Noah Wolf Box Set 2

by David Archer

  “Me, too,” Sarah said.

  She stopped thinking about Chung and her ordeal, then, and reached out to pull herself closer to Noah. She kissed him, and the passion that flared in her was too hot to control.

  EPILOGUE

  Noah’s phone rang a few minutes after eight AM, and he answered it on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “It’s Allison,” she said, even though he knew it from the caller ID. “Hate to wake you so early, but I need you and your team for debriefing at ten. That ought to give you enough time to find some breakfast somewhere.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, but the line was already dead.

  “If that was Allison,” Sarah mumbled, “tell her I died.”

  “She wouldn’t care,” he said. “She’d bring in a voodoo doctor to turn you into a zombie and put you back in the field. Get up, we’ve got time for breakfast on the way to debriefing.”

  She grumbled, but stumbled her way into the bathroom while Noah called Neil and Marco and told them about the debriefing. Neither of them complained, and they all agreed to meet at The Restaurant, the one that was in the area new recruits were brought to and where Noah had eaten his first meal in Neverland, for breakfast.

  The food there was always good, and Noah found the place fascinating because of all the excited, curious expressions on new faces. A lot of the people who worked for E & E, even outside the actual assassination teams, were recruited out of prisons, jails and other situations they wanted to put behind them, and Noah found that he could spot them easily in that part of town. They were the ones with the eager expressions, the look of hope that getting a second chance at life can give you.

  When breakfast was finished, they drove downtown and into the underground garage of the main office, then rode the elevator up together. Allison’s secretary simply waved at them as they walked by, and they found her waiting in the conference room where they expected her.

  She wasn’t alone, however. Jenny and her team were there, as well, including Randy Mitchell. Randy was sitting in a chair off by himself, his eyes on the floor as Noah, Sarah, Neil and Marco came into the room. The three men froze, but Sarah had never met Randy, and didn’t realize that she was looking at the man who had sold her out.

  Jenny leapt to her feet and ran to Sarah, throwing her arms around the girl and pulling her into a hug. They had only met a couple of times before, and hadn’t really ever spoken, but Noah and the guys had told Sarah on the plane how Jenny had worked with them to try to help get her back. She was happy to return the hug.

  “Girl,” Jenny said, “you and me have got to go do something together. I have to put up with all these men all the time, and I don’t have any real girlfriends to hang out with, or go shopping with or whatever, and I bet you find yourself feeling the same way, am I right?”

  Sarah burst out laughing, and agreed. “That sounds like fun,” she said, “as long as you promise not to torture any of the salespeople. I heard what you did to those guys in Thailand, that was—um, yeah.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Jenny said. “I only torture people on the job, not when I’m out having fun. I promise, no bloodshed when we’re out having girl time, okay?”

  “That sounds great,” Sarah said, but then Allison cleared her throat loudly.

  “Girls? We have to get down to business, if that’s okay with you?”

  Jenny returned to her seat while Noah and his team settled in, and then Allison turned to Donald Jefferson.

  “Now that Sarah is safely back with us,” he began, “we can start to put together the incredible jigsaw puzzle that you two teams have uncovered. We’ve taken all of the information that you gathered, including statements from the agents you rescued in North Korea, from Randy, here”—he pointed at Mitchell—“as well as pulling in a lot of things from station chiefs and their staffs around the world, and we handed it all to some of our top analytical people. One of them managed to make some sense out of it all.” He pushed a button on the desk beside him, and a side door opened.

  Molly Hansen, Noah’s childhood friend who happened to be a super genius, walked in. She had learned about Noah almost a year earlier, when he had been forced to reveal that he was still alive in order to keep her safe from someone who wanted to use her as leverage against him. She had been working for a government think tank at the time, but Allison had recruited her for the analysis division of E & E, and she was very happy in her new job.

  “Molly?” Jefferson said. “Would you care to tell them what you figured out?”

  “Sure. Okay, well, it turns out that there definitely is a mole in the CIA, but after analyzing all of the bits and pieces of information we’ve been able to collect, it’s become obvious that he or she seems to have access to information that should be so compartmentalized that it would be nearly impossible to correlate it. For instance, whoever it is managed to get into sealed files at NSA, which is the only place where E & E operatives’ past lives are recorded. He got deep enough in to find Randy Mitchell’s file, and has been using Randy as a messenger off and on, whenever he’s out of the country on a mission. Now, theoretically, the CIA has no way of knowing when one of our operatives is in country or out of country, but this person always seems to know. What this has to mean is that the mole either holds an extremely high rank in the Company, or has somehow managed to tap into sources of information that we can’t even identify.”

  “So,” Jefferson went on, “we are taking an extreme step. After carefully interviewing Mr. Mitchell and wringing him dry, Allison, Doctor Parker and I all agree that he was acting under extreme duress. Now, this doesn’t mean all is forgiven; there are still a number of things he’s going to have to answer for, but right now we desperately need him to continue doing exactly what he’s been doing. As far as we can tell, the mole has no idea that Randy has been exposed as one of his puppets, so we are keeping him on active status. Jenny and her boys can handle him, but we felt that Team Camelot needed to be aware of this, just in case one of you runs into him around town. He’s now under constant monitoring, and absolutely everything he says or does is being recorded on a micro recorder one of Wally’s people came up with. It’s actually under the skin behind his left ear, and everything it records is downloaded through a cell phone several times a day.”

  “So he can’t give it away that we are using him to find the mole,” Allison said. “What we’ve got to do is come up with a situation that requires the mole to meet Randy face-to-face. At the moment, we don’t have any idea what kind of situation that might be, but we’ll be ready to take him into custody the moment it happens.”

  Sarah had turned her head and was staring at Randy. “So it was you?” she asked. “You’re the one who sold me out?”

  Randy swallowed, his eyes flicking up to hers for just a second before going back to the floor. “He had my sisters,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, I know that doesn’t excuse anything, but…”

  Sarah stared at him for a moment after he trailed off, her expression cold. “When I was recruited,” she said slowly, “I made a vow that I would never let any threat to my father be used against me. We’ve all had to make that same vow, I know that. That means you had to make it, too.” She looked at him in silence for a few more seconds before speaking again. “That doesn’t mean I can’t understand the pressure you must’ve been under. I’ll be honest and tell you that I hate your guts right now, and if I could’ve gotten my hands on you a couple of days ago, I would’ve killed you myself. But now, after hearing all this, I just feel sorry for you. No matter what happens next with you, you have to live with this.”

  She looked at Allison. “Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I had to say that.”

  Allison only nodded. “Now, as for you,” she said. “I know you’ve been through a horrible ordeal, and I’m ordering Team Camelot to stand down for the next three months. You’re going to be seeing Doctor Parker every weekday for a while, for some intense therapy that will help you put
this behind you. And just for the record, I can tell you that it works. How do you think I managed to get back in the saddle so quickly after the Andropov raid?”

  Sarah started to grimace at the thought of seeing the psychiatrist, but suddenly her face froze. “Andropov,” she said. “That’s what started this whole mess. When Chung was trying to get me to talk, he told me that the reason they were so concerned about Camelot is because of Nicolaich Andropov. He had so much dirt on so many Chinese officials that he was just about running them like a puppet show, and no matter how they tried, they couldn’t get rid of him. When they heard that an American assassin, code-named Camelot, had destroyed his entire operation and got him disavowed by the Russians, then walked right into two different traps to get me back, they figured he must be some kind of Superman. They’re scared to death he’s going to be coming after some of their people, and that’s why they want to know everything they can about him.”

  Allison slowly began to nod, but then Molly gasped and everyone turned to her.

  “That’s it,” Molly said. “We need to find something that would make the mole willing to risk exposure? She just handed it to us. From what she just said, I can tell you that the most valuable piece of information in the intelligence world today would be a copy of Noah’s file. If Mitchell had a copy of it, but refused to turn it over to anyone else, I don’t care how security conscious this mole is, that would be a bait he couldn’t possibly resist. Let alone what it would be worth in terms of selling it to the Chinese or any other potential enemy of the United States, this is a man or woman who deals in power, and what greater power could there possibly be than to know how to manipulate and use Camelot himself? I’m telling you, this is it.”

  “I’m not doubting you for a second, young lady,” Allison said, “but there is no way in hell I’m giving anyone a copy of Noah’s file. My God, do you know how many laws we had to break just to create Noah Wolf? Let alone the fact that that file contains after-action reports on every mission he’s undertaken.”

  “Of course not,” Molly said. “You’d never give up the real file, because it contains the genuine, truly damaging information, like about his condition. Heaven help us if that ever got out, but give me a couple of weeks, and I can put together a genuine-looking file that will describe an entirely different person than the Noah Wolf we all know and love. We give that file to Mitchell, and he carries it to the mole.” She shook her head, as if having an epiphany. “Oh, it’s so perfect! The mole doesn’t even have to expose himself directly; he’ll do it indirectly the moment he tries to use that information to compromise Noah. I’ll build in a way he can contact Noah that will seem undetectable, but it’ll actually be a trap that will trace right back to the origin of the contact.” She spun around and looked at Neil. “You! Computer boy! I need your help, you game?”

  “Yeah,” Neil said, his eyes wide. “Of course.”

  Allison looked at Molly, then turned to Donald Jefferson. “Donald? Opinion?”

  “Ms. Hansen has impressed me since we brought her on board,” Jefferson said. “I have to say this sounds like the best idea I can imagine any of us coming up with. The question in my mind is whether we dare to let it out of this room. If we even tell one person at the CIA, there’s a pretty good chance our target is going to know about it before it ever gets off the ground.”

  “And that’s why we’re not telling anyone,” Allison said. “That’s an order, people. This idea stays completely within this room, which means it doesn’t get discussed anywhere else, or with anyone who isn’t here right now. Neil, if you’re willing to help Molly, I’ll let the two of you work out the details. Jenny, you keep an eye on Randy, and Noah—tell you what, we’ll start Sarah seeing Doctor Parker week after next. Noah, why don’t you take that girl on a vacation somewhere.”

  Noah looked at her for a moment, then turned and whispered something to Sarah. Sarah’s eyes went wide and she sat back suddenly, but then a smile spread across her face and she nodded vigorously.

  “How about this,” Noah said. “I’m going to run down to the courthouse and get a marriage license. Allison, do you happen to know a JP or a preacher who might be willing to drop whatever he’s doing to perform a wedding?” He grinned at Sarah. “I think I’d really prefer to take her on our honeymoon, rather than just a vacation.”

  BOOK 7

  BALANCE OF POWER

  PROLOGUE

  The bar was rather busy for a Thursday night, but that didn’t seem to bother Jimmy Morgan. After all, there was a band playing and plenty of lovely young ladies to watch him with their drooling eyes. He could have any of them, he knew, with no more effort than a flick of a beckoning finger. Wealth and power, he had determined, were the greatest aphrodisiac of all, and he was their master.

  “This is how the world works now, Ralphie,” he said to the boy sitting beside him. “It’s like being the king around here, you know? I’m the guy everybody wants to please and nobody wants to piss off.” He tilted his bottle toward the boy and smiled. “High time they all start to understand that makes you the prince. They’ll give you the same respect and obedience they give me, but you have to make them fear you, too. I won’t be around forever, so you’re going to have to make your name just as big as mine before that happens.”

  Ralph Morgan was Jimmy’s son, and despite the fact he was only nineteen, he had a bottle of beer in his own hand and was sipping on it slowly. Moments earlier, when a sheriff’s deputy had walked through the door, he had grinned and raised the bottle in salute to the law enforcement officer. The deputy had only grinned back and waved before stepping up to the bar to chat with the bartender for a moment.

  “They already do, Pa,” the boy said. “How you think I get away with dating the mayor’s daughter? Ain’t because he thinks I’m some preacher’s kid. He knows damn well I’m in her pants, and I don’t know how many times I’ve brought her home drunk, but he still smiles and pats me on the back whenever I come to pick her up. That ain’t all because of you. These people know I ain’t a man they want to piss off.”

  Jimmy laughed loudly. “Well, you gotta keep it that way. The more arrogant and cocky you are, the more the people around here will want to kiss your ass. And that’s going to get even better now that you’re gonna be running one of the shows for me. Think you’re ready for that?”

  Ralphie shrugged. “Just tell me what you want me to do,” he said. “I ain’t afraid of nobody or nothing.”

  “Yeah, I know, and I’ve been thinking about what to let you take over. We make a hell of a lot of money in a lot of different ways, and I’m thinking you need to head one of them up for me. Got any preference?”

  “Nah,” Ralphie said. “Just put me wherever you want me; I’ll do you right proud.”

  Jimmy made a show of pretending to think it over, but he’d already made a decision. Jimmy Morgan ran many different criminal enterprises throughout most of Northwest Arkansas, everything from drugs to prostitution to murder-for-hire, and there wasn’t a cop, fed, or judge anywhere in the region who would dare try to touch him. Figuring out where to put his son hadn’t been a bit difficult, since the boy was definitely a chip off the old block.

  Jimmy had gotten started himself when he had inherited his father’s junkyard in the small town of Berryville, Arkansas. The old man had been a drinker and had gotten behind the wheel after a dozen beers too many. The car drifted into oncoming traffic and met a gasoline tanker truck head-on. The resulting explosion had left both drivers dead and a half-dozen others severely burned. Lester Morgan had been only forty-two years old, and Jimmy was only eighteen, but suddenly the whole business was his.

  The day after they buried what was left of Lester, Jimmy went to the yard and looked at it through fresh eyes. He’d been working there since he was twelve and knew the place inside out, but it suddenly dawned on him that almost all of the cars were more than fifteen years old. Sure, there was a market for the parts, but Jimmy knew there was more money in later
-model stuff. When the bank released the business accounts to him, he planned to start buying newer wrecks at the insurance auctions, but then he found out that his father had blown an awful lot of money. There was barely enough in the bank for him to cover payroll for more than a couple of weeks, but that wasn’t going to stop Jimmy.

  Jimmy had been a star of the football team and knew just about everyone close to his age within fifty miles. Some of them, he knew, were what his mother referred to as “morally challenged.” As long as there was money in it, there were half a dozen guys who would do just about anything. Jimmy laid off all but two employees and worked twelve-hour days himself for a couple of months to build up his working capital, then went looking for some of his buddies on a Saturday night.

  Come the following Monday evening, a number of nearly new cars were driven through his gates and into the big old barn they used for a garage. The boys who drove them in jumped out and grabbed tools, so that by the time the sun came up those cars were nothing but parts, all neatly labeled and put into their proper place in the part of the barn they called the warehouse. Cutting torches took care of what was left of the bodies, slicing and dicing and obliterating vehicle identification numbers, and then the pieces were tossed into the big scrap dumpster outside.

  In less than a year, Jimmy’s yard was known as one of the best places to buy late-model parts in the entire area, and he’d made enough money to allow him to make plenty of legitimate buys, but he wasn’t about to give up the huge profits he was making with stolen vehicles. The local cops knew what he was up to, but Jimmy was never bashful about sharing the wealth. As long as the cars were coming from outside the area, a little grease on the palms of law enforcement meant that he would be left alone, and his crews would not be convicted of anything worse than joyriding if they were caught.

  That was the same year he was paid a visit by his county prosecutor, Roger Anthony, a man who was known to be a lot more concerned about reelection and maintaining his own power base than enforcing the law. Anthony brought along the county sheriff; Sheriff Redford liked money as well, but he didn’t like the punks who were selling drugs in his county. Jimmy had a big enough crew, the two of them suggested, to run them out of the county and take the operation over. For a small percentage—say, 15 percent—Anthony and Redford would make sure Jimmy and his people were able to operate without interference.