What the hell’s in this IV?
I slowly wave back with my right hand.
I’m not convinced that this isn’t a hallucination of some sort…
He walks over to the door and opens it. He sticks his head out to the left and whistles, then holds the door open. After a few moments, Robert Clark enters the room.
“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” he says.
I sigh and roll my eyes. That’s something Josh would’ve said.
“Come over here so I can hit you,” I reply, groggily.
“How you holdin’ up?”
“Been better. Let me ask you: is that guy over there with the gun real?”
Clark looks over his shoulder at the guy standing guard by the door.
“He’s as real as it gets,” he replies.
“That’s alright then. Thought I was going strange for a minute.”
“Adrian, what the hell happened?”
“I don’t know. I got off the phone with you, walked over to Clara’s car and it exploded. My guess would be that Pellaggio’s got a head start on trying to make me dead.”
“That was a serious explosion, Adrian. You’re lucky you're alive. I’ve got a couple of guys working on the car now. Or, what’s left of it at least. We’ve managed to keep the local authorities away for now. It’s a shame — that was a sweet ride.”
“It really was…” I agree, fondly. “Clara’s gonna kill me.”
“Not if someone else beats her to it… We think the bomb was C4, intended for remote detonation from somewhere nearby. It was underneath the car near the driver’s door. From what we can determine after our preliminary investigation, whoever did this configured the device to detonate via a cell phone transmission. My personal guess is that for some reason, our conversation triggered the explosion early. Your phone must’ve used the same frequency as the device programmed to detonate it.”
“Well, they do say cell phones will kill you…”
“Look, if this was Pellaggio, you need to proceed with caution. He clearly has the means to get to you whenever he wants. And he definitely seems intent on killing you. Maybe you should—”
“Let me stop you right there,” I say, interrupting him. I reach over and take the IV out of my hand, causing a thin trickle of blood to drip down on to the bed sheets. I throw the covers back and swing my legs over the side. I put my feet flat on the floor, tentatively at first, and put my weight on them.
They seem to be working fine, so I commit fully and push myself off the bed and stand up, turning to face Clark.
“In the last two days, I’ve been shot at, mildly tortured, shot at again and now blown up. I’ve been thrown through a mirrored wall and I’ve had to see innocent people die horribly because of me.”
I walk toward him. He looks a little uncomfortable, which is fine by me. He needs to know who he’s talking to. He needs to know what’s going to happen now.
“Do you know why they call me Adrian Hell?” I ask him.
“Ah, no… No, I don’t,” he replies, even more uncomfortable now I’m standing almost nose to nose with him. The man in black at the back doesn’t move toward me.
“I live with a daily struggle to keep all my anger, and hatred, and horrible thoughts behind a locked door in my head. Occasionally, if people push me hard enough, they run the risk of that door opening. And if it does, what they find behind it is their problem to deal with. And God help them. Dark Rain is your problem now. And, frankly, you’re welcome to them. But Pellaggio has just blown my door off its hinges. Literally, as well as figuratively. So now…”
I pause as I clench my jaw muscles, fighting to keep the burning rage inside of me in check. I can feel a lust for violence coursing through my veins, touching every part of my body and filling it with a dark energy that’s bursting at the seams, desperate to be unleashed.
“Now,” I continue. “Roberto Pellaggio will know what it’s truly like to feel the wrath of my inner Satan. I’m going to rip his whole world apart. I made him a promise not so long ago, and I aim to come good on that. I appreciate you helping me out, but if you want some free advice, Robert — stay the fuck out of my way.”
23
Clark and his bodyguard quickly left my room. I got dressed and discharged myself from the hospital. The nurses strongly objected, but they weren’t going to stop me. I took some painkillers to help with my ribs and my back, and then made my way outside.
I’m standing in the doorway, looking at the front of the hospital. It’s still a goddamn circus out here. It’s been over five hours since the car exploded. They’ve put out the blaze, but there’s a still a fire truck on site. The police are there, along with a forensics team and a bomb disposal unit. They’ve cordoned off the area, but some members of the public are moving around in front of the police tape, trying to see what’s happened. Off to the right of the scene, spilling out onto the street, a crowd of journalists and local media are trying to describe the scene to the curious masses.
I want to avoid any kind of attention, so I duck away to my right and work my way around the back of the hospital, onto the next street over that runs parallel to the building. I use side streets and alleyways where I can, keeping my exposure to prying eyes down to a minimum.
My hearing is almost completely back to normal and my tongue has stopped bleeding, although it still hurts to talk. Luckily, the time for talking has long since passed.
Wars aren’t won with words…
I have no idea at this stage whether Pellaggio’s aware I’ve survived the blast. Ideally, he’ll think I’m dead. That way, he’ll forget all about me and absolutely won’t expect me to show up on his doorstep, giving me a huge advantage.
However, I think we all know I’m not that lucky.
Working on the assumption he knows I’m still alive, I figure I should try to keep a low profile until I’m ready to make my move.
As we agreed, before I was blown up, Clark has arranged a little care package for me on behalf of my new friends at GlobaTech. He’s texted me the address — the drop point is a storage locker at the main bus terminal. He’s given me the combination to the lock and confirmed it’s accessible twenty-four hours a day.
I know what I need to do. I’ll admit, I usually like to take more time to plan an operation — especially one like the one I’ve got planned for Pellaggio — but I can’t afford to wait any longer. I’ve finished trying to do the right thing and play the diplomat between everyone. The door’s open and the Devil inside is hungry for blood…
I find the bus terminal easily enough and quickly locate the locker. The combination works first time. Inside is a black sports bag. I remove it, putting my shoulder bag in there in its place. I walk over to an empty bench and quickly open it to check everything I need is in there.
Holy shit… Clark delivered and then some!
Everything’s there. It’s all high-end equipment — perfect for what I’m going to do next…
I zip the bag back up and walk out of the bus terminal, carrying it by my side as I keep to the alleys and the side streets like before. I instinctively touch my Berettas at my back. I’m glad I didn’t leave them in the car, and I’m very fortunate the nurses kept them with my belongings. I suspect that particular hospital benefits from some extra funding, courtesy of GlobaTech. They all seem perfectly comfortable with the comings and goings of guns and bullet wounds.
My phone starts vibrating in my pocket. I take it out and see Josh’s name on the screen. I’m not in the mood for talking, but I should probably answer it.
“Yeah?” I say.
“Whoa, you alright big fella?” asks Josh, immediately picking up on my tone.
“Aside from being blown up by a car bomb, I’m peachy.”
“What?”
“Yeah, Clara’s Dodge Viper was blown to shit in the hospital parking lot as I approached it. I think Pellaggio’s started his campaign to kill me. Dunno if he knows he failed or not.”
“Jesus! You alright?”
“I’ve got a helluva headache and my ribs and back have taken another pounding, but I’m fine. I was blown clear by the blast. Any closer and I’d have been evaporated.”
“This has gotta be one of the shittiest weeks ever! Listen, have you spoken to Clara yet?”
“No, haven’t seen or heard from her. I’d gone back to the hospital to check on her, but she’d discharged herself… again.”
“Right. Well, that’s why I was calling you — she just rang me.”
“She did? Is she alright? Where is she?”
“She’s fine. She was asking after you, actually. Said she felt bad leaving the hospital without telling you, but couldn’t sit there and allow Dark Rain to get away with what they did to Webster. She felt responsible and wanted to do something.”
“What did you say to her?”
“Well, she asked what the plan was and how she could help, so I told her about my involvement with GlobaTech and what their operation entails. She said she’d do some recon and give me intel from the ground, to help me co-ordinate the attack.”
“Sounds like a good plan. She needs to watch her back though. Dark Rain is gunning for her just as much as they are for me.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. Anything she can give me will be invaluable. So, what are you doing now?”
“I have a gift from GlobaTech, thanks to our friend, Bob. I’m going to pay Don Pellaggio a visit.”
“Is this gift, by any chance, in the shape of a black bag full of evil things?”
“It is.”
“And have you used the words ‘inner’ and ‘Satan’ in the same sentence recently?”
“I have.”
“Oh, bloody hell! I’ll be under my desk ‘til you’re finished.”
“That’s probably wise.”
I hang up and continue navigating the back streets. After a good half hour, I find myself walking down a poorly lit street just outside the center of the city. It’s clearly a rich area of the city, because the houses are well spaced and all look like mansions. I make my way along the street and about halfway down on the right is a particularly enormous house within a gated property. There are high walls all around, with a security hut to the right of the large, wrought iron gates. Beyond is a circular driveway with a massive water feature in the middle. The house itself has three floors, with a large, stone pillar either side of the front door. There’s light coming from a few windows, but other than that the place is in darkness.
Roberto Pellaggio’s estate.
I smile to myself.
Showtime, asshole.