“Bernstein must be in his office,” I whisper over my shoulder.
I take a step forward, but feel a hand on my arm. I look back at Josh.
“Adrian,” he says. “You want me to handle this? You can’t talk your way out of anything. We both know that.”
“I’m not intending to talk at all,” I say.
Frank goes to say something, but I pre-empt his objections. “And no, Frank — I’m not gonna shoot them. Just… disable them for the time being.”
He lets out a sigh of obvious relief and nods, as if giving his approval.
The security guards haven’t looked up. I’m thinking the best way to take them out is quickly and head-on — surprise them and attack before they know what’s happening. This tactic works best when a large group’s altogether. If you’re ever in a situation where you’re outnumbered and they’re spread out, more often than not, they’ll come at you individually or in pairs, which is easy enough to handle. But when you’re approaching them and they’re close together, you run the risk of being mobbed. The trick is to hit hard, hit fast, and hit once.
I look over my shoulder and signal to Josh and Frank to wait here, just out of sight. I step out into the office and walk briskly toward the desk. After a few steps, as expected, they look up, initially confused. The guard that’s standing is a tall, dark-skinned man wearing a charcoal-gray suit and no tie.
“Hey!” he shouts to me. “Who the fuck are you?”
Without a word, I run at the desk, jumping as I reach it and placing my hands flat on the counter, using my momentum to lift me up and over. As I bring my legs up behind me, I swing them round, kicking the first of the two guards sitting down in the face. He falls backward off his chair and, as I land, I deliver a strong right punch to the guard next to him, who also flies off his seat and lands next to him.
Before the remaining guard can react, I swing my left leg low as I turn to face him, kicking him firmly on the right knee. He loses his footing and drops to the floor. I kick him again, squarely in the face, and knock him out cold.
I signal Josh and Frank over and set off toward Bernstein’s office at the back. Without waiting for them or breaking stride, I raise my right foot and kick the door clean off its hinges. I walk straight in and take the handset off Bernstein, who looks very startled and confused, and slam it down on the receiver. I stand in front of him, letting him look me up and down and process what’s happening.
“What the… what’s going on? Who are you? Where’s our security?” he asks, the panic evident in his voice.
“I am Adrian Hell… you are Wilson Trent’s money man… and your security is out cold,” I reply. “Which means me and you are going to have a real good talk…”
His eyes go wide. I’m not sure what’s worrying him more — me, or the thought of what Trent will do when he finds out I’ve been here. Either way, he’s terrified.
“I d-don’t know—” he starts.
“What I’m talking about?” I offer, interrupting. “Sure you do, Joe.”
“But you’re supposed to be dead…”
“Ah, yes — the beautiful assassin Trent hired to kill me…” I show him my arm. “She missed.”
I reach behind me and draw one of my Berettas, which I aim at him.
“Now, this can go one of two ways. One option is that I ask questions, you answer them honestly and with vast amounts of detail, then I leave you alone, unharmed.”
“What’s the second option?” he asks.
“Pretty much the opposite of the first one.”
Behind his desk, he plops down heavily in the chair. He looks around nervously for a moment before sighing with resignation.
I smile. “Atta boy, Joe.”
Frank and Josh walk in behind me. I stand in front of the desk, which is clear, save for a few pieces of paper and a computer. Josh walks around and stands behind Bernstein’s chair, resting on the back of it. Frank stays by the doorway, a little unsure of himself. I’m happy to take the lead with the interrogation. I lower my gun slightly before talking.
“So, we want the inside scoop on Trent. You have access to all his money, and we know you were with him this morning, so you’re our golden ticket. Start talking.”
“Do you have any idea what he’ll do to me if he finds out I’ve spoken to you?” he asks.
“Yes. And I honestly don’t care. But if it’s any consolation, if you give us enough juicy details, I’ll make sure he’s too dead to take anything out on you anyway.”
He takes some deep breaths, trying to stay calm. Like a typical numbers man, I see in his eyes he’s weighing up the odds, deciding on his best course of action.
“What do you want to know?” he asks, concluding that my way is the only way, which is very smart.
I look up at Josh, who takes his cue and spins the chair around slightly, so Bernstein is facing the right hand wall, looking in between the both of us.
“I need information on all of his personal and business accounts,” he says, leaning over the chair.
“I c-can’t give you that!” he exclaims, turning to me. “That would basically give you full access to every cent he has!”
I smile. “Why else would we ask for it?”
“You’re insane. Do you even know Mr. Trent? He’ll kill you, your family, everyone you’ve ever cared for, if he finds out what you’re doing.”
“Joe, that ship has sailed — trust me. Trent won’t do shit to me. His time’s running out, and I’m gonna take everything from him. Understand? Everything. Now, before you get me all the account information my colleague has asked for, tell me more about where he lives. This big penthouse apartment he works from.”
Bernstein shrugs. “What’s to tell? He works on the top floor of an apartment building. Everyone who lives there works for him. He runs some businesses out of the apartments there too.”
“How tall is the building?” I ask.
“Thirty stories, I think.”
“What kind of protection does he have?”
“I’ve only ever seen his two bodyguards, Duncan and Bennett, by his side. But there’s a lot of muscle in that place. Scares the shit outta me every time I go in there.”
Frank steps forward, level with me. He glares at Bernstein for a moment before speaking. “If we wanted to get to him, how would we do it? Doesn’t sound like knocking on his front door is really an option…”
“I have no idea, honestly. He doesn’t confide in me and I’m not privy to any of his movements. I literally just make sure his money is all accounted for and in the right place. Please, you have to believe me!”
Frank takes another step forward, his face turning red and his eyes going wide, as his anger builds. I’m assuming that’s out of frustration, and I can relate. I put my hand on his arm. He looks at me for a moment then walks away, out of the office.
I look at Josh, then back at Bernstein.
“Get the account details for my friend,” I say, leveling my gun at him once more.
He nods hurriedly and starts typing on the keyboard in front of him. A few mouse clicks later and the screen flashes as spreadsheet after spreadsheet loads up.
“There,” he says. “That’s all his financial records for the last six months.”
Josh grabs him by the neck and forces him out of the chair before sitting down and reviewing the information on the screen.
“Adrian, this is the bloody jackpot!” he says. “We’ve got it all here — bank details, recent transactions… you name it.”
I allow myself a small, silent celebration. This is our first significant step forward since arriving here, and I can finally see some light at the end of the tunnel. We still have a long way to go, but this is a big win for us.