I walk backward to where my shoulder bag is on the floor and, keeping one eye on Manhattan, I open it up and retrieve a couple of spare magazines. I load my Beretta and pocket the remaining clip.
“Why are you helping us, after what I’ve just done to you?” he asks.
“An outstanding question,” I reply. “Look, I’m no master strategist. I simply do what I can to survive. I’m a fighter and right now my fight isn’t with you — despite the fact you’re trying to pick one with me. Be grateful and leave me the hell alone. You’re the only person I’ve ever warned twice. Take heed, as there won’t be a third time. Understand?”
Before he can say anything, a voice booms from outside. “Adrian Hell!”
The voice has a thick, Russian accent. It’s deep and reminds me of the guy from that Flash Gordon movie in the eighties — with the beard and the wings. Man, I loved that movie…
It definitely isn’t Natalia anyway, so I can only assume it’s Dark Rain’s illustrious leader, Colonel Ketranovich.
I look out the window. There are four Humvees parked with their doors open. Standing in front of them are twelve armed soldiers, all dressed in black. They’re in a line, holding assault rifles loosely in front of them.
Standing in front of them are three more people. On the right, as I look out, is Natalia Salikov. The one in the middle must be Ketranovich. I’ve never seen the guy on the left before, but he looks strangely familiar. I’m guessing he’s important anyway, otherwise he’d be standing with the rest of the grunts.
Natalia and the other guy also have assault rifles, aimed directly at the cabin. Ketranovich isn’t armed, but then, why would he be?
I let out a heavy sigh. It's been a really shitty week so far…
“Adrian Hell, come out of there, unarmed, and I promise you we will not shoot,” says the Colonel.
Yeah, right.
Still, I don’t really have a choice. There’s no cover in here. If they open fire, the cabin will be decimated within seconds, along with everyone inside it.
I turn to Manhattan.
“You want to get out of here?” I ask.
“There’s no reason I won’t anyway,” he replies, almost nonchalantly. “You just said yourself, their issue isn’t with me.”
“You’re right, it’s not. But they didn’t have an issue with anyone in that bar earlier, and that didn’t stop them opening fire regardless, just to get to me.”
He thinks about that for a moment.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“The deeds to this land,” I say. “It’s the only reason they’re here, and it’s my only bargaining chip.”
“You can kiss my ass, Adrian. You’re not having them.”
In response, I raise my gun and put a bullet right between Stan’s eyes. His head snaps back and smashes against the wall, leaving an explosion of deep crimson all around him. The gunshot sounded extra loud inside the cabin and the muzzle flash was bright. I can hear agitated voices and the sound of weapons being checked from outside. I have to act fast.
I point my gun at Manhattan.
“I have a million reasons to shoot you and hardly any not to,” I say. “Give me the fucking deeds.”
Slowly, he picks them up off the desk and holds them out to me. I reach over and take them, placing them in my back pocket. I quickly jab the butt of the pistol into Manhattan’s nose. I hear it break from the impact and he goes sprawling to the floor clutching his face, much like Stan did. He looks up at me, his eyes wide in a mixture of shock and fear. I take aim at his head.
“We ain’t done, Jimmy. I’ve got big plans for you,” I say. “But for now, if you wanna get out of here, you’re gonna have to trust me.”
I aim just to the right of his head and put a bullet through the floor.
He catches his breath as his eyes roll in silent relief. I kneel beside him.
“Be seeing you soon,” I whisper.
I slam the butt of my gun down hard on his left temple, knocking him out cold, before sliding it back in my holster and wiping the blood from my face as best I can with my sleeve. I walk over and pick up my bag, putting it over both shoulders.
Moving over to the door, ready to step outside, I touch the cut on my face again, wincing slightly. That’s going to scar like a bitch…
I must admit, I always prefer not to have much more than a vague outline of a plan. Any significant amount of detail and you feel compelled to stick to it as best you can, which means you run the risk of sometimes losing sight of the bigger picture. Not seeing everything clearly in front of you can be a costly, and sometimes deadly, mistake.
Luckily for me, right now I have no fucking clue what I’m about to do or what will happen as a result.
When in doubt, improvise.
“I’m coming out,” I shout. “I’m unarmed.”
I open the door and step out to face the firing squad.
The moon has risen and is shining bright in the clear night sky, bathing the area in a pale, white glow. My boots crunch on the gravel as I walk toward the Ketranovich and his gathering of armed followers. I’m holding my arms out to the sides like a cross with my palms open. It’s a passive gesture and, psychologically, gives the impression I’m not a threat.
I might as well try the diplomatic approach first. Granted, diplomacy isn’t exactly my strong suit, but at least it will engage them in conversation and buy me some more time.
“Get your men to lower their weapons,” I say. “We can sort this without any more violence or bloodshed.”
Ketranovich laughs. “You have some balls, Adrian Hell, I give you that,” he booms back.
“I didn’t realize you could see them from over there…”
He laughs again and motions for his troops to lower their guns, which they all do immediately. Apart from Natalia. She keeps hers trained on me the whole time. Our paths have crossed before though, so you can argue that she knows better than the rest of them.
And I don’t blame her… If it comes down to it, and this thing goes south, I’ll have both pistols drawn and the first bullets fired in less than two seconds. You can be damn sure I’ll take out Ketranovich and Natalia before I get cut in half by machine gun fire. I’d count that as a victory as well. If you cut off the head, most organizations like Dark Rain will simply crumble.
I’m standing looking at Roman Ketranovich. He’s an impressive man — I can’t deny that. He’s tall with short, graying hair and dark eyes. He’s wearing a green vest and camouflage pants. Tattoos cover his huge arms — his muscles toned by years of combat and killing. He has a scar down his cheek… I wonder if I’m going to look like that now, thanks to that prick, Manhattan?
He doesn't have a weapon, though why would he? His own private army is standing behind him. He turns and speaks to Natalia in Russian. I have no idea what he’s saying, but she finally lowers her weapon.
“I have heard a great deal about you, Adrian Hell,” he says. “It is an honor to meet such an accomplished soldier.”
Normally, this is point where I’d start winding him up, goading a reaction out of him and capitalizing on his overly emotional state of mind. But, given the circumstances, even I recognize that’s a pretty stupid idea.
“Thanks,” I reply. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you…”
He smiles. “That’s okay, Adrian Hell. Soon, the whole world will have heard of me.”
“Yeah, about that… Listen, I’m not sure I can allow you guys to carry on with your crazy plan for world domination or whatever. Sorry.”
He laughs loudly, prompting his followers to do the same. Everyone except Natalia, who’s staring a hole right through me.
“I’m sensing you’re not taking me seriously?” I say, frowning.
“We have partnership with your military. Our crazy plan will happen regardless of what you do,” he replies.