Hunter's Games (12 page)

He smiles, but says nothing, which makes me think that prediction might not be too far wrong.

“Okay,” I begin with a heavy sigh. “The Shark’s real name is Danny Pellaggio, and he’s doing this because twelve months ago I killed his entire family.”

Silence.

Wow… you could hear a pin drop at our table right now and I’m very aware I’m sitting with three FBI agents in a bar full of cops. I’ve just admitted to killing someone. Well, lots of people, actually. You could argue this isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ve got no choice.

“I promise I’ll come along quietly if you want to stop this here and now,” I add, trying to ease the tension.

Wallis and Johnson say nothing, but look at Chambers for guidance on how they should react.

“Start from the beginning,” says Chambers, finally. She seems to be going through an internal struggle, trying to ignore the confession and focus on solving the more pressing issues. “Leave nothing out.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m quiet and slightly vague, given you’ve brought me to a bar full of police,” I say, not trying to hide my sarcasm and overall displeasure at the current situation. Chambers nods, understandingly.

“Heaven’s Valley didn’t start out being about Dark Rain. I went there because a mob boss named Roberto Pellaggio had hired me to...” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “...remove a former business associate from a property deal. It turns out, this former associate was going to sell him some land as an under-the-table transaction, but didn’t realize that some people he worked with at GlobaTech Industries also had plans to sell the land to Dark Rain.”

“Jesus,” says Johnson. “Aren’t GlobaTech one of the biggest defense contractors in the country?”

“They certainly are,” I reply. “Luckily I now count them as friends. Anyway, I removed the associate from the picture, but I couldn’t hand the deeds for the land over to Pellaggio. He was pissed at me and we had a... disagreement, but it was left with me advising him to leave me alone.”

“Which I’m assuming he didn’t do?” asks Wallis.

“I’ll get to that part. Anyway, it turns out GlobaTech as a whole wasn’t aware of this deal with Dark Rain, and they soon had an internal reshuffle and the deal was dead in the water. However, the reason I opted not to give the deeds to Pellaggio was that the land was actually a Uranium mine… which obviously opened up a whole new can of worms.”

“What a minute,” interrupts Chambers, confused and shocked. “Uranium? In the United States?”

“Yup. Long story short, the land and the mine are now property of the U.S. government, following a brief conversation with the Secretary of Defense.”

“Jesus Christ!” says Johnson, a little too loudly.

“Oh, it gets better,” I say, somewhat wearily as I realize I’ve just technically committed treason by telling them this. “Both Dark Rain and Pellaggio’s mafia outfit then started taking it in turns to try to kill me. I got blown up by a car bomb that I thought Pellaggio's men had planted. It turns out he’d not even started trying to take me out—it was Dark Rain. But given how pissed off I was, I went to his house and... explained my unhappiness in short, loud, lethal movements to Pellaggio and the small army he had as protection.”

“Wait, I remember that,” says Wallis. “The Mansion Massacre, right? They said that was a professional mob killing. That was you?”

I nod.

“Bullshit,” says Johnson. “One man couldn’t do that. There must’ve been twenty guys in there that night.”

“Twenty-one, actually. What can I tell you? Like the old saying goes: you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry...”

“So what does this have to do with The Shark?” asks Chambers.

“I saw a news report on TV about it a few hours afterward, and it said there was one survivor—Danny Pellaggio, Roberto’s youngest son. He’d been shot in the leg and chest and was listed as critical. I thought about going back to finish things, but decided against it.”

“Everything The Shark does is a message to you...” says Wallis, putting the pieces together for himself.

“That’s right,” I confirm. “The Shark is Danny Pellaggio. He shot Josh exactly the same way I'd shot him a year ago, to send another message to me about who he is.”

“This is valuable information, Adrian,” says Chambers. “I appreciate you being honest with us.”

“I just want this to end. Like I said, just because you don’t approve of my chosen career, it doesn’t mean I’m a bad guy. I don’t want people suffering any more than you do. Especially when it’s because somebody is playing a game with me.”

“So what would you suggest our next move should be?”

“First of all, I want someone watching Josh. Around the clock. Just because Shark Boy survived, it doesn’t mean he intends for Josh to do the same.”

“I’ll do what I can for you.”

“Thanks,” I say, standing up.

“Where are you going?” asks Johnson.

I point at the jukebox at the far end of the bar. “I need some music,” I reply, walking off and leaving them all exchanging bewildered glances.

I wander over to the back of the bar, past three tables full with the SFPD’s finest. I reach into my pocket for some change and feed some quarters into the machine, cycling through the song list to find something to suit the mood.

It doesn’t take me long. This is a good jukebox.

I walk back over to the table and sit down just as the haunting sounds of the guitar at the beginning of
Hell’s Bells
by AC/DC is kicking in.

“You good?” asks Chambers, sarcastically.

“I am now,” I reply, smiling.

“Right,” she says, addressing the group. “The way I see it, we need to work on everything we can, as quickly as possible. Bottom line is, we don’t know where to find Danny Pellaggio or what his endgame is. So until we hear from him—which I assume will be soon—Wallis, I want you to work on tracing the gun used. I think Adrian’s logic is sound, and I’m confident the ballistics will confirm his theory. So start checking everything we can to find where he got the weapon from. Distributors, the military, whatever you can.”

“Will do,” he says.

“Johnson, I want you to work with forensics and put together a real picture of how today happened. Look at how he was able to orchestrate such an elaborate attack—the materials used, trajectory of the bullets to pinpoint a location… anything. It might give us some clue about what he’s got planned next.”

He nods in acknowledgement.

“And you,” she says, turning to me. “You don’t work for me, and you’re likely to disregard any type of order I think about giving you—”

“You know me so well,” I say, smiling and winking at her, which she ignores.

“But I don’t want you doing anything stupid in the meantime, so you’re with me. You don’t go anywhere without me or my say-so. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Then drink up, gentleman. We’ve got work to do.”

She stands and walks through the bar and out of the front doors without looking back. I watch her leave. She looks fantastic.

Johnson gets to his feet, stretching a little and then waiting. Wallis goes to stand, but I remain in my chair.

“You coming?” he asks.

“Not ‘til this song’s finished,” I reply.

They look at each other and shrug before sitting back down in their seats.

10.

September 24
^th
, 2014

09:31

THE LAST TWELVE hours or so have passed by surprisingly fast. We’d all left the bar last night and headed by to the FBI field office. From there, people took it in turns sleeping and running around getting stressed. It didn’t take long for me to feel out of place and useless, so I resigned myself to trying to get some sleep and sorting everything out in my head.

Chambers insisted I stay by her side as much as possible, but for the most part, I stayed in the conference room while she moved around the office. She must be running on fumes by now, but she hasn’t skipped a beat.

Johnson and Wallis had worked hard through the night and turned up some good information. I’m sitting opposite Chambers now, reviewing what they've managed to turn up so far.

Johnson had been working with the crime scene investigators and the forensic reports to piece together details of the scene. One of their tech guys has generated a 3D computer model of the area using reports and video surveillance footage of the surrounding area at the time.

The computer model is on the big screen at the far end of the room, and Chambers is working the keyboard and mouse, navigating it. I’m the first to admit that high-end technology is beyond my mental capabilities. The whole thing looks like a scene out of Tron. And I don’t mean that recent disaster of a movie either. I mean the classic from 1982 that starred Jeff Bridges.

Given the trajectory of the bullets as they hit Josh, and the distance we were working on based on my estimations about the bullet and the weapon, they’ve managed to pinpoint roughly where Pellaggio was standing as the nightmare unfolded.

If Josh were here, he’d be having a geekgasm all over the place…

“See here,” she says, pointing to an area on the topographical layout that’s north and east of the Academy. “He must have been on the roof of one of these buildings on Balboa Street to have line of sight to what was happening, and to make the shot.”

I look at the screen and imagine myself in Pellaggio’s shoes, carrying out the hit. It’s easily nine hundred meters away, if not further. Taking into account the wind and position of the sun, not to mention trajectory, the fact he hit Josh exactly where he wanted to, twice, is worryingly impressive. Which is a major cause for concern…

“It’s a helluva shot,” I say.

She goes to say something but hesitates and decides against it. I give her a minute to change her mind, but she doesn’t.

“What is it?” I ask.

She sighs, as if in defeat. “Could you have made that shot?” she asks.

She sounds almost timid—nothing like the woman I’d come to know over the last thirty-six hours. Since leaving the hospital, I wouldn’t say she’s been frosty with me, but she’s certainly kept conversation to a minimum. Looking at her, now she’s calmed down, I can see it’s left her with questions.

I think about it for a moment. I might as well be honest…

“Yes. Quite easily,” I reply.

“I don’t get you,” she says, pushing the keyboard away from her and clasping her hands in front of her on the desk. “You’re the strangest person I think I’ve ever met.”

“Not the worst thing a woman’s ever said to me,” I say, laughing.

“Everyone
kind of
knows who you are and what you do, but you openly admitted it to us surrounded by police. You’re obviously a lot more intelligent than you act, and you have a curiously adorable arrogance about you. Yet you seem so concerned with doing the right thing all the time, it's like you forget you commit murder on a regular basis.”

“I wanna say it’s because I’m mysterious, or because I’m trying to keep this enigma about myself to attract women, or something equally smart and cool. But that would be bullshit, and I won’t ever bullshit you, Grace. I don’t try to fit into a particular category. I don’t live to anyone else’s standards. I have my own opinion on what’s morally right and wrong, and I’m paid very well to kill people who I believe have done bad things in this world. That’s all.”

“I don’t get how you can make what you do sound almost noble,” she says, smiling reluctantly.

“Years of practice,” I reply, returning the smile

“I’m trying so hard to fight every natural urge I have right now to arrest you, you know that, right?”

“I do, and don’t think it’s not appreciated.”

She regards me a moment longer, then retrieves the keyboard and continues navigating her way around the computer model of the events from yesterday.

We study the screen in silence for a few minutes. A knock on the door disturbs us. We both look up to see Agent Wallis standing there, holding a file and looking pleased with himself.

“Wallis, what’ve you got?” asks Chambers, gesturing for him to sit down.

“I’ve got the ballistics back from the bullets that we removed from Josh,” he says, taking a seat at the head of the table between us.

I sit up in my chair. My jaw muscles tense when he mentions Josh by name.

“And?” I say, eagerly.

“You were right,” he says, placing the file in front of him on the table and opening it. “The bullets were indeed fired from a Remington XM2010 sniper rifle.”

“Any idea where he got the hardware from?” asked Chambers.

‘I did some digging around through old and existing cases, and managed to narrow down the search for who might have sold it to Pellaggio to two individuals. Both are known arms dealers operating within the city. One of them is small time, so I ruled him out on the basis that we’ve got no evidence to suggest he’ll have the ability to supply this kind of weaponry. Which leaves us with this guy…”