Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10) (17 page)

Akim dropped Clarissa’s bags on the floor. He drove his shoulder into her upper back as he passed. The impact knocked her forward a few steps. She refrained from retaliating. Something she was better at these days.

“That’s enough of that, Akim,” the older man said. “Apologize to Anastasiya.”

Akim turned his head enough so that one eye made contact with Clarissa. “Sorry.”

Akim and the older man turned down a hallway and disappeared from sight.

Clarissa started to take a step. A hand on her shoulder instructed her to remain in the foyer. She heard a child’s voice and caught site of the back of a young girl. Blond hair passed by in a blur. Boris’s daughter, she figured. Although the voice sounded somewhat familiar. Clarissa dismissed it and soaked in every inch of the house available to her.

Footsteps approached and a man appeared. She identified him as Boris based on the pictures she had seen on the flight.

He smiled and held his arms out wide. “Anastasiya, it is so nice to meet you.”

Clarissa smiled and stepped forward. She leaned into his embrace and turned her face side to side so he could kiss her cheeks.

“Likewise, Boris.”

“Can I get you anything? A drink, some food?”

“Not at the moment. I’d like to see my room.”

“Of course.” Boris snapped his fingers at one of the men and instructed him to take Clarissa to her room, then bring her to his office. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Clarissa followed the guard down an unlit hallway and into her room. She dropped her bags on the bed and then stepped into the attached bathroom and washed her hands and face.

A few minutes later she was escorted into Boris’s office.

“Please, sit,” he said as he waved her escort out of the room.

She sat opposite him at his desk.

“I can’t tell you how good it is to have you here,” he said.

“Yes, I imagine looking at all these men all the time gets old,” she said.

Boris laughed and leaned back in his chair. He clapped his hands together. His smile lingered as he spoke. “I’ve heard that about you. Very funny.”

She lifted her shoulders and held out her hands.
If he only knew.

“There’s a lot I would like to ask you, about things back home,” he said. “But I think it’s best we get into what we are doing here.”

“I agree.”

He nodded. “Good.” He opened a desk drawer and leaned over it.

Clarissa took it as an opportunity to look over the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. Row upon row of books. At least a thousand of them, maybe more. She wanted to get a better look out the window and the view it provided. She found it odd that there was no way out of the room except for the way she entered.

Boris straightened up and placed a set of files on the desktop. “Wait till you see what we’ve got here.”

Boris rifled through the papers, placing them on the desk in organized stacks. He explained the targets and the opportunities and the best dates to strike. Clarissa nodded and smiled and asked simple questions.

“Now,” he said, “for your role in all this.”

“Please, do tell.”

“I’ll oversee the overall operation. But I need people, strong people, to be leaders in certain strategic areas. Three to be exact. One in the east. One in the west. And one in the middle. My three captains, so to speak.”

“I’ve read Machiavelli,” she said. “The best way to instill fear in an organization is to lop off the head of one of your captains. Is that in your plans?”

Boris cocked his head and leaned back. His smile returned. His eyes, however, narrowed. Clarissa had the feeling he was wondering if he had misjudged her.

“Only if said captain gives me a reason to lop off his, or her, head,” he said.

“Then this captain will make certain that she does everything in her power to make you happy with her work.”

Boris nodded and didn’t say anything. He didn’t take his eyes off of her. Didn’t even blink.

“Where do you want to place me?” she said.

Boris stood and stepped away from the desk. He paced the room for a few moments and stopped in front of the window. Clarissa thought to join him, to get a look outside. Decided against it.

He turned his head and made eye contact. “In seven days you will travel to the west coast.”

“California?”

“I’ll tell you where in seven days.”

“Why must it be a secret?”

He turned to face the window again. “Return to your room and get ready for dinner.”

Clarissa remained seated for a minute and then got up and walked to the door. She stopped before grabbing the handle. Looked over her shoulder. Boris remained at the window, staring out at nothing as if in a trance. She opened the door and stepped into the hall. No one waited for her.

She walked down the hall, retracing her steps back to her room. A young girl’s humming floated down the corridor. The melodic sound became louder as Clarissa approached an open door. She stopped outside the room. Stepped toward the wall, placing her palms against it. She shifted to the right and peered inside.

Clarissa had never seen a ghost, not that she was aware of at least. But the feeling in her stomach at that moment was what she imagined seeing the spirit of a dead person would feel like.

“Mandy,” she said in a voice slightly louder than a whisper.

The little girl turned from her desk. Her eyes grew big and her mouth dropped open.

Clarissa brought a single finger to her lips. She stepped into the room and closed the door. They met halfway and embraced. Mandy buried her face into Clarissa’s chest. Clarissa held the girl’s head close in an attempt to muffle her sobs. She checked the room for a security camera. Didn’t see one.

Mandy stopped crying and pulled her head back. Her blue eyes had become bloodshot and her pale cheeks were stained with tears.

“What are you doing here?” Mandy asked.

“It’s hard to explain, sweetie. I’m on a mission. The question is what are you doing here?”

“They stole me at the bank. They hurt Bear and took me.”

“Bear is here?”

“We live here now.”

“Give me the address, Mandy.”

The little girl told Clarissa the address.

“I’m going to get you out of here. You have to trust me.”

“OK.”

“But I need you to pretend that you don’t know me.”

“OK.”

“They can’t know who I am. They think I’m from Russia.”

“I won’t say anything.”

12

Bear reclined on his couch, watching the clock. One leg stretched out on the couch. The other on the coffee table. His doorbell rang at six o’clock on the dot. He crossed the room and opened the door without first checking to see who was there. Two uniformed officers stood on his porch. Bear said nothing.

“Riley Logan?”

Bear nodded.

“We need you to ask you a few questions, Mr. Logan.”

Bear stepped back and held the door open. “C’mon in.”

The police officers stepped inside. One pointed at the couch and nodded at Bear.

Bear took a seat and said, “What can I do for you?”

One of the officers paid no attention to Bear. He walked around the living room, checking behind chairs and tables and books.

The other officer stood in front of Bear. “Where were you around two p.m. this afternoon?”

Bear shrugged. He thought the officers were there to discuss Mandy and the question of his whereabouts threw him off. He had been with Detective Larsen at two p.m. But Larsen had made a point to tell Bear that half the department was being paid off. Could these men be in that half?

“Here. Haven’t done much, you know, waiting to hear word about my little girl.”

“We have a witness who says they saw you with Detective Larsen, outside of town, around two p.m. today.”

Curtis Hale?

Bear said, “Yeah, I guess that sounds about right.”

“What were you doing with him?”

Bear lied. “I was showing him the different places we used to go. We went to the lake and I showed him where we went fishing a few weeks ago.”

“In this weather?”

“Yeah, in this weather.” He knew it sounded bad, but he had to give some reason for being out there.

“What do you do, Mr. Logan?” the other officer said from behind him.

“Huh?”

“For a living. What do you do?”

“I’m independently wealthy. I just raise my little girl. Read. Watch TV.”

The officer behind him walked behind the couch. Bear didn’t look back.

“Sounds like the life of a slacker.”

“I worked for it.”

“Why don’t you tell us what you were doing with Detective Larsen?”

“I just did.”

The cops said nothing. The one behind him rounded the couch and walked to the open front door. He closed the door. Turned the deadbolt to the right, locking it.

Bear started to get a sense that these two officers were in the corrupt half of the department.

Bear asked, “Did something happen to Detective Larsen?”

“Why would you think that?”

Bear placed his hands on his knees and started to stand. Both officers raised their hands and gestured him back down.

“Well,” Bear said, “I’ve been around cops with an agenda. And I’d be hog tied if you two weren’t cops with an agenda.”

They looked at each other.

“Just tell us what you were doing, Mr. Logan.”

Bear felt his cheeks redden and his neck grew hot.

“I told you. He’s helping me find my little girl, which is more than you two bastards are doing right now. So I’d appreciate it if you’d get the frig out of my house.”

“Detective Larsen is not a good man. Did he tell you what happened?”

Bear had been wondering what Larsen had referred to earlier that day. When Bear pressed, the detective refused to answer.

“You know he lost his own daughter not too long ago?”

Bear shook his head.

“His fault. Recklessness. But he blamed it on someone else and now he has an agenda against that person. We are concerned that he’s using you to fulfill his own agenda.”

“Don’t know what you are talking about,” Bear said. “We just went around to places that me and Mandy frequented. There was no talk of an agenda.”

One of the officers unlocked the door, opened it and stepped onto the porch. Bear saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a cigarette. He found himself wanting a smoke.

“Mr. Logan, I did some digging around on you. There’s not much information out there.”

Bear hiked his shoulders up to his ears and held out his hands.

“Why don’t you tell me about where you and Mandy were before you came to our city?”

“We were in New York.”

“And?”

Bear said nothing.

The cop waited a minute or two before speaking again. “We’re watching you, Logan. You best believe we are watching you. One step outta line and we’ll put you behind bars for forty-eight hours minimum. If I catch you jaywalking, you’ll be arrested. Got it?”

Bear opened his mouth to speak. Paused a moment. The cop stood only a few feet away. The man’s posture indicated that he greatly underestimated Bear, and Bear calculated the attack in his mind. He wasn’t sure that he could secure the cop’s weapon before the other officer could fire a shot.

“Yeah,” Bear said. “I got it. Now get the hell off my property.”

* * *

Larsen arrived an hour later.

“Nice of you to show up,” Bear said as he opened the door.

“I was here,” Larsen said from the edge of the porch. “I saw the patrol car, though.”

Bear stepped outside.

“Who were those jackwagons?”

“Miller and Stevenson.”

“Are they on your side?”

Larsen shook his head. He pushed past Bear and walked around the room. He checked in all the same places the cop had earlier.

“What’re you looking for?” Bear asked.

Larsen walked over to Bear and spoke in a low voice. “I’m checking for a bug.”

“Maybe we should go back outside then. I got questions for you.”

Larsen took one last quick glance around the room and then walked outside. Bear followed.

“Tell me about your little girl,” Bear said.

Larsen leaned against a support post and reached inside his coat. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and inhaled deeply. After he blew the smoke out, he spoke.

“She died. Four months ago. Hit by a car.”

Bear waited for Larsen to continue. When the man didn’t say anything else, Bear prompted him for more information. “What happened to the driver?”

“It was a hit and run.”

“Were you there?”

Larsen nodded.

“Was it your fault she was in the street?”

Larsen shook his head.

“Did she just take off into the road?”

Larsen rubbed his jaw and thought for a moment.

“She was on the sidewalk. I was in the yard, raking leaves. I heard tires squeal. I turned and saw the car coming down the street. He was on the wrong side of the street. I dropped my shovel. Yelled at my daughter. She was sitting on the sidewalk with a bunch of, uh, sidewalk chalk I guess they call it. Drawing flowers or stars or something. She heard me and turned. Hopped to her feet. The car got closer. I took off in a sprint, but didn’t reach her in time. The car hopped the curb and hit her. Her little body…”

Bear knew the rest.

“Jesus, Larsen, I…”

Larsen looked up. His eyes had watered over. They were dark and angry.

“The cops that were here, they said you had an agenda. They also said your daughter’s death was your own fault.”

Larsen flicked his cigarette onto the lawn. It landed in a small patch of left over snow. He lit another.

“In a way, I guess so.”

“How’s that?”

“I got too close to Melikov. Brought too much heat. Refused his offer when confronted.”

“So you do have an agenda.”

Larsen nodded. “He’s a bad man. I’d want him taken out no matter what. The fact that he had my little girl killed only resolves me to pull the trigger myself.”

“So why haven’t you?”

Larsen crossed the porch and placed his hands on the wooden railing. “I’ve asked that question of myself so many times. I guess, I don’t know. I think it’s the badge, man. I need to catch him in the act to justify it. If I see the man who drove the car, I’d pull the trigger no matter what. But with Boris, I need something else.”