Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10)

by L. T. Ryan

  She refused to move. Crossed her arms and looked away.

  “I’ll force you out,” he said.

  “This is ridiculous. We’re partners.”

  “And I have to go take care of something alone.”

  “You’re not going after Frank, are you?”

  “No. I have to go see an old friend. Someone that might be able to provide some insight into what is going on.”

  Jasmine opened her door and stuck one foot on the pavement, then the other. She stepped out and then stuck her head back inside. “This is a mistake.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  8

  Jack navigated by memory to the house of Robert Marlowe, former Deputy Secretary of Defense. He doubted the man was as clued in as he had been ten years before when he helped Jack out of a tough spot. Still, he might be able to provide some insight or make a few calls at the very least.

  He drove through a dodgy part of town, then past a tree lined park that served as a barrier between the ghetto and rehabbed million dollar townhomes. Little had changed since he had last been there. The trees were a little taller, but other than that, everything looked the same. He found Marlowe’s end unit and parked half a block away.

  He hoped that Jasmine had kept her phone off. Frank couldn’t be trusted, although Jasmine didn’t seem to think twice about taking his word as gospel. She’d seemed pretty pissed when Jack left. He hated dumping her like that, but he couldn’t risk losing Marlowe as a contact or putting the man in any danger by outing him as a source if he did in fact have some useful information.

  Jack’s mind drifted as he walked down the sidewalk toward Marlowe’s house. He thought about Bear and pulled one of the cell phone’s from his pocket. Then he looked at his watch and realized that it was after midnight in Paris. He’d wait until morning to make contact and find out how things were going.

  He reached Marlowe’s end unit and stopped. He was relaxed and less cautious than ten years ago. There wouldn’t be any secret service agents to contend with this time. No need to threaten Marlowe into helping him, either. It’d be like two old friends seeing each other after a decade. A reunion of sorts.

  He knocked on the door and waited.

  The door swung open and an older gentleman poked his head out. “Help you?”

  “Secretary Marlowe?” Jack said.

  “Former.”

  “Don’t remember me?”

  The man pulled the door open and stepped into the opening. “Jack Noble?”

  “That’s me.”

  Marlowe smiled and shook his head as he extended his hand. “You got old.”

  Jack smiled as he took Marlowe’s hand in his own. “We can’t all remain as strikingly handsome as you, sir.”

  “Come on in, Jack.”

  He followed the older man through the house and into the living room. It looked exactly as Jack remembered it. Two couches with a simple wooden table between them. Two stacks of books on the middle of the table. Perhaps the same ones that sat there a decade earlier. Still no TV or stereo. They passed through the room and headed toward the kitchen. Marlowe pushed the swinging door open and waited for Jack to step through.

  “Coffee or beer?” Marlowe asked.

  “One of each,” Jack said.

  Marlowe reached into the cabinet over the stove and pulled down two mugs. He filled both with coffee. He set one down in front of Jack. “Just brewed it not ten minutes ago. Cream? Sugar?”

  “Black is fine.”

  Marlowe turned and went to the fridge. He returned a few moments later with two bottles of imported beers.

  “Don’t buy the local brews anymore?” Jack said.

  Marlowe waved a hand in Jack’s direction. “They’ve gone to the yuppies.”

  Jack took a long pull on the bottle of beer and then set it down on the table. He leaned back in his chair. Rubbed his forehead and his temples and his jaw with his thumbs. He opened his mouth to speak, but Marlowe jumped in before he could get a word out.

  “Word is that you’re dead, Jack.”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.”

  “Something about the Russians and some God forsaken prison?”

  “I did a job, sir. Did the world a favor. Took out a scumbag politician who was hell bent on turning Russia into a military controlled powerhouse. Turns out it went a lot further than that. Anyway, I got caught. His buddy, a General named Ivanov, prosecuted me. Sent me to Black Dolphin. Ever heard of it?”

  Marlowe nodded.

  Jack continued. “Someone managed to get me out in a creative way. Then I spent six months in Greece. Now I’m trying to clean up another mess I created.”

  “Something to do with highly classified intelligence.”

  “You know?”

  Marlowe shrugged.

  “How much do you know?” Jack asked.

  “Somewhere between not enough and slightly more than a little.”

  Jack took another pull on the beer bottle. He had to feel out the old man and see just how much he knew and where he placed Jack on the blame scale.

  “I had no idea what it was when I got my hands on it. Never ask questions. That’s the number one rule I lived by.”

  “Should’ve broken the rule, Jack.”

  “When people in my line of business break that rule, they end up dead.”

  “Maybe you should look for a new line of work.”

  “I’m done with it, sir. Retired. Just need to clean up this mess and then move on with my life.”

  Marlowe nodded. He blew on his coffee, sending ripples through the hot liquid and a puff of steam into the air above the mug.

  “So what do you know?” Jack asked.

  Marlowe thought for a moment. He leaned back and crossed his arms. Brought one hand up to his chin. He looked around the kitchen and then his focus settled on Jack. “I know that someone in a high ranking position is responsible for the information being leaked out. I know that he was pissed as all get it out when it landed in your hands, although he didn’t know it was you. His courier was in no state to give an eyewitness account.”

  Jack smiled. Although he hadn’t killed the courier, there was no doubt that he would never recount his interaction with Jack that night.

  Marlowe continued. “The documents then ended up in very bad hands and we were on the verge of an attack like no other.”

  “That was under control,” Jack said.

  “Be that as it may,” Marlowe said, “if they had even hit one or two of those targets, it would have been chaos.”

  Jack nodded. Said nothing. A twinge of guilt burned inside.

  “Then a few terrorists died. A Russian General died. The documents returned to the U.S. and were under the care of the NSA.”

  “You’re pretty clued in for being retired.”

  Marlowe smiled. “Some people still respect my opinion, on certain matters at least.”

  “What else do you know?”

  Marlowe’s smile faded. He leaned forward. Placed one arm on the table. Pointed the other in Jack’s direction. “I know that the documents have been taken again.”

  “Do you know by who?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think it might have been the person who leaked them?”

  “It’s possible. Or someone working for him. Or someone who had worked for him. Or maybe just someone who knows that he wants them back and knows he’ll pay top dollar for them.”

  Jack studied Marlowe as he spoke. If he was lying, he gave nothing away. Not a single tick of his face or misdirection of his eyes or inflection in his tone. Marlowe didn’t show a single tell.

  “Sir,” Jack said. “I’m going to be direct. Do you know who leaked the intel in the first place?”

  “I have a few ideas. First, you tell me what you know.”

  “The Pentagon. That’s it.”

  Marlowe nodded. Said nothing.

  “And it has to be someone high ranking in order to know certain information.”
<
br />   “Such as?” Marlowe prompted.

  “That the documents were back in the U.S.” Jack shifted in his seat in order to face Marlowe directly. “Where they were being held and how to get to them. And that an agent in the NSA was meeting with me today.”

  “And then had him killed.”

  Jack nodded. “I believe I was the intended target.”

  “I do too.” Marlowe stood and unlocked the back door. “I think it’s time you leave, son.”

  Jack pushed back in his chair and got up. Walked toward the open door. He had more questions, but the last thing he wanted to do was draw the ire of Marlowe by pushing too far.

  “I’ve got eyes and ears on the inside,” Marlowe said. “I think we’re close.” He grabbed a notepad and scribbled on it. Tore the paper from the pad and handed it to Jack. “You call me on that number. Twice a day. Eleven a.m and p.m.”

  Jack took the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be in touch.” He started down the stairs of the back patio. Stopped and turned. “One more thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Frank Skinner. He involved?”

  Marlowe shook his head. “Don’t think so, but I’ll double check.”

  Jack thanked him once more, then left the property. He hurried to his car and started driving toward the outskirts of the city. On the way, he called a taxi company to send a cab for Jasmine with instructions to drive her to the gas station next to the fire department on the other side of the Beltway. He added that the driver was not to tell her where he was taking her.

  Jack drove ahead and waited across the street from the fire station. Half an hour later a cab pulled up and Jasmine stepped out, alone. He waited another five minutes to make sure she hadn’t been followed and then got out of his car, crossed the street and got her attention.

  “Thanks a lot, Jack,” she said.

  “It was worth it.”

  “It better have been.”

  “Wait till you hear what I found out.”

  9

  Charles leaned over the wrought iron black railing that surrounded his balcony. The lights of the city created a soft haze that lit the sky hundreds of feet above him before melting into the darkness of night.

  He threw back another shot. His twelfth, he estimated. Or maybe his thirteenth. He’d lost track. The alcohol was doing little to distract him. He had the cocaine to thank for that. He figured if he kept drinking, eventually the booze would do its job. He didn’t care how much it took. No hangover could dampen the celebration he was having. The old man was dead and the empire was his.

  “Alonso,” Charles said. “Another drink.”

  Alonso stepped out onto the balcony empty handed. “Maybe you should take it easy, Charles.”

  “Why? Afraid I’m going to piss off our neighbors? What do we care? We’re out of here in a couple days. Back to New York to take over.”

  Alonso pulled out a cigar and lit it. Took a few puffs and then joined Charles by the railing. “I was thinking that I’d like to stay here. Take over Europe.”

  Charles reached for the cigar and took it from Alonso’s hand. “You’re my right hand man. I need you in New York.”

  “You’ll have plenty of people to choose from there. And with your eye on them, they’ll do what you tell them to. Do you really want to send someone here that you don’t trust completely?”

  “I see your point,” Charles said. “But at the same time, I really don’t want someone I don’t trust within stabbing distance of me.”

  “You’re going to have that whether I’m there or not.”

  Charles looked up at the sky. Dead center above him it was nothing more than a mass of black. The spot where the lights didn’t meet. He knew that he’d have a situation on his hands in New York. There were people in the organization that probably figured he was behind the killing of the old man. Although he was happy about it, it wasn’t something that he ever had intentions of organizing. Perhaps at one time, but all that had been smoothed over when Feng put him in charge of Europe and given him free reign to run it as he saw fit. Plus, Feng was old and nearing retirement. Charles was poised to take over soon no matter what.

  “What do you think?” Alonso said.

  “OK,” Charles said. “Only thing is I need you to come with me for the first week or two. Just to watch my back until I get control of things.”

  “How do you plan to do that?”

  “Kill the first one that stands up to me.”

  “Good plan. Machiavellian.”

  Charles nodded once and said nothing.

  “I’ll get us those drinks now.” Alonso stepped into the apartment and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Charles turned around and looked over the railing, down at the street. Despite the late hour, there were several people out. Were they celebrating as he was? Were they all full of hope and inspiration like him? Or were they, just like him, trying to get drunk?

  “Here you go,” Alonso said.

  Charles sat down at the bistro table near the door. Alonso sat across from him.

  “Arrange our flights before you go to bed. I’d like to leave tomorrow if possible.”

  “Won’t happen. But I’m sure we can get out the day after.”

  “That’ll work.”

  10

  Jasmine stared at Jack in disbelief as he recounted the information Marlowe passed on to him.

  “The Pentagon?” she said. “Someone in power? You really think this goes that high?”

  “Rico shared the same thoughts.”

  “First of all, we really don’t know much about this Rico character.”

  Her words rang true. The only saving grace Rico had was that Frank arranged the meeting. If Frank turned out to be on the up and up, then so was Rico as far as Jack was concerned.

  “The second thing,” Jasmine said, “is that it doesn’t make sense. Why would someone that high up in the government risk treason?”

  Jack shrugged. “People do crazy things for money, Jazz.”

  “I know that. And will you please stop calling me Jazz.”

  “Too late,” he said with a laugh. “We’ve been through too much together. It’s permanent.”

  She sighed and shook her head and smiled at him. Her dark eyes reflected the oncoming headlights, giving off the impression that they were aglow. Her expression turned serious and she said, “So what now?”

  “Gotta call my contact back in a bit. He’s checking on Frank for me. If he says he’s clear then you’re going to arrange a meeting with Frank. Someplace public, though. I’m not going to his office.”

  She lifted her hand and pursed her lips like she was about to scold him for his distrust in Frank. If she had, he’d be able to see her point. Jack and Frank had a history together, and Jasmine herself had seven years in the SIS working alongside and for Frank. But it was Jack’s history with Frank that taught him to distrust the man.

  “OK,” she said reluctantly. “I’m on board, for the most part. I’ll go on record now as saying that I don’t think Frank has anything to do with this. And I think we are wasting time looking at people in the Pentagon. This has double agent written all over it.”

  Jack started the car and drove aimlessly for half an hour. They spoke little, and when they did it was about nothing important. In the background his mind worked overtime on the puzzle. There had been a time when he brazenly accused a high ranking government official of being involved in a conspiracy. He had been wrong. Fortunately, the man offered up what he knew at the time, just as the same man had done earlier in the day.

  He noted how naive Jasmine acted regarding the possibility that someone they trusted could be involved in the disappearance of the documents. In some ways, he wished he shared her simplistic thinking on the issue. If that were the case, though, then another group would get their hands on the documents and the whereabouts of the information might escape the intelligence community completely.

  “You got five minutes,
” Jasmine said.

  Jack broke free from his thoughts as her words echoed in his ears. He began to look for a place to park.

  “So who is this contact?” she asked.

  Jack shook his head. Said nothing.

  “Why won’t you trust me?”

  “It’s not about me trusting you. It’s about protecting him. No one needs to know but me. His name gets out there, it puts him at risk.”

  “So in other words, you don’t trust me.”

  “Jazz,” Jack reached out and grabbed her hand. “It’s not like that. I trust you with my life. You’re my partner. I need you to trust me on this. OK?”

  “Whatever.” She aimed a finger toward the clock on the dashboard. “Make your call.”

  Jack turned into an empty restaurant parking lot. Pulled around the rear of the building and stopped the car. He reached for the keys but decided to leave the ignition running. A sign of trust. He got out and walked into the field behind the restaurant, fifty feet past the parking lot. Grabbed his cell and placed a call to Marlowe.

  Marlowe answered and sounded as if he had been awoken. “Hello?”

  “It’s Jack. Sorry to wake you.”

  “I wasn’t asleep.”He yawned, then added, “Almost.”

  “What have you got for me?”

  “Skinner is clear. He’s on your side.”

  Jack felt a wave of relief flow through his body. “That’s good to hear. I’m still going to keep him at arm’s length until I feel him out.”

  “Probably a good idea.” Marlowe cleared his throat. “Whoever stole the documents this go around, well, by all appearances that was an inside job.”

  “We figured that much, sir. But who?”

  “Every camera went on the fritz, Jack. Every single one. Out for fifteen minutes. Guys in the security room who were watching the live feeds noticed nothing at all. Not a single thing. Said the place was desolate. One of them called it a ghost town.”

  “Have they been questioned further?”

  “The NSA is in the process of doing that right now.”

  “What’s the feeling? They in on it?”