On either side of the doors is one of the two men we’d seen in the street earlier. What were their names…? Duncan and Bennett, was it? They’re both tall and look even more physically impressive in person. They both have guns in their hands and they’re both aiming them at my head.
“Drop it, asshole,” says Duncan, on the right.
“Fuck…” I mutter.
I shouldn’t have been so reckless. The adrenaline was clouding my judgment, and not for the first time. I toss the shotgun to the floor. He reaches behind me, taking my Berettas and throwing them down as well.
“You too,” Bennett says, looking at Josh. “Nothing funny, or I blow his fucking brains out.”
Josh hesitates, not wanting to lower his weapon.
“Do as he says,” I say to him. “He has me dead to rights.”
He sighs heavily, unhappy that we’ve been caught before we can do anything and steps through, tossing his gun to the floor next to mine and raising his hands.
Duncan presses his gun to the side of my head. “Make a move and I’ll shoot you,” he says. “Now take a seat on the sofa.”
I take a deep breath, stand back up and walk forward. As I do, the line of three men in front of the desk step to one side revealing Jimmy Manhattan, who’s sitting in what, I presume, used to be Wilson Trent’s chair.
“Fuck…” hisses Josh, seeing Manhattan’s arrogant smile, already celebrating his victory over us. I can’t say anything, I just feel numb at having hit a roadblock I never expected to come up against.
“Adrian, glad you could join us,” he says. “Welcome to my empire.”
My jaw muscles clench as I stare at him, my anger rising to boiling point. “You sneaky, rat bastard sonofabitch!” I yell.
He smiles at me, full of arrogance. “Did you honestly think I’d write off our history, forgive and forget, then strike up a partnership with you? I’ll admit, your involvement has made things easier for me, but this outcome was inevitable. And now, I have all the manpower and the resources to finally bury Adrian Hell. How does it feel? Being so beaten?”
“Actually,” interrupts Josh. “You don’t have the resources. I stole all of Trent’s money, so you’re in charge of a building you can’t afford the rent for, and a small gang of inbred steroid abusers who you can’t afford to pay. Well done!”
Manhattan nods to Bennett, who steps over to Josh and slams his pistol into the side of his head, right on the temple. Josh grunts as he falls to the floor, not quite unconscious but incapacitated for the time being.
“A minor technicality,” says Manhattan, without skipping a beat. “Which you will resolve for me. Hand over the money.”
I shake my head. “Couldn’t if I wanted to. Didn’t understand half the shit he said to me when he told me how he’d done it, but I know the only way to trace the money is with him in front of a computer. Given you just knocked him out, you’ll have to wait…”
“Defiant to the very—”
“I haven’t finished,” I interrupt, “I was just pausing for breath… Like I was saying, I couldn’t if I wanted to… but I don’t want to. What I want to do is kill everyone in this room. And you’re going last, so you can watch what I do to everyone else.”
I look at Duncan, who, to his credit, remains next to me with his gun still on my temple.
“You want to know what I did to your boss?” I ask him. “I beat him half to death with my bare hands and then made him bite the curb. I killed him by putting my boot through the back of his head. I heard the crunch as the top of his spine snapped, and his jaw damn-near fell off.”
I can feel the gun start to quiver slightly against my head. I don’t know if it’s down to anger or fear, or both — I don’t care, either. It doesn’t matter. The point is that he’s emotional, and he’s going to make a mistake. And when he does, I’ll kill him.
“Nice speech,” says Manhattan. “But, I’m afraid, very much un-necessary.”
The door opens and another fifteen well-armed men dash in and form a wide semi-circle between the door and me.
Ignoring the gun, I do a slow three-sixty of the room, turning clockwise and looking around to buy myself some time while I figure out my next play. I have fifteen men between the door and me. Next is a mostly empty space with a goldfish bowl on a stand in front of the large windows. Then there’s the desk with Manhattan behind it and three men in front of him. The other guy, brought in with Manhattan, was sitting on the sofa, bleeding from a bullet wound and looking faint. And finally, the far wall on the right is, again, mostly empty, save for some artwork on the walls and a display cabinet containing two identical samurai swords that are probably worth more than I can imagine.
I clench my jaw muscles tightly in silent frustration as my number of viable options for survival decreases by the minute.
“As you can see, Adrian,” he continues. “Any threat you make is futile. You’re done. I’ve waited a long time to see you die, and I intend enjoying every second of it.”
With Josh down for the count still, Bennett walks over to the desk and places his gun down in front of Manhattan. “Can I have the pleasure of beating him to death for you?” he asks.
Manhattan couldn’t smile any wider if he tried. “Be my guest,” he replies, before turning to Duncan. “Both of you can have a little fun, if you’d like.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I look at Duncan, whose emotions are slowly being replaced by a wicked, confident smile. I let out a heavy sigh and brace for the inevitable. And sure enough, before Duncan put his gun down, he whips it into the side of my head, forcing me to one knee while the throbbing subsides.
I know they’re both trained fighters, and I know not to underestimate their abilities. But I also know that, quite simply, I’m better.
Bennett is in front of me, with Duncan to my right. I’m still down on one knee, holding the side of my head. Waiting…
Bennett comes at me first. He throws a kick with his left leg, executed perfectly — he swings it round in a wide arc, his leg stiff. He’s thrown his hip over, putting every ounce of momentum behind the kick. He’s aiming for the side of my head, and if it connects, that one blow will end things right here, right now.
But I knew it was coming. I’ve been watching him. Out of the two of them, he clearly thinks of himself as the more senior, which means he was going to want to go first. And I’ve been watching his stance.
After speaking to Manhattan, he turns and puts his right foot forward, with his back leg on the ball of his foot. I’m on one knee, which practically begs for a head kick. As it swings around, I jump up and hook my right arm around his leg, grabbing hold and absorbing some of the blow in my side.
But I’d met his leg, instead of waiting for it to come to me, so it hadn’t quite gained full momentum and consequently doesn’t have the stopping power it would have otherwise. With his left leg held out straight, and a look of complete shock on his face, I step through and thrust my left foot through his right kneecap, snapping his leg in half. I let go of his left leg, and he collapses on the floor, writhing and screaming in agony.
One down…
I turn to Duncan, who is also standing frozen in shock at how swift and brutal my defense is.
One to go…
We face each other and I wait for his move. His stance is loose, and his guard high; his years of training making him a very effective fighter. Patience is the key to beating him. Let him come to me, then defend and counter…