Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10)

by L. T. Ryan

  10

  “Who the hell are you?” the guy said.

  Jasmine lifted her head and stared at the Russian who had identified himself as Boris. They were the only two in the basement room used as a dungeon of sorts. She said nothing to him.

  “I’m going to ask you again, and I expect a response. Who are you?”

  “Or what?” she said. “What’re you gonna do? Beat me?”

  Boris smiled, let out a soft chuckle and leaned in. He placed a hand on her waist and slid it up her side, stopping just past her ribs. He brushed the hair caked with blood and dirt to the side of her head, out of the way. Said softly, “I’m not going to beat you. I’m just going to shoot you. And eventually kill you.”

  Jasmine turned her head away and stared at the wall, the wall that might be the last thing she ever saw. She took a deep breath and composed herself.

  Boris said, “Well?”

  “Screw you.”

  “I’ll be back.” Boris turned and walked away from her. He walked up the stairs, one at a time, one heavy step after the other.

  She placed her upper back against the wall, letting her arms relax. Blood flow returned to her wrists. The pain remained. She looked around, checking the wall and the floor for anything she could use against Boris when he returned. Found nothing. Even if she had, she wouldn’t be able to reach it. Not when chained to a wall.

  Her best chance was to get her legs around him and climb. Squeeze and work her legs upward and wrap them around his neck. That only solved one problem, though. She’d still be stuck down here, and someone would come down and see her chained up and Boris dead on the ground. They’d likely fire a bullet into her head before they asked what happened.

  She brushed the thought aside and tried to come to grips with the fact that she’d be dead before sunrise. Not that she’d know the exact time. Not while stuck in the windowless basement.

  Should she just give in? Give him her name? Tell him who she works for and what she was doing?

  It violated everything she had ever worked for and every ounce of her training. Besides, Boris wouldn’t stop at just her name, and she knew it. He also seemed to be the kind of man who could gather a lot of information based on her name. So even if she refused to talk any further, he’d be able to use his resources to get the answer, making her useless to him. And when dealing with men like him, useless was not ideal.

  In the end she decided that the best thing to do would be to hold out as long as possible. They’d gone through the trouble of bringing her here, wherever here was, all the way from Atlanta. They wanted something from her and wouldn’t dispose of her until they had it.

  Fight, resist, stay strong.

  The door opened and the far corner of the room by the stairs lit up. She heard Boris start down the stairs. Then she heard two more sets of footsteps descending behind him. He had brought reinforcements.

  Pussy.

  He rounded the corner and she tensed. He had a black bag in his hands. The men that came down with him were two that she did not recognize. Boris stopped in front of her. The men moved to the side of her, out of range of her legs.

  “We had a party tonight,” Boris said. “Couple hundred people there, I guess. Mostly people I don’t know. Leeches who just show up for the free booze and free food. Do you know why we do this?”

  Jasmine stared at the floor and said nothing.

  “So that they will tolerate me and my men. The police, most of them don’t mind. I’ve got two in my house right now.”

  Jasmine looked to her left and to her right at the men standing beside her. They didn’t look like cops.

  Boris smiled. “No, not them. They are mine, from back home. Anyway, where was I?”

  “Shut up and get on with this,” Jasmine said. “I don’t care about your social life.”

  “Didn’t I tell you she looked feisty?”

  Jasmine fought back a smile. “You got no idea. Let me out of these chains and I’ll show you.”

  Boris stepped to the left, turned and stepped to the right. “Oh, you’ll be out of those chains soon enough. But you won’t be in a position to do anything to me, or these men, or the corrupt policemen upstairs.”

  “Threatening my life is a waste of your time. I’m ready to die. It’s an everyday reality with my job.”

  “And who is that job with?”

  Jasmine didn’t respond.

  “Just tell me your name and who you work for and I’ll see about letting you go.”

  She still didn’t respond.

  Boris sighed and dropped his head. “Fair enough.” He unzipped the bag and pulled it open wide. He reached in and took out a vial and a clear plastic wrapper containing a syringe.

  “I hope that’s sanitary,” she said.

  Boris laughed. He ripped the plastic away and pulled the cap from the needle. He plunged it into the vial and filled the syringe. He said, “Do you know what this is?”

  Jasmine shook her head.

  “Well, in Russian we call it…” he paused a beat and smiled. “You don’t care about Russian, do you?”

  She shook her head again.

  “Let’s just call it truth serum. I’m going to inject it into you. After a few minutes you are going to be lightheaded and happy and loose-lipped.” He paused for a moment. Smiled. “At the same time, it might hurt a bit.”

  Jasmine let her head drop. She focused on Boris’s feet as he approached. She saw the men closing in on her in her peripheral vision. Now was the time. She pushed back into the wall and then exploded forward, driving her left leg back into the wall and her right leg forward. She caught Boris in the stomach or the groin, she couldn’t tell and just assumed it was probably a bit of both. He dropped the vial and the needle and fell to the ground.

  She brought her right leg down and pushed it back against the wall. The man to her left was closest, so she pulled her left knee into to her chest and then drove her leg down and out to the side. Her foot connected with the guy’s kneecap. His leg bent unnaturally backward. She thought she heard a snapping sound or two. The man let out a grunt and a scream. He fell to the ground, clutching his deformed leg.

  Jasmine felt her arms jerk upward, followed by her body being stretched. She was pulled off the ground. She turned her head to the right and saw that the third man had grabbed the chains and began pulling down. The chain threaded through a pulley mounted on the ceiling. The chain connected to her wrists and each time he pulled, she jerked upward.

  The man on her left remained on the ground. His hands wrapped around his knee.

  Boris got to one knee and rested for a minute, catching his breath she presumed.

  Finally, he stood and said, “Hold her still.”

  The man on her right closed the distance and wrapped his arms around her legs. Pulled her forward, away from the wall. She was stretched out diagonally, arms near the wall, feet toward the middle of the room.

  She kicked and twisted and turned. It turned out to be wasted energy. She felt a pinch in her side and looked down. Boris had jammed the needle into her abdomen. Not the ideal location but it would work its magic soon enough. Now the only decision she had to make was to pretend like it went to work before it actually had.

  She knew what the drug felt like. They had applied it during her training. She mimicked the effect. Her charade only lasted two minutes. The drug kicked in. Her world slowed down to half speed, maybe less. She went limp and felt her body hit the ground.

  11

  When Jack and Bear had entered the house, Pierre went white as a ghost and fell to his knees. He hugged Jack. Thanked him for saving his life. Then the Frenchman apologized profusely for betraying Jack and agreeing to work for Charles and the old man. He told Jack that he hoped his actions and effort to rescue Mandy would allow for Jack to forgive him. He said he’d do anything Jack wanted to make up for his transgressions.

  Pierre then joined Larsen and Mandy in the kitchen.

  Jack and Bear sat across from ea
ch other, catching up on the events of the past six months.

  The house fell silent after a quick and decisive knock on the door.

  Bear said, “Jack, why don’t you get that for me?”

  “Why me?”

  “I’m fixing to start dinner.”

  “When did you become so domesticated?”

  “Bite me, Jack.”

  Jack laughed. Got off the couch and crossed the room. He stood in front of the door. Grabbed the knob and turned it to the right. Pulled the door open. The face that greeted him was one that he knew too well. A face that he thought of every single day. More than once a day. And for the better part of the last ten years.

  “Clarissa.”

  Clarissa’s eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open as she tried to speak. Said nothing. She flung her arms around Jack and pulled him close and kissed his cheek.

  He did the same. Lifted her up and carried her over the threshold. He kicked the door shut and sat her down. “What are you doing here?” He ran his hands through her hair and added, “What did you do to your hair?”

  “I—I should ask the same.” She ran her hands through his hair and tugged lightly on his beard. “You’re alive?”

  Jack felt his chest and head and said, “Yeah, I think so.”

  “How did this… Where have you been?” She looked across the room at Bear, who leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, a big grin on his face. “Did you know about this?”

  Bear said, “Just found out tonight. Had no idea.”

  The room had a warm vibe. Friends reunited. The smile on their faces told a story that any stranger could read.

  “I wanted to tell you,” Jack said. “But they said I needed to stay invisible. I’m a ghost. Everyone thinks I’m dead. I couldn’t compromise that, even though I tried a time or two.”

  “Where were you?” she demanded. Her fists curled into balls and she slammed them into Jack’s chest.

  He wrapped his hands around her wrists, holding them close together. The tension between them started to slip away. He leaned forward. Let go of her arms. Wrapped his around her back. Their lips crossed the void and met in the middle.

  He pulled back a minute later and continued, “When I got back to the States a few days ago the first thing I did was go to your apartment.”

  “That could have been risky.”

  Jack hiked his shoulders and inch. “Maybe. The super said you left six months ago. Where did you go?”

  “I,” she paused and bit her bottom lip. “I joined Sinclair’s team.”

  “You’re here for the same reason I am then? To take down the Russians?”

  “I’m impersonating one. She was going to take over their main west coast cell.”

  “Why are you standing here right now?”

  Clarissa looked past Jack and smiled at Mandy. “I helped her escape tonight.”

  “You blew your cover?”

  “Maybe.” The room fell silent for half a minute and then Clarissa said, “What do you have to do with the Russians?”

  “Frank’s the one that got me out of that Russian hell hole of a prison. He’s also the one that—”

  “Skinner?” Clarissa asked.

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, Frank Skinner.”

  “You’re working for him again?”

  “For now. Got a debt to repay. He saved my life.”

  Clarissa nodded and gestured for Jack to continue.

  “He doesn’t work in the field anymore, so he partnered me up with one of his best agents. We were in Atlanta. They took her.”

  “Who?”

  “The Russians. She’s here. All the intelligence and evidence points to here.”

  Clarissa stood and walked past Jack. She paced the room, stopping to squeeze Bear’s arm. She nodded at Larsen and smiled at Pierre and hugged Mandy. “If I haven’t blown my cover then I can get you in there. He trusts me. They all trust me. They won’t stop us from entering.”

  “You have a car here?” Jack asked.

  “Not far,” Clarissa replied.

  Jack looked at Bear and then the clock on the wall. Almost midnight. It would be easy to remain content after being reunited with the people he considered his family. Everyone was relaxed and happy. But there was a dark undertone to the feeling in the room. “I’d love for this reunion to be on more pleasant terms, but it looks like we got a job to do. Let’s get this planned.”

  The five of them sat around the kitchen table. Clarissa told them the layout of the house and the property. She explained where the guards were positioned.

  “We can do this,” Jack said.

  “I want to join you,” Pierre said.

  Bear and Jack turned toward the Frenchman.

  “You can trust me,” Pierre said. “Allow me to make it up to you.”

  “OK,” Jack said. “Double cross me, and I’ll kill you first.”

  Pierre nodded without hesitation.

  “I want in,” Larsen said.

  Bear shook his head. “Detective, I need you to stay with Mandy. Bring her some place safe.”

  “Dammit, I want my revenge.”

  “I know you do, but you aren’t trained for this kind of thing. We are.”

  Larsen clenched his jaw and grabbed the edges of the table. The veins in his neck stood out and his cheeks trembled with anger.

  “You can help us,” Jack said. “We need weapons. Two sniper rifles and whatever tactical weapons you can get your hands on.”

  Larsen looked at Bear. “What about the informant?”

  “Screw him,” Bear said. “He didn’t get us anything and I don’t want to repay him for nothing.”

  Larsen took a series of deep breaths and his anger appeared to drop a notch. He said, “I can get you weapons. I’ll go now. Take me half an hour.” He rose from the table and left the house without another word.

  Jack waited until the front door closed and said, “Can we trust him?”

  Bear nodded. “He wants them dead as much as we do.”

  Jack turned to Clarissa. “Where would they keep Jasmine?”

  She shrugged. “They kept Mandy in a room down the hall from me. But I doubt that’s where they would keep an agent.”

  “Me too. Did you ever see any kind of holding cells or a cellar or anything like that?”

  “No.”

  “Wherever she is, she’ll be guarded and locked up. No way they take a chance on letting her out.”

  Bear nodded and so did Clarissa.

  Jack said, “What else do we need to do while we’re there?”

  “The documents,” Clarissa said. “He has information on several targets. Weaknesses and the best time frame for a joint attack. Landmarks, infrastructure, more. It’s bad.”

  Jack nodded and said nothing. The documents were his second highest priority and he had no intention of leaving the house without them.

  “We should get those,” Clarissa said. “And take out everyone in that house. Most importantly, take out Boris.”

  “Frank might want him alive,” Jack said.

  “I don’t know that he’d go alive. Not after the file I read on him.”

  “Frank’ll want to know who the boss is back in Russia.”

  “I can get close to him. He trusts me,” Clarissa paused and smiled. “He trusts Anastasiya. I’ll tell him that someone roughed me up outside the gallery. That’ll set him on edge a bit. Then you guys start the attack inside. I’ll knock him unconscious.”

  “Everyone else?” Pierre asked.

  Jack looked past the group. Nodded at the little girl at the kitchen table.

  “Mandy,” Bear said. “Go to your room and pack a bag with some clothes and stuff.”

  Jack waited until the girl was out of earshot. “Kill them all.”

  “We need a plan,” Bear said.

  Jack leaned over the table and spread his arms. “Here’s what I’m thinking.”

  12

  “How are you feeling?” Boris said to the woman lying on th
e floor. Her eyelids fluttered and then remained half open. She slowly looked from him to the ceiling to the stairs. Her eyes stopped at the stairs. He said, “There’s no point. You’ll never make it. Besides, you can’t even stand. Try it.”

  He watched the woman move her hand in slow motion. It took a minute for her fingers to travel three inches. Tears formed in her eyes and slipped off her cheek and onto the floor, forming a small puddle. Boris grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her up. Propped her against the wall. He grabbed her by the cheeks and forced her to face him.

  “Can you talk? Why don’t you say something for me?”

  “Something,” she said.

  Boris smiled. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to know you under different circumstances. You and I could have been something together. You know that?”

  The woman said, “Something.” Her head swayed to the side and her eyes closed.

  “Right,” Boris said. “Why don’t you start by telling me your name?”

  “Jas,” she paused. “Jasmine.”

  Boris nodded to the man next to him who then scribbled her name onto a pad. “Jasmine what?”

  “Medina.”

  “Jasmine Medina. That’s lovely. What’s your background? No, better yet, who do you work for Ms. Medina? It is Miss, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And who do you work for, Ms. Medina?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Now, I don’t believe that.”

  “We’re ghosts.”

  “Ghosts?”

  “We don’t exist.”

  “Well, obviously you exist. You are sitting in front of me right now.”

  Jasmine shook her head. Smiled.

  “What is the name of the organization? Who is your boss?”

  “Ess,” she said.

  “As in the letter ‘s’?”

  She half-nodded, her head collapsing to her chest after each upswing.

  “OK, S what?”

  “S.I.S.”

  “And what is that?”

  She lifted her head and locked eyes with him. Held his gaze for half a minute and said, “A group for ghosts.”