Noble said, “You did what you thought was right.”
“Look where it got me,” she spoke into his chest. Her body trembled with fear and cold. Noble wrapped her up in his arms. She grabbed hold of his coat with both hands like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft. Tears soaked through his shirt. Sobs hitched up from her throat.
Noble hugged her that much tighter. A knot formed in his throat. He sat on the cold, hard pew, knowing he needed to say something but not knowing what. It was now or never, the hardest part of this whole affair so far. He forced his mouth open. It took another second to get the syllables past the obstruction in his throat. “I’m glad.”
Her sobs stopped short, like a razor slicing through silk. She looked up at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She sniffed. “You’re glad?”
Noble hauled in a lungful of air. Now that he had got his words started, the pressure in his throat relaxed some and he was able to force more words out. “I missed you. Before all this…” He shrugged. “I thought I was never going to see you again. It didn’t sit well with me. I thought we had a good thing going and then…”
Noble trailed off.
“Don’t stop,” Sam said.
“After Hong Kong, you dropped off the face of the earth. When you resurfaced, you were working for the Company. It was a bitter pill to swallow. In a way, I’m glad all this happened.”
She tilted her face up to his. Their lips brushed together. Noble pulled her tight. He forgot all about the cold and the uncomfortable wooden pew. All he could think about was the warm press of her body against his. Their lips melted together. Her breath came out in trembling gasps. Sam straddled him, took his face in both hands, and kissed him deeply. The old pew creaked under their weight. Her body shook with barely restrained passion. Noble gathered her silky black hair in his hands, used it to pull her chin up, and trailed kisses down her neck. Sam let out a deep sigh.
Noble’s body was on fire, but his mind went racing back to their first encounter. They had been alone in a hotel room, on the edge of passion, when Sam put the brakes on. It had left Noble confused and in a fair amount of pain, mental as well as physical. He found out afterwards she had a strict no sex before marriage policy. But right now she was caught in the grip of emotions. The situation was overriding her thinking. She rocked her hips against him, smothering him with kisses, while her fingers found their way under his shirt.
Noble put a hand on her chest and gently forced her back. His brain was telling him, Shut up, now’s not the time for talking. But another part, the part that really cared for Sam, forced him to utter the words, “What about your commitment?”
“I need this,” she whispered.
“You sure?” Noble said. “I wouldn’t want…”
Sam put a finger over his lips. She shrugged out of her coat and pulled off her shirt. A simple lace bra cupped small breasts, high on her chest. Black hair fell down around bare shoulders. Noble gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips against her bare skin. Sam closed her eyes, leaned her head back and moaned. Her chest swelled. She tangled her fingers in his hair and directed his kisses.
After more than a year of fantasizing, it was finally going to happen. Noble felt the skies part and heard the Hallelujah choir. Whatever came next, they would deal with it together.
Sam was working on his zipper when Duval came stumbling around the corner, breathless and wide-eyed. “Somebody’s coming,” he gasped. “Somebody’s coming down the…”
Sam gave a shriek, grabbed her shirt and covered her breasts with it.
Duval stopped midsentence and shuffled his feet. His eyes went from Sam to Noble. He muttered an apology, then pointed one chubby finger. “Someone’s coming down the lane.”
Chapter Fifty
The fire drained from Noble’s belly, like someone pulling the rubber stopper on a bathtub. The passion emptied out and left a sinking feeling in its place. Two years, thought Noble. For two years he had been longing after Sam. Now, when they were finally about to get together, Duval had come along and ruined the moment. Sam scrambled off his lap, shrugging into her shirt at the same time. Duval watched her dress with a leering grin.
Noble fixed Duval with an icy stare.
He apologized and pointed to the door. “Come have a look.”
“There better be a tank division outside,” Noble said as he passed.
Sam was one step behind. She had her weapon drawn and clouds steaming from her lips. Her toe caught on something hidden by the moth-eaten rug covering the stone floor and she stumbled. Neither Duval nor Noble noticed her near mishap. They were too busy with the visitors out front. Sam stopped, pushed back the rug with her toe and found a rusty metal grate set in the floor. A drainage ditch ran diagonally underneath the church. Dead leaves carpeted the floor of the tunnel, giving off a musty odor. Where it came from and where it emptied out, Sam had no idea.
Noble went to the front of the church and peered out through gaps in the roughhewn planks that made up the heavy oaken doors. A middle-aged couple on bicycles was pedaling along the lane. The man wore a windbreaker and a cap. The woman had on a thick parka with her greying hair pulled up in a bun.
Noble’s lips pressed together. He rounded on Duval. “Really? You think the old couple on bikes are agents?”
Duval spread his hands. “If they see us in here, they’ll talk. Word will get around. This is France, not…” He waved a hand at Noble. “Texas.”
“I’m from Florida.”
Sam put her face to the gap. “They won’t see us if we stay quiet.”
“They’ll see the car,” Noble pointed out. He should have parked the vehicle deeper in the woods, but he wasn’t planning on being here long. Much as he hated to admit it, Duval was right. The old couple was going to be a problem. Noble chewed the inside of one cheek.
“Maybe we should go,” Duval suggested.
“Three of us pile into a car and take off from an abandoned church?” Sam shook her head. “That would really set them talking.”
Noble said, “Go out there and try to sell the place to them.”
Duval’s brow wrinkled. “What are you talking about?”
“Go on out there, put a big smile on your face, and ask them if they want to buy the place. Try to sell it to them. You’re a Paris businessman. The property has been in your family for generations. Now you’re looking to unload it. Push them to buy.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Duval said. “I can’t sell them a church I don’t own.”
“They don’t know that,” Noble said. He clapped a hand on Duval’s shoulder. “Listen to me. They’re out for an afternoon bike ride in the countryside. They aren’t looking to buy property. Given the state of their bicycles, they couldn’t afford to buy land anyway. And no one wants to meet a pushy salesman while they’re taking in the fresh air. If you try hard to sell the place, they’ll turn their bikes around and leave.”
Duval let out a nervous laugh. Fear gathered together on his face in a series of tight lines around his eyes. His tongue darted between his lips. “What if they own the land?”
“If that happens, you tug your earlobe like this.” Noble pulled on his own ear to demonstrate. “Tell them you made a mistake. You’re very sorry. We all get in the car and leave.”
“That would look really suspicious,” Duval said.
“It’s not going to happen,” Noble assured him. “But if it does, tug your earlobe, say you’re sorry, and we leave. Understood?”
Duval whimpered. “I’m not cut out for this spy business. Why can’t you do it?”
“Because my French isn’t that good.”
“No,” Duval agreed. “It’s terrible.”
Noble gave him a hard look. “Time’s wasting, Sacha. Get out there and stop them before they get a good look at the car.”
“Alright. I’ll do it.” Duval said, but he made no move toward the door.
Noble gave him a moment to collect his courage and, when it was clear Duval w
asn’t going outside without help, Noble pushed the door open and gave him a shove.
The couple saw him and slowed their bicycles. Duval waved an arm in the air. “Bonjour! Comment allez-vous?”
Noble watched him high-step over a patch of tall weeds across the yard. The couple greeted him and Duval launched into a sales pitch. Noble could barely make out the words from this distance, but Duval was selling hard. He motioned to the church and the surrounding hillsides. The older couple smiled politely and nodded along, but their feet pivoted away. People’s feet always give away their intent. Want to know if someone’s really listening to you or just waiting for you to stop talking so they can escape? Look at the direction their feet are pointing. If their toes point away, it’s a sure sign they’re searching for an excuse to leave.
“Not bad,” Noble muttered. Inside of two minutes, Duval had managed to drive off their visitors. The couple shook their heads in unison, turned their bikes, and pedaled back down the lane. Duval had done a good job. Noble turned to tell Sam as much, but she was nowhere in sight.
He closed his eyes and cursed. She was probably already regretting her decision, embarrassed that she’d been caught in the back of a church with her shirt off. Had he totally blown his chance with Sam for a quickie? That thought left Noble numb and it had nothing to do with the chill leaking in through the cold stone walls.
“They’re gone,” Duval said as he slipped back inside and pulled the door shut. “It worked just like you said.”
Noble glanced through the gaps. The couple was almost at the turnoff to the main road.
Duval shook off the cold. “Temperature’s dropping. Going to be a cold night.”
Noble grunted.
“Sorry about…” Duval motioned toward the pulpit. “I didn’t know you two were a couple.”
“Never mind that,” Noble said. He pointed Duval to a rickety stool in the corner. “Let’s talk about why you decided to make a run for Montenegro.”
“I already told Sam.” Duval lowered himself onto the seat and tucked his hands in his armpits. “They offered me immunity and it’s a non-extradition country.”
Noble nodded. “Yeah, I got that much. But that’s not why you decided to leave the embassy.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do,” Noble said. “You were safe and sound in the Ecuadorian embassy. The promise of immunity and an ocean breeze wasn’t enough to coax you out of hiding. Something forced you out. What was it?”
Duval started to stammer out excuses.
Noble grabbed his collar and yanked him off the stool. “Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not here for you. I’m here for Sam. Your life isn’t worth a crushed cigarette butt to me. You’re just another journalist who stuck his nose where it doesn’t belong. Now we have the entire United States government trying to track us down. Eventually they’ll find us. If I have to trade you for Sam, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. So if you want my help, you’d better come clean. Why did you leave the embassy?”
Duval lifted both hands in surrender. “You’re right. I was forced out.”
“Why?” Noble let go of him and said, “What forced you out, Sacha?”
He ran a trembling hand over his face. “Coughlin uncovered two of my sources and had them killed. I was next. The only thing he didn’t know was the name of my failsafe.”
“What failsafe?” Noble asked.
“A friend with a backup of all my files and instructions to go public if I die. That’s why Coughlin didn’t simply have me killed. He needed to question me first, so he laid in an operation to infiltrate the embassy and abduct me. It was called, uh… Operation medusa.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Ezra and Gwen worked straight through lunch. Getting to actually enter the database mainframe was not only rare, it was time consuming. First there was paperwork to fill out, then they’d both been required to don bright yellow space suits, hoodies, goggles, gloves, and booties. They looked like members of a hazmat team responding to a spill.
The seven Cray-2 supercomputers (nicknamed the Seven Dwarves) were housed inside an air-controlled vault with low ceilings, bare floors to reduce static electrical discharge, and optically enhanced florescent bulbs to prevent circuit degradation. The result was a blue cave the length of a football field with seven onyx obelisks covered in blinking lights that looked like something out of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Once inside, Ezra and Gwen went to work inspecting one of the dwarves. The tower emitted low buzzing tones as random-access memory communicated with solid state hard drives, sending information racing back to the computer terminals in the floors above. The air smelled thin and recycled. Ezra thought this must be what it felt like to work in outer space. He pictured himself as Dave, doing battle with HAL for control of the spaceship.
The delicate nature of the equipment made speed impossible. They opened the tower, took careful notes on wiring, circuitry, and hard drive components, then debated the best way to attach a small thumb drive relay. In truth, neither was eager to leave. This was a rare look inside highly classified government hardware that collected and collated trillions of minute pieces of information captured by the CIA and other intelligence agencies. They felt like kids in a candy store. When they had pushed the time as long as they could without raising suspicion, Ezra ported the thumb drive, closed up the tower, and they passed back through the static control room where they shed the space suits.
Ezra’s stomach growled as they rode the elevator back to their desks, but food was the last thing on his mind. Gwen stood at his shoulder, fingers rapidly drumming her thighs. When the elevator stopped on B3, they both hurried to their cubicle.
All it took was a few key strokes. A smile crept over Ezra’s face. Gwen pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and pinched her bottom lip in nervous excitement. She whispered, “It worked.”
“Of course it worked,” Ezra said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. The backdoor relay fed them real-time information on the database firewall algorithms designed to keep out hackers. They studied the information scrolling across the screen for several minutes and then said in unison, “It’s changing!”
“That’s why we couldn’t get in,” Gwen said. “The algorithm is constantly changing. Anyone who wanted to break in would have to know the pattern and timing.”
“Which we now know,” Ezra pointed out.
“Coughlin wanted to know if it could be done,” Gwen said. “I don’t think anyone in the world could break that cipher. Should we tell him it’s impossible?”
“And stop now?” Ezra turned to her. “We’ve got an open door.”
“But like you said, unless someone knew the exact algorithms and when the code changes, they could never get in.”
Ezra grinned. “You and I both know we’re going to break in anyway. Besides, how do we know that nobody else knows?”
“They’d need to actually enter the mainframe.”
“We did it,” Ezra said.
“We work here.”
“Come on,” Ezra urged. “We would be the only two people in the history of the Company who ever cracked the code.”
An awkward smile crept over her face. “Okay.”
“What was the operation name?”
Gwen searched her work station, found a yellow legal pad and said, “medusa.”
Ezra searched the records, located the files, then jabbed a finger at Gwen’s monitor. “Should be coming up on your desktop.”
“Bingo,” she said.
Ezra glanced briefly at the files in question. At least a dozen side operations were associated with the main objective and showed pages of material. They had really gone all out creating the dummy op. He quickly rooted through the directory, tagging everything he wanted removed.
“Um…” Gwen said from behind him. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and squinted at her own computer where she had one of the files open. “Did we get the right o
peration name?”
“You wrote it down,” Ezra said over his shoulder.
“This looks like a real op.”
Ezra shrugged. “They probably wanted to make it look legit.”
“Wait,” Gwen said.
Ezra’s finger hovered over the delete key.
“Oh my god,” said Gwen.
Ezra spun his chair around. “What are you on about?”
“Can’t you read?” Gwen pointed. “This is a plan to infiltrate the Ecuadorian embassy in London and abduct Sacha Duval. They plan on taking him to a black site and torturing him for information before they kill him.”
Ezra leaned forward. His eyes leapt back and forth as he read. The first nervous flutter turned his guts runny. Goosebumps broke out on his forearms. He shook his head. “They probably just wanted to give the file some authenticity. Maybe it’s part of a war game operation? You know how Company trainers work. They’re always going for hyperrealism.”
“Come on. You don’t really believe that?” Gwen scrolled through several of the other associated operations and their after-action reports. The Company had been watching two individuals who were suspected of passing information to Cypher Punk. A quick web search was enough to confirm that both were dead and their homicides unsolved. “They’ve already killed two other people with suspected ties to Cypher Punk.”
Ezra licked his lips. “Coughlin never said to read the files. He just said to delete them.”
“They’re planning to kill Sacha Duval,” Gwen said. “Cypher Punk is a hero. He exposes government corruption.”
“I think treasonous is the word you’re looking for,” Ezra said.
“We can’t let them kill him.”
Ezra said, “What do you want to do?”
“Maybe we should go to someone higher up?”
“Who?” Ezra asked. “Coughlin runs Operations. He reports directly to Armstrong.”
“Maybe we should be talking to the Director.”
Noble Intent Page 17