So, I went and parked up half a block away from The Pit in Clara’s Dodge Viper and waited. And now, two hours and thirty-five minutes after leaving the hotel, I hear sirens.
After a few moments, two police squad cars and a van pull up outside the entrance to the club, all at different angles so they’re facing the building. There are seven officers in total, all armed, and moving toward the door.
A four-man team lines up with their backs to the right hand wall, poised to enter through the main doors. Three officers remain stationed behind their open car doors, weapons trained at the entrance.
The officer at the back of the line runs to the front and works the door. Once open, he holds it so the other three can file in. He falls in behind them, disappearing into the gloom of the nightclub.
Less than five minutes pass before the officers emerge back out on the street. Two officers appear first, walking backward, guns trained on Jimmy Manhattan and three men in suits — all handcuffed and looking very pissed off. They’re arguing and shouting.
Still, it’s better to be pissed off than pissed on, so the saying goes.
The two officers bringing up the rear come out and they load Manhattan and his band of merry men into the back of the van. They then pile into their cars and all speed off, sirens wailing.
I ring Josh.
“It’s me,” I say.
“How’s everything going?” he asks.
“It went exactly as planned at the Four Seasons. They might not make much stick long-term, but for the foreseeable future, Jimmy Manhattan is no longer a problem. I’m watching the cops arrest him as we speak.”
“Very nice. Well, to add to your good news, I’ve got some of my own.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I’ve just been speaking to Robert Clark from GlobaTech.”
“And that’s good news, how?”
“They contacted me and said they’d spoken to you and Clara about a plan of action for Dark Rain, and wanted to know if they could rely on me for logistical support.”
I’ll admit I’m not happy at how easily people seem to trust Clark. I’m the first to admit I’m a sociopathic, paranoid cynic who hates most things and most people, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong for being skeptical of the company that has, up until very recently, been funding the organization who has spent all week trying to kill me. I’ll take more convincing than most.
“And what did you say?” I ask.
“I asked what they were planning and what my involvement would entail. At the end of the day, I work with you, Adrian.”
“Thanks. So what’s their plan? I know they’re handing the land over to the U.S. government, so at least that’s no longer an issue. But Dark Rain has the numbers and has had plenty of funding. I can’t take on an entire army on my own.”
“You don’t have to take them on at all. Their plan is to mount a two-pronged attack on the ground and in the air. GlobaTech has its own private military, don’t forget. They regularly work out of Afghanistan and Korea, sub-contracting for the U.S. government. With their resources, it’ll be like a hot knife through butter.”
“Sounds good to me. So where do you fit in?”
“Given our background knowledge of the situation, along with your contributions so far, they’ve asked if I’ll help co-ordinate their attack. They’re giving me temporary access to their satellite network.”
“Which means…”
“Which means I’ll be giving myself permanent access to their satellite network.”
We both laugh.
“I’m sure that’ll come in handy somewhere down the line,” I say. “I’ll just be happy when we can walk away from this. I don’t even care that I didn’t get paid for taking out Jackson. This has been a nightmare from start to finish. I can’t wait to leave Heaven’s Valley once and for all.”
“How come you haven’t already?”
“I’m just waiting to get an update on Clara’s condition. Once I know she’s okay and safe, I’ll leave town.”
“Sounds good. Let me know how she’s doing, yeah?”
“Will do, thanks.”
I hang up and sit for a few moments, thinking about everything.
Is that it? Am I done? Dark Rain is about to get wiped off the face of the earth by GlobaTech Industries, Jimmy Manhattan is now in police custody under suspicion for the murder of Ted Jackson, which will keep Pellaggio’s mafia off my back long enough for me to disappear, and the Uranium mine is now the property of the U.S. government — which, granted, may or may not be a good thing. Aside from Clara being in hospital and me not finding Jonathan Webster in time, I reckon this whole thing has ended about as well as it could do, under the circumstances. As much as I want to see things through to the end, realistically I think I’ve done all I can.
My phone rings, interrupting my train of thought. I look at the screen but it’s a withheld number.
Very strange.
“Hello?”
“Adrian Hell. This is Roberto Pellaggio. I think me and you need to talk, kid.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake…
“What can I do for you, shit-stain?”
“I’m assuming that Jimmy’s recent issue with the police is down to you?” he asks.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, casually.
“Sure you don’t, kid. As things stand, I figure you owe me. Big.”
“Really? See, the way I figure it, I owe you fuck all. So how about you piss off and forget you ever hired me?”
“That mouth of yours is gonna get you into trouble one day.”
“I thought I told you to leave this whole thing well alone?”
“I want my goddamn land back!”
“Oh, well seeing as you asked so nicely…”
“Don’t fuck with me, kid — I don’t care who you are, I’ll see to it they find pieces of your body in all fifty states!”
I fail to suppress a chuckle at his last threat, which I can tell does nothing to improve his already sour mood.
“Listen, I don’t have the deeds anymore. I gave them away. Sorry.”
“You can’t possibly be that stupid, kid,” he says after a moment's pause.
Despite having nothing in particular to hurry to, I’m still not in the mood to argue with the guy. I understand that he’s the head of a large and powerful mafia family. And yes, I fully appreciate there are many, many ways in which he can come after me. But after the week I’ve had, I simply don’t care.
I figure it’s irrelevant how much I tell him now. I mean, what’s he going to do? Threaten the U.S. government?
“You’re right, I’m not that stupid,” I say. “In fact, I’m probably one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet. But that doesn’t change the fact that I no longer have the deeds.”
“So get them back. They’re mine,” he says, bluntly.
“Actually, that land is now the property of the United States Government. I spoke to the Secretary of Defense and he persuaded me to hand the deeds over to a private military contractor called GlobaTech — who Ted Jackson worked for, in case you’ve forgotten. They’re handling the legalities of it all, but the bottom line is this: let it go — you’ve lost.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for a few moments.
“Bullshit,” he says, finally.
“I’m afraid not, sorry. See, it turns out that underneath that little plot of land lies the only natural Uranium deposit in North America. I couldn’t let you keep it once I found out, and since then, lots of things have happened that culminated in the Secretary of Defense ordering me to hand the deeds over.”