I take a deep breath. It actually hurts hearing her say that, but it’s not the time for sentiment. I look back at the chopper. It’s almost within range.
“No more playing games!” shouts Pellaggio, his eyes glued to his target.
A silent, tense moment passes… then he fires.
The missile makes a deafening whooshing sound and Chambers jumps in fright.
“Oh yeah!” he shouts with sickening joy.
I watch in horror as the missile flies with deadly intent through the sky toward the chopper. The pilot tries to bank sharply left, away from the bridge, but isn’t quick enough. I see the impact a split second before I hear it. The chopper disappears in the explosion. It sounds like an eruption, and seconds later the flaming wreckage of the helicopter plummets toward the ground, leaving a black trail of smoke behind it.
It hits the edge of the bridge, snapping the burning wreck in two — the tail sliding across the blacktop, hitting a couple of abandoned cars a way in front of us; the cabin section drops over the edge and into the Bay below.
Pellaggio watches the scene unfold almost perversely for a moment. He turns to us and drops the launcher to the ground.
“Now, get in the fucking van,” he says, sounding oddly satisfied. “There’s someone you need to meet.”
“At least let her go,” I say, nodding to Chambers. “Your issues aren’t with her.”
He smiles and raises his arm, gesturing with his hand to the guys behind him. Four of them walk over purposefully. Two move behind us; one moves either side. They prod us with the muzzles of their rifles and usher us over to the two vans.
Two guys climb in the back of the van on the left first, and then we’re ushered in behind them. There are two wooden benches running the length of each side of the interior behind the cab. I sit on the left and Chambers is sat down opposite me. Finally, two more guys get in and the slam the door shut behind them.
She stares at me with a mixture of emotions on her face.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her.
The engine starts up and we drive off.
“So am I, Adrian,” she says. “So am I.”
I try keeping track in my head of how long we’ve been in the van, but I soon lose count. It can’t be more than twenty minutes or so. We’re traveling mostly in silence.
Chambers looks distraught and very pissed off. I’m not sure whether her anger is directed at me personally, or just a general feeling after being forced into such an awful situation and being so helpless to do anything about it. I think she knows it was the right decision to stand down on the bridge, but I know from experience that knowing it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She’s staring at the floor, barely blinking.
In theory, I could take out these four guys with minimal fuss. It’s not like I’m restrained in any way…
But I better not. There’s nowhere really to run. Plus, a stray bullet in such a confined space could be disastrous.
It’s not worth the risk.
I nudge Chambers’ foot with mine and she looks up at me. Silently, I ask if she’s alright. She doesn’t acknowledge me; she just stares at me blankly for a moment before going to back to looking at the floor.
I’ll leave her in peace for now. I think she’s strong enough to avoid going into shock, but no one can tell you how you should act in a time like this — you’ve got to get there on your own.
We seem to have been keeping a steady speed for most of the journey since leaving the bridge, but I feel us slowing down now. I figure we’ve turned into a side street or something. A few moments later, the tires crunch on gravel as we gradually slow to a stop.
I hear the cab doors open and close, followed by footsteps. Then, the back doors open to reveal Pellaggio, standing next to the guy I assume was driving. Neither of them have weapons. The two guys in the back with us, nearest to the doors, jump out then turn and aim their weapons at Chambers and me. The guys on the other side of us stand and usher us both out.
I jump down and make a point of stretching my arms and back. I casually glance around but don’t recognize where we are. It looks like an old industrial estate of some kind. I stand with my back to our van. The other four guys have parked up a few feet behind us and are milling around, weapons loose. To my left is a large warehouse, with four big loading bays in a line. The shutters are down on all of them. I scan the skyline to the right, trying to find something identifiable that gives me some idea of where we are, but see nothing of any use.
I look at Chambers, who still has a glazed look on her face. She doesn’t look at me; she just keeps her eyes to the ground. I think she’s trying to numb herself to the situation, which isn’t a bad idea.
Right now, my spider sense is tingling and I’ve got a feeling things are going to get worse before they get better.
But it will get better. I just have to bide my time for the right opportunity.
I turn to Pellaggio. “Nice place,” I say. “Could do with a little work.”
He laughs. “Your mouth really doesn’t have an off switch, does it?” he asks.
“If it does, I ain’t found it yet,” I reply, with a smile.
“Allow me.”
He walks over and launches his right fist into my face. He connects squarely on my left cheekbone. It’s a lovely shot, and I take a step back to re-balance myself. I instinctively turned away as he hit me, to take away some of the impact. I look back at him and laugh.
“That all you got?” I ask. “You hit like a Girl Scout.”
I have to keep pushing his buttons and wait for the mistake. If you make them angry enough, they always make a mistake. And that’s when you make your move.
Antagonize and capitalize.
He doesn’t bite. He simply stares at me through his evil eyes then walks away. His group of armed minions follows him, ushering Chambers and me along with them.
We head toward the loading bay doors second from the left. I keep looking around, memorizing my surroundings, and planning my escape route for later. I just need to let all this play out long enough to learn what’s really going on.
As we approach, the shutters on the loading bay rumble and splutter into life, slowly moving up. There’s a small platform to climb up in front of the doorway. We step up and inside the warehouse.
The interior is spacious. It’s one enormous warehouse, not four separate ones like I thought it might be from the outside. It resembles an aircraft hangar. The roof isn’t anywhere near high enough, but looking at the vast floor space in front of me, you would almost expect to see an airplane parked here. Along the walls and in the middle of the floor are tall racks of metal shelving, rusted and long-abandoned. Toward the back wall, someone’s used plywood to section off a few rooms, creating a kind of makeshift office area.
We walk about halfway across the warehouse floor and stop. The men with guns move and form a loose, wide circle, surrounding Chambers and me. Her glazed-over look gives way to alertness and concern, her eyes flicking left and right at the circle of assault rifles pointing at us.
Pellaggio’s in the circle, as well, and smiling his wicked smile. My eyes narrow as I stare at him, remembering everything he’s put me through in such a short space of time. Not to mention the innocent lives lost in the process, and the injuries he inflicted upon Josh.
I can’t wait to kill him.
“So, Adrian,” he begins. “Here we are… finally! I’ve waited a very long time to get you all to myself. Patience isn’t one of my virtues, so it’s a relief for all the games to finally be over.”
I glance around the circle, gesturing to all the armed men.