Noble Intentions: Season Three

by L. T. Ryan

  She stood and went toe to toe, eye to eye, with the man. “Then don’t you question mine. I owe Jack my life. I’d do anything to protect those he cares for.”

  Neither backed down. Their stares remained locked in combat. The anger in Leon’s eyes subsided. He reached back and found his chair and reset it.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just… Erin getting shot. I…”

  Clarissa saw the look in his eyes and knew that while Leon’s loyalty was to the family, his heart was dedicated to Erin.

  “Say no more,” she said. “You watch over her. I’ll take care of Mia and Hannah. Your team can watch over the house and Dottie and provide whatever other support is needed.”

  Leon nodded. Said nothing.

  “Here’s that coffee.” Hannah set the mug down in front of Clarissa, smiled and then looked away.

  Poor kid, Clarissa thought. Caught up in this mess.

  Then she heard a scream from the other room. It sounded like Erin. A crash followed.

  “Leon,” Dottie called. “Come quickly.”

  Clarissa and Leon raced to the room. Erin lay on the floor. The bandage that wrapped her leg had turned crimson. Blood ran down her leg, pooled on the floor.

  “Something’s wrong,” Erin said through her cries.

  Leon said, “Help me, Clarissa. We’ve got to get her to the hospital.”

  “We can’t risk it. It won’t be safe there,” Dottie said.

  “If we don’t, she’ll die,” Clarissa said.

  Dottie glared at her and said nothing.

  Leon said, “I’ll split my team between here and there. Call in more. Whatever. But there’s no way I’m letting her bleed out on the floor. So get the hell out of our way, Dottie.”

  Dottie backed up to the wall. Hannah pulled Mia close to her, wrapped an arm over the girl’s chest.

  And together, Clarissa and Leon carried Erin to the car and raced toward the hospital.

  CHAPTER 46

  Jack placed one hand on the Prime Minister’s back and the other on Sasha’s. He urged them toward the door. Bear scooped up Mandy and headed that way, too. Jon and Jack were the last to exit. Outside, Jack noticed that the woman who ran the shop had fallen to the ground. Blood trickled from a gash on her forehead and she lay on her stomach, unconscious. He picked her up and placed her in a fireman’s carry.

  The reporters and their cameramen had fled the area. The only thing standing between the group and the Prime Minister’s car was rubble. They ran, disregarding their safety at times.

  The first explosion occurred as Jack stepped over the weighed down tape. The street shook beneath his feet. The concussive blast wave nearly caused him to topple over. The roar of the explosion left his ears ringing. The others had crouched, covered their heads. A few moments later, after the shock had passed, they resumed their escape.

  Jon opened the driver’s door of Alex’s Rolls and started the engine. Bear put Mandy in the back seat, waited for Sasha to get in, then he followed.

  Alex slipped in the backseat from the other side. He grabbed the open door and pulled himself up. “Jack, come on.”

  Jack spotted an ambulance and yelled for the medics. Two rushed toward him. They took the woman from his arms and carried her toward a gurney. Jack saw them lift it into the ambulance and shut the doors. He then ran to the Rolls, opened the passenger door and jumped in.

  “Go,” Alex shouted from the back seat.

  Jon put the car in reverse and backed out. He whipped the wheel around. The rear of the vehicle nearly crashed into a news truck. He raced to the end of the street. The road had been blocked off, so there was no traffic to contend with. That luck was about to end. The streets of London were packed most hours of the day, and this hour was no exception. And they had no police escort. Jon pulled out his phone and called for one. With the number of cops that had been assigned to protect the attack site, Jack figured it wouldn’t take long for a few cars to come to their aide.

  Behind them, another explosion ripped through the street. Jack turned his head and saw a fireball rise into the sky. It turned red to orange to black. Panicked people ran along the sidewalks. Horns blared on the main street. People got out of their cars, shielded their eyes, looked toward the explosion.

  He presumed they feared it was another terrorist attack.

  “Alex, you need to get someone on the phone so that the truth gets out there before the stories start up and take hold. We don’t need the city in a panic over another attack.”

  Alex nodded and told Sasha to make the call. The woman pulled out her cell. She and Jon tried to talk above each other, and it didn’t take long for their voices to rise to shouts. Mandy covered both ears with her hands. Bear pulled her close. Sasha and Jon ended their conversations and the car fell silent.

  “They really keep the road noise out in these,” Bear said.

  Alex let out a single laugh, then the serious look returned to his face.

  “Where to?” Jon said.

  “Let’s go back to Number 10,” Alex said. “You good with that Agent Kirby?”

  Sasha nodded. “Fine, sir.”

  “What about us?” Jack said.

  “You’re coming too.”

  The police escort arrived a couple minutes later. The cars with their sirens and strobe lights separated the traffic like an adder slithering through a crowd. When they arrived at the Prime Minister’s residence, a security team stood outside. They lined up in two rows, faced each other. The team created a human wall that cut through the walkway.

  Jon exited the car first. He rushed to Alex’s door. The two men hurried to the front entrance. The rest followed. Jack went last. He looked past the security team, studied the faces in the crowd. His eyes quickly dismissed the homogeneous blend. He searched for the person that stood out. Then it occurred to him that if this was an inside job, it might be someone who does blend in with the rest that he had to be worried about.

  “Jack, get in here,” Sasha said.

  He hurried to the door, stepped inside.

  “Follow me,” she said.

  Sasha led him up a flight of stairs, down a hall, and up another flight of stairs. They came to a room with a long rectangular wooden table. Lines and nicks in the rich wood told Jack that many a tense moment had been spent in the room.

  Bear sat alone at the far end of the table.

  “Where’s Mandy?” Jack said.

  “They brought her downstairs,” Bear said.

  “There’s a bug out room down there,” Sasha said. “Safest place for her.”

  “We should get Mia and Erin here, then.”

  Sasha looked at him, said nothing.

  “I’ll explain when we’re all in here together.”

  She nodded. “Go ahead and take a seat.” She started toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to make some calls.”

  “You’re not bailing on us, are you?”

  “You’re tasked with protecting the Prime Minister, as am I, Jack. We’re working together. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Sasha left Jack and Bear to themselves. The men sat across from each other. Neither spoke for a few minutes. Jack looked around the room. In the corner he saw a wet bar. He rose and walked over to it. Found an opened bottle of Glenfiddich single malt whiskey. He picked up the bottle with his left hand, grabbed two glasses with his right, went back to the table. He set a glass in front of Bear and placed the bottle in the middle of the table.

  Bear lifted an eyebrow. “That’s the good stuff.”

  “Over two thousand dollars a bottle.”

  Bear grabbed it, filled his glass. He picked it up and admired the liquor in the light. “What do you think, maybe four hundred dollars’ worth right there?”

  “Probably.”

  “I’d say I’ve earned it so far today.”

  Jack filled his glass. Took a drink. “Me too.” After a few more sips, he pulled out his cell phone and placed
a call to Mason. The phone rang half a dozen times and went to a generic voice mail. He hung up without leaving a message.

  “Who’s that?” Bear said.

  “Name’s Mason Sutton.”

  Bear nodded, said nothing.

  “He tailed me a couple days ago. Stopped me from doing something stupid. I hope he’s on my side, but I’m not sure.”

  “Why?”

  “Just something about him. Kinda like those feelings that you get. If it were just him and me, I don’t know that I’d sleep with both eyes closed.”

  Bear nodded. “I got your back now. It’s all good.”

  Sasha, Jon and Alex entered the room. They sat at the table. Sasha dropped a stack of folders in front of her.

  “Enjoying your drink?” Jon said.

  Bear tipped his glass, said, “You bet.”

  “Why don’t you pass the bottle down this way,” Alex said.

  Jack rose and carried it down to the other end of the table. Alex reached out and took a pull straight from the bottle.

  “I needed that,” he said after a loud exhale.

  “So what’s the news?” Jack said.

  “Why do you think there’s news?” Jon said.

  “Because all three of you came in here at the same time and she’s carrying folders. No one carries around folders for fun. Gotta be something going on?”

  Alex said, “Jon, why don’t you have a drink and relax a bit?”

  “Because the whole country is in upheaval and we’ve basically got our pants down around our ankles with nothing but our hands to support our balls.”

  “Right,” Sasha said. “Well, my balls are fine, so I’m going to move on now and talk about what we do know.”

  Bear looked at Jack and grinned. Sasha turned out to be like them. Hell, she had to be to have risen through the ranks in a male dominated profession. Jack figured Dottie had been a lot like the woman when she was younger.

  Sasha stood, opened the folder and began placing four by six inch pictures on the table. Jack moved to her side of the table to get a better view.

  “What are these?” he said.

  “These are the men that we got positive identification on from the restaurant’s security feed. They had cameras in both the front and the back.”

  Jack thought about the exterior of the restaurant. He did not recall seeing the cameras. “They hid them well.”

  She nodded, pulled out another stack of photos. She laid them on the table, said, “And these men they caught on camera the day you arrived. That Bentley is registered to Thornton Walloway, now deceased.”

  Jack pointed at one of the pictures. “I recognize that guy. Name’s Owen. And that one there, Owen killed him.”

  “That explains that, then.”

  “What?”

  “Why we didn’t see that man in the footage day of the bombing.”

  “That guy looks familiar,” Jack said. He pointed to the picture of a man in his early forties. The guy had sandy blond hair, cut close, and striking blue eyes. He didn’t immediately place him.

  Sasha looked up at Jon.

  Jack noticed the glance. “What?”

  “His name is Joe Godfrey.”

  “OK.” Jack paused. He recalled the guy who dropped his Fiat in the woods. Thought back to his conversation with Mason inside the guy’s house.

  Joe’s gone and betrayed me.

  “Mason’s partner,” Jack said.

  Sasha nodded.

  “Son of a bitch,” Jack said.

  “This proves nothing,” Sasha said. “We’ve got nothing that places Sutton at these events.”

  “It explains how they knew where to find me. Mason told his partner.”

  “But you don’t know the intent. Could have been partners sharing information, like they do.”

  “It also proves that you’ve got a problem inside MI5. It might even extend into your building.”

  Sasha turned and walked over to the bar. She opened a drawer, returned with a piece of chalk. She drew two circles on the table. They overlapped in the middle.

  “What’s this?” Alex said.

  Sasha said nothing. She began sorting through the pictures, placing each into one of the circles. The pictures on the left were all middle-eastern looking men. On the right, Caucasian. In the middle, the overlap, she placed four pictures.

  “Yazan Abdul-Matin Hadad, Nazim Sab Guirguis, Owen Flynn, and Joe Godfrey. Anyone want to take a guess what these four men have in common?”

  “They were at the hotel Jack’s first day in town and when the explosions went off,” Bear said.

  Sasha nodded. “Gold star. And what does this mean?”

  “MI5, Thornton Walloway, and Naseer Shehata were all working together,” Jack said. “And they all want the Prime Minister, and me, dead.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Naseer lay with his hand behind his head. He liked how the firm mattress kept his back rigid. The swirling pattern in the plaster on the ceiling mesmerized him. He let the air slowly expand and contract in his lungs. His mind drifted and took him away to Tenerife. He enjoyed vacationing there. It was a place where no one knew him, no one judged him. He enjoyed the peace and tranquility and anonymity the island afforded him.

  And now he wondered if he’d ever see that paradise again.

  Plans had been executed. They’d been in motion for months. Years, in fact, on some levels. There would be many that would try to pin the events of the past day on him. They hadn’t seen anything yet, though. While they wasted their time at that hotel and now worrying about the Prime Minister, Naseer’s men were setting up for the event of several lifetimes. A massive coordinated attack that would leave the infrastructure of London in shambles.

  His cell phone vibrated against his thigh. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the phone, looked at the display. No number was listed. He answered anyway.

  “Who is this and why are you calling me?”

  There was a moment of silence. Then a man said, “Naseer?”

  “Who is this?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Then I’m hanging up.”

  “No. You need to shut up and listen to me.”

  “Who do you think you are to talk to me—”

  “I’m high up enough that I can have you ended. You got that? So shut your mouth and listen to what I have to say.”

  Naseer said nothing. He lifted up, crossed his legs at the ankles.

  “At this time you are aware of the plans we have for the elimination project. You’ve pledged your support to us, and in turn we’ve done the same for you. There’s a change of direction. Your men need to carry out the elimination and it needs to go down in the next forty-eight hours.”

  “Why forty-eight hours?” Naseer said.

  “You know why.”

  Naseer thought about it. The Prime Minister was to host the President of the United States in three days. Security would be extra tight. The window would be closed. The deal would be made. The deal was bad news for all of them.

  “This is suicide,” Naseer said.

  The man said nothing.

  “Don’t you see that? My men aren’t prepared for this. Hell, they won’t even be able to get close enough to pull something like this off.”

  “Then I guess they need to figure out a way to do it from afar.”

  “This is bull. My men are not some replaceable cog in a wheel. They have value to me.”

  “As do mine to me. If one of my guys goes down doing this, well that’s a story that is going to destroy the foundation of Great Britain. I can’t let that happen. I also can’t let the Prime Minister go through with what he is planning. Neither can you. When he goes down, Snelling replaces him. You want her in the position, trust me Naseer. She’ll do whatever we tell her.”

  “Is she involved in this?”

  “She knows nothing.”

  “You said her name, why not your own?”

  The man said nothing.

  “Right,
well, I don’t think we can make this work. I can give you maybe two guys, but only to assist. You need to provide me with someone to help.”

  “Then go ahead and hang up right now and forget about any further assistance from me. Your men will be scooped up and detained and tortured and then given over to the CIA and anyone else who wants them. We’ll keep you though. You can count on that. You’ll spend the rest of your days buried so deep down in the ground not even the tiniest sliver of sunlight will find its way to your hairy dark ass.”

  Naseer said nothing.

  “So that’s your answer?”

  “I need to think about it.”

  “You don’t have much time.”

  Naseer placed the phone on speaker and dropped it between his legs. He grabbed the back of his head, pulled at his hair.

  Damn those bastards, he thought. He had more money than any of them. He could recruit a trained mercenary for every agent they had. He had over a thousand men waiting for him to call upon them. Men who would die for him if he asked them to. Who was this man to tell Naseer that he had to sacrifice his men for someone else’s cause? He didn’t need their help. He didn’t need anyone’s help. Thornton Walloway found that out the hard way. He demanded too much and ended up with a bullet in his brain. Now this man, whoever he was, would find it out too.

  “Do you have an answer?” the man said.

  “Yeah. Go to hell.”

  “Very well, then. I’ll meet you there.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Gloria brought the chef’s knife down onto the cutting board, blade first. It sliced through the wheat bread and meat. She took the two triangles and put them on a plate, brought it to Mason. He thanked her, returned to the documents that had been faxed to him earlier that morning.

  “I want to leave,” she said.

  “Well, you can’t,” he said.

  “Dammit, I’m tired of being here with you.”

  He smiled, looked over his shoulder at her. “You’re loving this and you know it.”

  “Go to hell. You know I can’t stand you.”

  “At least not for longer than an hour or two.” He winked.