by L. T. Ryan
Bear lit a cigarette, handed it to me.
“Thanks.”
I took a deep drag, rolled down my window and exhaled. “I’ll call Abbot and Keller after we get back. See about getting us out of here.”
Bear didn’t say anything. His big hands wrapped around the steering wheel. His eyes focused on the empty road. We rode in silence the remaining twenty miles back to base.
* * *
We shared a single room on base. Two single beds, a small kitchenette with a stove, mini-fridge and microwave, and a wooden table with two matching chairs. Didn’t need much else. We ate, slept, trained on our own and performed missions with the CIA ops teams. Outside of the missions, the operatives had no interaction with us. It wasn’t a written rule or anything like that. They didn’t want to interact with us. These guys looked down on the Marines in the program. A stark contrast from the operatives based in the U.S. and Europe. They welcomed the help and our point of view on the missions. Christ, they pulled us eight weeks into recruit training and we were then put through CIA training. It’s not like Bear and I are hard core Marines.
Bear returned to the room carrying a twelve pack of piss warm beer and a carton of cigarettes.
“Get anything to eat?” I asked.
He held up the twelve pack. “Figured it’s a good night to drink our dinner.”
“Only problem with that,” I said while lighting a cigarette, “is six beers doesn’t make a meal.”
He stepped through the doorway and into the room then lifted his other arm. “That’s why I got you your own.”
I laughed. Grabbed the cardboard box holding my dinner and cracked open a warm one. Took a pull from the bottle.
“God, this stuff is awful.”
Bear chugged three quarters of a bottle. Set it down on the table. Let out a loud exhale.
“I dunno, Jack. It’s not that bad.” A loud belch followed.
I stubbed out my cigarette, finished my beer and pushed back from the table. “And with that, I’m gonna get a shower.”
I exited the room into the dimly lit hallway. It was quiet. I checked my watch and saw it was only ten p.m. Too quiet for ten p.m. I shook my head. Whatever. I shrugged the anxiety off and entered the bathroom and shower facility at our end of the hall. The communal shower room was empty. I quickly washed the sweat, dirt and blood off and then moved to far end of the row of sinks. I looked into the mirror and smiled at the growth of hair on my face. It had been almost two weeks since I had last shaved. I pulled out a can of shaving cream and my razor, but opted to keep the short beard. For now. I liked it.
I couldn’t help but think of how bad that night had gone. Everything was routine until the group of men showed up a few blocks away from the house. People never approached us unless they meant trouble. And lately we found plenty of trouble. A quarter of our assignments in Iraq ended up with us getting into an external conflict apart from our primary target. And it always ended up being a mistake on the part of the men who engaged us. Not just our group either, this was the standard for all ops teams. The men who tried to take us on had no way of knowing who we were. And they had no chance of living long enough to find out. Despite that, they always engaged us. It was like they had nothing to live for.
Or maybe everything to die for.
On this night, though, those men hung back. Like they were waiting for something. Maybe they were playing games with Bear, the false advancement and the tall man yelling at us. That would have been enough to throw us off, make us think that they were a group of regular guys. Of course, they could have just been a group of regular guys. But maybe they were waiting for something. For us to do something and give them a reason.
Then there was Martinez. Sonovabitch was in rare form tonight. Bear and I weren’t always assigned to the same team. We floated between four different groups. We’d spent enough time with Martinez to know he was a high strung, high motor midget. His guys weren’t any different, either. This incident wasn’t the first time that we’d squared off. It had happened three other times, including once on base. But this time he seemed to be daring me to make a move. Every time we got into it, it was because he pushed the limits on acceptable treatment of detainees. He pushed further than ever before with the woman. And in front of her kids, too. For a moment I thought he’d pull the trigger. He might’ve had I not said anything. His guys sure wouldn’t stop him. Pussies.
The gauntlet would come down on me over this. I knew that. Their word against ours. There were four of them and two of us. Their bosses wouldn’t bother questioning the family for their account of what happened. My bosses were in the U.S. in the Carolinas. I needed to call Abbot and Keller. Give them my side of the story before anyone else talked to them.
I got dressed, exited the restroom and walked back down the empty hallway to our room.
I pushed the door open and called out to Bear from the hallway.
“What do you say we go grab something to eat?”
No response.
“Bear?”
I stuck my head in the room. The back door stood open. I figured he’d stepped outside for a smoke. Might as well join him. I grabbed a beer and found my jacket. Stuck my hand in the coat pocket looking for my cell phone. Missing. That was odd. I had the phone in there all night. Hadn’t taken it out once.
“Bear, you seen my phone?”
No response.
I stopped moving things around on the table and looked at the back door. Took two steps towards it. Bear stood on the back patio. He looked at me. Said nothing.
“Bear?”
Nothing.
“Jack Noble,” a voice said from behind.
I stopped. Turned my head. Two men, both armed, stood at the back of the room. I knew them by face, not by name. They weren’t friends of mine. I dropped my beer and clasped my hands together behind my head. I looked at the floor and saw fizzing beer wrapping around the soles of my boots.
Two other men led Bear inside. He looked at me. Shook his head. Pretty obvious what he was thinking. Same thing I was.
“What’s going on guys?” I said.
“Shut up, Noble,” one of them said from behind me.
“You can’t just detain us without a reason,” I said.
The man laughed. “We’re in Iraq, Noble. We can do whatever the fuck we want.”
They grabbed my hands, forced them down and behind my back. I felt the thick plastic zip ties close around my wrist and draw my arms close together. The hard plastic dug into my skin the more I moved.
“If we want you to disappear,” he continued, “there’s thousands of miles of deserted land where we can bury you.”
“That a promise?” I said.
“Keep talking,” he grabbed my wrists and forced them upward, “and it will be.”
“Jack,” Bear said, his voice was low and trailed off at the end.
I looked at him.
He shook his head. Looked down at the floor.
I followed his gaze and saw my cell phone on the floor, crushed.
“You know, I already talked to Col. Abbot about what happened tonight.” I paused. “He’s sending a team to investigate Martinez.”
The four men laughed.
One behind me said, “You think we’re worried about Abbot. He has less say here than he does in America.” He walked around me, stopped with his face inches from the side of mine. “He doesn’t have shit for pull with us. Our chain of command moves up a hell of a lot faster and farther than yours.”
I cleared my throat. Said nothing. I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach but didn’t let my external expression change.
“You getting this, Noble? You’re screwed. Nothing is gonna get you out of this.”
For what, I thought. Kicking that douchebag Martinez’s ass? Hell, the other ops teams we worked with all said they couldn’t stand him.
“Let’s go.”
They led us through the front door, down the hallway, and outside to a Humvee parked in
front of the building. We climbed in through the back passenger side door. Bear and I sat in the middle. Two men sat in back with us, guarding the door. They held their weapons firmly pressed into our sides.
“Make sure you avoid the potholes,” I said.
Bear chuckled. The four men didn’t. These guys had no sense of humor.
“Shut the hell up, Noble,” the driver said.
I did.
We drove on in silence across the base. Stopped in front of the building we used for detaining persons of interest. Guess that was what Bear and I were now.
Continue reading…
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Note from the Author
Thank you for taking a chance on Jack Noble and for investing your time into reading Noble Intentions: Season One. I hope that Jack and crew have managed to keep you on the edge of your seat and thoroughly entertained for the last 500 pages. I had a great time writing this story (just ask my wife, she’ll tell you I didn’t stop talking about Jack all summer!) and I hope that shows.
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-Lee “L.T.” Ryan
About the Author
Lee "L.T." Ryan lives in the suburbs of Atlanta, GA with his wife, three daughters, and one psychologically unbalanced but lovable dog. He enjoys writing fast paced suspense thrillers. He wishes he could write the kind of book that an indie filmmaker would snatch up. Although, if he did, he'd never admit it. When not writing, he enjoys reading, hiking, mountain biking, fishing, and spending time with the ladies in his life.
Current projects include Noble Beginnings: A Jack Noble Novel, Noble Intentions: Season Two starting with Episode 6, an unnamed Mitch Tanner novel (thriller), and several short stories.
Table of Contents
EPISODE 1
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
EPISODE 2
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
EPISODE 3
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
EPISODE 4
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
EPISODE 5
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
Copyright
PUBLISHED BY:
Liquid Mind Media
Copyright © 2012
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.