Noble Intentions: Season Three

by L. T. Ryan

  “Why?”

  Erin said nothing.

  “Jack’s a good guy, you know. He can provide for her. In time, be there for her.”

  “No, he can’t. Trouble follows him everywhere.”

  “I understand what you’re feeling. He takes a lot of risks.”

  Erin nodded, said nothing.

  “But at the same time, they both deserve to know about each other. At least have a chance of knowing each other.”

  “Who are you to say that? She’s my daughter. Not yours. Not his. Mine.”

  They both turned their heads toward the doorway at the sound of a sniffle. Mia stepped out of the shadows. Tear tracks stained her cheeks.

  “Oh, my little darling,” Erin said. She rose and went to her daughter, embraced her tight.

  “Jack is my father?” the girl said through choked sobs.

  Erin said nothing. She wrapped her hand through the girl’s hair and pulled her closer.

  Clarissa rose, walked past mother and daughter. “I should leave you two alone.”

  CHAPTER 35

  The room went dark as the last rays of sunlight fell behind the houses across the street. Jack rose and gestured toward the kitchen.

  “Let’s go in there for now,” he said. “Getting too dark in here.”

  “He’s got lights,” Gloria said.

  “Yeah, and if you flip them on the sniper on the roof across the street will have an easy shot.”

  Mason turned toward the window. “Where is he?”

  “I’m speaking hypothetically,” Jack said.

  “Can I get my gun?” Mason said.

  Jack still felt unsure about what Mason’s role was in everything that had happened. His being there had been more than coincidental. Jack didn’t know why, though. If he was to make any use of the man, he’d have to at least give off the vibe that he trusted him.

  “Get it. Holster it. Don’t dare pull it.”

  Mason nodded, picked up his pistol, stuffed it in his holster. He placed two fingers on Gloria’s elbow and led her into the kitchen. She reached out and flipped the light switch on. Jack found the move curious. To him, it had been evident that the home had always been Mason’s and Mason’s alone. The documents upstairs proved that he’d moved in after the divorce. But the way Gloria flipped the switch without having to look told him that she’d spent more time in the house than Mason’s attitude toward her indicated.

  “Want a beer, Jack?” Mason said.

  He’d only had one, and that had been a couple hours earlier. “Sure, why not.”

  “I can fix some dinner,” Gloria said.

  Jack nodded and she went to the fridge and pulled out a package of steaks. Jack wondered why Mason had a whole package defrosted.

  “I cook in bulk,” Mason said.

  Jack hiked his shoulders in the air an inch. Said nothing.

  “We’re both spies. We think alike. Just want you to know that no one’s going to be knocking on the door. No spy convention dinner party here tonight.”

  “Outside of us, at least.”

  Gloria brushed past Jack as she walked to the other side of the kitchen. She slid the knife block out of the way, then stood on the tips of her toes and reached for the top shelf. Her blouse lifted a few inches. A colorful tattoo decorated her lower back. Jack only saw half and couldn’t determine what it was. From what he saw, it appeared to be a butterfly. At that moment, he saw why Mason still allowed Gloria to hang around despite the man’s hatred for his ex.

  She set three plates on the counter, reached up again, set down a serving dish. She shuffled to the side, pulled open a drawer with her right hand, reached inside for silverware.

  Then she made the wrong move with her left hand.

  Jack pulled his gun and aimed it at Mason.

  “What the bloody hell, mate?” Mason said. A plume of beer rose into the air as Mason’s arm jutted upward. It splashed on the floor, created a couple small puddles.

  “Turn around real slow, Gloria,” Jack said. “I mean it. Slow. Too fast and your ex will have two holes in his stomach.”

  Gloria lifted her hands above her shoulders. The long knife blade reflected a beam of light. She turned around, her face frozen in fear, mouth open, eyes wide.

  “What were you planning to do with that?” Jack said.

  “S-S-Separate the steaks. They’re kind of frozen in the middle still.”

  Still. Had she been here when they’d been pulled from the fridge?

  Jack studied her for a minute. Her hands trembled, eyes watered. She wasn’t a killer, not even close. He’d never met anyone who could act that afraid without actually being that afraid. He lowered his gun, looked from Gloria to Mason and back again, began laughing. Mason joined him.

  “I’m sorry,” Jack said.

  Gloria dropped the knife on the counter and grabbed the steaks and brought them to the sink. “I’ll just let them sit in the water for a bit.” Her voice shook and rose to a high pitch. Jack imagined her throat closed in upon itself as she tried to keep from sobbing.

  Jack turned toward Mason. “No hard feelings.”

  Mason shrugged. “I left you in the middle of the woods with no directions. If you can look past that, I can look past this.”

  Idle talk prevailed for the better part of half an hour. They waited for one of Mason’s contacts to call. They were in the dark. The news couldn’t provide them with solid information, so they were reliant on outside sources. And none of those sources were forthcoming at that time.

  Gloria had just begun cooking the steaks when Mason’s cell vibrated. The phone skated along the counter top. Mason grabbed it and held it out. “Speaker?”

  Jack looked at Gloria, shook his head. He’d have to rely on Mason to provide him with accurate details.

  Mason answered the call and slipped into the living room. Jack and Gloria stared at each other while the steaks simmered in a frying pan, coated in a mixture of butter and olive oil. He avoided listening to the one sided conversation so that his brain wouldn’t fill in the blanks with inaccurate information.

  Gloria opened her mouth to speak. Jack shook his head and brought his right index finger to his lips.

  Mason reentered the kitchen, shook his head.

  “What’d they say?” Jack said.

  “Not much, unfortunately,” Mason said.

  “Do they know where Naseer is?”

  “No. They lost track of him early this morning. Before he went to the warehouse. Apparently, he slipped out some time late last night. Their best guess, at least. They trailed everyone who left the house, but nothing came of it. One woman who’d only recently been spotted at the house went to the train station. She bought a ticket to Paris. Guys at the other end lost sight of her in the station. Something about a couple of French agents following her through the terminal. They didn’t want to raise any red flags, so they hung back. Lost her. A couple other guys left the house and went about routine activities, chores and the like. But no sign of Naseer and his main man, Samir.”

  “So he had this planned. Probably wasn’t even at the house last night.”

  “That or he has another way of leaving the house that we haven’t figured out.”

  “Or whoever is reporting back to you is our rogue agent.”

  Mason shook his head. “Doubtful.”

  “Possible.”

  “Not probable.”

  Jack nodded. No point in pushing that argument until they had something substantial. “He’s under twenty-four hour surveillance, right?”

  “Naseer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Right. We’ve always got a team positioned near the house. I can’t go into any more detail on that, though.”

  “Think he knows?”

  “About the surveillance?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sure he knows.”

  Jack nodded. “With the people that your guys saw leaving, how many were left unaccounted for?”

  “Ha
lf dozen, give or take one or two.”

  “Some could have been inside.”

  “Others outside with him.”

  “The bombing could have been remote.”

  Mason walked across the room. “But the shooters had to be there.”

  “Could have been men in the organization, but from outside his compound.”

  “Most likely guys from out of the country.”

  “That or you have an entire team of corrupt agents in MI5.”

  “Or across the way at Legoland.”

  Jack had considered this. “You think that’s a possibility?”

  “I’ve been around long enough to know that anything’s a possibility.”

  “And money has a way of getting people to forget their ideals and convictions.”

  “Steaks are ready,” Gloria said.

  Both men turned to toward her and said nothing.

  “Just letting you know,” she said.

  Jack and Mason ate and then returned to discussing the situation.

  “Here’s the problem, mate. I don’t know who I can and can’t trust.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  “Right, well, for all I know, the guy I just spoke with, and no, don’t ask me his name, is corrupt and on Naseer’s payroll.”

  “And he fed you a line.”

  “Right.”

  “But you said, not probable.”

  Mason shrugged. “I just don’t know, mate. The more we talk, the less sure I become.”

  “Talk to everyone you can then. Someone’s bound to make you feel sure.”

  Mason paused for a moment then responded. “You don’t think that won’t draw some unwanted eyes?”

  “It might. In fact, I’m hoping it does.”

  Mason lifted a curious eyebrow, said nothing.

  “Build a better mousetrap.”

  “Plus, the more people I talk to, the greater the chance of talking to the wrong person.”

  “And a greater chance of talking to the right person.”

  Mason pointed toward Gloria. “What about her?”

  “Stuck with her for now.”

  “It’s putting her in danger.”

  “I think she’ll be in more danger if she’s alone.”

  “How so?”

  “Someone is after me, Mason. That someone might be able to put you in that car with me. Now, if they can, then we both know that person will be pretty much able to find out whatever they want about your life. Meaning they’ll find out about her. They’ll go after her if they can’t get to you. I know it’s not a good long term idea for her to stick with you, but until we have a better alternative, she goes everywhere you do, which, for the time being, will be here and nowhere else.”

  Jack left the kitchen, headed toward the front door.

  “What about you, Jack?”

  Jack stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “Every mousetrap’s gotta have bait.”

  CHAPTER 36

  No one knew of the house, not even Naseer. He had received a call late yesterday. They’d told him that the bombings would be carried out and that it was best for him to disappear for a few days. He had the home swept for bugs the moment they arrived. He didn’t trust anyone. Couldn’t trust anyone.

  He and Samir stood side by side at the edge of the wooden deck at the rear of the house. Naseer reached for his drink, which he’d set atop the deck railing. The cold sweat on the glass coated his palm. The moon was full and it illuminated the property. He saw clear to the edge of the woods. His gaze darted left and right, scanned the area in sections. Paranoia, he believed, was what kept him alive. Despite being over two hundred kilometers from London, he would not let his guard down.

  Leaving his own house undetected had been easier than he thought. His contact had seen to it that one of the agents watching his property was on the payroll. The guy had been the one responsible for the front of the house. All Naseer had to do was place a phone call and the agent turned his back.

  Naseer and his men spent the night at a hotel, then arrived at the warehouse early that morning. From there, they traveled to the hideout.

  “What do you think of Owen?” Naseer said.

  “He killed for you,” Samir said. “Doesn’t that say enough?”

  “I paid him to do that. Plus, Walloway was one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever met. I’m sure Owen agrees with that. And think about it like this, he spent a lot of time with the old bastard. I bet he was happy to pull the damn trigger.”

  “But he killed his partner, too. Simply because the man stood up to you. While he might have hated the old guy, he and his partner had likely gone through a lot together. When it came down to it, he didn’t hesitate to kill him. That has to tell you something.”

  “So you agree with bringing him along?”

  “Yes, I think he’ll be a valuable asset. He killed for you. Maybe he’ll die for you as well.”

  Naseer nodded. Dying for him was the unspoken requirement. He paid well for it. His people understood this. But Owen wasn’t one of his people. The man was an outsider. When the time came, would he place himself in the thick of the hail of a thousand arrows if told to do so?

  “What of the women?” Samir said.

  Naseer opened his mouth to answer when Samir hunched over and pointed toward the woods. He reached for his sidearm and dissected the area with his aim.

  Naseer ducked when he saw Samir draw his weapon. He no longer had a view of the property. “What is it?”

  Samir paused for a minute. The sounds of the night amplified. He chuckled, holstered his weapon. “Nothing to worry about. A dog or something.”

  Naseer peered over the railing as he rose. The grounds were still. He took a deep breath, grabbed the railing to steady his shaking hands. “What did you ask?”

  “The women?” Samir said.

  Naseer took a few deep breaths, steadied his shaking hand. “Paris. Then they diverted to Brussels. Our contact has men that are chasing down a lead. Hopefully we’ll know something by morning.”

  “What of that other thing?”

  Naseer glanced over his shoulder, back to Samir. “The pieces are in motion, but there’s still plenty to work out.”

  “Think we can pull it off?”

  “I believe so. As long as we continue to create distractions, they’ll be diverting their attention away from the target.”

  Samir nodded, said nothing.

  “The trick will be getting someone close enough to pull it off.”

  “Owen?”

  “Doubtful. He’s already associated with Walloway. They’d spot him.”

  “None of us, then.”

  Naseer smiled, shook his head. “Of course not. We fit the profile and would be monitored before we even realized we were spotted.”

  “Then who?”

  “I’ve got someone working on that.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Jack closed Mason’s front door behind himself and jogged down the seven steps to the sidewalk. The sky was clear, the air cool. Fortunate, he thought, since he had no place to stay. The wind blew from the west, carried the smell of the factory he had passed earlier that day. He looked down the street, left then right. About half the homes had their lights out. He turned left and put one foot in front of the other, headed east.

  He passed a few people along the way. People out walking their dogs. Couples taking a stroll together. A few late night joggers. Some smiled, others avoided his stare, one crossed to the other side of the street to avoid him. That didn’t bother Jack. In fact, he preferred it.

  After a short walk he stopped in front of a pub. There was no sign that said the place was open. Wasn’t one indicating it was closed either. So he stepped inside. The room was dimly lit and alive with chatter. Blues played in the background. He had planned on asking the bartender to call him a cab. Instead he ordered a pint of Hobgoblin. In the dark room, the ale looked black. The frothy tan head stood out in the glass. He savored the drink, then ordered another
and asked the bartender to call for that cab.

  For the first time all day, he didn’t think about the bombings or Thornton Walloway or what Mason’s role might be in the mess. His thoughts didn’t turn to his longtime friend and partner who he had left behind. Didn’t focus on the woman who slipped away a few days ago in D.C. He thought about that angelic face he had met at Dottie’s. At times, the fact that he had a daughter felt real to Jack. But there were moments where it felt surreal and he had trouble believing the truth. He tried to avoid feeling betrayed by Erin. She had her reasons for keeping this a secret. He understood, and in some ways he agreed with her choice.

  Jack Noble, family man was not a phrase that would be uttered by any who know him.

  “What’s your troubles, son?”

  Jack lifted his gaze from the half-settled head of his beer. The guy on the other side of the bar had about thirty years on him. His gray hair was limited to the sides of his head. He kept a neatly trimmed patch of scruff on his chin and above his upper lip.

  Jack offered the bartender a half-smile and shook his head.

  “Everybody needs someone to talk to,” the man said.

  “Not me,” Jack said.

  “Girl troubles?”

  “In more ways than one.”

  “Baby momma got you down?”

  “What?” Jack laughed.

  The guy grinned. “I watch MTV in my spare time. Got grandkids in the U.S., want to stay hip to their lingo.”

  At ease, Jack said, “I met my daughter for the first time today. Found out about her a little bit after I met her.”

  “How old?”

  “Six.”

  “Congratulations.” He turned and poured another beer and set it down in front of Jack. “On the house.”

  Jack lifted his glass and finished his second beer, then slid the fresh glass toward himself.

  “So why’s this got you down? She reject you?”

  Jack shook his head. “She doesn’t know. Guess it’s complicated. I’m questioning some things. Why didn’t the mother tell me? Do I even deserve to know or be a part of the kid’s life? Would she be better off if I never showed up?”