Deadly Intent: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 4) by James P. Sumner

case you speak to anyone else about it. I asked those FBI fellas to give me a copy of your file. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it could be useful for the investigations, in case your character’s called into question or somethin’.”
    I nod. I honestly don’t care either way at this stage. I’ve been upfront with him about my past, and there’s nothing in that file that he won’t already know.
    “Thanks for telling me,” I say. “But I’ve no issue with it.”
    “There’s, ah… there’s some pretty crazy things in here after you left the army.”
    I smile. “I’ve been around, yeah.”
    “San Francisco… Nevada… Pittsburgh…”
    “To name a few.”
    “And you say you’re going to New York to help go after these terrorist bastards who’ve been trying to kill you?”
    I nod.
    “Jesus… I’m glad I’m not a goddamn terrorist.”
    I smile again, and he chuckles for a moment.
    “I’ll take care of things here,” he says. “You go and save the world, or whatever it is you intend doing.”
    “Thanks, John. You’re a good man.”
    We shake hands again, and I turn and leave. I walk through the station without a word and back out front, where the afternoon sun is battering the town. I climb in the back of Josh’s sedan.
    “You good?” asks Josh.
    “Yeah, everything’s fine,” I reply. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
    He drives away, and within half an hour, we’re halfway to San Antonio. I start to think about the flight, and what I’ll do when I get to New York. I can’t remember the last time I was there. If I find this Hussein guy, I’m going to do everything I can to bring him in alive, so Josh can work his magic on him. But before I do anything, I’m going to make that bastard tell me where Clara Fox is.
    Her and me got a lot of catching up to do.

11.
     
     
     
     
    18:15 CDT
    GlobaTech’s private jet is a Lear 85. I’ve never traveled like this before, and it’s a bit weird being the only passenger. There are a handful of seats inside, all large, reclining armchairs in white leather. The red carpet underfoot is thick, and looks expensive. In addition to the pilot and co-pilot, there’s a stewardess serving me drinks and food upon request.
    I arrived at Fort Worth and was ushered across the runway to where the jet was waiting, fueled and ready to go. Josh had given me a laptop, advising me to research the information contained on it during the flight, as well as a comms unit for when I land. He said GlobaTech had taken care of all the private landing fees, and had secured a priority arrival slot at JFK to minimize any delays while all the big commercial airliners came and went. Someone would meet me when we landed, and take me directly to a safe house I could work out of, bypassing any of the usual processes involved in flying cross-country.
    We’ve been in the air maybe twenty minutes. I see the stewardess come through and walk over to me, carrying a large, black holdall.
    “Sir, this was left for you,” she announces, gesturing to the bag as she rests it next to my chair. “I was instructed to give it to you once we’d taken off.”
    “Thanks,” I say, curiously.
    She flashes me a smile and walks off, leaving me alone again. I reach down and bring the bag up, placing it on the table in front of me. I unzip it and look inside, seeing a treasure trove of goodies, courtesy of GlobaTech.
    “Now you’re talking…” I mutter to myself.
    Inside the bag is a whole host of gadgets, which I’m sure Josh would’ve had something to do with. Microphones, tracking devices, cameras, recording equipment, and various other toys… then I see the explosives—trip mines, with laser sensors and remote detonation.
    I feel like a kid at Christmas!
    There’s also plenty of ammunition for my Berettas, plus an FN SCAR-H assault rifle, which is a beast of a weapon. It’s a rival for the M4 Carbine, and fires over six hundred rounds per minute, at a speed of almost