Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10) (20 page)

“That’ll kill you, you know.”

Jack laughed. It wasn’t that he found the joke funny. The stress had built up to the point where he had no other outlet. Yet.

“Do you miss this?” Jasmine asked.

Jack paused. Reflected back on the six months in Greece. The relaxed feeling. And despite the calm state his mind had entered there, there was no place he’d rather be right now than in the middle of things.

“Yeah, I miss this.”

“Think you’ll stick with us after this is over?”

Jack wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know about that. But I’ll stay involved in something.”

“Going back to your old business?”

“I don’t know. There’s lots of options. Lots of things I can do with my talents.”

He finished his cigarette, dropped it on the ground and crushed it out with the heel of his shoe. They got back in the car and drove into Chernov’s neighborhood. They passed his house and saw the driveway was empty. Jack turned around and drove by a second time. He made a right turn onto the next street and parked. The sun was setting and the sky above was already a dark shade of blue.

“Front or back?” Jasmine asked.

“Let’s both go in from the back.”

“We won’t know what’s happening in front then.”

“I’m aware of that, Jasmine. But I don’t want either of us alone in case someone is waiting in there.”

The houses of two parallel streets butted up to one another. There was no alley or access lane behind them. They all shared the same back fence.

“We’ve got two yards to go through,” Jack said. “Let’s be quick.”

Jack hopped the first fence and Jasmine followed. They sprinted the width of the yard and hit the next fence, hopping over in a fluid motion. They sprinted through the next yard and stopped at the fence separating the yard from Chernov’s.

“Wait a sec,” Jack said.

Jasmine nodded. She leaned back against the fence and pulled her weapon, holding it in front of her and angled toward the ground.

Jack stretched and peered over the top of the fence. Scanned the yard. He said, “No dogs. Lights are out. Let’s go.”

He went over first and Jasmine followed. They stayed close to the side fence that separated the two yards. Moved forward, toward the house. Then they hugged the exterior wall of the house, stopping at each window and looking inside.

“Place looks empty,” Jasmine said.

“Yeah, seems like they were ready to move.”

“Where to? Christ, I should call Frank.” She pulled her phone out and tapped on the screen a few times. Placed the phone up to her ear. “Frank, look we got problems here.” There was a short pause and Jasmine nodded a few times. “We’re outside Chernov’s and the place is deserted. Yeah. Yeah. What?” She covered the phone with her hand. “He doesn’t want us to go in, Jack.”

“Screw him.”

Jasmine uncovered the phone and spoke. “How long is that going to take, Frank. I mean, seriously, we’ve got two men down and an empty house. Someone tried to blow us up. Almost succeeded. These guys could be moving to set up for the next phase. Where the hell is that?” Another long pause. This time Jasmine shook her head and looked at Jack with confusion spread across her face. “What’s in Iowa?”

Jack mouthed “Iowa” back to her in the form of a question.

She shrugged. “OK, Frank. Keep us posted and let us know more about Iowa when you get a chance.” She hung up the phone and looked at Jack. “What do you want to do?”

“We’re going in. I don’t care what Frank says. I’m not waiting twelve hours to check out this house. Someone could come by and clean it and we’ll have nothing. These guys left in a hurry. I’m betting they made a mistake and left something behind.”

Jasmine stood and paced a few steps back and forth. She stopped. Nodded at Jack.

“Let’s do it.”

They walked to the back door. Jack tugged on the handle and it gave way.

“Unlocked.”

He slid the door open and entered with his gun drawn and aimed in front of him. He stopped. Listened. The house was quiet and still and cold.

“Jesus,” Jasmine said. “It’s colder in here than outside.”

Jack looked around the room. In front of them was a large couch with a smaller couch next to it. The two seats formed an L-shape. A flat panel TV hung from the wall. There was a square wood coffee table in the middle of the room. To their right was a kitchen full of stainless steel appliances. An island separated the two areas.

They passed through the room toward the front of the house.

“Let’s clear the downstairs then move upstairs,” Jack said.

They went room by room and found each to be empty, both downstairs and up. Furniture had been left behind, but dressers and shelves and desks had been cleaned out.

“C’mon,” Jack said. “There’s got to be something here.”

“Maybe we should double check the microwave,” Jasmine said.

Jack chuckled and shook his head. Then it occurred to him that they hadn’t checked the kitchen. He gestured for Jasmine to follow him. They went downstairs and moved slowly and quietly toward the kitchen. Had anyone been hiding behind the island they would know that the two were in the house. Jack picked up his pace.

He stopped in the hall just before reaching the great room. He closed his eyes and listened for any movement. There was none.

“Wait here,” he said.

Jasmine backed up a few feet and Jack stepped into the room. He kept both hands on his weapon and pointed it in front of him, ready to fire. He pressed back against the wall, keeping a few feet between him and the island. When he was directly across from the end of the island, he leaned over. The area between the island and the rest of the kitchen was empty. Jack let out a loud exhale and moved toward the pantry. He placed his hand on the doorknob.

“Jack, you gotta see this,” Jasmine called from another room.

He met her in the room that appeared to have been used as an office. She looked over at him as he entered and he said, “What is it?”

“I don’t know how we missed this, Jack.” She unfolded a map of the United States. There were several areas circled in red.

“I wonder what those areas are. Targets? Cells?”

“Not sure. I’m gonna get a picture of this and send it to Frank, though.”

Jack pointed at the center of the map and the biggest red circle. “Look. Iowa.”

Jasmine smiled and nodded. Her eyes met Jack’s.

He returned her smile. Then he noticed Jasmine’s eyes grow wide and her pupils dilated.

“Jack, look out.” She dropped the map and reached for her gun.

Jack brought his gun up and started to spin. Then he felt the weight of something heavy strike down on his head with force. He fell to the ground. His head ached and warm blood streamed over his forehead and down the side of his face. His vision darkened. He felt another blow across his head and passed out.

When Jack came to, the house was still again. It had the same empty feeling as when they entered. He didn’t trust that feeling this time. He felt around the floor and found his gun. Then he pushed himself up. Pain spread from the top of his head through his face. His stomach turned and he felt like he was going to vomit. A few moments later the nausea subsided. He brought one leg up and then the other. Used the edge of the desk to help him get to his feet.

The map was on the desk. It had fallen face down when Jasmine dropped it.

Jasmine.

Where was she?

“Jasmine?” Jack called out.

There was no response. He looked around the room. Saw her gun and her phone on the ground. He reached over to grab both items. The room spun and so did his stomach. Jack fell forward. He threw his forearm out in front of his head to break his fall. A few moments later he steadied himself and got up, retrieving the phone and gun on the way up.

He returned to the desk and flipped the map over. Studied the areas circled. Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Atlanta, Georgia. San Diego, California. Austin, Texas. And a little town outside of Des Moines, Iowa.

The last location stood out. There were three arrows pointing toward the circle. It meant something. And it was all Jack had to work with. He grabbed the map and left the house through the front door. Walked half a block and turned right on the first street. A short distance later he stood next to the car. He got in, put the key in the ignition and sped out of the neighborhood.

Questions flooded his mind. In some ways he was back to himself. But in others, he was making rookie mistakes. How had he missed whoever it was inside the house? Had they come in after he left the kitchen? The pantry, why had he not checked the pantry? And, the question that played over and over, why was he still alive?

The best answer he could come up with was that whoever was in the house, was not one of the major players. They must have panicked, struck quickly, and took who they assumed was the weaker of the two. Perhaps they looked down at Jack and figured the blow had done enough damage. That he’d bleed out on the floor, or was already dead.

Twenty minutes later he was southbound on I-75 heading toward the Atlanta airport. He pulled Jasmine’s phone out and called the last number she had dialed.

“Jasmine,” Frank answered. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Jack.”

“Jack? Is everything OK?”

“No, Frank. It’s not. They got her.”

“What do you mean they got her?”

“They ambushed us. Blindsided me. Took her.”

“Jack where are you? I’ll get a team there a.s.a.p.”

Jack hung up the phone and tossed it onto the empty passenger seat.

“I’ll do this alone.”

Episode 8

1

Jack rolled down his window and took a deep breath. The car idled quietly. He sat behind four vehicles, waiting to grab a ticket for long-term parking. Long-term in this case being forever.

The woman at the front of the line had stopped too far away from the automated ticket dispenser. She opened her door and stepped out of her car. Half in, half out. One leg on the ground. The other in the car. She grabbed onto the top of the door frame with one hand. Reached out to the ticket machine with the other.

He looked through the passenger side window. There stood the North Terminal of Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. He scanned the artificially lit six lane one-way road that separated the parking garage from the terminal. The crowd crossing the road was thick. The farthest lane was packed with idling cars. Friends and co-workers and loved ones. Travelers coming or going. Happy or sad or indifferent. A full spectrum of people and emotions and situations.

A car door slammed shut. Jack turned his head. A red and white striped gate lifted into the air and the woman at the front of the line pulled her small hybrid vehicle past the ticketing machine. The blue car disappeared into the orange wash of the parking garage.

Three, then two, then one. Cars pulled up, arms stuck out, tickets were dispensed, and the gate went up.

 A minute later Jack had his parking ticket. He tossed it onto the dash despite the printed warning not to do so. It didn’t matter. He had no intentions of ever retrieving the vehicle.

He stayed in the pass-through lane until he reached the final row in the garage. Turned right. Drove to the end. Found an empty spot and parked the car in the furthest corner of the garage. He opened the glove compartment box and tossed the keys inside. Opened the trunk and placed his pistol under the spare tire. He did a once over of the front, back and trunk of the car to make sure he’d left nothing behind.

Inside the North Terminal he located the Delta counter at the far end, near Terminal T. He joined a line that snaked through several man made rows, all separated by a blue velvet rope. A man in a Delta uniform approached him. The uniform made him look far more important that he actually was.

The man gave a nod and a clap of his hands and said, “Any bags to check, sir?”

“No,” Jack said.

“You can step over here and use our automated check in then.”

“I need a ticket.”

The man looked around, first at the line and then at the five employees busy at work behind computers, checking people in and taking their baggage. He looked over his shoulder at a group of computer kiosks. In between two rows of computers was another employee.

“Come with me,” the man said.

Jack looked over his shoulder. The line he stood in had doubled in size. He ducked under the blue velvet rope and followed the Delta employee.

The man said, “Gracie, can you help this gentleman? He needs a ticket to,” he looked over his shoulder at Jack. “Where you going, sir?”

“Des Moines.”

“Des Moines, Gracie.”

Gracie smiled at the man and then at Jack. She said, “Sure thing, darling. Step on up.”

Jack nodded his thanks to the man and then walked to the makeshift ticketing counter. Although there were two computers, no one else would be able to work behind the counter with Gracie standing there. She was an older woman. Large and dark with short gray-streaked hair and an infectious smile.

She said, “Des Moines, huh?” ‘Des’ came out like ‘day’, long and drawn out.

“Yes ma’am,” Jack said.

Gracie punished her keyboard with thick fingertips. Her eyes moved side to side. Left to right and right to left. “What’s going on out there in, uh, Iowa?”

Jack shrugged.

“Just a spur of the moment thing then, huh?” she asked.

Jack laughed and said, “Yeah, I’m sure a lot of people head to Iowa on the spur of the moment.”

“It’s a woman isn’t it?”

Jack sighed. Nodded. “Yeah, I’m going out there for a woman.”

“Betchou met on the line, didn’t ya? What they call that, uh, computerized dating. Right?”

Jack responded with a smile.

Gracie said, “OK, here’s what I got. There’s a flight leaving in thirty minutes, non-stop to Des Moines, Iowa.”

“Great. How much?”

“Three-thirty, sir.”

Jack retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. Slid the ID card that said he was John J. Martin out from under its protective shield. Pulled out a credit card with the same name on it. He had an urge to look over his shoulder as he handed the driver’s license and credit card to Gracie. He hadn’t used either at any point. He didn’t know if they were stolen, or if they had been fabricated for his use only. Perhaps Frank had set him up. Or maybe, after Jasmine’s capture, Frank was done with Jack and had flagged the ID and credit card.