He shifts uncomfortably on the spot. “So… where are we going?”
I sling my bag over my shoulder, trying to remain calm and casual, despite everything that’s happened. I need Raynor to trust me, and he won’t do that if I don’t look like I’m in complete control of the situation.
“Across the street,” I say with a smile.
21
I walk out of my bar and cross the street, with Sheriff Raynor close behind me.
“I think your friend may have meant for us to run a bit farther than this,” he says.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious as to who we’re supposed to run away from?” I ask.
“Not particularly.”
“Ah, John, you have much to learn. If you wanna win the game, you first have to establish who’s playing.”
“That’s surprisingly philosophical, Adrian,” he says with a chuckle.
“Don’t let the fact I used to be a ruthless sociopath, who charged people money to commit murder on their behalf, fool you. I’m actually quite intelligent.”
“Uh-huh…”
I knock on the door of The Fire Pit, quickly attracting the attention of the owner, who opens up for us. He’s in his early sixties and wearing casual clothes with an apron over the top.
“Mister Adrian!” he says, smiling. “We’ve not turned on the grill yet!”
I push past him without a word. I feel bad, because he’s a nice guy and always treats Tori and I well when we eat here, but I’m in a hurry. Raynor follows and shuts the door behind us.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “This is an emergency. Can we go upstairs?”
“Mister Adrian, I… what is going on?”
Raynor steps forward and takes over, using his authority to speed things along.
“Pardon the intrusion,” he says, professionally. “But this is Sheriff’s Department business, and we could really use your help.”
He pauses for a moment, looking at us both. I see the excitement building in his eyes. He probably watches Cops or something…
“Sure thing, just head through to the back and up the stairs.”
“Thanks,” I say. “And whatever happens outside in the next few minutes, just act normal and remember — we’re not here, okay?”
He nods enthusiastically, and I catch Raynor’s bemused look.
We head upstairs and position ourselves in the room at the front of the building, overlooking the street and directly facing my bar. It’s a storage room of some kind — lots of big wooden crates scattered everywhere. We stand either side of one of the windows, peering cautiously down below.
“So what now?” asks Raynor.
“Well, Josh seemed pretty keen for us to get outta there, so I’m guessing whoever’s coming is close. Once they see we’re not there, they’ll figure we got tipped off and cleared out as quickly and as far as possible. So we can stay here and get a good look at who we’re dealing with.”
Raynor strokes his chin with his left hand, and then scratches his right shoulder. “Is this what your old life used to be like?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nah, back then people used to run away from me.”
We’ve been waiting over half an hour. I’m getting impatient, because every second I stand here is a second less I have to find Clara and rescue Tori. And time’s running out.
“Maybe they got tipped off and aren’t coming?” offers Raynor.
“Not likely, the way Josh was acting,” I reply.
I hear vehicles coming from both directions. It’s been like a ghost town since I got back, so the engines are quite loud.
“Head’s up,” I say, peeking out.
Five large, black, SUVs screech to a halt at all angles in front of my bar. Men in black suits pile out of them, guns drawn — there must be nearly thirty guys in total. A line of them form a loose perimeter around the street, facing away from the bar. Four gather around the door, running through basic entry tactics, before tearing down the police tape and storming inside, quickly followed by the rest.
“Jesus…” mutters Raynor as we look on. “These boys ain’t kiddin’ around.”
“No, they’re not…” I say, quietly distracted.
I must admit, I’m concerned. This is a large-scale government operation, no doubt about it. Overkill to bring in just one guy — even if it is me. And this only leaves me with more questions. Who are they? How did they know to come here looking for me? Are they the same people that our mysterious general works for? Why is everyone so intent on stopping me taking out a terrorist? Surely doing that is a good thing…
They’ve been inside just a couple of minutes, but they’re starting to re-appear on the street already. They look casually up and down, but they’re coming to the conclusion I predicted — I must be long gone. I mean, what sane guy wouldn’t be?
I look over at Raynor, who’s sitting on an unopened box staring at the floor. The look on his face says it all.
“Trying to get a handle on things?” I ask him.
“Adrian, what the hell are you mixed up in?” he asks me in response.
“John, if I knew, I’d tell you. Look, they don’t know you’re with me. Wait ’til they’ve gone and go back to being the local sheriff. If they come back around askin’ questions, just be honest.”
“What’s happening here… whatever all this is,” he points outside, “there’s no going back to normal, Adrian. If what you’ve been dragged into is big enough to warrant that kind of response from the government, you’re gonna need all the help you can get. Plus, your bad guys have Tori, and she’s one of our own. It’s my duty as sheriff to help get her back.”
I sigh and look at him. His jaw muscles are tense, and his lips form a thin line of determination on his face. I’ve known him long enough to know when he’s made his mind up about something, so I’m not going to insult him by trying to talk him out of it.
“You know what you’re signing up for, right?” I ask him after a moment. “I mean, you’ve seen the FBI’s file on me… I’m not stopping until I have Tori, some answers, and the body of a dead terrorist. I’m just concerned you might question my methods along the way… This isn’t the time for disagreeing with me.”
Raynor stands and walks over to me, stopping inches from me. He cuts an imposing figure; I’ll give him that. He takes off his hat and rests it on a box next to me. Then he unpins his sheriff’s badge and places it beside that.
“From what I know of you, Adrian — even before I read your file — I can imagine, when it comes down to it, you’re not one I’d enjoy disagreeing with. Let’s go get your girl back.”
He turns and walks out, picking up his hat, but leaving his badge. I follow him downstairs and thank the owner for his hospitality and discretion. We walk out and cross the street. I pause for a moment in the doorway of my bar. I stand there and take one last look inside before I leave. Every memory I have of this place involves Tori. There’s a part of me… a small part of me — a normal part of me — that wants to just sit down and rock back and forth, angry and upset and confused and heartbroken. That normal part of me wants to let somebody else fight the bad guys, so I can just stay at home and wait for them to return with the woman I love, unharmed.
But I’m not normal. And a much larger part of me is simply standing on the edge of a cliff, looking out into an abyss filled with violent and deadly intent, holding a gun in each hand and preparing to jump.
Clara fucking Fox has risen from the dead, and she brought my Inner Satan with her. I can’t remember the last time I was this pissed.
God help whoever’s behind this. Because Death himself is coming for them. And his name is Adrian Hell.