Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10) (46 page)

“Classified security documents leaked. About six or seven months ago.”

He nodded. Said nothing.

“Who was it?”

He looked away, his lips pursed tightly.

She stood. Reached out and grabbed his left pinky finger. “This is where I like to start. It won’t affect you much in the days to come, but the pain usually gets the point across.” She shifted so his eyes met hers. “One last chance. Who?”

He said nothing.

She lifted his finger up and snapped back. The motion dislocated each bone in his finger. He clenched his jaw and let out a loud groan.

“Then recently,” she said, “those documents made their way back and were being kept safe with the NSA. Now, outside of four people at the NSA, no one else knew about them. Except for certain people at the Pentagon. Do you know anything about that, Prather?”

Again, he refused to answer.

She pulled a knife from her bag and in a fluid motion swung it across her body, driving it into his leg above his left knee.

He screamed out in pain and stared in disbelief at the bladed weapon protruding from his leg. Blood flowed from the wound, wrapping around his knee and calf and dripping onto the floor.

“See,” she said. “All you need is a mop and the floor’s good as new.”

He shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

“So now, we believe that someone inside the Pentagon arranged for those documents to be stolen. Only question is who? And that’s where I need your help.”

“Screw you.”

She smiled. Dropped her bag on the kitchen table and sat down. She retrieved a long steel ice pick from the bag. Then she pulled out a blow torch. “Do you know what hot steel does when it penetrates the human eye?”

“Do whatever you want with me. I’m not talking.”

“This isn’t for you.” She gestured toward the ceiling. “It’s for your boyfriend.” She looked from his eyes, to his dislocated pinky, to the knife in his leg. When their eyes met again, she could see that he had been defeated.

“When your boss comes to you and says that there’s something that has to be done to protect the country, you listen. When he tells you that he intends to test just how strong the web that protects us is, you have no reason to doubt him.” His eyes fluttered and his head bobbed backward then forward. He coughed a few times and righted himself. “And then a crazy agent shows up in your house one night and you begin to question what’s happened.”

“Your boss? Who are you talking about?”

“Learn your government structure, lady. I’m not here to teach a class. Do you want to hear this or not?”

She nodded. Said nothing.

“So a plan was put into place. One of the best guys the Army had was to intercept said intel and transport it to a predetermined location. He never made it. At first we thought it was the web, you know, wrapped around him and did what it was supposed to do.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No,” he said. “Turns out some rogue former agent did a job for some crime boss. Only thing is, our guy is not in a position to talk and tell us what happened.”

“What happened to him?”

“Coma,” he said. “Still hasn’t come out.”

“So you’re telling me that all this, these documents and the trouble they’ve caused, were all part of some secret government operation to test the nation’s security?”

“Yes.”

“And only what, ten people knew about this?”

“Try fewer than ten.”

Clarissa leaned forward and studied the General. The man had confirmed he knew something. The question now was whether or not he was being truthful.

“Then how come,” she said, “within days of this information resurfacing and being locked down, it goes missing again?”

The General coughed again. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead and were now trickling down his stubbled cheeks. He cleared his throat and then said, “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I thought once they were returned we were done with this mess. I’m starting to have doubts about my…”

She lifted her eyebrow in anticipation, but he didn’t complete the sentence. His face turned bright red and he began clawing at his abdomen with his right hand. His fist clenched his white t-shirt and climbed upward. Finally, he clutched his chest.

“Oh my God,” Clarissa said. “General, are you having a heart attack?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. His heart had exploded and in those few short seconds, life had left his body.

“Christ,” she said out loud. She pulled the knife from his leg and threw it in her bag. Her hands were covered with gloves the entire time and her hair tucked inside a skull cap. Despite that, she did a quick check to make sure she had left nothing behind. Sinclair would handle everything at the house from this point on. All Clarissa had to do was leave undetected.

She ran through the house and left through the front door. The beeping she heard told her she had triggered an alarm. It was just a matter of how the device connected to the alarm company. She stayed close to the houses as she moved away from the General’s. Moving quickly and silently in the dark, Clarissa stayed alert and aware for witnesses. Sirens approached from the distance, telling her all she needed to know about the alarm system and validating her decision to enter the house through the open window.

She stuck to the shadows until she reached her vehicle two blocks away. The cops had approached from the other direction. She escaped like a ghost fades into the darkest recesses of a room.

13

Bear watched with contempt as Pierre drank his coffee. He had no idea how the day would play out. They planned to take out Charles within the next forty-eight hours. Brutally was the description they had settled on. Bear wondered if through the chaos, Pierre might meet his end as well.

The Frenchman set his mug down and smiled. “It’s going to be a good day, my friend.”

Bear nodded and didn’t respond. His gaze traveled past Pierre, focusing on the blue tiled wall. He’d never felt comfortable around Pierre, and that feeling was twenty times worse after the situation with Kat the previous night.

“What did you think of Kat?” Pierre asked.

Had the mere thought of the woman brought this about? Bear hiked his shoulders in the air a couple inches and shook his head.

“She’s a good woman,” Pierre said. “A shame you can’t stick around longer and get to know her.”

“Yeah,” Bear said. “A shame.” His cell phone vibrated in short bursts against the table. A small sense of relief rushed through him, and he scooped up the phone and said, “Excuse me.”

He got up from the table and answered the phone as he exited the cafe into a small fenced in courtyard.

“Yeah?” he said.

“You’ve got six hours.”

“Who’s this?”

“Frank.”

“Six hours for what?”

“Six hours until Charles and his man leave for the airport to board a plane back to New York.”

“That’s not much of a window.”

“Better get started then.”

“Why don’t we just finish it in New York?”

“No,” Frank said. “I want their entire organization to be afraid everywhere they go.”

“Frank, we need to think this through.”

There was no answer. Bear held the phone out in front of him and saw that the call had ended. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath. There was no time to plan something elaborate. He wouldn’t be able to get inside Charles’ head and pinpoint a routine. They’d have to go on the offensive and attack. And to do so he’d need a way in. Bear turned and leaned against the metal railing. Through the smoky glass, he could see Pierre at the counter ordering another coffee. Then the plan came to him. He’d use Pierre as bait.

He remained in the courtyard for a few more minutes while he thought through different scenarios. The first idea that came to mind would be to send Pierre in and have him lead Charles to a window. Bear would be positioned across from the building on an equal or higher floor and would take a shot. Too many flaws, he thought. First, he had no idea whether or not Charles would allow himself to be positioned in such a way. Second, Charles might be so pissed with Pierre that he’d kill him the moment the door closed.

Bear smiled. That was it. Use Charles’ temper against him. He went back inside and found Pierre sitting at the table, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette.

“Can I get one of those?” Bear asked.

Pierre pulled out a cigarette and lighter and placed them in the middle of the table. “Who was on the phone?”

“Frank.”

“What did he want?”

“Times running out.”

Pierre lifted an eyebrow and gestured for Bear to continue.

“Charles is leaving today. We’ve only got a few hours.”

“That’s not enough time.”

“I’ve got an idea. But first, what about your contacts here? Anyone that can help us?”

Pierre shook his head. “Those bridges are still burning.”

Bear tipped his ash into the tin ashtray and nodded. “Then here’s what I’m thinking. We go to his place. You know where it is, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You go to the door and act confrontational. Tell him you want your money for killing me. You went to New York to settle up with the old man, but he had been murdered and no one in the organization would pay up.”

Pierre pushed away from the table and crossed his arms over his chest. He bit at his bottom lip. After a few moments he said, “He’ll know that I didn’t kill you.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

“Pardon?”

“Charles has a temper. It’s legendary where I’m from. He’s gonna be pissed to see you. Then, when you start telling him how you want your money, he’s gonna get even more pissed.”

“He’ll kill me.”

“I’m gonna be there, Pierre. You stay in the doorway. Keep the door open. As soon as I hear it escalate I’m going to come down the hallway and place a bullet in his frickin’ brain.”

Pierre stared at Bear with dark eyes. His jaw muscles rippled along the sides of his face. Would he agree? It was his neck on the line, not Bear’s, although both men were putting their lives at risk.

“I’m gonna be right there,” Bear said.

“What if they’re watching the building?”

“Then we’ll have a shootout before we even get to the door. And I’ll put you and me up against anyone he’s got.”

Pierre’s chin dropped to his chest and his eyes scanned back and forth across the table. The man wasn’t a stranger to dangerous situations. However, Bear figured that he didn’t get up today expecting to decide whether to put his life on the line or not.

“Let’s do it,” Pierre said.

14

The knock on the door wasn’t loud, but it was enough to wake Jack. He rolled off the couch and grabbed his weapon. Two narrow windows were placed on either side of the door. He pulled back the curtain on the left and saw Clarissa standing on the porch.

“You found me,” he said as he pulled the door open.

She slid past him and took a seat on the couch.

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jack said. “I need coffee.”

Jasmine had her coffee maker set to automatically brew at seven a.m. and a full pot awaited them. Jack placed his phone on the table and then walked over to the coffee maker. He pulled down two mugs and filled them both. Set them down, one in front of Clarissa the other in front of an empty chair. He sat down and took three sips. Rubbed his eyes and stretched.

“What have you found out?” he said.

Clarissa sat motionless before shaking her head and saying, “It’s down to one of three people.”

“Who?”

“I shouldn’t even say it.”

“Pentagon or higher?”

She nodded.

“That’s what I’m hearing, too,” Jack said.

“But it might not be what we thought, Jack.”

“How’s that?”

She proceeded to recount the General’s story, including how he met his ending.

He said, “If all that’s true then why were they stolen again?”

“We got around to that and it confused him as well. He thought he might be closing in on something. Don’t know. Hell, we’ll never know now.”

“We gotta move on this, then.”

“On who?”

“Deputy Secretary of Defense.”

Clarissa lowered her eyes and focused on her coffee mug. She picked up Jack’s phone and spun it and turned it over in her hand. They sat in silence for three long minutes. Jack went over her story forwards and back, trying to locate any holes or misdirection in the information the General had given her. He couldn’t buy the fact that the documents had been stolen the first time as part of a test. That sounded like a good way to get a lot of honest people to pony up and do a bad man’s bidding. He’d become party to it himself.

Jack heard the front door open and close. Footsteps approached.

Clarissa looked up. “Jack, I don’t think—”

He held up a finger to silence her. “Jasmine’s coming. Don’t say anything specific. Speak in general terms.”

Jasmine walked into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “Meeting of the minds?”

“Something like that,” Jack said. “Clarissa’s organization feels the same as I do.”

Jasmine shook her head. “I’ve already spoken with Frank, and we’re following up on the foreign terrorist angle.”

“You and Frank?” Jack said.

“No,” Jasmine said. “Me and you.”

“You’re on your own, Jazz. I don’t work for Frank, and I don’t take orders from him or you.”

She sighed. “Jack, you’re wasting time. Precious time that we can’t get back. Every hour that passes, those documents get further away and fall into more dangerous hands.”

“Jack,” Clarissa said. “My group can work this and you—”

“It’s domestic. Legally, Sinclair can’t do anything.” He turned his attention back to Jasmine. “Get Frank on the phone.”

Jasmine got up and went to the counter and grabbed her cell phone. She tapped on the screen, dialing Frank’s number and turning on the speaker. She placed the phone in the center of the table and took a seat next to Jack.

“Yeah, Jasmine,” Frank said.

“I’ve got Jack here with me, Frank. He’s not down with the plan.”

“What’s the problem, Jack?” Frank said.