Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10)

by L. T. Ryan

  “Please, Pierre. I need to know.”

  “They kept us in a dungeon. I never treated…” His voice trailed off. He continued a few seconds later. “Let’s just say it breaks every rule of ethics that we are to abide by. They kept us chained in a hole. Couldn’t even stand. They beat us. They tried to break us. They succeeded with me, although I never admitted it. But Jack, he stayed strong.”

  Clarissa could do nothing but nod along.

  “So,” Pierre continued, “when it came time, we were tried by a military man. Ivanov’s his name.”

  Clarissa’s face lit up with recognition. “I know that name.”

  Pierre nodded. Said, “He’s a bad man. He’s into a lot of things. I spent some time gathering information on him after I returned to France. Definitely not on the right side of good.” He took a drag and leaned his head back. He blew smoke toward the sky. It drifted up and created a halo around the light bulb that was fixed to the side of the building. “We were guilty before we ever stepped foot into the courtroom as far as Ivanov was concerned. Jack took the fall. I was prepared to go down with him. Jack wouldn’t have it. He took all the blame, and that granted me my freedom. After I came back, I tried to continue with the agency. Pointless, really. The depression, it enveloped me. Normally, an agent would be terminated, either figuratively or literally, for such behavior. They worked with me. I lasted three months, and then I left. After that, I tried to drink myself to death. Couldn’t. Stuck the barrel of my gun in my mouth a few times. Too chicken to pull the trigger.”

  “And now you feel guilty.”

  “Of course I feel guilty. Wouldn’t you? I’d have rather died next to him than live out my life as a coward.”

  “You’re not a coward.”

  He locked eyes with her and slowly shook his head. “It’s not for you to decide.”

  “If you had died or been locked up you wouldn’t be here to help rescue Mandy.”

  Pierre shrugged.

  “It’s redemption, Pierre. Jack risked his life for that little girl. Now it’s your turn. Do right by her and you do right by Jack.”

  A thin smile crossed Pierre’s lips. “Thank you.”

  She wasn’t sure if he meant it.

  “I’m going back in,” Clarissa said. “Wait five minutes then come through the kitchen. She’ll be walking toward the bathrooms. She’ll nod once and wink twice. You do the same. She’ll follow you into the kitchen and outside.”

  He nodded.

  “Sinclair could use a guy like you. Do right by Jack tonight and I’ll put in a word for you.”

  She left Pierre outside and slipped through the kitchen, back to the exhibit area of the gallery. She stopped inside the hall and scanned the room, starting at the far corner and working her way toward the refreshment table. Boris was still occupied with a group of older gentlemen that Clarissa thought looked like politicians or lawyers. Blood suckers.

  She found Mandy. Checked her watch. A minute had passed since she had left Pierre. She said, “Mandy, listen to me. Here is what is going to happen.” She gave the girl the simple instructions and emphasized that she was to nod once and blink twice.

  “Which eye?”

  Clarissa laughed. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I don’t think too many ten year olds at this party are going to be standing in the hall in four minutes winking and nodding.”

  Mandy averted her eyes and smiled shyly.

  “Three minutes. I need to leave you now. I’ll be watching, though. OK?”

  Mandy nodded and set her glass of punch on the table. She looked down at her watch and said, “Got it.”

  5

  Jasmine gazed at her surroundings through the oval shaped window. The darkness prohibited her from seeing too much. The private jet landed on a small runway near a small airport. There were trees on all sides. No signs. At least none that she could see through the dark or that meant anything to her. She had no idea where they were. The men who abducted her hadn’t spoken to her. Not a single word since they left the house in Georgia. If she spoke, they jammed a gun into her neck or her cheek or her chest.

  She followed Chernov off the plane. Behind her came Kenneth Quioness. There were two other men that she did not recognize. They stood next to the plane. The men formed a circle around her.

  She figured she’d try her luck again and said, “Where are you taking me?”

  “Shut up,” Chernov said.

  A car pulled up. They forced her into the back seat. Chernov sat to her right. Kenneth on her left. The car pulled away from the jet. They passed by the hangar. She looked to the left and saw a parking lot that led to a highway. They drove by.

  Why weren’t they leaving the airport?

  When the car stopped, she looked forward and saw why.

  Chernov got out of the car and grabbed her by the arm. He pulled and she slid across the seat. He was a strong man, and she worried that if she hesitated, he’d yank her shoulder out of its socket. He nodded at her, then at the helicopter. He said, “Don’t try anything.”

  Kenneth joined them a few seconds later. Both men wrapped their arms through hers and escorted her to the helicopter. Kenneth boarded first, then Jasmine, and finally Chernov.

  The helicopter lifted into the air. Again, the men sat to her right and to her left. Prevented her from being able to get a good look at the terrain below. Not that it would have mattered. She still had no idea where they were. When she saw the helicopter, she had hoped that she’d overhear something, anything that would give her an indication. No such luck. Chernov handed her headgear, but it wasn’t connected to the rest. It only helped to reduce the constant noise and thump, thump, thump of the contraption they flew in.

  She sat still, between the men, a row behind the pilot, and weighed her options. It boiled down to two. Sit and do nothing, or strike Chernov, and strike Kenneth, and strike the pilot. Then they’d crash. They’d all die. She wouldn’t win, but she sure as hell wouldn’t lose. Neither option appealed to her all that much. In the end, it didn’t matter. After a few minutes, she saw the pilot pointing past the front windshield. She craned her neck in an effort to get a better view. She saw a landing pad lit up in an x formation. It stood out against the darkening sky.

  Jasmine sat back. Crossed her arms. She’d wait it out and see what opportunities were afforded to her at the next destination.

  Less than five minutes later the helicopter touched down. She looked left and right through the windows and saw an expansive lawn ringed by the dark outlines of trees. The lawn and the trees surrounded the house they had landed on top of.

  What kind of house has a helicopter landing pad on it, and who would live there?

  “Get out,” Chernov shouted, although it barely sounded like a whisper amid the noise created by the helicopter’s rotors.

  She slid to her left and dropped to the ground through the open door. There were four men on the roof. There was nothing distinguishable about them. Homogeneous, she thought. They all were armed with automatic weapons. She couldn’t make out the exact weapons in the dark, with the wind from the rotors blowing her hair across her face.

  Jasmine felt a hand at each elbow. They pulled her toward a corner of the roof. At first she dug in her heels, but then quickly realized that would be the quick way to a fast ending. She allowed the hands at her elbows to guide her. At the edge of the roof was a staircase that clung to the house diagonally and led to the ground.

  Kenneth let go of her arm and started down the stairs. Chernov urged her to go down, and then he followed.

  She heard the helicopter lift off. Glanced over her shoulder. It rose into the air and then banked to the east and disappeared into the night.

  At the bottom of the stairs were two more men. They were as uninteresting to her as the four at the top. Except for their weapons. They were both armed with HK MP7 submachine guns. Their weapons had suppressors and extended magazines, which told her they had forty rounds at their disposal. Each. An ideal weapon for close
quarters combat. Popular with a highly covert special operations team in the U.S. While the men didn’t impress her, their weapons certainly did.

  The man to her left reached over and opened the door. He snapped back into position, keeping his eyes on Jasmine. She looked from him to his weapon and then back to him.

  She felt Chernov’s hand at her back and she stepped through the open doorway. They stood in a dark hall. She noticed two doors on each side and one at the end. All the doors were closed.

  “Forward,” Chernov said.

  She followed Kenneth.

  “Stop,” Chernov said after they passed the second door.

  Jasmine stopped and turned around. She saw Chernov at the door. He punched in a code and waited. She heard a series of beeps and then a click. He reached down and turned the doorknob. Pushed the door open. He said, “Go in.”

  She stepped inside. The two men followed. She felt the vibrations of their steps on the stairs.

  “I can’t see anything,” Jasmine said.

  There was a click and then a beam of light traveled over her head and lit up the area in front of her. She gasped. She would’ve preferred to be in the dark after all.

  “Continue,” Chernov said.

  She did. Reached the bottom of the stairs. Took three more steps and stopped at the wall. Turned around and waited for the men to reach the bottom. If there was ever a time to act, it was now. Jasmine leaned back against the wall to steady herself and took a deep breath. She envisioned her first move and then struck. Kenneth was closest to her and he received the brunt of the attack. She launched herself at him, using the wall as a springboard. The force it helped her create was enough to drop Kenneth with two successive blows. One to his throat, the other to his solar plexus. He dropped to the ground and lay there like a pile of laundry. A huddled mass, struggling to breathe or talk or move.

  She let her momentum carry her through and forward. She would attempt a similar attack on Chernov. Both hands, at the same time, throat and solar plexus. Unfortunately, Chernov had started to react the moment she launched herself at Kenneth. She saw it and she knew it and she still wasn’t prepared for him. The heavy metal flashlight came down across the side of her head. Her own momentum worked against her. Her lower body continued forward, her upper body didn’t. She flipped backward, but only halfway. The back of her head hit the floor with a thud. The room around her was dark. Was she unconscious? Or had Chernov turned off the light during the fight?

  Jasmine placed her palms on the floor, under her shoulders, and pushed up. She wasn’t unconscious. She brought her knees up under her. Bad move. A boot connected with her side, near her stomach. The impact of the kick was enough to lift her off the ground and flip her over. She landed hard on her back. The air escaped her lungs. An attempt to roll over was quickly thwarted by a hand on her head. She was lifted into a seated position. Pulled up by her hair.

  “You stupid bitch,” Chernov said as he continued to lift her.

  Jasmine struggled to breathe. The effort reduced any chance she had at landing another blow. She glanced around. The flashlight provided minimal illumination behind her. Her eyes widened at the things she saw. She had to catch her breath. She had to continue to fight.

  “Kenneth,” Chernov said. “Are you up?”

  The man grunted and staggered to his feet, using the stairs to prop his body off the ground.

  “Dammit, Kenneth, at least take the flashlight.”

  Kenneth came around using the stairs and then the wall to support himself. He took the flashlight from Chernov’s outstretched hand and shined it on Jasmine.

  She flinched when the light hit her eyes. At once, her lungs expanded and damp air rushed in through her mouth. She brought her arm close to her chest and drove her elbow into the side of Chernov’s face. He let go of her and she attempted to sweep his feet out from under him. Another bad move. As she lowered herself to deliver the kick, he brought his fist down, catching her on her cheek. She had been in an awkward position and, while the blow was not particularly hard, it was enough to knock her off balance. She fell back.

  Chernov jumped on her and used his weight against her. He said, “Get the restraints.” He pressed her flat to the ground and held her arms out and above her head.

  Jasmine felt the cold metal touch her wrists and then envelop them. First her left, then her right. She could do nothing to stop it. She tried, but her thrashing and kicking and biting and head butting did nothing to free her from Chernov’s grip.

  She heard one click, then another. Then Chernov exhaled and rolled off of her. The sound of metal grating against metal filled the room and she felt her arms stretch taught as they were yanked into the air. Her body followed. A moment later she hung in the air, toes barely touching the ground.

  “Lower her a bit.” Chernov passed by her and grabbed the flashlight while Kenneth dropped the chains a few inches.

  Her feet hit the ground and her arms dropped a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

  Chernov directed the flashlight to the corner of the room. He walked over and opened a box mounted on the wall. Flipped a large rectangular framed switch and three lights turned on. One at the base of the stairs and two above Jasmine. They cast yellow light across the room.

  It became clear to Jasmine that she was in a dungeon.

  6

  Pierre stood behind the art gallery. He replayed the conversation he’d had with Clarissa over and over in his head. He tried to shake the guilt, but couldn’t. Hadn’t been able to for six months. Why would he be able to now? It made no sense to him. He was trained to have no conscience. How could someone with a conscience do the things he had done during his twenty years in the agency?

  We were on the side of right.

  A teenage boy dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and an apron burst through the screen door. He carried two bags of trash, one in each hand. Pierre stepped aside and let the young man pass, glad that he had already retrieved his weapon from inside the dumpster. The boy took the six steps again, two at a time, yanked the door open and disappeared inside the kitchen area.

  Pierre had decisions to make. The first, whether or not to take the girl, was already decided. But what to do once he had taken her? That was the question that played on his mind. The honorable thing to do would be to uphold his end of the deal with Bear and return the girl to him. It’s what he promised. Sure, there was the certainty that Bear would kill him if he refused to comply. He was, after all, there to kill Bear.

  Pierre found the lure of the money to be strong, though. And to top it off, Clarissa was inside. He could lure her out and terminate her, too. Surely, the old man would be doubly happy if he did so. If Bear was worth two-fifty, and the old man offered to more than double the payment in exchange for the little girl, imagine what he would pay if Clarissa had been disposed of as well. Seven-fifty? A million? The money tempted Pierre like a twenty dollar whore after six weeks stuck in a ten by ten room with four male agents.

  The door burst open again and the same young man stepped through carrying a third bag of trash. He asked, “Can I get a smoke?”

  Pierre nodded and pulled out two cigarettes. Lit both. Handed one to the teenager.

  “Nice night,” the guy said.

  Pierre nodded.

  “Was supposed to go out with this girl tonight. Total babe. A buddy of mine was supposed to work this gig. Called in sick, though. So they asked me to come in.”

  “And you did?”

  The guy shrugged. “They offered an extra two dollars an hour. Plus, if I didn’t, my buddy would have been fired.”

  “So you ditched the girl to save your friend’s job.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Dumbass.”

  The guy laughed and said, “Thanks for the smoke.” He flicked the lit cigarette into the dumpster and hopped up the stairs and back into the kitchen.

  Pierre looked over at the dumpster and noticed a stream of smoke lifting above it. The cigarette had started a s
mall fire. Pierre smiled. He pulled out his lighter and set more trash on fire. Then he checked his watch and realized he had just a few seconds before he was supposed to meet Mandy.

  The only people in the kitchen were the cooks and the teenage boy. Pierre nodded at him and the guy smiled in return. Pierre walked to the swinging door and looked through a round window cut in the center. He saw the little girl in the hall. She had only taken a few steps on her way to the restrooms. He pushed through and stopped.

  The little girl looked at him, nodded once and winked, once with each eye. Close enough. Pierre nodded back, winked. They both walked toward each other and Pierre turned and ushered her in front of him. They crossed through the kitchen, empty except for the cooks and the teenage boy. He didn’t acknowledge Pierre this time. The guy’s head was down and his hands worked a metal tray with a sponge.

  Pierre opened the screen door and waited for Mandy to step out.

  “Quickly,” he said. “Down the stairs and turn right.”

  She took the stairs one at a time, stopped at the bottom and turned to the right.

  “Go. Walk ahead of me for a minute. I’ll catch up to you.”

  Pierre stood at the stairs. He scanned the rooftops of the buildings nearby. Saw no one. He knew that didn’t mean they were clear, though. Someone could be hunched over, or blended into an area where Pierre would not be able to distinguish them from the building and the sky. He pulled the gun from his pants and held it tight. Started walking in the same direction as Mandy. Caught up with her a few seconds later.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He didn’t respond. He placed one hand on her shoulder and held the gun in the other. His eyes scanned the buildings. Red brick during the day. Masses of black at night. His heart raced. Something wasn’t right. He stopped. Closed his eyes. He centered the girl in front of him. Wrapped an arm across her face, covering her eyes and ears and mouth. He lifted the gun over her shoulder.