Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10) (7 page)

Jack heard muffled sounds from inside.

“They’re inside,” he said.

She nodded and lifted an eyebrow.

“Ready to kick this door down for me?”

“You hardly strike me as a damsel in distress.”

“I’m not. These are expensive shoes, though.”

She stepped aside and Jack stood in front of the door. He stepped back a few feet to get his momentum going. He held his pistol in his right hand. He lunged and kicked and smashed the door in. Then he burst through the opening with his gun pointed in front of him.

Four men sitting at a round table looked up at him, horror written across their faces.

“Don’t any of you move.”

11

Bear pulled Mandy close. The little girl looked like she was in shock. Her eyes glazed over and her mouth hung open. He knelt over Mr. Jones and held his hand against the man’s back. He applied pressure to the gunshot wound in an attempt to reduce the amount of blood lost. He looked around the room. Everything happened in slow motion. One teller dropped to the floor. The others worked frantically at their drawers trying to ready themselves for the armed men. The people in line all had different reactions. Some lowered themselves to the ground. One woman stood in place, frozen and crying. A few others backed up to the far wall, distancing themselves from the five men who blocked the only way in and the only way out of the bank.

The bankers who sat at desks all disappeared from sight, hiding behind and underneath their desks. They cowered beneath the false security their desktops offered. They shivered and cried and begged for their lives on the carpeted floor.

Office doors slammed shut. A bad move, Bear thought, and likely to draw the ire of the armed men. Sure enough, one of the men turned and aimed his assault rifle at one of the offices with a closed door.

“Not yet,” one of the masked men said.

A man emerged from the last office. He was tall and fit and older. He had a full head of silver hair and wore a gray suit with a blue tie. The bank manager. He approached the front of the bank with his hands held out in front of him. He walked slow and steady. His face held the same expression during the walk. An expression in between shock, terror and defiance.

“Stop there,” one of the armed men yelled.

The sound of the man’s voice acted as a catalyst to Bear’s brain and the events began unfolding at normal speed.

“I just want this to go peacefully,” the bank manager said.

Bear turned his head and caught the manager’s eye. Bear shook his head and moved his eyes between the manager and the floor.

The manager ignored Bear and continued moving forward. He straightened his outstretched arms.

“I said stop.” The voice was deep and thick. The accent eastern European or Russian.

Bear turned his head to the front of the bank.

The masked man lifted his assault rifle and aimed it at the manager.

The manager stopped and held his hands higher. “I just want this—”

“To go peacefully. Yes, you said that already.” The masked man started to walk toward the manager. “Turn around and get on your knees.”

The manager didn’t move.

“Now,” the man yelled.

When the manager still refused to move, the masked man rushed him and drove the butt of his gun into the manager’s stomach. The manager fell to his knees but kept his shoulders back and his head held high. His face turned bright red and then darkened to a shade of purple as he fought for breath. He never caught his breath, though. The masked man moved behind him and placed the barrel of his rifle against the manager’s head.

“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” the masked man said.

Bear grabbed Mandy and pulled her to his chest, covering her eyes and ears.

The gunshot echoed through the bank. The room fell silent.

“Anyone else want this to go peacefully? Or, perhaps to go peacefully themselves?”

No one said anything.

The man started barking orders in a foreign language. One of his men guarded the door. Two others went behind the counter and yelled at the tellers and forced them to remove the cash from their drawers and dump it into burlap sacks. If a teller didn’t comply, they smacked them across the face and stuck their guns into the teller’s back until they did as told.

The fifth man joined the first and they interrogated the bankers under their desks and hidden in their offices until they found one who would lead them to the safe.

Bear turned his attention to the old man bleeding on the floor. Mr. Jones stared beyond Bear. His eyes focused on something not of this world. Bear felt the old man’s neck for a pulse. He found it, but it had become thready and uneven and weak. The old man’s breaths were shallow and the time between each grew further and further apart. A trickle of blood ran from the side of his mouth and down his cheek toward the floor.

“Mr. Jones,” Bear said.

The old man’s eyes widened and focused on Bear. He brought his thin hand up in front of his chest. Bear reached out and grabbed the old man’s papery white hand. Mr. Jones squeezed tightly. His lips moved and gasps escaped his mouth. Then he became still. His head fell slightly to the left and his unfocused eyes stared at nothing.

The masked man at the door started yelling.

Bear looked up. Rage flooded his body. He stood and started toward the man at the door.

The man aimed his gun at Bear and yelled even louder using words that Bear couldn’t decipher.

Bear stopped.

Outside the bank, a cop car pulled up and three more weren’t far behind. The man at the door turned. Bear knew that was his opportunity. He dropped a few inches and kicked one foot back. Ready to charge. But before he could take a step, he felt jarring blow to the head. He dropped to one knee. Another blow met his head with a thud. He fell forward.

“Grab the girl,” a man said from behind him.

Bear pushed up to his hands and knees. Reached for Mandy. Couldn’t get to her in time. One of the masked men scooped her up.

“Bear,” she screamed.

Bear forced himself to his feet and stumbled after her and the man carrying her over his shoulder. She reached for Bear. Screamed his name. Her small hand grabbed and clutched at the air.

Bear took three steps.

A masked man jumped in front of him and smashed the butt of his assault rifle into Bear’s forehead.

Bear stepped back. Lost his balance. Regained it.

The man hit him in the stomach.

Bear bent over. Then he felt another blow to the back of his head. And then another.

He collapsed to the ground.

Shots rang out. Single shots from the police. Bursts of fire from the bank robbers. Grunts and groans of men being shot and dying filled the air after the firing ended.

Bear lifted his head and saw Mandy’s blond hair blowing in the wind as she was pulled inside a waiting car. The door slammed shut and the car drove off. The edges of his vision darkened. He fought against the swelling in his brain. He clawed at the ground. He almost made it to his elbows. Then he went unconscious.

12

“Jack,” Jasmine shouted from behind him. “Watch out.”

It took a moment for the four men at the table to realize what had just happened. Between the cards on the table and the music blaring in the background it was easy to see why they didn’t answer the door. They never heard Jack knocking. But it didn’t take them long to assess Jack as a threat as he stood there next to their unhinged door, aiming a gun at them.

One of the men rose from his chair and pulled out his pistol.

Jack fired off a round. The bullet hit one of the seated men with a thud. Jack didn’t see who. He was too busy diving to the right and out of the armed man’s line of fire. Jack crawled a few feet and pressed against the wall on the other side of the staircase. He checked through the open doorway and saw that Jasmine had moved out of sight.

The sounds of the men shuffling on the other side of the house died down. Jack hoped that Jasmine secured the rear of the house. Maybe he should have waited to burst in. Maybe she should have given him a bit more information. He had no idea what they would find here or if someone was placed into danger by them knocking on the door.

He looked around the room, making sure there were no mirrors or reflective surfaces he could be seen in. None. Just a couple antique couches facing each other. A closed door sealed the room off from the one behind it. He inched along the angled wall and peeked over the stairs. A mirror hung on the far wall. In it he could see the man with the pistol leaning against the wall on the other side of the stairs. He didn’t see any of the others.

Jack moved across the room and opened and slammed the door dividing the two rooms.

The man on the other side of the stairs shouted and began to move, just like Jack expected him to. Jack aimed and fired a single shot over the stairs. The bullet hit the man in the side of the head and a cloud of sweat and blood and gray matter exploded into the air and hung there as the man collapsed to the floor.

Jack rounded the staircase and knelt over the man’s body. He checked his neck for a pulse, although judging by the hole in the back of his head, the man was dead. Jack grabbed the dead man’s pistol and tucked it in his coat pocket.

“Jack,” Jasmine’s voice called from the back of the house.

He walked slowly through the dining room toward the kitchen. A door swung open and a man armed with a shotgun jumped out.

Jack fired and hit the man in the chest. The man fell to his knees and Jack fired another round into his forehead. The man’s body flinched backward and then fell forward. Jack stepped over the body, not bothering to check for a pulse, and looked into the open doorway. Stairs led down into a dimly lit cellar. It sounded like someone else was down there. Jack placed a foot on the first step.

“Jack,” Jasmine called out. Her voice came from the same level of the house, not below.

He closed the cellar door and continued through the kitchen. He held his pistol in the air, close to his face. He stepped through a doorway and into a laundry area. There, he saw Jasmine. She gestured toward the back of the room. He saw a brown haired man with a young woman in front of him. He had one hand wrapped around her waist and in his other hand he held a knife. He pressed the knife against the woman’s throat.

“Just stop right there,” the man said with a Russian accent.

“Or what?” Jack asked.

The woman’s eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted into her forehead. She reached one hand up and grabbed the man’s arm, but didn’t exert any force.

“I’ll cut her,” the man said.

Jack laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“That you think I care,” Jack said.

“I’m not kidding, I’ll slice her neck.” He pulled the knife away and then pressed it into the woman’s neck. A thin line of blood formed below the blade.

“Then do it,” Jack said.

The man cocked his head and his eyes narrowed. His grip on the woman’s stomach loosened and the hand holding the knife dropped a few inches.

Jack didn’t wait for the man to regain his composure. He squeezed the trigger of the pistol in his outstretched hand. The bullet hit the man in the forehead. The knife fell to the ground and the man fell back against the washing machine. Jasmine rushed forward and wrenched the lady from his grip. The man slid down the front of the washing machine, leaving behind a smeared trail of blood.

“You were going to let him kill me,” the woman said frantically.

Jack shook his head. “I was never going to let him kill you.”

“You told him to do it.”

“Yeah, and he didn’t know what to think and loosened his grip and he dropped the knife an inch. It gave me a clear shot and I didn’t have to worry about him recoiling and cutting your neck open.”

The woman stood there with her mouth open. Her eyes teared over as the gravity of the situation collapsed down on her. She threw her arms around Jack’s neck and pulled herself close. Soft sobs escaped her parted lips.

Jack stood rigid at first, his arms out to the side. Finally, he stroked her hair and patted her back.

“Hey, calm down. You’re OK. This can’t be the first time you’ve been in danger if you’re hanging around with men like this.”

She said nothing. The sobs stopped, but she held tight.

“Jasmine, get her hidden. There’s a fourth man. I think he’s in the cellar. We need to detain him. We need to question him.”

Jasmine grabbed the woman and led her to the back door. She came back and said, “OK, Jack. Let’s get him out of there.”

They walked back into the kitchen and Jasmine pulled the door open while Jack covered the opening.

“Come on up,” Jack said into the opening. “Don’t make me come down there. Come up with your hands up.”

The man in the cellar didn’t respond. Shuffling sounds floated up the stairs.

“If I have to come down there, I’ll shoot you. I know you heard the gunshots up here. All of those shots killed your partners. They are all dead. Do you want to join them?”

The man in the cellar started talking in a foreign language. Jack didn’t understand what he said. He looked back at Jasmine.

She nodded.

“He’s cursing in Russian.”

Jack shrugged.

“Last chance,” he said and then he turned to Jasmine and spoke loud enough that the man in the cellar could still hear him. “Cover me. You see him, you shoot.”

Jack took two steps down the stairs.

“I’m coming up. I’m coming up,” the man said. “I’m unarmed.”

Two hands appeared from behind the wall and the rest of the man followed.

“Take your shirt off and drop your pants,” Jack said.

The man did and appeared to be unarmed.

Jack stepped out of the cellar stairway and motioned the man up. He had Jasmine cover him and then he went to the bottom of the stairs and grabbed the man’s things. He also cleared the cellar and reported to Jasmine that it was empty. He climbed the stairs and threw the man’s clothes at him.

“Get dressed.”

“Jack,” Jasmine said. “We need to get out of here. Let’s get him to the car. You sit in back with him. We’ll interrogate him somewhere else.”