Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10) (42 page)

She tilted her head and shrugged.

“Friend of a friend told me,” he said. “No biggie. You made it out alive.”

She spent five seconds trying to figure out who Sinclair might have spoken with. Jack might have mentioned it, but Frank and Sinclair were not on speaking terms, so that wasn’t it.

“I’ll save you the time,” he said. “It was Marco, the man who brought you the guns. He also helped Jack and the woman find you.”

“Tell him I said thanks.”

“You can tell him next time you see him.”

“Hopefully that’s never.”

“Never say never, my dear.”

Clarissa said nothing. She drank the rest of her espresso, then got up and ordered another. The woman behind the counter seemed close to voicing her displeasure, but instead made the drink without saying a word.

Clarissa returned to the table and sat down.

“This whole thing is a mess,” Sinclair said. “From what I gather, the documents are missing again.”

“Missing?”

“Missing,” Sinclair repeated. “Or stolen. However you want to look at it.”

“Who stole them?”

“We’re not sure. We think it’s an agent. Not one of ours. Only so much we can do, you know. No one looks kindly on the CIA messing around on the domestic side. We get a little leeway of course, as long as we keep it quiet.”

“You’re the CIA,” Clarissa said. “I’m just a contractor.”

“And the reason we are able to be involved in such a situation.”

“So is that all you’ve got?”

“We know that whoever took the documents originally is not in the CIA.”

“Who are they with?”

“No solid leads yet.”

“Really?”

“That’s what sources say.”

“What sources?” she asked.

“A few people we are, um, questioning at the moment.”

“You’re questioning them?”

“Yes.”

She shuddered. “Christ.”

“If they know, we’ll get it.”

“Is that all you brought me out here for?”

He slid the briefcase across the table. “ID, passport, a spare phone, two weapons and some cash. If things go badly, I want you out of the country immediately.”

She nodded. Unlatched the locks and opened the briefcase. Everything was as Sinclair had described it.

“Check in with me after you speak with Noble,” he said. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Me too.”

6

“Where are we headed?” Bear asked.

“Kat’s,” Pierre said.

“Who’s Kat?”

“A friend.”

“Can she be trusted?”

Pierre nodded and turned his head away. Bear tried not to read too much into the gesture. They were no longer on his turf. He had no contacts in France, or most of Europe for that matter. He had to trust Pierre, the man he blamed for Jack’s misfortune half a year earlier. The man who showed up a week ago in Iowa on a mission to kill Bear and kidnap Mandy.

A mixture of panic and rage started to build inside Bear. He tightened his core and his chest and his arms. Took a few deep breaths. Turned his head away from Pierre and stared out the window on his side of the taxi. He tried to figure out where they were. No mental map of Paris had ever formed for him. That would require more than the few visits he had made over the course of his life. All he knew is that they were in an old area full of old buildings and old people.

His mind switched gears and he started to focus on the reason he was sent to France. They had to kill Charles. It had to be bloody and brutal and send a clear message to anyone associated with him and the old man that their time was coming to an end.

After Pierre’s reaction to the old man’s assassination, Bear started to doubt that he had the right man for the job with him. Jack would have been a far better choice. The hit would have gone down without a hitch. But as his dad always told him, wish in one hand and crap in the other. See which fills up first. Pierre was there and would be the one to go into battle with Bear.

“That’s it,” Pierre said in French to the driver as he leaned into the empty space between the two front seats.

The driver stopped the taxi and the men got out. Bear walked around back, lifted the trunk lid and grabbed their bags. He walked over to the curb and dropped Pierre’s bag on the sidewalk.

Pierre paid the driver and then grabbed his bag. He gestured for Bear to follow him toward an old iron gate that stood at least ten feet tall. It was surrounded on the left, right and top by bricks that Bear estimated were a couple hundred years old. Pierre stopped in front of the gate and entered a code into an electric lock. Bear found it ironic that modern security had been infused into something built centuries ago.

They passed through the entrance and walked through a brick tunnel.

“There’s a play area for the kids above this,” Pierre said, pointing at the roof above them.

Bear nodded and continued walking. He focused on the light at the other end of the short tunnel. He wasn’t a fan of tunnels or being underground or in most confined spaces. He generally avoided those situations and locations, unless on a job. It was only then that he was able to disassociate his thoughts and feelings and complete the task at hand.

They emerged through the tunnel and stepped into a courtyard in full bloom. Flowers swayed in the gentle breeze and the aroma enveloped the men as if they had walked into a mist of perfume. The sounds of children playing and enjoying the warm spring day filled the air. They played soccer and tag and ran around carelessly. The faint sound of children’s nursery rhymes carried through the air. Some things, Bear thought, were the same no matter where you went. The names of games and words to hymns might be different, but the structure and the sounds were always the same, whether you were in America, France or some rarely traveled section of Africa.

“It’s that building.” Pierre pointed toward a five story building with an unimpressive entrance.

They walked up the front steps and past the unlocked door. A few flights of stairs later, they stood in front of Kat’s door.

“Perhaps you should wait at the other end of the hall,” Pierre said.

“Not a chance.” Bear reached past Pierre and rapped on the door. Three strikes, hard and loud.

There was a rattle at the door and a beam of light shot through a glass circle in the center, three quarters of the way up. The light was blocked as a face passed by. Locks were unlatched and the door opened a foot. A stunning black haired woman appeared. Bear took a step back in an effort to appear less intimidating.

“Pierre,” she said.

“Hello, Kat,” Pierre said in English. “Sorry to show up unannounced, but we need a place to stay for a few days.”

“Get a hotel,” she said in French. Her eyes darted to Bear and lingered for a moment. The weight of her stare crushed him. She then looked at Pierre and continued. “You got a lot of nerve coming here.”

“Why?” Pierre said. “What did I do? Is it because I didn’t call?”

She said nothing.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to, Kat.” Pierre lowered his head and dropped his arms to his side. “I’m here now. Isn’t that something?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You are here now. With him.” She pointed at Bear and shook her head.

“He’s essential,” Pierre said. “We have to finish something and then he’s going back to the U.S. and I’m finished with the life.”

Liar, Bear thought. Pierre needed the thrill and the action associated with the job. He was nothing more than a eunuch without it.

Kat took a step back and swung the door open. “Come in.”

Bear hesitated a second and then entered the room when Pierre gestured him through the open doorway. The apartment was small and minimally furnished. It seemed adequate, though. He made his way to the kitchen, partly because he was hungry, but also to allow Kat and Pierre a few minutes to talk alone.

He opened the fridge and pulled out an apple. It would have to do. He noticed an uncorked bottle of wine on the counter. He grabbed the bottle and took a drink.

“Help yourself,” Kat said.

Bear turned and wiped residual drops of wine from his beard. “Sorry. Long day, you know.”

She reached into the cabinet and pulled out two wine glasses. “No, I don’t know.” She held the glasses at arm’s length and Bear filled each half-way. She took a drink, then said, “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Not much choice,” Bear said. “Had to go wherever Pierre went.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with him. He’s ruined.”

The words only had half their intended effect on Bear. He couldn’t get past her accent and found himself swimming in her stare.

“He’ll be all right,” Bear said. “He’s been doing this a long time. I think the months away from it, coupled with the guilt over Jack, had the biggest effect on him.”

“I can’t be with a man involved in that kind of work.” Her eyes shifted to the left and she crossed her arms.

“Where is Pierre?”

“He left. Said he had to meet someone. Wanted me to keep you here.”

Bear chuckled as he took a step toward her. “He really thinks a little thing like you can stop me?”

She backed up until she hit the kitchen table. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“So am I.” He took another step toward her. Rather than stepping to the side to move away, she braced herself by placing her hands on the table. Her fingers wrapped around the edge. She leaned back slightly. Bear reached out and placed his hands on her waist. His fingers nearly met in the back.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she said. “Pierre is your friend.”

“No,” Bear said. “I can’t stand the guy.”

“Me either.”

He leaned over and she rose to the tips of her toes. Their lips met somewhere in the middle.

The door rattled and locks began to turn, preventing things from going any further. Bear took a giant step back and nearly crashed into the refrigerator. Neither he nor Kat said a word as Pierre entered the apartment. They smiled at each other and then pretended to be indifferent.

7

“Where should we go?” Jasmine said.

“Out of the city,” Jack said.

“Maryland or Virginia?”

“Where do you live?”

“D.C.”

“Go to Virginia.” He pulled the battery and SIM card from his cell phone. “Can he track you through your phone?”

“What? Who?”

“Frank.”

“Yeah. That’s standard operating procedure.”

“Give it here.”

Jasmine glanced over at him with a confused look on her face.

“Give me your phone,” Jack said.

She handed it over and he removed the battery and SIM card.

“What the hell?” she said.

“Someone blew up the man I just met with. I think they intended to blow me up. Frank set up the meeting. Put it together.”

Jasmine looked from Jack to the road and back at Jack. “You’re not implying that Frank set you up, are you?”

“I’m not implying anything, Jazz. Until I know that Frank had nothing to do with this, I don’t want him to know where I am.”

“Jack,” Jasmine said in a controlled tone, “he’s not like that. If he wanted you dead he wouldn’t take someone else out in the process and cause millions of dollars of damage by destroying half a city block.”

“You don’t know him like I do.”

She said nothing as she merged onto I-395 southbound.

Jack looked across the highway at the Potomac as they crossed over the George Mason Memorial Bridge. His adrenaline finally settled as they left D.C. and entered Virginia. He saw the Pentagon to the right and recounted his conversation with Rico, trying to make sense of what had happened. Was the bomb meant for Rico, or had it been intended for him? If it were only for Rico, and merely a coincidence that Jack had been there, then it could have been anybody who planted the explosives. However, if Jack had been the target, then that limited the possible suspects.

“Let me call Frank,” Jasmine said.

Jack shook his head. “The moment you do, he’ll know where we are.”

“He probably tracks the cars.”

Jack pointed at the exit lane. “Get off here. I’m going to rent a car. You’re going to drop this one off at the nearest hotel.”

Jasmine exited the highway. She pulled into a shopping center parking lot and went inside a store to purchase fresh clothes for Jack. Then she dropped him off a block past a rental car place. “There’s a hotel on Leesburg Pike. I’m going to park the car there. I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”

Jack changed into the shorts and shirt Jasmine bought, then exited the vehicle. Next to the rental car company was a convenience store. He went in and bought three pay-as-you-go cell phones with five hundred minutes each. He knew he’d only use a fraction of the minutes, but if something went down, and he had to use the phone for tracking, he wanted to make sure it’d last long enough.

He left the store and went next door where he rented a mid-sized sedan. He drove two blocks and pulled into an empty church parking lot. Grabbed one of the cell phones and placed a call, dialing the number from memory.

“Hello?” a man said after picking up on the second ring.

“Brandon?”

“Who’s this?”

“Jack Noble. Don’t hang up.”

Silence on the other end. Then Brandon said, “Everyone knows Jack Noble is dead.”

“It’s really me, Brandon. A Russian prison isn’t enough to kill me.”

“Prove it.”

“How else would I have this number?”

“Could have found it scribbled on a stall in a ladies bathroom in some seedy bar.”

Jack laughed. “OK, how about this then? In 2004 you were instrumental in helping me and Frank Skinner take down a child smuggling ring run by some bad dudes out of South America.”

“Lots of people know about that.”

“True, but lots of people don’t know that it didn’t end there and I had to take down someone pretty powerful in our world.”

“Jack?”

“That’s me.”

“Was that you who called me a few days ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for hanging up on you.”

“You do me a favor, and I’ll forget all about it.”

“What do you need?”

“I need a number daisy chained. Can’t call it direct.”