I shrug. “Honestly? I hadn’t thought about it. But if we pull it off… let’s say twenty million for whoever survives.”
“Jesus! Where are you gonna get that kind of money?”
“You let me worry about that. I had a pretty big payday a couple of years back. I’m good for it. Can you point me in the right direction, Ash?”
He falls silent, and I give him time to think. It’s a lot to ask, I know that. I stand, beer in hand, and pace around the apartment, occasionally glancing out the windows.
“You got any ideas as to how you intend doing it?” he asks me.
I look back at him from across the room. “You’re probably best off not knowing all that much about it. Plausible deniability an’ all that. But Ash, you gotta know that if I do this, at some point somebody’s gonna trace it all back to this conversation. The less you know, the better. I just need a few names, then you’ll never see me again.”
Case nods. “Alright. I reckon I know a couple of people who might be interested…” He moves over to the desk, opens a drawer, and takes out a pad and pen. He leans over and scribbles down some information. After a minute, he tears off the page, walks over, and hands it to me. “There you go. Four names.”
I look at the list. I’ve heard of one of them.
I glance up at him and frown. “Are these newbies? I don’t recognize any of these names, except the European — and he’s a bit of a prick, if I’m honest.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, he can be. But he’s a damn good killer with very few morals. As for the other three, no, they’re not new to the game. They’re exceptionally talented, in their own… unique way. But I should warn you, Adrian, some of these folks are a little… eccentric, shall we say. That last name, especially. Maybe use ’em as plan B, okay?”
I stare at the list. “Jesus, they even sound a little crazy.”
“Ha! A little? Let me tell you, Adrian — they haven’t just roamed off the reservation, they’ve left the goddamn planet! But I figured you might find use for someone who thinks outside the box, y’know.”
He smiles and I laugh with him. “Yeah, it might come in handy. Listen, thanks for this, Ash. I make it through this, I owe you.”
“Hey, you owe me whether you make it through or not. I ain’t gonna forget this.”
We shake hands, and I fold the paper up, tucking it into my pocket.
Well, this is a step forward. I have a few names of people who might be up for helping me out. The next step is to—
There’s a very urgent knocking on the door. We exchange a glance and I instinctively move my hand behind me, feeling the cold reassurance of my Beretta on my fingertips.
“Who is it?” asks Case.
“I-it’s Naomi,” comes the flustered reply.
He moves quickly to the door, opening it wide. The waitress from downstairs is standing there, looking very concerned.
“What is it?”
She glances at me before replying. “There are some men downstairs, asking for him.” She points at me.
“What do they look like?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “Just normal guys. Black suits, sunglasses, three of them. Big, black SUV parked out front, too.”
Shit.
“Ash, that’s the CIA,” I fight to keep any panic from my voice. “I don’t know how they’ve found me, but I need a way out of here, now!”
After what I’ve just told him, I can see he understands how bad this is. He turns, quickly looking around his apartment, before his eyes settle on the far corner by the computers.
“The window,” he points. “Directly below it is the canopy over the entrance.”
I move over to the window and glance down. The canopy is maybe seven feet below, and it’s a good eight feet from the ground.
This is going to hurt, isn’t it?
Well, never mind that. Focus, Adrian, come on!
Right, I’m going to need a ride…
I look back over my shoulder, intending to ask, and see a set of keys flying toward me. I react fast, flinching slightly as I catch them. I stare at them, then back at Case.
“It’s an Audi, black, parked round back,” he says. “Scratch it and I’ll shoot you. Return it first chance you get.”
I smile. “Thanks, Ash. For everything.”
He nods. “Now get the hell out of here, you crazy sonofabitch.”
I stuff the keys in my pocket, hook my bag over both shoulders, and slide the window up. The warm breeze hits me as I poke my head outside. I grab the frame and climb out, one leg at a time, resting my weight on the wall. With one last look at Case, I drop down. I land on the canopy, which is made of a thick plastic sheet, and bounce off it like it was a trampoline. I spin around as I fall and hit the ground face down, like I’m doing a push-up.
I grunt from the impact, but I can’t allow myself time to recover. I spring to my feet and dash around the side of the restaurant to the parking lot. There’re only a handful of cars here, so it’s not hard to find Case’s Audi. It’s a convertible TT, and the top’s already down.
I run over as I’m unhooking my bag from my shoulders. I throw it onto the back seat as I jump over the door and land hard behind the wheel. I scramble in my pocket for the key and fire up the engine, gun the gas, and speed off, the tires screeching and leaving their marks on the surface of the blacktop behind me. I draw level with the entrance just as the three G-men burst out onto the street, guns drawn.
I duck as low as I can while turning right, narrowly missing an oncoming car. The needle’s pushing eighty as the first shots ring out — the high-pitched ping of the bullets ricocheting around me. One cracks the door mirror next to me.
I wince. “Ah, shit! Ash is gonna kill me — assuming these assholes don’t!”
The gunfire stops as quickly as it started, and I sit up again, focusing on the road.
“Okay, we’re good.”
I glance in my rearview and see the black SUV swing into view behind me, quickly gathering speed and closing the gap between us.
“Huh, maybe not.”
I lean forward and reach behind me, taking out one of my Berettas. Up ahead, I see a junction. The sign tells me I can take a left and join I-95, which I’m pretty sure takes me west toward Massachusetts. That works out well, because the first name on my list has a last known address of Manchester, New Hampshire, which is over that way.
Unfortunately, I need to shake off these shitkickers following me first.
Ahead of me, the lights are turning red.
There’s not much traffic — screw it.
I navigate the lanes and approach the intersection with the needle pushing a hundred. I weave between two cars and slam on the brakes, making a hard left. The tires screech loudly again, and smoke builds up behind the car. I level it out and step back on the gas, merging onto I-95 at speed.