Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10) (43 page)

“How many levels?”

“Ten should be sufficient.”

“Number?”

Jack gave him Frank’s number and waited. Once Brandon was finished, his call would route through ten different forwarding numbers before it reached Frank, making his call virtually untraceable. Some might call it overkill. For Jack it was being slightly cautious.

“OK,” Brandon said. “All set. You got a pen?”

“Go for it,” Jack said.

Brandon read the number off and then said, “Anything else?”

“Yeah one more thing,” Jack said. “A man was blown up today in downtown D.C. I only knew him as Rico. He worked for the NSA. Dig up anything you can on him. I’ll be in touch in a day or so.”

“You got it.”

Jack hung up and immediately dialed the number Brandon had given him. There was no point in switching phones. If Brandon was double crossing him, he’d be monitoring the number and get the second cell phone’s information.

The phone rang several times before Frank answered. “Who’s this?”

“What did you do, Frank?”

“Jack?”

“You know it’s me.”

“What happened with Rico?”

“You tell me.”

“I’m not following.”

“Don’t screw with me, Frank.” Jack’s voice escalated into a yell. “So help me, if I find out you are behind this I will unleash a hell you’ve never imagined.”

“Jack, calm down. What are you talking about?”

Jack paused. Was Frank telling truly stumped, or only saying what he had to in order to get Jack to come back?

“Rico’s dead,” Jack said.

“How?”

“Explosion.”

“The thing downtown? At the parking garage?”

“Yeah.”

“Christ, Jack. You hurt?”

Jack looked down at his bandaged hand and knee. “I’ll live.”

“You had nothing to do with this, right?”

“You’re asking me? Right now you’re suspect number one, Frank.”

“Jack, I didn’t—”

“Shut up. Who else know Rico was meeting with me?”

There was a pause on the other end. It lasted two seconds. Nothing for most people. But to Jack it was enough to tell him that Frank knew something.

“Nobody that I know of,” Frank said.

Jack said nothing.

“I’m going to send a team out to get you guys. Where are you?”

“Nowhere.”

The sounds of Frank pounding on his keyboard filled the ear piece. “OK, you aren’t that far away. Just stay put.”

He was tracking her car.

“Screw you, Frank.”

Jack tossed the cell phone out the window. It landed in the middle of the road. Jack watched in the mirror as a heavy duty pick-up truck drove by and crushed the phone. He continued driving till he reached the hotel. Pulled into the parking lot and drove up to the lobby door. Jasmine stepped out and got in the car.

“Where’re we going?” she said.

“Nowhere for now.”

“What?”

“He’s tracking your car. Said he’s sending a team. I want to see who arrives and how they act.”

“That’s not a good idea. They’ll spot us.”

Jack looked over at her and shrugged.

“C’mon, Jack. You know how this group operates. We’re trained to see everything. You think they won’t notice an in-state rental car nearby?”

Jack said nothing.

“We’ll figure this out, but we need to move. They’ll be here soon. Hell, they’re probably almost here now. I’m sure he sent someone the moment our phones went offline.”

Jack turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. She was right and he knew it. Frank’s guys would spot them. Maybe not right away, but eventually. They’d be sitting ducks in the parking lot. And that would spell trouble if Frank’s guys were there for a purpose other than escorting Jack and Jasmine back to D.C.

“I’m gonna loop around a couple times,” Jack said.

Jasmine shook her head. “You’re gonna get us killed.”

He ignored her. “Put your seat back.”

“Why?”

“They’ll know your face better than mine.”

Jasmine lowered her seat and leaned back, placing herself out of sight.

The car was easy to spot. Jack saw it in the rear view mirror. Big and black and American made. It screamed government agent.

“There they are,” Jack said. “Turning into the hotel lot now.”

Jasmine didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.

Jack made a U-turn at the next light. “Just want to get one look at them as they approach your car.”

“Make it quick. Don’t stare. If one of them looks your way, speed off.”

Jack whipped the car around the median. He drove by the hotel lot, not too fast and not too slow. He casually glanced toward Jasmine’s car. One of the men stood just outside the government vehicle. He used the door to shield himself. The other approached the abandoned car. His left arm was out slightly, his right arm inside his coat, likely gripping his weapon.

“You’re dead, Frank,” Jack said.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Jasmine said. “We need to talk with him.”

“I’m not going back to that office.”

“We’ll arrange it some place safe. Some place public.”

“Forget it.”

“You’ve got to trust him, Jack. He’s the only person on your side.”

“You can put your seat back up,” he said. Then he turned his attention to the road and said nothing for over half an hour.

They drove along the George Washington Memorial Parkway, heading west. Merged onto I-495 northbound. Exited a couple miles later on River Road.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going back to the city.” He paused and looked over at her. “You’re getting out soon.” He slowed the car down and pulled into the parking lot of a golf course.

“What the hell?”

“Get out.”

“No way.”

“I’ll come back for you later. Or you can put your phone back together and I’m sure Frank will come get you.”

She refused to move. Crossed her arms and looked away.

“I’ll force you out,” he said.

“This is ridiculous. We’re partners.”

“And I have to go take care of something alone.”

“You’re not going after Frank, are you?”

“No. I have to go see an old friend. Someone that might be able to provide some insight into what is going on.”

Jasmine opened her door and stuck one foot on the pavement, then the other. She stepped out and then stuck her head back inside. “This is a mistake.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

8

Jack navigated by memory to the house of Robert Marlowe, former Deputy Secretary of Defense. He doubted the man was as clued in as he had been ten years before when he helped Jack out of a tough spot. Still, he might be able to provide some insight or make a few calls at the very least.

He drove through a dodgy part of town, then past a tree lined park that served as a barrier between the ghetto and rehabbed million dollar townhomes. Little had changed since he had last been there. The trees were a little taller, but other than that, everything looked the same. He found Marlowe’s end unit and parked half a block away.

He hoped that Jasmine had kept her phone off. Frank couldn’t be trusted, although Jasmine didn’t seem to think twice about taking his word as gospel. She’d seemed pretty pissed when Jack left. He hated dumping her like that, but he couldn’t risk losing Marlowe as a contact or putting the man in any danger by outing him as a source if he did in fact have some useful information.

Jack’s mind drifted as he walked down the sidewalk toward Marlowe’s house. He thought about Bear and pulled one of the cell phone’s from his pocket. Then he looked at his watch and realized that it was after midnight in Paris. He’d wait until morning to make contact and find out how things were going.

He reached Marlowe’s end unit and stopped. He was relaxed and less cautious than ten years ago. There wouldn’t be any secret service agents to contend with this time. No need to threaten Marlowe into helping him, either. It’d be like two old friends seeing each other after a decade. A reunion of sorts.

He knocked on the door and waited.

The door swung open and an older gentleman poked his head out. “Help you?”

“Secretary Marlowe?” Jack said.

“Former.”

“Don’t remember me?”

The man pulled the door open and stepped into the opening. “Jack Noble?”

“That’s me.”

Marlowe smiled and shook his head as he extended his hand. “You got old.”

Jack smiled as he took Marlowe’s hand in his own. “We can’t all remain as strikingly handsome as you, sir.”

“Come on in, Jack.”

He followed the older man through the house and into the living room. It looked exactly as Jack remembered it. Two couches with a simple wooden table between them. Two stacks of books on the middle of the table. Perhaps the same ones that sat there a decade earlier. Still no TV or stereo. They passed through the room and headed toward the kitchen. Marlowe pushed the swinging door open and waited for Jack to step through.

“Coffee or beer?” Marlowe asked.

“One of each,” Jack said.

Marlowe reached into the cabinet over the stove and pulled down two mugs. He filled both with coffee. He set one down in front of Jack. “Just brewed it not ten minutes ago. Cream? Sugar?”

“Black is fine.”

Marlowe turned and went to the fridge. He returned a few moments later with two bottles of imported beers.

“Don’t buy the local brews anymore?” Jack said.

Marlowe waved a hand in Jack’s direction. “They’ve gone to the yuppies.”

Jack took a long pull on the bottle of beer and then set it down on the table. He leaned back in his chair. Rubbed his forehead and his temples and his jaw with his thumbs. He opened his mouth to speak, but Marlowe jumped in before he could get a word out.

“Word is that you’re dead, Jack.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Something about the Russians and some God forsaken prison?”

“I did a job, sir. Did the world a favor. Took out a scumbag politician who was hell bent on turning Russia into a military controlled powerhouse. Turns out it went a lot further than that. Anyway, I got caught. His buddy, a General named Ivanov, prosecuted me. Sent me to Black Dolphin. Ever heard of it?”

Marlowe nodded.

Jack continued. “Someone managed to get me out in a creative way. Then I spent six months in Greece. Now I’m trying to clean up another mess I created.”

“Something to do with highly classified intelligence.”

“You know?”

Marlowe shrugged.

“How much do you know?” Jack asked.

“Somewhere between not enough and slightly more than a little.”

Jack took another pull on the beer bottle. He had to feel out the old man and see just how much he knew and where he placed Jack on the blame scale.

“I had no idea what it was when I got my hands on it. Never ask questions. That’s the number one rule I lived by.”

“Should’ve broken the rule, Jack.”

“When people in my line of business break that rule, they end up dead.”

“Maybe you should look for a new line of work.”

“I’m done with it, sir. Retired. Just need to clean up this mess and then move on with my life.”

Marlowe nodded. He blew on his coffee, sending ripples through the hot liquid and a puff of steam into the air above the mug.

“So what do you know?” Jack asked.

Marlowe thought for a moment. He leaned back and crossed his arms. Brought one hand up to his chin. He looked around the kitchen and then his focus settled on Jack. “I know that someone in a high ranking position is responsible for the information being leaked out. I know that he was pissed as all get it out when it landed in your hands, although he didn’t know it was you. His courier was in no state to give an eyewitness account.”

Jack smiled. Although he hadn’t killed the courier, there was no doubt that he would never recount his interaction with Jack that night.

Marlowe continued. “The documents then ended up in very bad hands and we were on the verge of an attack like no other.”

“That was under control,” Jack said.

“Be that as it may,” Marlowe said, “if they had even hit one or two of those targets, it would have been chaos.”

Jack nodded. Said nothing. A twinge of guilt burned inside.

“Then a few terrorists died. A Russian General died. The documents returned to the U.S. and were under the care of the NSA.”

“You’re pretty clued in for being retired.”

Marlowe smiled. “Some people still respect my opinion, on certain matters at least.”

“What else do you know?”

Marlowe’s smile faded. He leaned forward. Placed one arm on the table. Pointed the other in Jack’s direction. “I know that the documents have been taken again.”

“Do you know by who?”

“No.”

“Do you think it might have been the person who leaked them?”

“It’s possible. Or someone working for him. Or someone who had worked for him. Or maybe just someone who knows that he wants them back and knows he’ll pay top dollar for them.”

Jack studied Marlowe as he spoke. If he was lying, he gave nothing away. Not a single tick of his face or misdirection of his eyes or inflection in his tone. Marlowe didn’t show a single tell.

“Sir,” Jack said. “I’m going to be direct. Do you know who leaked the intel in the first place?”

“I have a few ideas. First, you tell me what you know.”

“The Pentagon. That’s it.”

Marlowe nodded. Said nothing.

“And it has to be someone high ranking in order to know certain information.”

“Such as?” Marlowe prompted.

“That the documents were back in the U.S.” Jack shifted in his seat in order to face Marlowe directly. “Where they were being held and how to get to them. And that an agent in the NSA was meeting with me today.”

“And then had him killed.”

Jack nodded. “I believe I was the intended target.”

“I do too.” Marlowe stood and unlocked the back door. “I think it’s time you leave, son.”

Jack pushed back in his chair and got up. Walked toward the open door. He had more questions, but the last thing he wanted to do was draw the ire of Marlowe by pushing too far.

“I’ve got eyes and ears on the inside,” Marlowe said. “I think we’re close.” He grabbed a notepad and scribbled on it. Tore the paper from the pad and handed it to Jack. “You call me on that number. Twice a day. Eleven a.m and p.m.”