“I believe him,” she says to me.
“Okay.”
“Ketranovich doesn’t tell any one person everything. He tells people only what they need to know to carry out their assignments. That way, if he’s betrayed, he’ll know who did it based on what information has been leaked.”
“That’s very smart. So now what?”
She looks over at Jones, then back at me. She lowers her gaze, and her body goes tense all over. That tells me she believes we’ve got all the information we’re going to get from Jones. And we obviously can’t leave him here…
I sigh and give her an empathetic smile. “Do you want to do it?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
I nod. “Okay,” I whisper to her. “Wait here.”
I walk over to Jones, take aim and, without another word, I look him in the eye and put a bullet in his head. The shot rings out and neither of us moves until the silence falls once more.
I take a deep breath, choosing to ignore the stabbing pain in my chest as I do.
At least we’ve got a lot more to go on now, which is a good thing. We know Dark Rain is hiding a scientist somewhere until the Uranium is mined. It’s interesting to hear that Dark Rain intended processing the material themselves — wonder if GlobaTech knew… It’s kind of funny that both parties were intending to betray each other. In a way, it would’ve been interesting to see what would’ve happened if the material were mined, and they both tried to convert it at the same time…
I’m assuming, given what’s at stake, no one’s going to let the fact that I have the deeds stop them from starting the mining process. With Jackson dead, I reckon that will delay things from GlobaTech’s point of view for a while. The next step is to find this scientist… If we can get to them before the mining starts, Dark Rain will be forced to delay things too, based on their inability to do anything with the material once they have it. The last thing Ketranovich will want is to be sitting on tons of Uranium that’s useless on the black market.
We need to act fast, but for the first time this week, things are looking up.
“What now?” she asks.
“We need to get out of here before the cops arrive,” I say. “Fancy a drink?”
14
We’re sitting across from each other in a booth, sipping our drinks. The bar isn’t too busy or too loud. There’s some music playing low in the background. There’s a very contemporary feel to the place. The interior is a mixture of brown leather and dark wood, as is the furniture. The people here seem more refined than the patrons in the places I usually drink. Everyone is in business dress or smart casual attire, talking in small groups like civilized people.
I’m cradling two fingers of Johnnie Walker; Clara’s holding a bottle of bud between her hands on the table, staring silently into space.
“So, what’s the plan?” she asks.
I shrug casually. “The way I see it, we need to start by tracking down this scientist,” I say. “Any ideas where they could be holding them?”
“There are a few places they might use. It’ll be within the city limits — they wouldn’t want to risk transporting the Uranium too far. Especially over state lines.”
“True. I’ll get my guy to look into it. You can give him the locations you know of and he’ll work his magic from there. He might be able to narrow down the search, track them by process of elimination.”
“Sounds good…”
She seems distracted. She probably has a lot on her mind, which I can understand.
“You alright?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replies, somewhat unconvincingly. “It’s just what Marcus said to me on the roof, about being a traitor. It’s like I told you, Adrian — you can’t walk away from these people.”
“Hey, you’re gonna be fine. You have my word — we’re going to stop them, okay?”
She smiles, but says nothing. We fall silent again for a few minutes, but it doesn’t feel awkward.
“Can I ask you something?” she says after a few moments.
“Shoot,” I say.
“Before, in your motel room, I got out of the shower wearing a towel.”
“Yes… you did.”
“And we had a long conversation.”
“I know, I was there, remember?”
“You didn’t check me out once.”
I raise an eyebrow and burst out laughing, prompting a disapproving look.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But you’re such a woman!”
“What gave it away? These?” she says sarcastically, pointing at her breasts.
I smile, making a conscious effort not to look. “Let me ask you this,” I say. “If I had checked you out, or made a move or whatever, would it have got me anywhere?”
She seems to genuinely consider it for a moment, before smiling almost apologetically. “Probably not.”
“There you go. So if we both knew I wouldn’t have stood a chance anyway, why does it bother you that didn’t try?”
She shrugs. “A girl likes to be noticed, y'know. It makes her feel… special.” She pulls a playful face and smiles, messing with me.
I massage my temples in frustration. “Shoot me now…”
She laughs and I laugh with her. She finishes her drink and points to my glass.
“Want another?” she asks.
I take a final gulp of my drink and nod. “Please. Same again.”
She walks off to the bar. I notice a group of men at a table across from us stop and check her out. I smile to myself and stare absently at the table.
Why didn’t I check her out? I mean, it’s not like she’s unattractive. Purely based on looks, she’s one of the most gorgeous women I’ve seen in a long, long time. I just… I don’t think about stuff like that. I focus on my job and that’s it. After losing…
I rest my head in my hands and sigh.
I’m angry at myself now because I’m worried I’ve offended her in some way. I wonder if I’ve actually hurt her feelings… Women are complicated creatures sometimes. She was being playful, but there’s likely an underlying reason that prompted her to ask.
Or am I over-thinking it?
I let out a heavy sigh again.
“What’s on your mind, champ?” asks Clara, placing my drink in front of me and sliding back into her seat.
“Just thinking about what you said before, about not checking you out. I —”
She waves her hand and smiles. “I was just kidding around, forget about it.”
“No, it’s fine. I need to give you a real reason for my own piece of mind, okay?”
She shrugs, still smiling at me. “Go ahead,” she says.
I take a deep breath and a gulp of Johnnie Walker.
“Six years ago, I was working a contract over in Pittsburgh. A guy hired me to take out a local drug dealer called Darnell Harper, who sold some cocaine to his son. The boy died of an overdose and the coroner’s report said the coke had been cut with some kind of cleaning fluid, which made it toxic. The guy was beside himself, but knew he couldn’t do anything on his own. He reported it to the police, but they did nothing, so he hired me to kill the guy that sold it.”
She listens intently, occasionally sipping her drink.
“I looked into the guy — he was just a small-time dealer. He had a modest operation in the local area, but he wasn’t in the big leagues. I tailed him for a couple of days, learned his routines and his hangouts. Then on the third day, I waited until he was alone and I put a bullet between his eyes with a sniper rifle from a rooftop two streets away…”
“Nice,” she shrugs with what felt like professional admiration.
“Thanks…Unfortunately, it turned out Harper was the son of Wilson Trent, the drug kingpin who runs most of Pennsylvania. I didn’t find that out initially, because no one on the street knew about it. Apparently, Harper used his mother’s maiden name so he wouldn’t be associated with his old man. He wanted to make his own way, not on Trent’s coat-tails.”