Hunter's Games by James P. Sumner Page B

might fall apart.”
    We walk over and get in. Josh starts it up, on the third attempt, and we set off toward Golden Gate Park.
    “Do you know where we’re going?” I ask.
    “Yup.”
    “Is my stuff in the back?”
    “Yup.”
    Inside the vehicle is open plan, meaning you can get out of your seat in the front and walk into the back area. There’s a worktop fitted against the left hand side with a ridiculous amount of tech on it. There’s a bar stool just in front of it. Adjacent to that on the right, separated in the middle by the door, is another worktop, also brimming over with equipment, printouts, and maps and God knows what else. Against the back window is a battered sofa with my bag on it.
    Bingo.
    I open it up and retrieve my babies. My custom twin Beretta 92A1 pistols. Each one is metallic silver with an ebony plate fitted either side of the butt. On it, embossed in silver, is an upside-down pentagram. Helpful in keeping the ‘Adrian Hell’ persona alive and well. I take out my back holster and fit it around my waist, sliding the Berettas into place. I make my way back to the front cab and sit beside Josh.
    I check the clock on the dashboard. We’ve got just under twenty-five minutes left before The Shark’s deadline expires.
    “You got a plan for when we get there?” asks Josh.
    “Not really,” I say. “Figured I’ll try to stop the kids from getting blown up. That’s about as far as I got.”
    “A good a place as any to start.”
    I look out the window as Josh threads through the traffic as fast as he can. Wallis and Johnson are just ahead of us. The same SWAT team that apprehended me earlier will be on site by the time we get there. I imagine Agent Chambers is en route behind us as well.
    I sit back and close my eyes, trying to push everything else aside in my mind, so I can focus on what I’m walking into.
    Who the hell is The Shark? And what have I done to piss them off so much?
     

6.
     
     
     
     
    16:21
    JOSH IS A pretty good driver and seems to know exactly where he’s going despite, as far as I’m aware, having never been to San Francisco before. He’s very reliable and frighteningly resourceful, which is why he’s been by my side in some capacity for over half my life.
    We turned right on Fell Street after leaving the Field Office and followed it until we merged on JFK Drive. We’ve been lucky so far that we’ve not hit any major traffic. We follow the road round and turn onto Kazar Drive. I look out the window and watch the skyline of the city flash past me. Under any other circumstances, I’d probably enjoy seeing more of the place, but right now, there’s no time for sight-seeing.
    “It’s good to see you, Josh,” I say, looking over at him as he drives.
    And it really is. I’ve seen him twice in the last twelve months. I speak to him probably fifteen times a day, but when you’re out and about in the world on your own, the solitude does get you down from time to time. I’ve always enjoyed the lifestyle of moving around from place to place, remaining anonymous and seeing the world. But every once in a while, it’s nice to have some company.
    He smiles as he focuses on navigating the slow but steadily moving traffic.
    “You too, man,” he says. “Shame it’s under these circumstances though. Can you please just have a normal contract for once?”
    “Hey, you’re the one who finds me these jobs, remember?”
    “Don’t start blaming the logistics—things only ever seem to turn to shit when you arrive in town. I’m just saying…”
    “It’s not my fault bad people tend not to wanna roll over and die willingly with no fuss!”
    We both laugh. That’s another reason we work so well together. We understand that, regardless of how enormous the task at hand is, it’s always best to approach it instinctively. Don’t think about it—do it. It’s too easy to over-think things, which inevitably leads to indecisiveness and hesitation. And those things can cost you