“…in the early hours of this morning. It’s been confirmed that the deceased include local businessman and suspected crime boss, Roberto Pellaggio. His body, along with several others, was found inside the mansion. Police have no suspects at this time, but sources close to the investigation have said that, based on early forensic evidence and details found at the scene of the crime, it’s thought the mass slaying was a mafia hit, carried out by a team of professional killers. Detectives are waiting to question the one survivor of this horrific event, twenty-seven year old Daniel Pellaggio — Roberto Pellaggio’s youngest son. He was found with bullet wounds in his leg and chest and is currently listed as being in critical condition. More on this story as it develops. In other news, a local man has found…”
Holy shit, someone’s survived? That’s unexpected. He’s a lucky bastard, no doubt about that. I should probably go and kill him to tie up the loose ends…
But then, having said that, the hospital is going to be a media circus and impossible to get inside unseen. Plus, like the reporter just said, everyone thinks it was a team of killers. Even if the guy talks, he doesn’t know what I look like and no one will believe just one person did all that.
With Jimmy Manhattan in police custody for the foreseeable future as well, it’s probably not worth worrying about. Pellaggio’s business will have imploded within hours of me killing him, given I managed to slaughter most of the people involved in its day-to-day running.
No, it’ll be fine — it’s all over now.
The waitress comes over and takes my plate away, replacing it with a plate of bacon and eggs. She tops off my coffee and leaves me to enjoy the food. I figure I’ll finish up here and head back to the bus terminal. I’ll get a ticket for the next Greyhound out of here and head north.
I manage one mouthful of bacon before my phone rings. I look at the caller ID — it’s Josh. I put the phone down on the table. I’ll let it go through to voicemail. I need to eat.
It keeps ringing.
I look at it and sigh, slightly frustrated.
I’m trying to eat… but he never rings me unless he needs to.
I put my fork down and answer the phone.
“Hey,” I say, swallowing a mouthful of food. “I’m just eating my breakfast. What’s up?”
Josh sounds uncharacteristically flustered. “Adrian, we have a serious problem.”
I grimace at the words. I was this close…
“What’s happened?” I ask begrudgingly.
“Okay, let me explain,” says Josh, trying to compose himself.
“Take your time.”
He’s properly worked up about something, which isn’t like him at all. He’s normally pretty calm, given how logical he is in his approach to anything. He’s borderline unflappable, so for him to get so worked up to the point where he can’t even think straight enough to get his words out, it must be pretty bad.
But, seriously, after this week, how bad can it really be?
“Right, so you know GlobaTech are planning a strike today, yeah?”
“Yeah, this morning you said, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, well I’m working with their analysts right now. We’ve re-established an uplink and have access to the satellite imagery from the area for the first time. We’ve detected a massive heat signature coming from within the compound, somewhere underground. It wasn’t there the last time they looked, which was yesterday. There’s always a signal blackout for a few hours due to the satellite’s orbit around the Earth, but—”
“Josh, spare me the technicalities,” I say, interrupting him. “Do they know what it is?”
“They’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”
“So… what is it?”
“Adrian, by the looks of it, judging by the size, the gut feeling here is that it’s an armory of missiles.”
I sit up straight and push my plate out in front of me, resting my left elbow on the table and my head in my left hand.
“What kind of missiles, Josh?” He doesn’t say anything. Surely he can’t think… “Nuclear?”
I hear Josh take a very deep breath.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Josh!” I hiss, trying to shout and whisper at the same time, given I’m in a crowded restaurant. “Are you saying Ketranovich has a fucking nuclear warhead?”
“It’s the worst case scenario, granted, but they’re considering it a viable option.”
I just had to say it, didn’t I? How bad can it really be? For fuck’s sake…
“How?”
“We don’t know. Clark’s on the line with the Secretary of Defense now, working on a strategy.”
“I’m definitely on the first bus out of here. Josh, leave this to the military, and get out, now. You hear me?”
Another pause.
“Adrian, there’s something else.”
“Of course there is… Please, enlighten me — tell me how this ten-story fuck-up can get any worse.”
“I’m sending you a photo. The image was taken via satellite thirty minutes ago.”
“Hang on.”
I take the phone away from my ear and look at the screen. I click on the attachment as it arrives and open the image file. It’s black and white and a little grainy — clearly edited to zoom in a little, and then cropped down. But it’s still a good quality photo nonetheless, and the scene it depicts is unmistakable.
It’s Clara. Her hands are behind her back, and she’s got an armed man either side of her, escorting her somewhere.
Dark Rain must’ve caught her and now they’re holding her captive in their compound.
I put the phone back to my ear, but say nothing. I don’t have any words… My mind feels numb, like it’s racing to focus on a million different things, but can’t find any of them.
“Adrian, I’m sorry, man.”
“We have to get her back.”
“I’ve already told Clark about her. He says he’s going to give the order for the ground forces to retrieve her if they can. But he warned me that the priority is neutralizing Ketranovich and seizing whatever weapons systems they have.”
I bang my fist hard on the table, causing a few customers to turn and stare at me. “That’s not good enough, Josh! We have to get her out of there!”
“Adrian, I know! I don’t like this anymore than you do. Okay, wait — I’ve got a call coming through from GlobaTech. Give me a minute, okay?”
He puts me hold. I sit with the phone to my ear, staring into space. My appetite has disappeared, and my anger’s returned with a vengeance. I take some deep breaths and close my eyes, trying to calm myself, but it’s not working.
I can’t believe Clara’s been captured. Whatever happens next, she’s as good as dead. There’s no way someone like Ketranovich will allow her to live when he’s branded her a traitor to his cause. He’ll be looking to make an example out of her. I figure the way he sees it he’s close to victory. He’ll parade her body in front of his troops to send a message.
Josh’s voice reappears, disturbing my train of thought — which I’m grateful for.
“Adrian, you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“We’ve got another problem.”
“Josh, the novelty of you saying that is rapidly wearing off, do you know that? What is it this time?”
“That was Clark, confirming the new plan following his discussion with the Secretary of Defense. Schultz has been in a meeting with the President and the Joint Chiefs for the last hour, assessing the situation. They’ve just made their decision.”
How the hell have I managed to stumble into something that the President’s ended up getting stressed over? If anyone asks me to work in Nevada again, remind me to shoot myself.
“Okay, so, what’s the master plan?”
“The U.S. government is going to get involved but take a back seat and only offer military support to GlobaTech. Given that GlobaTech already has a presence in the area and existing involvement in the situation, they’re going to let them take point on the ground. However, to support them, they’ve ordered the US Air Force to launch a pre-emptive airstrike within the hour. Three F-22s are going to take off from Holloman Air Force Base in New Mexico and carpet bomb the holy hell out of the entire compound. The intention being that they bury whatever arsenal of missiles they have there and kill everyone before any kind of launch can be attempted.”