Noble Intentions: Season Three

by L. T. Ryan

  Jon nodded. “Seals the deal.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Jack said.

  “How’s that?”

  “If we believe that Godfrey worked with Naseer, why would he own a house with the guy who killed Naseer?”

  “We need Mason up here, now,” Jon said.

  “He’s on the way,” Alex said.

  “Maybe this didn’t go down the way Mason told us,” Jack said.

  “Jack, what are you thinking?” Alex said.

  Jack took a moment. He stared at the checkerboard inlay in the center of the table. He set his glass down and stood. “I’m wondering if maybe Kemp had started attacking his own men. He was going to be a pretend hostage to get Naseer out of the house. Naseer alone, forget it, he’d be shot dead with or without those explosives. But take one of Mason’s men, the guy might have a change of heart. Once Naseer and Kemp were clear of the house, their escape would have been easy. Heavily wooded area. Nothing but small towns nearby. Local police forces couldn’t be much more than a couple cops one at a time. So you’ve got at least the two of them, maybe more. Hell, there could have been others waiting nearby to pick them up.”

  Jon said, “They might have known. I think they did know about the raid ahead of time. Things just got out of control.”

  Jack nodded as he paced the area between the wall and the table. “That might explain why we saw Owen in that store, but never at the house. Kemp and Owen are close. One might have introduced the other to Naseer. I saw Owen kill Thornton. He did it in Naseer’s presence. Hell, he did it for Naseer.”

  “How would Mason have known?” Bear said.

  “Because I saw Kemp shoot two of my guys in the back of their heads.”

  They all turned toward the door and saw Mason standing there. He looked twenty times worse than he had that morning. The bruises on his face had darkened. His eyes were swollen and purple. His knuckles were the size and color of plums. His arms were wrapped in gauze, and bandages lined his forehead.

  “I saw that son of a bitch shoot my men, and then I shot him and that bastard Naseer. That’s when things went downhill. I realized the explosives were going to detonate. It wasn’t instant, you see. I had time to think. That’s the only reason I yelled on the radio beforehand. It was for effect, mostly. My guys were all dead or had no chance of getting out of the house. Between Kemp and Naseer’s guys, they’d executed almost all of them. Naseer had two men in the house. Both had managed to get out. I thought that maybe this would all go away with Naseer dead. If he was behind the attacks and the threats, it’d end with his death. So I barked the orders to get out and managed to clear the doorway just in time. In all honesty, it wouldn’t have bothered me if I’d blown up.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Alex said.

  Mason leaned to the side and rested his head on the wall. “I didn’t want to sully the reputation of my men. If the truth about Kemp came out, then the integrity of all those who perished would come into question. They don’t deserve that. Their families don’t deserve that.”

  No one said anything for a moment. Stares were shared from across the table. Everyone sat in a state of disbelief.

  “What was Kemp’s relationship with Godfrey?” Jack said.

  “They were friends. Better than he and I, that’s for sure. They used to do stuff together outside the job. I always figured if something happened to me, they’d find a way to bump Kemp up so the two of them could be partners.”

  “You ever hear anything about them owning a house together?” Jack said.

  Mason shook his head. “Why?”

  “We’ve got a lead on a man entering an abandoned house. House is owned by Kemp and Godfrey. Description of the man matches Godfrey.”

  “There’s more,” Jon said.

  “What is it?” Jack said.

  “A second man.”

  “Description?”

  “No match.”

  Godfrey, plus one. Who could it be, Jack wondered. “We’ve got to get to that house.”

  “One more thing,” Jon said while staring down at a pencil he rolled from one hand to the other.

  “What else?” Jack said.

  Jon looked up, took a moment, then said, “The caller said he saw a woman and a young girl in the backseat of the car.”

  Jack watched as each man’s expression changed. Either everyone shared a bad batch of coffee, or they all came to the same realization at that moment. One MI5 agent, perhaps two, possibly more, had Mia and Hannah in their possession. It made no sense. Some would say it was a downright illogical conclusion just based on who they had been talking about.

  It tied Alex and Jack even tighter together in the web of deception. Someone, the same someone at that, wanted both of them dead.

  “Let’s get to that house,” Alex said.

  “We’re sending a team to surround the neighborhood now,” Jon said.

  “Keep them at a distance,” Jack said. “We don’t need these guys to realize they’ve been surrounded. That could be disastrous for those girls.”

  “They’re worth more to them alive,” Alex said.

  “When it comes to me, yeah,” Jack said. “Not to you, though.”

  “I give you my word no harm will come to them if it’s up to me,” Alex said.

  “What haven’t you told me?”

  “I’m not following.”

  “Where’s the connection? I can’t find it. Mia and Hannah are connected to me, not you. The only connection we share right now is someone wants both of us dead.”

  Alex shook his head. “Does it matter, Jack? We’re in this together now.”

  Jack nodded.

  “Any ideas?” Alex said.

  “We both pissed off the same person.”

  “I piss off lots of people, Jack. It comes with the job. Who have you upset?”

  “Got an hour or two?”

  Alex nodded, smiled.

  “What about Sasha?” Jack said.

  “We’re wasting time,” Jon said.

  Alex rose and started toward the door. “You’re right. We’ll meet up with her later. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 62

  A cloud of dust rushed in from under the door and plumed into the air. Hannah stiffened in preparation of someone entering the room. What now? The door flung open. Mia jolted up, broke free from Hannah’s grasp. Hannah adjusted her position and clasped her hands together and pulled the girl back into her chest. The light that flooded in silhouetted the man in the doorway. Without seeing his features, she could tell he was the older guy. Tall with short blond hair. Even if she hadn’t been able to see him, she would have known. He stunk like rotten trash.

  “Get up,” he said.

  “Why?” Hannah said.

  “Because I said so.”

  “No, we’re staying right here.”

  “No you’re not. You’re coming with me.”

  “Where are you taking us?”

  “Someplace else.”

  “What are you going to do to us?”

  The guy said nothing.

  “Answer me.”

  He crossed the room, grabbed Hannah by the hair and dragged her out of bed. “You shut up and do what I tell you.”

  She screamed and kicked and punched. One shot managed to connect with his midsection. Pain radiated through her wrist and arm. She howled. He laughed and dropped her on the floor.

  “If you’re not in that hallway in thirty seconds I’ll put a bullet in your brain. If you don’t believe me, then believe this. It’s not you they care about. Only the little girl.”

  The guy left the room and Hannah curled up into a ball. Her tears slid across her face and pooled on the dusty floor. She felt Mia’s small hand on her shoulder. The girl grabbed a fistful of Hannah’s shirt and began pulling.

  Hannah’s right arm felt like lead and hurt like hell, so she pushed off the floor with her left, then used the mattress to help her stand.

  “Let’s go, Mia,” she said.<
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  Mia stayed close to her as they exited the room. The guy stood in the hall on the other side of the stairs. Beams of light came in through dirty windows. They cast shadows across his face, distorting his smile and making him look like an evil comic book character.

  “After you,” he said.

  Hannah ushered Mia in front of her, then she descended the stairs. She proceeded with caution, as the stairs were rickety, and she had to use her left hand to stabilize her right arm, which she feared to be broken. Without the benefit of the rail, she worried that she’d slip off a broken step and collapse on top of Mia. Step by step they traveled until they reached the bottom of the stairs. From there they made their way into the kitchen. The other man rested at the small table in the corner. He had a large radio on the table and fidgeted with the dial. Based on the chatter that came through the device, Hannah figured it was a police scanner.

  “Keep moving,” the older guy said.

  They passed through the kitchen. The guy at the table didn’t bother to look up. Hannah could have burned holes into him with her stare. She stopped in front of a door that led to the garage.

  “Open it,” the guy said.

  She did, and then she took the three steps down into the garage. Confined gasoline vapors choked the air out of her. When she swallowed, the taste burned itself into her mouth and throat where cottonmouth had moments ago prevailed.

  She let go of her broken arm and grabbed Mia’s hand. She led the child to the car and pulled open the back passenger side door.

  “No,” the guy said.

  She turned. “No what?”

  He held two black sacks in his hands. Tossed them to her.

  “One on the girl’s head. The other on yours.”

  Hannah let the bags bounce off of her. She stood defiant, glared at the man.

  “You want the other arm to match? How about a leg?” He smiled, looked at Mia. “How about hers?”

  “Enough,” Hannah said. She did as told. She maintained eye contact with the guy up till the moment she slipped the bag over her head. In the darkness, she guided Mia to the open door.

  “Stop,” the guy said.

  “What?” Hannah said, frustrated.

  She heard the trunk pop open.

  “You’re not riding in the back seat.”

  Mia began to cry. Hannah had to force herself not to join the little girl. She felt a large hand in the middle of her back. She reached out and swatted side to side with her left arm, attempting to drive the man away from Mia. In her futility, she hit Mia in the head. Hannah grasped Mia’s shirt. The little girl called out. Not from the hit, or from being held. The guy had pulled her away.

  “Up you go,” the guy said.

  Hannah’s hand slipped free of the child’s shirt. A moment later, the guy’s hand wrapped around the back of her head and forced her forward.

  “Easy goes it, lady,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you to bump your head.”

  Hannah gave in and let him guide her into the trunk. Her knees bumped against the car’s frame. Her right arm hit the carpeted trunk first. She groaned, but refused to yell out in pain. When the lid slammed shut, she found herself in an uncontrollable panic. She struggled to breathe. Her heart raced well over one hundred beats per minute. She kicked at the trunk lid, the back seat.

  Please get me out of here!

  “It’s going to be OK, Hannah.”

  At once, Mia’s quiet voice soothed and settled her. For all the thoughts Hannah had that she had to be the one to remain strong and protect Mia, it was the girl who’d calmed her.

  The car began to back up. Mia scooted closer. Hannah wrapped her arm around the girl. Every time the vehicle started and stopped, they rolled together. Being confined and behind a double wall of darkness, she lost track of time. The drive could have taken five minutes, or it could have been an hour. She had no idea. The car came to a stop. She waited. The breeze that blew into the trunk when the lid finally lifted coated her sweat soaked body and drove a chill through her. She clutched Mia tight as someone, the man she assumed, tried to pull the little girl away.

  “Come off it,” he said. “Let her go.”

  She refused to release Mia. A fist to her stomach was her punishment. Or reward, she thought, for being the protector. The shock of the blow was worse than the actual shot she took. Still, it had been enough to loosen her grip on Mia. The girl’s screams were muffled by the bag on her head and likely the hand that covered her mouth.

  Footsteps and voices faded, then returned. Hannah had managed to get upright and had the bag halfway up her face.

  “Out you go,” the guy said.

  Hannah felt a hand on her upper arm. The guy yanked her up. Her head banged into the trunk lid. A dull pain spread across the back of her skull. She wanted to reach behind and check for blood, but he jerked her around so quickly she didn’t have the chance. The guy pulled her forward, then let go. She fell face first. It felt like a hundred tiny rocks dug into her cheeks, lips, nose and forehead. Not concrete, gravel.

  “Get the bloody hell up,” the guy said as he pushed her forward with the heel of his shoe.

  She instinctively placed her right hand on the ground in front of her. Her arm buckled, pain radiated through her wrist. Any remaining doubt that her arm was fine disappeared at that moment.

  He grabbed a handful of her shirt, and pulled her up, and led her forward. “Three steps up.”

  “Where are we?” she said.

  “Shut up.”

  She knew they couldn’t be someplace populated. Not with the way he treated her. The woods, perhaps? Her body lunged forward and she fell once again. This time, a soft surface broke her fall. It felt like a tightly knit rug. Smelled like the ground. A mat you place at the front door, she figured. The air no longer felt light and airy. It was still, oppressive, warm. Not quite as bad as the trunk, though. They were inside.

  “About ten paces forward, then sit down.”

  Hannah got to her knees, then her feet, then she shuffled forward with her good arm extended in front of her. Her left shin bumped into the edge of a chair or sofa. She ignored the pain and turned and took a seat. A small hand grabbed her thigh. Hannah let out a sigh and reached out for Mia. The girl responded to her touch with a soft cry.

  “You can take those hoods off now,” the guy said.

  Hannah wondered where they were. What would this place look like? Surely it had to be in the middle of the woods, worn down. She expected it to be messy and old. Cobwebs in the corners, dirt on the floor. That would match the welcome mat.

  She tugged at the hood until it pulled up over her nose. One final pull released her from the veil of darkness. Her eyes adjusted to the bright light. It didn’t take her long to realize she knew exactly where they were.

  CHAPTER 63

  Jack leaned with his back against the splintered wooden fence. Bear crouched next to him. The big man had to get lower, being four inches taller. The earwigs they wore remained silent. They waited for Jon to give the go ahead. Jon and Alex were at the front of the house. An argument had ensued over what and how much of a part Alex would take in the raid. No amount of persuading convinced the Prime Minister to back down. He wanted to be there for Jack.

  Sasha had arrived at Number 10 moments before they left. They’d convinced her to remain behind. Under normal circumstances, she’d have been an asset to the operation. She still didn’t seem right after the blow she took to the head the previous night, though.

  “I’ve got your back.”

  Jack looked to his left, at Bear, and nodded. “I know, big man. You always have.”

  “If something happens in there, I want you to know that Mia will always be looked after.”

  “Same for Mandy. But nothing’s gonna happen, Bear. We watch out for each other in there like we always have and we’ll get through this just fine.”

  A break in the clouds sent bright rays of sunshine in their direction. Jack glanced up, over the top of the fence across
the alley. Faces pressed against windows, eyes watched them. He gestured for the people in the windows to move away. The last thing they needed was for Kemp and Godfrey to be tipped off by the prying eyes of neighbors.

  Jon’s voice came through the earwig. “OK, backup teams are in place and we’ve got four more guys at the entrance. We are good to go. Jack, you and Bear move now. Call out when you’re inside and then we’ll enter.”

  “Ten-four, we’re moving,” Jack said.

  He and Bear slipped through the gate after Bear cut the lock. They stayed low and moved quickly toward the house. It would have been better to perform the raid in the dark, but that was a luxury they couldn’t afford. Not with so much at stake.

  They hit the back door hard and went in yelling. Jack clicked his mic on for a moment. It was enough notice for Jon and Alex to enter.

  The rear entrance led into an area between the kitchen and an empty room. A man took a seat at an old table against the wall. The guy looked up, shocked, unmoving for a moment. Then the man rose, kicked the table away. The table flipped forward. The radio that had been perched on it crashed to the floor and broke into a hundred parts. The man reached for the pistol at his side.

  Jack recognized the man. He couldn’t forget that face. It was the guy in the warehouse who’d killed Thornton and his partner. The man was unmistakably Owen.

  Jack aimed, but not fast enough. Owen had outdrawn him. He grimaced, but didn’t flinch. He had to get a shot off. Before he could, Bear pulled his trigger, hit the guy dead center. Owen stumbled backward, crashed into the door at the far end of the kitchen. He slid to the floor, leaving a red trail in his wake.

  Bear walked up to the guy, nudged him with the tip of his boot. Owen didn’t move. That didn’t stop Bear from firing one more shot into the guy’s head.

  At the same time Jack and Bear had encountered Owen, Jon and Alex and their team had raced upstairs. Their footsteps shook the ceiling. Bits of plaster fell and collided with the floor, sending up plumes of white powder.

  Jon was the first one down. “It’s empty.”

  “Are we sure they were here?” Bear said.