The caterer says nothing, just waves him away as if to say it’s no big deal. But as he’s about to walk off, Josh grabs his arm and holds him in place, looking him up and down before looking over at me with a smile. He turns back to the caterer.
“Okay, this is gonna sound weird, but… I’m gonna need your clothes.”
The guy looks horrified and immediately tries to make a run for it, but Josh trips him up and punches him in the face on the way down, knocking him out cold. I walk over to him, exaggerating the step I take over the body of the unconscious caterer.
“Smooth…” I say with a smile.
“I learned from the best,” he replies.
He drags the guy into the room he’d just come out of and a few minutes later re-appears dressed as a caterer. The shirt’s a bit too small for him, and he can’t tuck it in properly at the back, but it won’t make much difference. He looks believable, and that’s the main thing.
“Put your hair in a ponytail,” I say. “They wouldn’t let you wear it down if you were serving food and drink to people.”
“No probs…” he says, tying it up.
On the wall a bit farther down the corridor is a large, laminated floor plan of the stadium and seating. We walk over to it and find the exact location of where Trent’s private box is.
“You sure this plan of yours will work?” he asks me.
“Nope… but it’s a really good plan, and if it does work, it will be a brilliant way to get rid of someone like Wilson Trent once and for all.”
“He certainly won’t see it coming, that’s for sure.”
“No one expects me to think this much about something, that’s why.”
“No kidding!”
“Screw you,” I say with a smile. “Right, you go find some props, I’ll wait for my cue.”
We set off in different directions, knowing that in little under an hour, this could all be over.
32
I’m leaning against the wall just outside Trent’s box, listening at the door as Josh plays his part beautifully. He’s simply to wind Trent up enough for him to get distracted, so I can make my entrance and put the next phase of my plan into action. And from how it sounds in there, I figure the room’s just about ready for me…
I draw both my guns, checking the magazines are full and the safety switches are off. I stand in front of the door and take a deep breath. Everything we’ve done over the last few days… everything I’ve done in the past eight years… it’s all served as a prelude to this moment. I’m about to come face to face with Wilson Trent.
I can feel my Inner Satan snarling and spitting, pulling on its restraints and begging for freedom, so it could unleash its fury on the world.
Not quite yet…
I kick the door open so hard it almost flies off its hinges. I stand in the doorway and quickly survey the room. There are five bodyguards, each with their hands tucked inside their suit jackets — presumably reaching for their guns. Behind them, Josh is standing just behind Wilson Trent, close to his side and holding a knife to him.
“Yeah, we haven’t met, so let me introduce myself…” says Josh. “My name’s Josh. I believe you know my friend?”
My gaze settles on Trent, and we hold each other’s gaze for a moment. How easy it would be to put a bullet in his head right now… But that’s not the plan. Besides, it could easily go through the glass and out into the surrounding crowd, and I’m keen to avoid any unwanted casualties… or attention.
“Not interrupting, am I?” I ask with a wicked smile.
“You…!” seethes Trent through gritted teeth.
“Me…”
One of the bodyguards twitches, their gun hand moving a millimeter inside their jacket. I have both guns on Trent, but I move the one in my right hand and aim it at them.
“Don’t be doing anything silly now, boys,” I say. “Your lives depend on it.”
I look over at Josh and nod imperceptibly. He moves away from Trent and stands in-between the bodyguards and me.
“Alright ladies, hands where I can see ‘em,” he says. It takes a moment, but they comply, much to Trent’s dismay, though he remains silent.
Josh moves to each one individually, lightly frisking them and taking their guns. The first one he takes, he slides into his waistband at the back. The other four, he throws across the box into the corner.
“All clear, Boss,” he announces after a few moments.
I haven’t looked away from Trent since I entered the room. My entire body is tense and on edge. It’s not that I’m not relaxed under the circumstances; it’s that I have to physically restrain myself from rushing over and blowing Trent’s head off. That’s not the plan. The plan is to break him. Make him suffer. And suffer, he shall.
“Good man,” I reply. “Now, Trent… where should we start?”
His unwavering gaze does its best to bore a hole of hatred right through me, but I see in his eyes that he knows he can’t intimidate me, even if he doesn’t fully understand why.
“How about I kill you with my bare hands, you arrogant prick?” he snarls.
I smile. “Don’t confuse arrogance with simple knowledge. I’m confident purely because I know things about this situation that you don’t. The fact I’m better than you in every single way is beside the point.”
It’s Trent’s turn to smile. I know what’s coming. He’s going to antagonize me, try to force me to make a mistake. I’m not going to like it, but I’ve prepared for it beforehand — as has Josh.
“I did it, y’know?” he says. “Pulled the trigger, I mean… I put a bullet into your wife’s face and made your daughter watch. Then I made her beg before all my men emptied their clips into her. I tell you, she bounced around that kitchen floor like a ragdoll after every shot…”
My jaw muscles ache as I clench and tighten them. He’s standing in front of me, grinning with fond recollection at how he murdered my family. I can feel my blood boiling underneath my skin, succumbing to an anger and rage I’ve never even dreamed of being capable of. My face must be telling quite a story, as the five bodyguards, and even Josh, all take a step back, giving Trent and me some room. They all exchange worried glances with each other, and then look at Josh, who simply shrugs. He has a vague idea what’s going to happen next, and he knows to stay out of the way.
With both my Berettas aimed squarely at Trent, I can feel myself starting to shake as I struggle to hold back the demon within. I take some long, deep breaths, trying to settle the kick of adrenaline that’s surging through me.
“And to think,” Trent continues. “That all happened… because of you!” He points his finger at me, jabbing the air as he explains. “You got your family killed because you took my son away from me!”
“Oh, give it a rest, will you?” I reply, breaking my silence with a calmness that even surprises me. “You didn’t even know your son. He hated you and wanted nothing to do with you. He didn’t even have your name. I did my research — you hadn’t seen him since he was three. You banged some random whore one night and got her pregnant, then walked away from her and Darnell Harper when she demanded you help raise him. Let me guess, you killed her and left the boy in foster care? A victim of this country’s broken system. No wonder he grew up to become such a worthless little bastard. I did the world a favor blowing his goddamn head off. And yet you use him as justification for killing my wife and daughter, who I loved with every ounce of my being. You want the truth? Yeah, you broke me. You took my soul and killed Adrian Hughes in the process. After a couple of years of searching, Adrian Hell found me and turned me into the monster I am today. I can end you with a click of my fingers, you fat piece of shit.”