by L. T. Ryan
Noble Intentions: Season Three
(Episodes 11 through 15)
L.T. Ryan
http://LTRyan.com
PUBLISHED BY:
L.T. Ryan
Copyright © 2013
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
Contents
Episode 11
Episode 12
Episode 13
Episode 14
Episode 15
Other Books by L.T. Ryan
Author's Note
Full Table of Contents
Jack Noble Series in Order
The Recruit (Short Story - Free for newsletter subscribers)
Noble Beginnings
A Deadly Distance
Noble Intentions Season One
Noble Intentions Season Two
Noble Intentions Season Three
Never Go Home
Untitled (Clarissa Abbot) - Coming October, 2013
Noble Intentions Season Four - Coming December, 2013
Visit http://ltryan.com/newsletter/ and sign up to be notified of new releases.
For my friends, Sharon & Michelle
Episode 11
CHAPTER 1
Jack Noble stood in the narrow aisle of the British Airways 777. He coughed into his hand to clear his throat of the taste of stale air. His joints ached, and his muscles were tight and sore. First Class had been sold out so he had to settle for a seat in coach. The perils of booking a flight at the last possible minute, he figured.
He reached up and grabbed a bag from the overhead for an elderly woman. His shoulder popped as he lowered the bag and handed it to her. She smiled and thanked him. He nodded, turned, joined the crowd pushing toward the front of the plane. For the first time ever, he didn’t mind the wait and the throng of people. It gave him time. It gave him cover. He decided to go with the flow and remain a part of the crowd. It gave him a sense of certainty at a time when he was unsure of what he'd find upon reaching the gate.
So after he exited the plane and entered the wider jetway, he found himself surrounded on all sides by other travelers. He was shoulder to shoulder with the two people he’d shared the flight with. Jack thought he remembered the guy introducing himself as Kyle. He was British, bald and heavy, smelled as though he hadn’t had a shower in over forty-eight hours. The woman, in contrast, was young and cute and smelled pleasant. She had introduced herself as Hannah. She was from West Virginia, returning to London where she attended college and worked as a nanny. She wore too much makeup, as Jack believed most young women often did. The fact of it was evidenced by the smear of eye liner that stretched from the corner of her eye to her ear lobe. A casualty of the three hours she had spent curled up in her seat, asleep, and getting too close to Jack. Evidenced by the smear of eyeliner on his shoulder.
Good thing I’m not meeting a woman.
He'd spent the last seven hours squished between the man and the woman. What’s a few more minutes, he figured. He only spoke to the guy long enough to know he didn’t care to ever see him again. Not that he would. And the woman had been pleasant and cute enough that he wouldn’t mind bumping into her again. Although he knew he wouldn’t.
Who ever runs into flight buddies a second time?
The herd of passengers came to an abrupt stop like hundreds of fallen leaves adrift in the water where the stream bottlenecks. Ahead, people jostled for position as the group merged into a single file line out of necessity. At two or three wide and shoulder to shoulder, they couldn’t get through the jetway’s exit, or the entrance to the gate, depending on one’s point of view. For Jack, the opening meant passage into a terminal at Heathrow Airport. One that he'd walked through at least a dozen times, using the same number of aliases.
Today, however, would be the first time that Jack Noble officially walked through London's international airport.
One by one, people passed through the narrow opening and the line got shorter. Jack breathed deeply, remained calm and relaxed. The young woman had settled in line in front of him. She crossed her arms and tapped her right heel into the floor several times.
“Relax,” Jack said. “We’ll be through in a couple minutes.”
She turned her head, nodded, smiled. The line pushed forward and she followed. So did Jack.
Finally, they escaped the jetway. Jack was met by a burst of stale disinfected air pushed out from a blower above. Moments later the smell gave way to a rush of foul odor as the older man behind him reached out and placed his hand firmly on Jack's shoulder.
"It's good to be home, isn't it?" the guy who might be named Kyle said as he leaned in close to Jack’s right ear.
Jack’s first instinct was to deliver an elbow to the guy’s solar plexus. Instead, he shrugged free of the man's grasp, turned his head to the right, nodded once without making eye contact.
The man pushed forward, bumping into Jack, and continued talking. What he said, Jack wasn’t sure. He had tuned the man out while he scanned the terminal in both an effort to gather his bearings and isolate any potential threats. It wasn’t hard to do. All he had to do was spot the wave of people. The line coming toward him was maybe two or three people wide. But the one flowing away was seven wide at its narrowest. The way to the exit, he presumed. So he stepped into the walkway and joined them. Assimilated into them.
Not always the easiest thing for Jack to do.
When the opportunity presented itself, Jack broke free from the group. He heard the man call to him from behind and ignored him. He wanted to get as much distance between himself and the guy. Jack knew there would be another logjam at customs. No matter how far a leaf got ahead of the cluster, it would be knocked back into the group as soon as the stream dammed up again.
Although he’d try to get through with nothing to declare, he’d be stopped. He was always stopped. He couldn’t recall a time when he wasn’t stopped. Even at the age of twelve, traveling with his brother Sean and his parents, he’d been stopped.
Today was special because it would be the first time in over a decade that he’d hand over a passport with the name Jack Noble on it.
The thought already caused a tightening in his stomach.
Had Frank Skinner stayed true to his word? Would the SIS director clear Jack’s name from every database known to man? At least those in the known free world?
A few weeks ago, Jack Noble was a ghost. Presumed dead after a shortened stay at Black Dolphin, Russia’s notorious maximum security prison. Jack had then been transported to Greece, where he took cover on the island of Crete. It took six months for Ivanov’s men to find him. When they did, Frank made the call to bring Jack back to the U.S. It wasn’t all for Jack’s benefit, though. Frank needed a job done, and Jack obliged. Did he really have a choice? It turned out to be worth it. He had his freedom and a semi-clear conscience.
The slow moving line put him into a kind of trance. He didn’t realize he’d reached the counter until the man spoke.
“Passport, sir.”
Jack didn’t need to look directly at the man with the thin brown mustache to know that the guy was sizing him up. They always did. Could he blame them? At six-foot-two and a touch over two hundred pounds, Jack commanded attention. Police officers and customs agents always watched him a little closer than other travelers. It wasn’t that he fit a profile, per se. He had the look of a man who knows how to handle himself and might have ulterior motives. Whet
her he did or not didn’t matter.
The customs agent whistled a basic tune while he waited for his computer to return information. The guy’s partner rifled through Jack’s carry on. Although Jack knew the agent wouldn’t find anything, he felt nervous. What if he had mistakenly placed or left a false passport in the bag? Impossible, he thought. He’d never used this bag, and his false passports were scattered among a dozen safe deposit boxes in eight different countries.
“What business do you have in London, Mr. Noble?”
“Visiting my cousin,” Jack said.
The agent lifted an eyebrow, beckoning Jack to continue.
Jack didn’t. He knew that a simple answer was all he had to give. Saying anymore would open him up to further questioning. If the guy needed more, he’d ask.
“Very well,” the agent said. He handed Jack his passport while the other agent placed Jack’s bag in front of him, opened. Both men looked toward the next person in line, seemingly forgetting all about the man named Jack Noble.
Which was fine with him. He grabbed his bag, pulled the zipper shut, slung it over his shoulder. He rejoined the throng of people making their way toward the arrivals gate. Once again he found himself in close proximity to Hannah and the guy who might be named Kyle. Jack made the mistake of making eye contact with the guy. He turned away as the man lifted his hand to wave to Jack.
“Jack,” the guy called out.
Jack did his best to avoid the man, weaving his way through the crowd to get further ahead. Kyle’s girth would prevent him from doing the same with any kind of efficiency.
Jack reached the arrivals gate, scanned the faces in the crowd who were waiting around for loved ones or business associates or for the person they were hired to pick up.
No one waited for Jack, which was what he expected. He was in England to work with professionals. Placing themselves in the airport would link them with Jack if someone dug deep enough.
And when you bring a man in to assassinate someone, you don’t want to be linked with that man.
Jack continued to weave his way through the crowd, reached a point where the herd had thinned enough that he could walk without needing to turn his torso to the side in order to squeeze past someone. Finally, he found himself standing outside. He used his hand to shield his eyes from the sun while he searched for the taxi line. He found it and found Hannah standing nearby, frustrated and upset. She had her purse opened and was digging through it, shaking her head. Jack figured she’d lost her keys or her wallet.
Kyle was standing next to her, car keys in hand, thin smile on his face. How had he managed to beat Jack outside? Regular traveler, Jack assumed. The guy knew the ins and outs of the Heathrow like he knew his own house.
Jack approached Hannah and said, “Everything OK?”
Kyle said, “It’s fine, Mr. Noble. She just —”
“I asked her,” Jack said.
Hannah avoided his stare. Her anger was obvious. Her ears and cheeks were bright red, eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. “I lost my wallet. All my money, my credit card, even my damn library card, it was all in there. I need to be home in, like, thirty minutes. How am I supposed to get there now?”
Kyle twirled his keys around his index finger and whistled, like Hannah was a dog. “I told you I can give you a ride.”
She looked up at Jack. The tension in her face lifted, her eyes pleaded with him for help. Jack hadn’t liked the guy from the moment the man flopped into the seat next to Jack. He sensed during the flight that Hannah didn’t care much for him either. But the look on her face signaled something other than dislike, and Jack wondered if she was scared of the man.
“Where are you going?” Jack asked.
“Kensington,” Hannah replied.
“Me too. You can tag along with me.”
“Nonsense,” Kyle said. “I’ll give both of you a ride. I have a car parked right over—”
“Shut up, Kyle,” Jack said. “I’m sick of your blabbering. You’ve got five seconds to get out of my face.”
“What? Why? I…?” Kyle’s face reddened with embarrassment and he turned around and began walking. Every few steps he’d look back at Jack, hurt.
Jack figured he should feel sorry, but he didn’t. Just because he was semi-retired didn’t mean he had to go soft and start treating everyone nicely.
“Ready to get that cab?” Jack said.
“Oh, you were serious?” Hannah said.
Jack looked sideways at the young woman.
“Sorry,” she said. “I thought you were just being nice. You know, getting rid of him for me.”
“I was. But the offer still stands. No point in you being stranded here.”
She chewed on her bottom lip while the gaze of her brown eyes traveled up and down Jack’s frame.
“I’m harmless,” he said.
“For some reason I don’t believe that. But, I don’t think you’ll try anything with me with a cab driver present.”
Jack laughed. He liked the girl’s confidence. He said, “Tell you what, Hannah. Why don’t I just give you money for a cab?”
She hiked her shoulders in the air an inch and pushed her bottom lip out. “That’d work, I suppose.”
He escorted her to an awaiting cab, opened the rear passenger door, waited for Hannah to slip inside. Then he reached into his pocket for his wallet. He turned his head to the left as he did so, taking in a view of the long line of taxis and people standing in line, shoulder to shoulder. Amid the wall of faces, one man stood out. He was tall, wore a dark suit, stayed a few yards away from the crowd. His eyes were locked on Jack’s. A moment passed and the two men faced off, separated by fifty feet.
The man started walking toward the cab.
Jack stuck his leg inside the open vehicle and said, “Scoot over.”
“What? I thought you were going to get your own?”
“Change of plans,” Jack said as he lowered himself into the back seat, forcing Hannah to slide over. He slammed the door shut and looked over his right shoulder.
“What are you looking at?” Hannah asked. She turned in her seat.
“You don’t have a crazy ex-boyfriend who might have been expecting you, do you?”
Hannah laughed. “No.”
Jack didn’t figure the man to have anything to do with Hannah, but he knew it was best to know for sure.
The man hadn’t broke stride and was now within twenty feet of the cab.
“Go,” Jack said.
“What do you want me to do?” the driver said. “We got to wait for our turn.”
The man stopped ten feet from the cab. Jack looked over his other shoulder and saw that a black sedan had stopped in the middle of the road. The guy in the suit hopped inside.
“That’ll be too late,” Jack said. “Go. Now.”
CHAPTER 2
The driver grabbed the shifter like he was reaching for the pull handle on a slot machine. He licked his lips, wrapped his fingers around the knobby end and dropped the transmission into first gear. The vehicle made an audible click and gave a slight jerk as it passed through neutral. The driver eased away from the curb, nosed into the next lane, aided by the fact that the sedan behind them was blocking it.
“Faster,” Jack said.
“What is your problem?” the driver said, glaring at Jack in the rear view mirror.
Jack leaned forward and placed his right forearm on the shoulder of the passenger’s seat. “Put your foot on the gas or I’m going to kick your ass out of the cab and do it myself.”
“Fine,” the driver shouted. He jammed the gas pedal to the floor, sending Jack lurching backward into his seat. He managed to tuck his left elbow in, away from Hannah. Still, his shoulder collided with hers, and she let out a painful squeal.
“Dammit,” she said.
“Sorry.” Jack stared into the rear view mirror, eyes locked on the driver who seemed too scared to look back at Jack. Perhaps the guy preferred to concentrate his efforts on the road. Jac
k figured it was the latter considering the man was doing roughly seventy miles per hour in an area designated for thirty.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Hannah said.
“No.” Jack shifted in his seat, repositioned himself so that he could check behind the cab. He spotted the black sedan about ten car lengths behind.
The driver started to ease up on the gas.
“Don’t slow down,” Jack said.
“Why not?” the driver said.
“You see that black car back there?”
The driver’s eyes shifted from the road to the rear view mirror. His gaze fell upon Jack, then traveled past him. “Yeah, I see it.”
“I don’t know who that is, but they’re either looking for you or for me. I don’t know what kind of man you are, but I can tell you this for sure. If they are after me, you want nothing to do with them. Got it? So you better do what I say when I say it. Pick up your speed. Get us as far ahead as you can, then when we are in an area you are very familiar with, I want you to get off the highway and start weaving your way through the city. Avoid traffic at all cost.”
“This is London. How am I supposed to avoid traffic?”
“I don’t care how you do it, man. Figure it out or we all might be dead.”
“How about I stop and get out and offer you up to them.”
“Are you really that stupid?”
The driver locked eyes with Jack. The taxi picked up speed, distanced itself from the black sedan. Not for long, Jack figured. But as long as the other car stayed that far behind, the cab driver should be able to lose them if he knew the city well. If not, then all Jack could hope for was that the men would be unarmed.
“Who are you?” Hannah asked him.
Jack shrugged, told her, “It’s complicated.”
“How so? Seems like a pretty simple question to me.”
“Look, Hannah, I don’t know if those guys got a good look at you or not. If they did, then the less you know about me the better.”