Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10) (38 page)

First, Jasmine came on, sounding frantic, asking where everyone was.

Second, Clarissa came on. Only, she didn’t speak to them. She spoke to someone else. And she asked that someone where he was taking her.

Being trapped in the room left Jack beyond frustrated. He couldn’t see who had her or what car they were leaving in.

He lifted the microphone and said, “Jasmine, did you take out Ivanov?”

“Yeah, he’s dead, Jack. And another man, Kostya I think he said. Where are you?”

It was the men from Italy that he had seen. Kostya and Dimitri, two of the men who apprehended him and brought him to Russia.

“Jack?”

“I’m in the building across the street. Some old lady called the cops. They’re inside. I’m trapped.”

“Dammit, this whole thing is falling apart.”

“Did you see who took Clarissa?”

“I saw them when they entered, but I didn’t see them take her. I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Don’t be. She can take care of herself. She’s already transmitting. These radios are long range. As long as she’s conscious she’ll lead us there.”

Jasmine said nothing.

The front door of the apartment opened.

“Gotta go,” Jack said. “Stay out of sight.”

He grabbed the sheets off the bed and dropped to his knees in the corner of the room. Covered himself. Used his knife to create a slit he could see through.

The men called to each other from the main room of the apartment. He heard them enter the bedroom next to him. They didn’t stay in there long. The door opened to the room he was in. One of the men called out in English, “Come on out, mister. We won’t hurt you.”

Two distinct sets of footsteps moved through the room. Jack held his breath. He held the submachine gun in both hands. His palms were sweaty. His heartbeat rapid. He slowed his breath. Slowed his mind.

One of the men whistled, like Jack was a friggin’ dog and would come out. The men stopped.

Jack waited.

Another cop called out from the main room. “
Obisla, obisla
.”

Jack knew very little Russian. Only a few words. And that was one. Murder.

The men in the room repeated the phrase and spoke in Russian. They left the room. Closed the door. Jack heard the main door of the apartment open and close.

They must have heard about the murder across the street. A Russian General had been executed at point blank range, and that was more troubling than a possible prowler called in by an old woman. At least until a smarter cop arrived on the scene and heard about the man in the building and put two and two together.

“Jasmine,” Jack said into the microphone. “Cops are leaving. I’m coming out. There’s a back door to this building. Meet me there.”

* * *

“You OK?” Jack said as he pushed through the door.

Jasmine had her gun out and up and ready to fire. Blood stained her shirt and pants. She said, “I’m OK. I spoke to Frank. He’s putting us in touch with his guy here, Marco.”

“OK.”

“Any idea who those extra guys were?”

“Yeah. Private contractors. Same ones that caught me in Italy six months ago.”

Jasmine nodded. Her eyes scanned the building and the dark area between where they stood and the street.

“We should get to the car,” Jack said.

They walked two blocks. The streets were dark and empty. The temperature had dropped nearly twenty degrees since they had arrived. The sidewalk had iced over and they found it tricky to secure their footing. They moved from the sidewalk to the grassy area and trudged through the day old snow.

They stopped a hundred feet from the car. Stood silent. Scanned the area like an owl scans the ground for his dinner in the middle of the night.

In the background sirens wailed and blue and red lights lit up the night sky. Everyone in the area focused on the scene of the murder.

“Looks clear,” Jasmine said.

Jack nodded. “You go first. If anyone pops out, I’ll take care of them.”

Jasmine set off without hesitation. The woman would walk into a lion’s den. She reached the car. Got in.

Jack waited a minute, his eyes constantly on the move. He saw no one. Heard no one. Sensed no one. He jogged to the car and got in on the passenger’s side.

Jasmine pulled away. They turned right, away from the theater. Jack looked back through his window and saw a scene of pure madness. A crowd of people in the street. Locals dressed in their lounge wear. The people who had attended the theater, dressed a bit nicer. A few cops stood between them and the theater.

They drove and Jack lost track of time as he thought about Clarissa and what he would do to her abductors.

“Jack?” The voice came from the ear piece.

He lifted the microphone and said, “Clarissa? You OK?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Not sure where I’m at, though.”

“We’re working on that. Going to meet a guy now who can help.”

“OK.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Do you remember anything about the ride?”

“Initially, yeah. But then he stopped and blindfolded me. I think we drove for another fifteen minutes after that.”

Jack looked at Jasmine. He tried to keep his fading hope from showing on his face. “Can you see where you are now?”

“In a room. It’s like a cell within a room.”

“Window?”

“Yeah. No. It’s covered.”

“Anything distinguishable?”

“Um, not really. There is another cell in the room and a man sleeping on a cot in that cell.”

“Wake him.”

“OK.” She said nothing for a few minutes.

Jack drummed the armrest on the door with his fingers. He looked between Jasmine and the road. “How much longer till we’re there?”

“About fifteen minutes. We’re leaving the city.”

“This guy in the SIS?”

She shook her head.

Jack didn’t push for more information.

“OK, Jack. He’s up. Says his name is Alik.”

Jack smiled. “You tell him Jack Noble says hello. Going silent for a bit.”

“OK.”

They reached a point where the streetlights ended. The road was dark and empty and covered with packed snow and ice.

“You drive well in the snow for having grown up in Atlanta,” Jack said.

Jasmine shrugged. “They gave me training.”

She turned into a residential neighborhood. Turned right twice and left once. Stopped in front of a one story brick house.

They got out, crossed the snow covered lawn. Went to the door. Jack knocked.

A man answered.

“Marco?” Jasmine said.

“Yeah, come in.” He smiled at Jasmine. Furrowed his brow at Jack.

Jack ignored him. Followed Jasmine inside and waited for the man. He led them through the house. They settled around a table in the man’s kitchen.

“You got some kind of transmitters, right?” Marco said.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “We’ve been communicating with them.”

“Can you still get her?”

“Clarissa?” Jack said.

“Yeah,” she said.

“OK, just making sure you’re there. Stand by.”

Marco motioned to Jack for the device.

Jack reached into his pocket, pulled out the transmitter and set it on the table.

Marco attached a wire to it, connected it to his laptop computer and started hammering away at the keyboard. “Get her on again.”

“Clarissa,” Jack said. “I need you to get on. You don’t have to talk, just keep transmitting. We’re getting your location now.”

“OK,” she said. She left the line open. They heard the sound of shuffling feet. Alik spoke in the background. Clarissa said yes, then no.

“I’m getting it,” Marco said as he pointed at his screen. A map zoomed in. At first showing the southwest section of Moscow, then zooming beyond the outer loop. An area called Desna centered on the screen. The map continued to zoom, finally setting on a house in what looked to be an affluent neighborhood.

“Looks like the kind of house a General might own,” Jack said.

“You got it,” Marco said.

“Can you get the address?” Jasmine said.

Marco struck at his keyboard again and then wrote down the address.

Jasmine studied the screen and memorized the route. “OK. I got it. You coming with us, Marco?”

“I’ll pass. This is your mess. But you can come back for a drink later tonight if you’d like.”

Jasmine ignored the man. “Let’s go, Jack.”

Jack stood. Thanked the man and walked out of the house. Looked up at the dark sky. Gray clouds hovered close. He joined Jasmine in the car.

“Want me to put the address in the GPS?” he said.

“No,” Jasmine said. “Too risky. What if someone’s tracking us? Best to leave it off for now.”

The drive was long and dark and boring. They drove on the highway that served as Moscow’s outer perimeter. They rounded the city to the south and exited the highway.

Streetlights once again lit the road. Snow had been plowed from the asphalt. It was piled up on the shoulder and sidewalk, as high as six feet in some places.

Jasmine turned left, past a few houses, then turned right. They drove by a long two-story warehouse and into another housing area. The homes were larger. The lots were huge.

“Never thought there were people here that had it this good,” Jack said.

Jasmine shrugged. “Just about everywhere, Jack. Someone’s gotta have the money.”

She slowed the car as they passed a two-story sandy colored brick house on a corner lot. Trees blocked the entrance and obscured the views of most windows. “That’s it.”

“Keep going.”

She drove another block, made a U-turn, then parked the car.

They sat in the dark for five minutes. Watching, listening and waiting.

Jack opened his door. Grabbed the submachine gun strapped around his neck and said, “Let’s do this.”

20

Jack and Jasmine cut through a wooded lot toward the driveway of the large sandy colored brick house. The evergreen trees were big and bushy and provided great cover. They stopped at the edge of the lot and watched the house.

A lone man walked past them. He held a leash, and his dog kept perfect pace with him, his large head bumped into the man’s knee every few steps. Perfectly trained.

Jasmine waited until the man had passed and said, “I think we’re in the clear.”

“Stay vigilant. I’m crossing first. Cover me. Wait for my signal before you cross.”

“OK.”

Jack stepped out of the cover of the trees. Onto the street. Crossed through the pool of light cast by the streetlight on the corner. He reached the driveway and turned to face Jasmine. He signaled for her to cross as he backed into the darkness.

Jasmine arrived a few seconds later. They walked to the rear side of the house. The windows in back were all lit up. The back portion of the house was one gigantic room that stretched from the kitchen, through the dining room, and into a large living area. They saw one man. Jack recognized him as Dimitri.

He sat on a white leather couch. He held a glass in one hand. A bottle of vodka sat on the table. He stared at the flat panel TV that hung on the wall above the fireplace. The man’s face was long and drawn and pale.

Jack looked at the TV. “It’s the theater. They’ve got Ivanov and Kostya’s face on there.”

They continued along the back of the house until they reached the kitchen. Jack climbed four wooden steps to the rear door. Placed his hand on the knob. The door was unlocked. He turned the knob and opened the door. Stepped into the kitchen. He heard Jasmine follow. He pointed toward the stairs across the room. She headed for them. Jack walked silently through the kitchen, then the dining room, and finally behind the man.

“Arms where I can see them,” Jack said.

Dimitri stiffened.

“Now,” Jack said.

The man held his arms to the side. Extended them. Placed them behind his head, interlocking his fingers.

“Get up.”

Dimitri stood.

“Turn around.”

The man turned. His pale face drained at the site of Jack. “You? You’re supposed to be dead. What are you doing here?”

Jack nodded toward the TV. “Had to tidy up a bit. Took care of the General.”

“And Kostya.”

“Seems that way.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You know what. Here for my friends.” Jack gestured with the submachine gun. “Lead the way.”

Dimitri sidestepped around the couch, facing Jack the entire time. He turned and walked to the other end of the room.

Jasmine stood by the stairs, her gun drawn and aimed at Dimitri.

He stopped in front of her. Turned. Started up the stairs.

Jack followed, then Jasmine.

They reached the top. Dimitri led them down a wide hallway. He opened the last door on the right. Stepped inside.

Jack went in after him. The room was huge. It looked like they converted the entire end of the house into some kind of prison. He saw four six-by-nine cells in the room. Two were empty. One was occupied by Clarissa. The last by Alik.

“Keys, Dimitri,” Jack demanded.

“Screw you.”

“Jack,” Clarissa said. “He—”

“In a minute, Clarissa.” He stepped toward Dimitri. “Keys. Now.”

“You’ll have to kill me.”

“Fine.” Jack pulled the trigger. A spray of bullets slammed into Dimitri’s chest and head. He twitched and jerked, then fell backward to the floor.

“Jack,” Clarissa said. “He’s not the one that comes up here.”

Jack stopped rifling through the man’s pockets and looked up at Clarissa. “What do you mean?”

“Jack, look out,” Jasmine shouted.

Jack spun and saw a man barreling into the room. Jack dropped to the floor and worked the gun strapped around his chest into his hands.

The man that entered the room yelled and started firing.

Jack pushed back against the cell bars and squeezed the trigger. Bullets sprayed the room and the hallway beyond. They tore through the plaster and sheetrock and wooden studs.

The man was struck by several bullets from mid-thigh up to his head. He fell back against the wall. Slid down it, leaving a crimson trail in his wake.

“Is everyone OK?” Jack said. A cloud of plaster and dust filled the room. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and looked around.