Noble Intentions: Season One Page 23

  Sergei pointed at his man standing behind Oscar. "You find everything we have on France. Find me all operators named Pierre." He returned his attention to Oscar. "So this man, Jack Noble, the reports say he is missing too. What do you think of that?"

  "It's made up. They just don't know where he is."

  "Do you?"

  "Italy. Near La Spezia or Genoa."

  "How do you know this?"

  Oscar smiled. Held out his hands. "I can't give up all my sources."

  "You sure about that?"

  "Yeah, I'm sure."

  Sergei nodded at the man standing behind Oscar. He dropped his eyes and smiled as his man slammed a blackjack into the back of Oscar's skull.

  Oscar fell forward onto the desk. Blood leaked from his head onto the antique wood.

  "Get him out of here," Sergei said. "And get a team to Genoa."

  "Yes sir," the man said.

  "I want this Jack Noble, and I want him alive. We will break him and make him our own. Or he’ll die." Sergei turned and looked out his window at the empty compound behind the building. "Commence Operation Black Dolphin."

  Episode 4

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  1

  “Tag,” Mandy said. “You’re it.”

  “You always tag me,” Bernie said.

  Mandy giggled. “You’re too slow.”

  “Let’s play hide and seek now,” Bernie said.

  “What do the little kids think?” Mandy put her hands on Bernie’s little brother and sister and winked at their friend Mac.

  “They do whatever I say.” Bernie scrunched up her face and glared at the little kids. “Right?”

  The three younger kids nodded in unison.

  “Hide and seek sounds fun,” her little brother said.

  “Not it,” Mandy said.

  The three little kids took off running.

  “Fine,” Bernie said. “I’ll go first. One, two, three…”

  Mandy turned and ran toward the corner of the house. No way would Bernie find her today. She had already scouted the property for the best hiding spot, and today she would use it. She ducked around the side of the house and peeked back around the corner. Bernie stood against the tree, face first, counting out loud.

  “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”

  Mandy had until fifty to hide. The little kids were already out of sight, although she was positive she could find them with ease if she needed to.

  Mandy slid along the side of the house and bolted for the cover of the trees. She ran through the woods along the first line of trees then cut back into the open area between the woods and the shed. A quick sprint and she was behind the big shed, out of view. She fiddled with the wood block that held the crawl access door closed. It came loose and she opened the little door. Mandy slipped under the shed, head first, and reached back to close the access door.

  She crawled under the shed, belly scraping on the ground as she slid under the sagging floorboards. A cutout at the front end provided her access to the area under the stairs. She slid through the opening and found a small piece of plywood that she secured against the opening. She exhaled loudly and took her place under the stairs.

  They’ll never find me here.

  She giggled and peered through the narrow opening between the stairs.

  “Fifty. Ready or not here I come.”

  Oh, I’m ready.

  Bernie walked toward Mandy, stopped at the corner of the house and peeked around the corner. Bernie crouched low, either trying to stay out of sight or making herself ready to sprint off at a moment’s notice.

  One of the little kids yelled something in the distance. Mandy couldn’t decipher what was said, but it seemed to catch Bernie’s attention because she took off running across the front of the house, yelling.

  Mandy sat back against the wall. Her thoughts turned to her mother. She wished she could see her again, even if just for five minutes, one last time to say goodbye. She never saw enough of her mom. And now she’d never see her again. Her eyes watered and a tear streamed down her face. Mandy sniffed and shook her head. Not today. No tears today. This was play time. Time to have fun. She diverted her thoughts to the good time she’d been having since Bear left her here over a week ago.

  The kids played together rather than watching TV during the day. She got to see a few programs, but no more than one hour a day. That was Ms. Cathy’s rule and all the kids had to follow it. Mandy didn’t mind. These kids were fun. Not like the stuffy kids back home that wanted to sit on their computers all day long or watch boring TV shows. Here they played games, hiked through the woods near the house, and did creative things inside if it rained.

  Ms. Cathy taught her things, interesting things. Not like school where she had to sit all day and would end up daydreaming out of boredom.

  She couldn’t wait to see Bear again and maybe Ms. Clarissa and Jack, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to leave her new family.

  A family. A real one, too.

  This was the first time in Mandy’s life that she felt like part of a real family.

  “C’mon Mandy,” Bernie called. “Where are you?”

  Mandy covered her mouth and giggled. She’d make them wait it out a bit. When no one was looking, she’d get out. No way would she give up a hiding spot this sweet.

  The group of kids approached. Mandy scooted back to the wall and made herself small. The kids stopped and turned toward the house. Mandy heard the roar of a car engine coming up the driveway. The kids ran toward the sound of an approaching vehicle. When the black car came into view, Mandy didn’t recognize it. The other kids must not have either, because they all turned and disappeared from view as they went toward the porch stairs.

  The sun was going down and the car had its lights on. The vehicle swung around and the bright lights blinded Mandy temporarily. Finally, the car stopped.

  Mandy scooted forward to the stairs so she could get a better view of the car and whoever was inside of it.

  The door opened. A man in a dark suit stepped out. He looked at the kids and then over both his shoulders. He leaned back into the car for a second and then emerged again.

  Mandy gasped.

  The man raised a long gun and fired.

  Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.

  Mandy screamed, her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open. She put her hand over her face and scooted back against the wall. She could still see the car and the man. Two more men got out. They walked toward the porch. One of them, a big fat guy, looked her way but didn’t seem to notice her.

  Ms. Cathy burst outside and began yelling at the men.

  “What have you done?” Ms. Cathy shook her hands in the air. She leapt from the porch and ran toward the men. One of them, a tall skinny man, raised his arm and shot her.

  Mandy gasped. She fought back another scream.

  Ms. Cathy fell to the ground and cried out in pain.

  The man who drove the car barked orders at the other two. They lifted Ms. Cathy’s body and brought her inside. The third man, the one who shot at the kids, got into the car and drove it toward Mandy. He turned right at the corner of the house and parked behind it. Mandy dug at the ground and lay as flat as she could. The man walked back around the house. He passed by the shed, close to her. She held her breath. It didn’t look like he saw her.

  It got quiet. Mandy passed the time by counting the beats of her heart. The sky grew dark. She found the courage to sit up and change positions and look through the slits between the stairs. She could see the porch now. One man sat in Mr. Scott’s rocking chair. He had a long gun across his knees.

>   Mandy heard the roar of Mr. Scott’s pickup truck approaching. She heard the tires kicking up gravel as the truck wound its way along the path to the house. The truck appeared and the lights flicked off as it neared the house. She wanted to run out there and warn Mr. Scott, but she was frozen in place.

  Mr. Scott jumped out. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Where’s the girl?” the man on the porch asked.

  “Who the hell are you?” Mr. Scott said again.

  The man motioned with his hand. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me the first time.” The louder he got the more he sounded like the men from New York. “Where is the little girl?”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mr. Scott said. “What are you doing on my property?”

  The screen door opened and the skinny man backed out. He had Ms. Cathy’s arms in his hands. The fat man had her feet. She didn’t seem to be moving.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Mr. Scott’s face twisted and his jaw went slack. “Cathy?”

  They dropped her body on the porch.

  “You want that to be you?” the man in the chair asked.

  Mr. Scott jumped into his truck and emerged with a long gun of his own.

  The man in the chair stood and fired.

  Tat-tat-tat.

  Mr. Scott fell to the ground, clutching his leg. The shotgun lay a few feet away.

  Mandy watched, her hand covering her mouth, afraid she’d scream again.

  The three men stepped off the porch and walked over to Mr. Scott. They stood over him. The man with the long gun pointed it at Mr. Scott. He spoke, but it was too quiet for Mandy to hear what he said.

  She did hear Mr. Scott scream out some curse words. Then she heard one more shot. She closed her eyes and made herself as small as possible against the wall. The sound of footsteps on the gravel path that led to the shed grew louder. They approached slowly and deliberately, one at a time. She opened her eyes to get a peek. Two legs in dark pants blocked out the light from the porch. A smaller light scanned the ground. It flicked through the openings in the staircase. She buried her head under her arms.

  The wooden stairs creaked as he climbed them. She prayed it wasn’t the fat man. He might actually fall through. She heard the door handle jiggle and then click. The sound of the man’s footsteps echoed under the shed as he walked through the empty room. Moments later the door opened and she heard him directly above her. The slits in between the stairs lit up. First the top step, then the lower ones with every step he took. He stopped at the bottom step.

  Mandy held her breath and counted the seconds.

  “It’s clear, Russ.”

  Russ.

  “Let’s get out of here. We’ll call the old man on the way and let him know.”

  “What are we going to tell him?”

  “The girl’s dead.”

  Mandy heard the car start and then the sounds of the wheels sliding through the gravel. She moved forward to get a better view. The car turned. She watched the lights flicker through the trees as the men drove toward the road.

  Mandy curled into a ball and cried herself to sleep.

  2

  Sergei Ivanov sat behind his desk and stared at the two men sitting across from him. His elbows rested on the arms of his chair. His hands folded together in front of his chest. He stared at Julij and ignored the younger man to Julij’s right who was several ranks lower than both of them.

  “What do you have for me?” Sergei asked.

  Julij stretched his arm across the wide desk, a folder in his hand. The contents spilled from the folder onto the desk. “Sorry.” He fumbled with the photos and documents.

  “Leave them,” Sergei said. “Just tell me.”

  “Jack Noble,” Julij said, “enlisted in the Marines at the age of eighteen. An athlete. He was supposed to play American football in college.”

  Sergei scooped up the mess of papers on his desk and organized them into a stack. He scanned them one at a time as Julij spoke.

  “He decided not to go,” Julij continued. “Enlisted as military intelligence but never got that far. Went to sniper school right after basic training.”

  Sergei looked up. “Scout Sniper?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Snipers aren’t close range killers. How’s that put him on a boat where he can kill three of our men along with two bodyguards?”

  “Sir, we believe —” the younger man said.

  “I’m not talking to you.” Sergei held his hand up toward the younger man and kept his eyes focused on Julij. “What’s he doing here, anyways?”

  “Sir, he compiled the data I have here.”

  Sergei nodded. “Continue, Julij.”

  “Noble did eight years, we believe, in the Marines. Then we lose him for a couple years.”

  “Lose him?”

  “Yes, sir. He just disappears.”

  “FBI?”

  “We’d have a listing on him.”

  “CIA then?”

  “Possible. Maybe NSA. We aren’t sure. Our men are working on it, though.”

  Sergei frowned. “We can just assume he has advanced training.”

  Julij nodded. “Two years later he shows up again. Went into business for himself.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “Independent contractor. Assassin for hire. Recon work.”

  “U.S.?”

  The younger man raised his hand to speak. Sergei shook his head and shifted his gaze back to Julij.

  “Global, it seems,” Julij said. “Takes government work. Works a lot for Feng Chou in New York. Others as well. Seems he did quite a few jobs for a lady we only know as codename Blue Willow, formerly of British Military Intelligence.”

  “Anything recent?”

  Julij nodded. “We believe he is responsible for stealing documents from a group of radicals.”

  “Do we care?”

  “You know the documents I speak of, sir. And yes, we care. We care if the plans are in the hands of anyone but the radicals. The information could damage our cause.”

  “Make sure we press him on that.” Sergei stared at a picture of Jack. “What were you doing in France, Mr. Noble?”

  “There was a hit on a film producer, Foster or something like that. He was into a few criminal activities. We think that a U.S. agency was behind the hit. They contracted Mr. Noble to handle it.”

  “We think? Or we know?”

  Julij’s lips thinned. “Think, at this time. We can question him on it. We also believe the French spy was in on it.”

  “Do we have a lead on him?” Sergei asked.

  “Yes,” Julij responded. “We are working on that now.”

  “Excellent.” Sergei stood and walked to the window. “There was a time when an act like this would have given us every right to go to war. But now, with these pansies running our government?”

  “I know, sir.”

  Sergei returned to his desk, opened a drawer and pulled out two cigars. He handed one to Julij. “So where is Jack Noble now?”

  Julij lit his cigar, puffed on it a few times and leaned back in his chair. “Our team turned up nothing in Genoa. But we’ve been able to persuade Oscar to give up a bit more information. He’s been able to place him in a small town called Levanto. We doubt he is there now, but perhaps he made a friend while in town.”

  “When will our men be there?” Sergei asked.

  “Within an hour or two.”

  “Excellent.” Sergei stood and saluted Julij. “Dismissed.”

  Julij stood, saluted and started toward the door.

  “One more thing,” Sergei said.

  Julij stopped and turned to his partner. “Leave us.”

  Once the other man left, Sergie continued. “How are our relations with the gangster you mentioned?”

  “Feng Chou? Neutral, I’d say.”

  “Maybe we should reach out to him. Perhaps he could be persuaded to help.”

  “Yes, sir,” Julij said as he
left the room.

  Sergei leafed through the documents on his desk. He found himself impressed by Jack’s body of work. He picked up the picture again.

  “Mr. Noble,” he said to the picture. “Will you come to work for me and help restore Russia to its rightful place in the world? Will I have to break you first? Or maybe I should just kill you...”

  3

  Jack flipped through the TV channels. Twenty-two stations, not a damn thing on. Some things were the same no matter where you hid out. The hotel bored him. All the hotels bored him. He couldn’t remember the last time he spent this much time in a hotel doing next to nothing. He’d hit the gym in the morning and late at night. Swim laps a couple times. Other than that he found himself confined to the room and the tiny balcony.

  He found a commercial with two scantily clad Italian women tossing an orange back and forth. He stopped and watched. Decided it’d be a good opportunity to brush up on his Italian.

  His cell phone vibrated against the wooden nightstand. He answered without checking the caller ID. It didn’t matter. Only a handful of people had the number and he’d talk to any of them right now.

  “This is Jack.”

  “It’s Pierre.”

  “How’s my favorite Frenchman?”

  “You need to move, Jack.”

  “Am I blocking the view?”

  Pierre paused. “I appreciate your sense of humor, Jack, but this is serious. You are in trouble.”

  “Thought you said this was serious.”

  “Jack, listen to me. The Russians, they are after you.”

  Jack sat up. “Explain?”

  “I don’t have much time.”

  “Then get to it.”

  “My source tells me that they apprehended our friend Oscar.”

  “He’s your friend.”

  “Whatever. They apprehended him and he gave your location to them.”

  “Who is this source?”

  “Someone I know inside the Russian government. Young guy. Our paths crossed once five years ago.”

  “Where did Oscar tell them I am?”

  “I don’t know specifically, but I know they have multiple teams in Genoa right now.” Pierre paused. “They know you were in Levanto. Jack, did you make any friends there?”