I hear Josh walk in behind me and shut the door before standing at Manhattan’s bedside.
I’m pinning this guy to the far wall by his throat — my arm fully extended and standing almost side on as I hold him, making my body a smaller target and harder for him to get at.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask. “And why are you trying to kill Jimmy over there?”
The guy’s breathing heavy, struggling against my grip. Both his hands are around my wrist, but I can squeeze like a vice when I need to, so he’s not moving unless I allow it.
“Answer me!” I say.
“Adrian, you’re crushing his windpipe,” says Josh behind me. “He can’t answer you…”
I glance back at him. “Fair point, smartass.” I look back at the guy and loosen my grip a little. “There… now, answer me,” I say.
“Mr. Pel-Pellaggio sent me,” he stutters with spittle forming on his lips.
“Why?”
He moves up on his tiptoes as I re-tighten my grip slightly — my hand wrapping around him so that my fingertips are applying pressure to the fleshy part of the neck where the pulse is, just behind the bend in the jaw.
“I–I’m following orders, that’s it,” he manages.
I sigh. I don’t have time for the formalities of interrogation. “Josh?” I say, looking over my shoulder at him.
“On it,” he says, leaning over Manhattan and pulling his oxygen mask off his face. “Jimmy? Jimmy? You awake mate?” he asks, slapping him gently on the cheek.
He looks up at Josh, disoriented and blurry-eyed.
“Listen, Jimmy, why would Danny Pellaggio try to kill you?”
“Because…,” replies Manhattan, failing to finish his sentence due to the struggle of getting each word out.
Josh looks up at me and shrugs. “I’m getting nothing,” he says.
I look back at the hitman. I look him right in the eye. I see fear, which is a good thing. It makes this next part a little easier.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask.
He nods hurriedly, but says nothing. I tighten my grip even more around his throat, making his eyes widen.
“Good — that saves me some time. You’re going to live, understand? And you’re going to go back to that piece of shit that hired you, and you’re gonna tell him that he’s a dead man walking. You tell him that if he wants a genetically perfect predator, then he’s got one. He walks around calling himself The Shark… well, I can smell blood, and I’m coming for the kill. Nod your head if you understand.”
He does.
“Excellent.”
Without warning, I swing my right arm around, leading from the hip, and smash my elbow into his left temple, causing his head to snap violently to the right. He loses consciousness instantly, and as I release my grip, he drops to the floor. I look down at him, and see the severe bruising around his throat.
I walk over to the bed and stand across from Josh, where the hitman had been. I look down at Jimmy. He looks old. I mean, I know he’s probably quite old anyway, but he’s always had an aura about him that exudes power and confidence. And looking at him now, he’s merely a shadow of his former self.
Getting shot and betrayed sucks.
“Right,” I say. “Jimmy, you better start talking. Given I just saved your life, arguably for the second time, I figure you owe me. Tell me what Pellaggio is planning.”
He takes a long, deep breath and closes his eyes momentarily before looking first at Josh, then at me.
“I honestly… don’t know the full extent of what he has planned,” he says, grimacing at every other word from the strain of talking.
“You can’t really expect us to believe that?” I ask.
He smiles. “Probably not,” he says, still struggling to get his words out. “But it’s the truth. I helped him, trained him, put him in touch with the right people and funded his whole operation. But for me, it was always about getting to you. For Danny, he didn’t just blame you for what happened to his father. He blamed that fucking terrorist, Ketranovich.”
“He’s already said he wants to make it look like the Russians did whatever it is he’s going to do, but we need you to fill in the blanks, Jimmy.”
He clenches his jaw as best he can, out of either anger or frustration, but remains silent.
“Jimmy, this isn’t the time for misplaced loyalties,” I continue. “Danny’s tried to kill you twice now. He obviously doesn’t need you anymore. I don’t care if you want me dead, but I do care about a potential threat against countless innocent lives. Help me, Jimmy.”
He sighs, reaching for his oxygen mask and placing it over his mouth while he takes a few deep breaths. He removes it again to speak.
“He has a Russian with him called Gregovski,” he says, eventually. “He’s an extremist who wishes to sever his own ties with the Motherland for different reasons. Danny's going to use Gregovski as the face and voice of his attack — he’ll publicly claim the attack as Russia’s. That will be enough to light the fire. The media and the government will do the rest.”
I look over at Josh, who’s shaking his head in disbelief.
“Jesus Christ…” he says, letting his words trail off.
I look back at Manhattan. “You have to tell me what he’s planning, and when.”
“I don’t know,” he implores. “Right now, I swear I’d tell you if I knew, but I really don’t. I only know that he’s got something big planned, and that it involves the Russian.”
My gut says he’s telling the truth.
“One more thing,” I ask. “When you had me tied to a chair, I asked you how you managed to stay ahead of the FBI for so long. You never told me.”
Manhattan squirms in his bed, staring at me. He’s beaten and he knows it. He owes Pellaggio nothing. Yet he’s still reluctant to divulge anything to me. It must be pride.
“C’mon Jimmy,” I urge “This is your chance to do something good for once.”
He sighs. “We have a man inside the Field Office on our payroll,” he says finally.
“I fucking knew it! Give me their name.”
“Agent… Green.”
“The piece of shit that arrested me? Sonofabitch!”
I take a deep breath and pace slowly away from the bed, trying to process the information and figure out what the hell is going on. It’s all starting to make sense, which is kind of annoying, as the more I find out, the more I think I should’ve figured it out sooner.
Josh remains close to Manhattan.
“Here’s a question,” he says. “If that’s all you know — and, let’s be honest, it’s not much more than we already have — why does Pellaggio Junior want you dead so badly? Why did he shoot you in the first place? And why send such a pathetic excuse for an assassin to try to finish the job?”
Manhattan’s eyes shift back and forth. That’s a damn good question.
“Jimmy…?” I say, standing still and looking over at him.
“I… I started asking what his plan was after he captured you on the bridge and brought you to the warehouse,” he says to me. “And he lost control — started saying it wasn’t my business and that I should stop trying to look out for him; that I wasn’t his father.”
“He just… snapped?”
My mind kicks into overdrive, running through events again in my head, piecing things together. I remember when we first arrived at the warehouse, and everyone surrounded Chambers and me… He flipped like a switch when he grabbed her. And even before that, standing on the bridge — I remember asking him if he suffered from survivor’s guilt or something, purely to get a reaction. But he changed instantly and attacked me.
I should’ve seen it sooner.
“He snapped…” I say, looking at Josh for confirmation of my theory — but he doesn’t seem to know what I’m getting at. I look at Manhattan. “Pellaggio’s fucking insane, isn’t he? You’re still trying to protect him, but he’s a couple of cans short of a six-pack.”