Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10)

by L. T. Ryan

  “Kat’s,” Pierre said.

  “Who’s Kat?”

  “A friend.”

  “Can she be trusted?”

  Pierre nodded and turned his head away. Bear tried not to read too much into the gesture. They were no longer on his turf. He had no contacts in France, or most of Europe for that matter. He had to trust Pierre, the man he blamed for Jack’s misfortune half a year earlier. The man who showed up a week ago in Iowa on a mission to kill Bear and kidnap Mandy.

  A mixture of panic and rage started to build inside Bear. He tightened his core and his chest and his arms. Took a few deep breaths. Turned his head away from Pierre and stared out the window on his side of the taxi. He tried to figure out where they were. No mental map of Paris had ever formed for him. That would require more than the few visits he had made over the course of his life. All he knew is that they were in an old area full of old buildings and old people.

  His mind switched gears and he started to focus on the reason he was sent to France. They had to kill Charles. It had to be bloody and brutal and send a clear message to anyone associated with him and the old man that their time was coming to an end.

  After Pierre’s reaction to the old man’s assassination, Bear started to doubt that he had the right man for the job with him. Jack would have been a far better choice. The hit would have gone down without a hitch. But as his dad always told him, wish in one hand and crap in the other. See which fills up first. Pierre was there and would be the one to go into battle with Bear.

  “That’s it,” Pierre said in French to the driver as he leaned into the empty space between the two front seats.

  The driver stopped the taxi and the men got out. Bear walked around back, lifted the trunk lid and grabbed their bags. He walked over to the curb and dropped Pierre’s bag on the sidewalk.

  Pierre paid the driver and then grabbed his bag. He gestured for Bear to follow him toward an old iron gate that stood at least ten feet tall. It was surrounded on the left, right and top by bricks that Bear estimated were a couple hundred years old. Pierre stopped in front of the gate and entered a code into an electric lock. Bear found it ironic that modern security had been infused into something built centuries ago.

  They passed through the entrance and walked through a brick tunnel.

  “There’s a play area for the kids above this,” Pierre said, pointing at the roof above them.

  Bear nodded and continued walking. He focused on the light at the other end of the short tunnel. He wasn’t a fan of tunnels or being underground or in most confined spaces. He generally avoided those situations and locations, unless on a job. It was only then that he was able to disassociate his thoughts and feelings and complete the task at hand.

  They emerged through the tunnel and stepped into a courtyard in full bloom. Flowers swayed in the gentle breeze and the aroma enveloped the men as if they had walked into a mist of perfume. The sounds of children playing and enjoying the warm spring day filled the air. They played soccer and tag and ran around carelessly. The faint sound of children’s nursery rhymes carried through the air. Some things, Bear thought, were the same no matter where you went. The names of games and words to hymns might be different, but the structure and the sounds were always the same, whether you were in America, France or some rarely traveled section of Africa.

  “It’s that building.” Pierre pointed toward a five story building with an unimpressive entrance.

  They walked up the front steps and past the unlocked door. A few flights of stairs later, they stood in front of Kat’s door.

  “Perhaps you should wait at the other end of the hall,” Pierre said.

  “Not a chance.” Bear reached past Pierre and rapped on the door. Three strikes, hard and loud.

  There was a rattle at the door and a beam of light shot through a glass circle in the center, three quarters of the way up. The light was blocked as a face passed by. Locks were unlatched and the door opened a foot. A stunning black haired woman appeared. Bear took a step back in an effort to appear less intimidating.

  “Pierre,” she said.

  “Hello, Kat,” Pierre said in English. “Sorry to show up unannounced, but we need a place to stay for a few days.”

  “Get a hotel,” she said in French. Her eyes darted to Bear and lingered for a moment. The weight of her stare crushed him. She then looked at Pierre and continued. “You got a lot of nerve coming here.”

  “Why?” Pierre said. “What did I do? Is it because I didn’t call?”

  She said nothing.

  “I didn’t think you wanted me to, Kat.” Pierre lowered his head and dropped his arms to his side. “I’m here now. Isn’t that something?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “You are here now. With him.” She pointed at Bear and shook her head.

  “He’s essential,” Pierre said. “We have to finish something and then he’s going back to the U.S. and I’m finished with the life.”

  Liar, Bear thought. Pierre needed the thrill and the action associated with the job. He was nothing more than a eunuch without it.

  Kat took a step back and swung the door open. “Come in.”

  Bear hesitated a second and then entered the room when Pierre gestured him through the open doorway. The apartment was small and minimally furnished. It seemed adequate, though. He made his way to the kitchen, partly because he was hungry, but also to allow Kat and Pierre a few minutes to talk alone.

  He opened the fridge and pulled out an apple. It would have to do. He noticed an uncorked bottle of wine on the counter. He grabbed the bottle and took a drink.

  “Help yourself,” Kat said.

  Bear turned and wiped residual drops of wine from his beard. “Sorry. Long day, you know.”

  She reached into the cabinet and pulled out two wine glasses. “No, I don’t know.” She held the glasses at arm’s length and Bear filled each half-way. She took a drink, then said, “You shouldn’t have come here.”

  “Not much choice,” Bear said. “Had to go wherever Pierre went.”

  “You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with him. He’s ruined.”

  The words only had half their intended effect on Bear. He couldn’t get past her accent and found himself swimming in her stare.

  “He’ll be all right,” Bear said. “He’s been doing this a long time. I think the months away from it, coupled with the guilt over Jack, had the biggest effect on him.”

  “I can’t be with a man involved in that kind of work.” Her eyes shifted to the left and she crossed her arms.

  “Where is Pierre?”

  “He left. Said he had to meet someone. Wanted me to keep you here.”

  Bear chuckled as he took a step toward her. “He really thinks a little thing like you can stop me?”

  She backed up until she hit the kitchen table. “I’m tougher than I look.”

  “So am I.” He took another step toward her. Rather than stepping to the side to move away, she braced herself by placing her hands on the table. Her fingers wrapped around the edge. She leaned back slightly. Bear reached out and placed his hands on her waist. His fingers nearly met in the back.

  “You shouldn’t be doing this,” she said. “Pierre is your friend.”

  “No,” Bear said. “I can’t stand the guy.”

  “Me either.”

  He leaned over and she rose to the tips of her toes. Their lips met somewhere in the middle.

  The door rattled and locks began to turn, preventing things from going any further. Bear took a giant step back and nearly crashed into the refrigerator. Neither he nor Kat said a word as Pierre entered the apartment. They smiled at each other and then pretended to be indifferent.

  7

  “Where should we go?” Jasmine said.

  “Out of the city,” Jack said.

  “Maryland or Virginia?”

  “Where do you live?”

  “D.C.”

  “Go to Virginia.” He pulled the battery and SIM card from his cell phone. “Ca
n he track you through your phone?”

  “What? Who?”

  “Frank.”

  “Yeah. That’s standard operating procedure.”

  “Give it here.”

  Jasmine glanced over at him with a confused look on her face.

  “Give me your phone,” Jack said.

  She handed it over and he removed the battery and SIM card.

  “What the hell?” she said.

  “Someone blew up the man I just met with. I think they intended to blow me up. Frank set up the meeting. Put it together.”

  Jasmine looked from Jack to the road and back at Jack. “You’re not implying that Frank set you up, are you?”

  “I’m not implying anything, Jazz. Until I know that Frank had nothing to do with this, I don’t want him to know where I am.”

  “Jack,” Jasmine said in a controlled tone, “he’s not like that. If he wanted you dead he wouldn’t take someone else out in the process and cause millions of dollars of damage by destroying half a city block.”

  “You don’t know him like I do.”

  She said nothing as she merged onto I-395 southbound.

  Jack looked across the highway at the Potomac as they crossed over the George Mason Memorial Bridge. His adrenaline finally settled as they left D.C. and entered Virginia. He saw the Pentagon to the right and recounted his conversation with Rico, trying to make sense of what had happened. Was the bomb meant for Rico, or had it been intended for him? If it were only for Rico, and merely a coincidence that Jack had been there, then it could have been anybody who planted the explosives. However, if Jack had been the target, then that limited the possible suspects.

  “Let me call Frank,” Jasmine said.

  Jack shook his head. “The moment you do, he’ll know where we are.”

  “He probably tracks the cars.”

  Jack pointed at the exit lane. “Get off here. I’m going to rent a car. You’re going to drop this one off at the nearest hotel.”

  Jasmine exited the highway. She pulled into a shopping center parking lot and went inside a store to purchase fresh clothes for Jack. Then she dropped him off a block past a rental car place. “There’s a hotel on Leesburg Pike. I’m going to park the car there. I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”

  Jack changed into the shorts and shirt Jasmine bought, then exited the vehicle. Next to the rental car company was a convenience store. He went in and bought three pay-as-you-go cell phones with five hundred minutes each. He knew he’d only use a fraction of the minutes, but if something went down, and he had to use the phone for tracking, he wanted to make sure it’d last long enough.

  He left the store and went next door where he rented a mid-sized sedan. He drove two blocks and pulled into an empty church parking lot. Grabbed one of the cell phones and placed a call, dialing the number from memory.

  “Hello?” a man said after picking up on the second ring.

  “Brandon?”

  “Who’s this?”

  “Jack Noble. Don’t hang up.”

  Silence on the other end. Then Brandon said, “Everyone knows Jack Noble is dead.”

  “It’s really me, Brandon. A Russian prison isn’t enough to kill me.”

  “Prove it.”

  “How else would I have this number?”

  “Could have found it scribbled on a stall in a ladies bathroom in some seedy bar.”

  Jack laughed. “OK, how about this then? In 2004 you were instrumental in helping me and Frank Skinner take down a child smuggling ring run by some bad dudes out of South America.”

  “Lots of people know about that.”

  “True, but lots of people don’t know that it didn’t end there and I had to take down someone pretty powerful in our world.”

  “Jack?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Was that you who called me a few days ago?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sorry for hanging up on you.”

  “You do me a favor, and I’ll forget all about it.”

  “What do you need?”

  “I need a number daisy chained. Can’t call it direct.”

  “How many levels?”

  “Ten should be sufficient.”

  “Number?”

  Jack gave him Frank’s number and waited. Once Brandon was finished, his call would route through ten different forwarding numbers before it reached Frank, making his call virtually untraceable. Some might call it overkill. For Jack it was being slightly cautious.

  “OK,” Brandon said. “All set. You got a pen?”

  “Go for it,” Jack said.

  Brandon read the number off and then said, “Anything else?”

  “Yeah one more thing,” Jack said. “A man was blown up today in downtown D.C. I only knew him as Rico. He worked for the NSA. Dig up anything you can on him. I’ll be in touch in a day or so.”

  “You got it.”

  Jack hung up and immediately dialed the number Brandon had given him. There was no point in switching phones. If Brandon was double crossing him, he’d be monitoring the number and get the second cell phone’s information.

  The phone rang several times before Frank answered. “Who’s this?”

  “What did you do, Frank?”

  “Jack?”

  “You know it’s me.”

  “What happened with Rico?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “Don’t screw with me, Frank.” Jack’s voice escalated into a yell. “So help me, if I find out you are behind this I will unleash a hell you’ve never imagined.”

  “Jack, calm down. What are you talking about?”

  Jack paused. Was Frank telling truly stumped, or only saying what he had to in order to get Jack to come back?

  “Rico’s dead,” Jack said.

  “How?”

  “Explosion.”

  “The thing downtown? At the parking garage?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Christ, Jack. You hurt?”

  Jack looked down at his bandaged hand and knee. “I’ll live.”

  “You had nothing to do with this, right?”

  “You’re asking me? Right now you’re suspect number one, Frank.”

  “Jack, I didn’t—”

  “Shut up. Who else know Rico was meeting with me?”

  There was a pause on the other end. It lasted two seconds. Nothing for most people. But to Jack it was enough to tell him that Frank knew something.

  “Nobody that I know of,” Frank said.

  Jack said nothing.

  “I’m going to send a team out to get you guys. Where are you?”

  “Nowhere.”

  The sounds of Frank pounding on his keyboard filled the ear piece. “OK, you aren’t that far away. Just stay put.”

  He was tracking her car.

  “Screw you, Frank.”

  Jack tossed the cell phone out the window. It landed in the middle of the road. Jack watched in the mirror as a heavy duty pick-up truck drove by and crushed the phone. He continued driving till he reached the hotel. Pulled into the parking lot and drove up to the lobby door. Jasmine stepped out and got in the car.

  “Where’re we going?” she said.

  “Nowhere for now.”

  “What?”

  “He’s tracking your car. Said he’s sending a team. I want to see who arrives and how they act.”

  “That’s not a good idea. They’ll spot us.”

  Jack looked over at her and shrugged.

  “C’mon, Jack. You know how this group operates. We’re trained to see everything. You think they won’t notice an in-state rental car nearby?”

  Jack said nothing.

  “We’ll figure this out, but we need to move. They’ll be here soon. Hell, they’re probably almost here now. I’m sure he sent someone the moment our phones went offline.”

  Jack turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. She was right and he knew it. Frank’s guys would s
pot them. Maybe not right away, but eventually. They’d be sitting ducks in the parking lot. And that would spell trouble if Frank’s guys were there for a purpose other than escorting Jack and Jasmine back to D.C.

  “I’m gonna loop around a couple times,” Jack said.

  Jasmine shook her head. “You’re gonna get us killed.”

  He ignored her. “Put your seat back.”

  “Why?”

  “They’ll know your face better than mine.”

  Jasmine lowered her seat and leaned back, placing herself out of sight.

  The car was easy to spot. Jack saw it in the rear view mirror. Big and black and American made. It screamed government agent.

  “There they are,” Jack said. “Turning into the hotel lot now.”

  Jasmine didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.

  Jack made a U-turn at the next light. “Just want to get one look at them as they approach your car.”

  “Make it quick. Don’t stare. If one of them looks your way, speed off.”

  Jack whipped the car around the median. He drove by the hotel lot, not too fast and not too slow. He casually glanced toward Jasmine’s car. One of the men stood just outside the government vehicle. He used the door to shield himself. The other approached the abandoned car. His left arm was out slightly, his right arm inside his coat, likely gripping his weapon.

  “You’re dead, Frank,” Jack said.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Jasmine said. “We need to talk with him.”

  “I’m not going back to that office.”

  “We’ll arrange it some place safe. Some place public.”

  “Forget it.”

  “You’ve got to trust him, Jack. He’s the only person on your side.”

  “You can put your seat back up,” he said. Then he turned his attention to the road and said nothing for over half an hour.

  They drove along the George Washington Memorial Parkway, heading west. Merged onto I-495 northbound. Exited a couple miles later on River Road.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m going back to the city.” He paused and looked over at her. “You’re getting out soon.” He slowed the car down and pulled into the parking lot of a golf course.

  “What the hell?”

  “Get out.”

  “No way.”

  “I’ll come back for you later. Or you can put your phone back together and I’m sure Frank will come get you.”