by James H Roby
“I will always love you.” Jordan said the only words that could follow.
Robin wheeled around and ran. She got back in a line now double in length than when she left. It took her twenty-six minutes to get to the TSA agent. Another fourteen to reach the metal detectors. That ordeal lasted six minutes more.
He watched her the whole time. He watched as she gathered herself and from beyond the scanners, turned and waved. He watched as she went deeper into the terminal and disappeared from sight. He stood there, watching until her flight’s scheduled departure time forty-two minutes later.
And he stood there for another thirty-three minutes. After all that, Jordan turned and left the airport.
~
Jordan entered the hospital room in Henry Ford hospital. Don and Malcolm were already there, and of course, they were arguing. No telling over what. Akio Manning sat on the edge of the bed where her husband, E-Man lay recovering. The room exploded with shouts at Jordan’s appearance. Even Akio was happy as she gave him a hug.
“What was that for?” Jordan asked.
“You all are heroes,” she said. She turned to the others, “You deserved a medal for keeping that crap off the streets.”
“Or at least a week off,” Don said in that quiet way of his. Jordan heard it anyway. He shook his head. E-Man gave Jordan one of his grins. The men shook hands.
“It’s all in a day’s work,” Jordan said. “But we’ll see about that week off.” Jordan winked. Malcolm from the opposite side of the bed high-fived E-Man and Don in turn.
“How you feeling, partner?” Jordan sat next to Akio.
E-Man beamed a smile. “I’ll live, especially with that week off.”
“Two,” Akio said.
“That should be just about right.” Dr. Jackie Myers entered the room. She walked to the foot of the bed and picked up E-Man’s chart. She nodded doctorly, then shot Jordan a dirty look. “I swear, you’re going to be the death of me, Jordan Noble.”
Jordan heard the pain in her voice despite the threat. He deserved the dressing down. “OK, OK.”
Jackie eyed Jordan in silence for a moment longer than comfortable. She turned to Akio. “Please take care of your husband. These ‘UrbanKnights’ think they’re indestructible.”
“Not us!” Malcolm said.
“Amen to that.” Don folded his arms in solidarity.
Akio hugged E-Man’s neck. “Oh, I will.”
Jackie headed for the door. Her palm was pushing it open.
“So, who’s going to take care of me,” Jordan asked. Jackie stopped and turned on her heels. She scowled for all of five seconds. She literally forced her tongue in her cheek to suppress a smile. She stepped to Jordan, caught him by his lapels and kissed him hard on the lips. The room went dumb in the sixteen seconds Jackie unleashed passion on Jordan. She broke off and both took a moment to refill their lungs. Jackie pinched Jordan’s face between her fingers and thumb.
“I’ll see you later, Mr. Noble.” She turned and exited the room. No sooner than she left, Malcolm and Don went into action.
“Alright, Noble!” Malcolm said.
“Didn’t know you had it in you, man!” Don said.
Akio and E-Man just embraced a little tighter.
Jordan fought off embarrassment. “All right, all right, that’s enough.”
The hazing abated and Jordan drifted off into his own thoughts. Did a door close earlier and another just open? Maybe, time would definitely tell. One thing was for sure, life was somehow sweeter. Did some scale suddenly come into balance? The account of Cody Random and yes, even Robin Summers closed out – paid in full. The past often visited the present, and it’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes past debts have to be paid to clear the books for new accounts. For the first time in a while, Jordan looked forward to the future. A thought came to him.
“E, can I use your phone?”
“Sure,” E-Man said. “You’re paying for it anyway.”
Jordan smiled at E-Man’s quip. He picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. It rang a few times before it was answered.
“Hello, Ma?”
Epilogue: A Distant Hand
The Pentagon.
Commander Bill Foster rapped on the door and entered the office of his boss, the head of the Office of Naval Intelligence. Admiral Walter Torison’s eyes moved from his computer screen to his executive officer.
Foster stopped before the desk. “Admiral. I just got a phone message directly from the director of the CIA.”
Torison leaned back and gave no indication this was unusual or unexpected. In fact it was both. If the CIA director wanted to talk to the head of Naval Intelligence, it was no issue to do so. Torison knew the importance of maintaining level of separation as much as the CIA head did.
“What is the message, commander?”
Foster’s brows knotted. “That’s the thing, sir. It’s…weird.”
Torison folded his hands in his lap. “Go on.”
“It’s just two words, sir. ‘It’s done’.”
Ten seconds passed before Torison spoke again. He leaned forward and his folded hands now rested on the desktop. His vision went back to Foster. The commander’s muscles under his mocha face worked themselves into a frown.
“That will be all, Foster. Thank you.” Commander Foster would get no answers today and that’s just the way it was in the Navy. He nodded and turned to leave. Torison sat for a moment, motionless. He owed Jordan Noble nothing. Four years ago, when he sent him on the Cody Random assignment, Jordan was doing his duty. Duty, yes, all the same, the resulting entanglement with a CIA asset gone rogue would place Noble at the center of a web he had no part of. So, no, from the point of view of duty, Torison owed nothing. Still, it was a matter of principle and honor and whatever else Jordan Noble was, he was honorable. The effort Torison spent to convince the Director of the CIA to make the fallout of this Cody Random business just ‘go away’, was a fair exchange for Jordan Noble’s selfless efforts.
Torison went back to his computer and continued his task at hand, a brief he was preparing for the Joint Chiefs. Still, in the back of his mind, Jordan Noble roamed. Since Jordan’s departure from the Air Force, an act he had some hand in, Torison kept an eye on him. An eye and a distant hand perhaps. Making sure his top secret clearance somehow kept its active status, for example. A corner of Torison’s thin lips ticked up in what could loosely be described as a grin. It wasn’t a bad idea to keep tabs on Jordan. One never knew when a friend, or at least an ally, would be needed to deal with a random affair.
CASE CLOSED.
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OPERATION: BLACK BEAR
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Chapter One: The Sweet Release
Three years ago…
Italy was always a great port of call. It was part of the reason she enlisted…see the world, travel to exotics places - that sort of thing. It was just the sort of adventure the young seaman expected when the Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer, the USS Lincoln sailing into the harbor of Trieste. This would make a good photo op to send to her sister back home.
But sight-seeing and picture taking would have to wait until tomorrow. It was almost 2100 local time and any shore leave was hours away. She could wait. She waited this long. Fortunately, her section chief asked her to run an errand to the bridge. Normally the seaman had no desire to go anyway near a gathering of officers unless she had to, but this was an exception. T
his particular task would bring her above deck and give her a chance to see the skyline of the city. Her steps were light and swift as she burst onto the deck of the Lincoln. She paused for a moment to regard the ancient architect when something caught her eye. She went to the rail of the deck and peered into the inky black of the sea below her. She couldn’t tell but she thought she saw something moving…a boat, something small. She knew most vessels were smart enough to give way to a US warship, still, she thought she saw something. There it was again. This time with a sound like an outboard motor. It came closer. She shook her head. It was nothing to be concerned about. No law against a vessel passing by. She was sure everything was fine. She heard a pop then a whooshing sound. A flash of light accompanied the noise – the light headed straight towards her. She turned back to her original course heading for the bridge. It was clear something was wrong and she needed to warn someone. Her mission ended suddenly as fire, light and heat engulfed her. An explosion flung her body overboard. As life left her, she was sorry she would never get the chance to send her sister pictures of this beautiful city.
Today…
Jordan T. Noble III drove his Cadillac. The favorite of his four cars was his Corvette, but he felt this occasion needed something a bit more formal. The Phantom Gray Metallic CTS-V was a suitable exchange for the customize sports car Jordan usually tooled around in. It provided the class and elegant the long-postponed date with Dr. Jackie Myers called for. She didn’t appreciate the pure animal performance the ‘Vette could deliver – she found the Cadillac’s soft leather seats and uncompromisingly smooth ride far more desirable. Everyone can’t appreciate the mind numbing zero to sixty in three point five seconds of a customized 1991 Corvette ZR1. Oh, well.
Jackie rewarded her escort with the tiniest of smile and slight sigh upon entering the CTS-V. Waves of relief came off her as she would not have to lower herself into the almost-on-the-ground corvette while wearing a dress. Her initial satisfaction set the tone for the remainder of the evening.
They went to the Charles H. Wright Museum of African-American History. A sizable crowd turned out for the evening’s event. The modern designed structure in the city’s Midtown had steadily moved its way up the ranks of one of the nation’s best. Jordan brought his guest through The Ford Freedom Rotunda. The ninety-five-foot wide by sixty-five-foot high glass dome practically begged boys, young and old, to shout, thanks to the echoes it generated. Jordan fought the urge.
The evening’s feature was a photo expose’ from the 1960s, held in the museum’s theatre. The photographs were a collection of the civil rights struggles as told from the lens of various reporters from the era. After a tour of both deeply disturbing and heroically triumphant images, the evening concluded with an address from one of the photographers. Wizened and broken down by a lifetime of struggle, the well-suited gentleman passionately recounted tales of fire hoses, sit-ins and attack dogs. All eyes were locked and every ear bent to catch the pearls delivered by the soft-spoken man. A sense could be felt, this was one of, if not the last opportunity to hear such words. This elderly man was on his final rounds, passing his wisdom to the next generation before going on to his much deserved rest. When he finished, the entire audience came to its feet and rewarded the speaker with applause that wouldn’t end for several minutes. Jordan insisted on shaking the speaker’s hand before leaving. The man was clearly moved by the simple gesture, visited upon him again and again and again…
The program ended and they drove back towards Jackie’s Indian Village house.
“What did you think?” Jordan asked.
“Very nice,” she told him. Jackie was always a woman of few words. It usually annoyed him. Today, it just struck him as funny. A grin grew under his mustache as he looked over at her.
“What’s so funny?” Jackie asked.
“You.” He looked at her just for a second, time enough to admired her turned sideways in her seat, causing the cut of her plum dress to reveal more than the usual amount of her auburn skin beneath. “You’re always holding back.”
She cocked her head to one side. “What do you mean by that?”
Jordan’s eyes turned back to her. He upset her a little – Jackie was a private person, even with him. Especially with him. His comment may have been a little too close to home. Still, Jackie was a woman of even temperament and despite being bothered, she wouldn’t make Jordan pay for it too much. A constant in their history was a reluctant to delve too deeply into the emotions they felt for each other. It was Jackie who elevated their relationship to its current level of ‘more than just friends’. Albeit it was due to the shock and stress of her near-death experience during the affair with Cody Random, nevertheless, she put her heart in harm’s way and open herself up to Jordan. The three months since the Random affair ended and the surprise kiss Jackie rewarded Jordan with, had been a slow dive into deeper feeling. They loved each other clearly as friends. But anything else…
“You always hold back what you really thinking, Jack,” Jordan said. Jacqueline Myers was ‘Jack’ to no one but Jordan.
“What did I do now?”
“‘Very nice’,” Jordan repeated her comment. “Not very forthcoming.” He tried to soften the accusation with a smile. It worked as Jackie mirrored his features.
“You were very moved by the speaker. I’ve never seen you pay such undivided attention.” Jackie smiled broadly now, expanding on her answer and at the same time, turning the table onto Jordan and his feelings. He squirmed a little in his seat. They both knew he was uncomfortable when so easily read, even by those close to him. He flashed her a hot look as he exited the freeway. Jackie busied herself with straightening her dress as she looked forward again. A moment passed and she snuck a peek at Jordan. He saw it and also noticed she had kicked off her shoes. She reared back in the leather seat, retracted back further than usual. She was letting her guard down and getting comfortable around him. And comfortable was good.
“It was a very important topic,” Jordan said. “I was just…you know… I…I -”
“I…I.” Jackie took up Jordan’s narrative but with her own slant. “I was just staring like a little boy.” She laughed, leaning on the head rest and covering her mouth. She crossed her legs. “So you were moved. It’s okay. It doesn’t make you any less manly.” She reached over and touched his arm, “It’s very attractive.” Again, she smiled. Jordan wanted this to be her coming on to him a little but he knew she was teasing him.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Oh no, I would never do that.” She lasted a full two seconds before collapsing into laughter.
Jordan wheeled into Jackie’s driveway. It was a brick two-story Detroit was once famous for in its role as the ‘City of Homes’. A few blocks west or north and the neighborhood was a much darker place. But, in Indian Village, the real estate was still prime. The neighborhood had long been the home of Detroit’s rich and powerful – for Jackie to find an affordable home here was something of a coup.
Jordan pushed the transmission into park, fully expecting a hug and a warm wish ‘good night’.
“Want some coffee?” Jackie’s face was at neutral, and reading her emotions was impossible.
“Er, yeah, sure.” Jordan had been in her house before, but not since they started dating. With her rotations at the hospital and Jordan’s detective agency, the UrbanKnights Investigation and Security Services, sudden increase in business, being physically together was rarer than the norm. But this was different. Now, the invitation carried with it a suggestion of sex. And the kiss aside, Jordan found it hard to believe, they would ever be more than ‘friends’.
He had always been attracted to her. He knew Jackie back in college – when she was at the University of Michigan and he was at Michigan State. During all that time, Jordan had been quite taken with Jackie, admiring her from afar. She, conversely, seemed eternally indifferent to him. Their friendship was undeniable. Until now.
She led him into her home. Jackie took his coat while he went into the living room. She paused for a moment to turn on Bose stereo. The sound of Swing Out Sister’s “Momma Didn’t Raise No Fool” came forth. The lack of a local smooth jazz station meant the music was a product of a streaming service. Jordan was alone for a moment, while his hostess vanished deeper into the house. He frowned. He was making too much of this. He decided to treat this like any other time he was in a woman’s house.
He paused in front of the mirror over her fireplace. He turned sideways. He was still in good shape. He trained and ran constantly. His line of work, past and present, demanded that he be in top shape. He checked his hair and smiled, realizing he was acting like this a date with potential. Jordan pushed that thought aside. It was Jack. Just Jack. Still, he noted his dark hair was accented with only the fewest flakes of gray. It was an acceptable amount. A decade as an agent for the Defense Intelligence Agency and a couple as a private detective was sure to leave its mark on anyone. He opened the middle button of his suit, splitting the black sportscoat, revealing a grey shirt beneath.