Free True Conviction by James P. Sumner Page B

and I find myself trying to think of a plan that would allow me to make all this right... You could argue it’s not my place to get involved, but… think of the consequences if nuclear weapons are manufactured on U.S. soil and sold on the black market. Or worse… imagine if somebody detonated one? If I could’ve done something to prevent that and didn’t, I’d never forgive myself.
    “Has the deal for the land been finalized yet between GlobaTech and Dark Rain?” I ask him.
    “That’s what I’m in town for,” he says after a heavy breath. “I’ve got all the papers with me, I just need to sign them and the land’s sold. Then mining can begin with no liability to GlobaTech.”
    “And does anyone have any idea what you personally were intending to do with the land before you were brought on board to broker this deal for GlobaTech?”
    “No, I covered my tracks well enough, I think.”
    “You were just shit outta luck, right?”
    “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he says, gesturing toward me with his head.
    I walk over to the desk he was working at earlier and pick up his briefcase. The same one handcuffed to him yesterday. There’s a combination lock on it. I look over at Jackson.
    “What’s the code for this?” I ask him.
    “Six, eight, seven… three, four, nine,” he reluctantly replies.
    I lie it down on the bed, enter the code and open it. Inside are documents relating to the land purchase resting on top of a quarter of a million dollars in cash.
    I spin it around so they can both see the contents and walk over to them both. I stand in front of Jackson and aim my gun at his head, nodding over at the briefcase.
    “Is that everything?” I ask.
    He nods.
    “And I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to have any information to hand about Dark Rain?”
    “I never dealt with them directly,” he explains. “My only contact with them is through her.” He gestures at Clara with his head.
    “Okay, fine,” I say. “So to recap: your company, GlobaTech, is selling land that has a Uranium mine underneath it to some militia outfit called Dark Rain. They think you’re being really nice by handling all the mining and processing of the material itself, but they actually have no idea that you’re setting them up to take the fall for everything, freeing you guys up to sell the material and make loads of money...
    “Before all that, however, you were going to sell the land to the mob to make some extra cash. At the time, you had no idea what the land actually was, but now you do, and your company has charged you with managing this new deal, you’ve had to back out of the old one, which has caused the mob to hire a hit man—that would be me—to kill you for screwing them over. Have I missed anything?”
    Jackson lets out a heavy sigh. “Nope, that’s pretty much it,” he says.
    “Excellent.” I pull the trigger and put a bullet directly in the center of his forehead.
    The bullet itself is roughly ten millimeters in diameter, which is about half that of a dime. The tip of it is rounded for easier penetration. It travels at a speed of roughly three hundred and seventy-five meters per second. As the bullet impacts, the velocity causes the end of the bullet to shoot up to the tip, which means it flattens out to almost double the width. Consequently, the resulting exit wound much larger than the point of entry.
    Jackson’s head snaps back violently as the bullet pushes its way through the thick bone at the front of his skull. The recoil of the impact causes his head to hang forward again as the bullet works its way through his brain and out the other side.
    A spray of pinkish fluid—a mixture of blood, bone and brain—explodes over the floor behind him. From my finger squeezing the trigger to the dead weight of his lifeless body sagging in his seat against his restraints, just under one second has elapsed.
    I let out a small sigh. Job done.
    I look at Clara, who seems unfazed by it, but I can see