Noah Wolf Box Set 1

by David Archer

  “Good thinking. Incidentally, when you get done with Mr. Broussard, you might want to turn him over to her as a handler. That way we both have access to him. Never know when he might come in handy, right?”

  “That was my thought exactly,” Noah said. “I’ll let you know of any further developments.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll talk to you later.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  The phone went dead, and Noah put it back on the nightstand. Sarah was looking up at him, so he leaned down and gave her a kiss.

  “Mmmm. What’d I do to deserve that?”

  “That’s for just being you,” Noah said. “Unfortunately, I think we slept long enough. Allison says the news of last night’s activity has already gone global, and the Executive Director of IAR has joined the rest of his council. As soon as we settle the Adrian issue, we’re headed home.”

  He rolled out of bed with Sarah following, and they took another shower before leaving the bedroom. Moose was sitting at the kitchen table, but Neil was still sleeping. Noah filled him in on the call from Allison, and he grinned.

  “So what do we do about Adrian?” he asked.

  “There isn’t really anything to do at the moment. All we can do is wait and see if he contacts Broussard again. We need to wake Neil up, let him know what’s going on.”

  “I’ll get him,” Sarah said as she walked off down the hall.

  “You know,” said Moose, “it’s always possible Adrian isn’t an issue anymore. I mean, yeah, it looks like he got out of the building but we don’t know how badly he was hit. He could be laying dead in an alley somewhere.”

  “Possible, but somehow I doubt it. Still, we’ll have Neil run a search through news reports, see if any John Does have turned up dead.”

  There was coffee in the pot, and Noah got up to get himself a cup. By the time he got back to the table, Neil and Sarah were coming into the kitchen. “I need a cup of that,” Neil mumbled. Sarah went to the pot and poured a cup for him and another for herself.

  Noah brought Neil up to speed while he sipped his coffee, then told him what he wanted. The computer was still on the table, so Neil pulled it over close and started tapping on the keys. “Okay, scanning the news reports. It seems somebody murdered six people in an office building during the night. Security guards saw nothing, and for some strange reason the building’s security video was on the fritz. One of the victims was the CEO of Florentine Global Export, and three of the others were on its Board of Directors. The other two men were reported to be bodyguards who worked for the CEO.” He tapped a key. “A stolen car was recovered in the Limehouse Central Car Park early this morning, with a bullet hole through its roof. A remote control drone was found shot to pieces on top of the same garage, and police suspect there’s a connection between the two. The drone had a cell phone attached to it, but the bullet that destroyed it had gone through the phone, so police are guessing that it might’ve been some sort of training exercise for a terrorist or paramilitary group. They did notice that a neighboring building had been broken into during the night, and found a rifle on its roof. They’re speculating that the rifle may have fired the shots that destroyed the drone. They also found bloodstains on the roof, and in the stairs leading down from it, as well as on the back door.” A few more taps. “Three apparently unrelated bodies were discovered in different places during the night, but none of them died of a bullet. Two overdoses and a suicide. Nothing that matches up to Adrian at all. Checking hospital reports—nope, only one gunshot wound reported overnight and it was a woman who was accidentally shot in the butt by her husband, while he was cleaning a gun. Oh, and here’s a tidbit I personally like. It seems a Mr. Patrick Iverson was arrested this morning at his apartment, charged with terrorist activities for making explosives.” He looked up at Noah. “Unfortunately, I don’t see anything that could connect to Adrian. Any other ideas?”

  Noah shook his head. “No, we’ll just need to wait…” He was cut off by the ringing of his phone. He left it on the nightstand, so Sarah hurried down the hall to get it. She got it back to him on the fourth ring, and he answered it immediately.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “You told me to call if I heard from—from him. He called only a few minutes ago.”

  “That’s good,” Noah said. “What did he have to say?”

  “Well, at first he simply demanded that I let him know if I hear from you, as you said he would. Then he began talking about the assignment, the same one the Council spoke to you about. He said it will be completed on Thursday, and wanted me to make sure he received the balance of his payment within twenty-four hours after. I assured him I would see to it, and that was all.”

  “Thursday, is it? All right, I don’t want you to do anything at the moment. I’m sure by now you’ve heard the news?”

  Broussard hesitated for just a moment. “Yes,” he said. “And the director?”

  “Also eliminated at his home in Damascus. I suspect the IAR is finished, but I will shortly provide you with a contact in case anyone ever tries to drag you back into it. For now, I don’t want you to do anything. If he contacts you again, say you have not heard from me yet but that you’ll notify him immediately if and when you do.”

  “Yes, sir,” Broussard said. “I will do exactly as you tell me.”

  Noah ended the call and turned to Neil. “Thursday is the day Prince Charles goes to the elementary schools, right?”

  Neil tapped the keyboard for a few seconds, then nodded. “Yep,” he said. “Three different ones. Royal Academy, Albemarle and Hempstead Preparatory.”

  “Adrian told Broussard the assassination will take place on Thursday. That means he’s going to strike at one of those three schools. The only question is, which one?”

  * * * * *

  Sam Little stomped into the conference room and dropped heavily into his chair. He looked around at the faces of his team, glaring at each of them in turn.

  “We’re going on thirty-six hours since the bloody bastard escaped,” he said icily, “and already we’ve got some pretty strange shit happening around the city. You’ve all seen the reports on the shot-up camera drone, right? The rifle they found that took it down is one of Adrian’s favorites, an LM308 sniper rifle. There were no fingerprints on it, but I’ve no doubt he was using it. What I want to know is what the hell the drone has to do with anything. Anybody got any ideas?”

  Stamper shrugged. “Perhaps he was getting in some target practice?” The others did their best not to chuckle, but a few sniggers escaped.

  “That would suggest he’s practicing for an aerial target. Anybody got a reasonable suggestion why he might be doing that?”

  No one spoke up, so Sam went on. “Fine, I’ll suggest one. We know that he was planning something big when we took him, so it’s reasonable to assume he intends to complete that hit now that he’s out. It’s entirely possible that his target is going to be moving around by helicopter. That would explain trying to get a practice on an aerial moving target, wouldn’t it?”

  The team all looked at one another, and Catherine spoke first. “That actually would make some sense,” she said. “Do we have any information on major figures who might be airborne in the near future?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Sam said. “None of the Ministers are scheduled for any type of low-level flight anytime soon. Since the practice was obviously with the rifle, it would have to be either helicopter or light plane; that weapon couldn’t do much to anything bigger.”

  The meeting went on for more than an hour, with several different ideas bandied about without appealing to anyone. The whole team felt that they came out of it knowing even less than they did going in.

  Sam caught Catherine as they were leaving the conference room. “Kate,” he said, “could I have a minute?”

  She turned to him with a smile. “Certainly, Sam,” she said. She waited as the others filed out, and then Sam closed the door and turned to her.

  “Look,” he began, �
�I was called in this morning for a chat with Mr. Younger. He raised my clearance two points in order to fill me in on a little detail regarding a member of my team who happens to be privy to some information he thinks I ought to ask about. Care to enlighten me?”

  Catherine gave him an innocent look. “Enlighten you? About what?”

  “Come on, don’t be coy,” Sam said. “Alex says you work with the Yanks, and that you know something about Adrian that I don’t. He didn’t want to overstep, so he said I should ask you point-blank. What’s going on, Kate?”

  Catherine sighed. “It’s true I’m a liaison officer with an American organization,” she said, “but I seriously can’t tell you anything about them. As for the current situation, there’s an American agent in the city who was impersonating Adrian as a cover, trying to get information on IAR. When our lot let him get away, it caused some complications in that operation. In fact, it’s highly likely Adrian is trying to track him down even now.” She leaned toward him conspiratorially. “In my unofficial opinion, that likely has more to do with the drone situation than any sort of target practice.”

  Sam stared at her. “So what, this Yank is trying to get to Adrian before we do?”

  “No, Sam, I think it’s the other way round. Adrian found out that someone was impersonating him, and apparently he’s trying to find out who it is and put a stop to it. The American agent is hoping for the chance to turn the tables.”

  Sam’s jaw worked furiously for a couple of seconds. “All right, Alex says I can’t order you to tell me anything you don’t want to, and that’s fine. But I want you to get your Yank on the horn and find out exactly what’s going on. If Adrian is really trying to pull off an assassination, I can’t see how he’d be wasting time on something as unimportant as bloody identity theft. There must be more to this, somewhere, and I want to know what the hell it is.” He turned and yanked the door open, stalking away from her.

  Catherine chewed her bottom lip for a moment, then went to her own little office. She closed the door and sat down at her desk, then reached into her upper desk drawer and pushed a button on a small device. After that, she took out her phone and dialed the number that would connect her to Alex Colson.

  It rang twice before he answered. “Mr. Colson, it’s Catherine Potts. I’m afraid I need to ask you to let me know what’s going on.”

  “Yeah, I sort of thought I’d be getting this call,” Noah said. “I had a bit of a close encounter with Adrian last night, out in Limehouse. Unfortunately, as far as I know he’s still alive and still in the game. He made contact with our old friend Broussard today, hoping to get another crack at me.”

  “I see. And what about all the dead bodies over at Florentine? Any connection there?”

  “A small connection, yes. Four of those people were on the Executive Council of IAR. They were my original mission.”

  “Right, I understand. Back to Adrian, is there anything you can give me that I can hand off to my superiors? It seems my boss has been made privy to my dual association, after all, and he’s rather furious.”

  Noah hesitated for a moment. “Catherine, I’m going to tell you something, but I need you to keep it under your hat until the last possible moment. Adrian accepted the same assignment that IAR wanted to give me, when they thought I was him. It’s possible he’s actually going to try. At the moment, I’m doing everything I can to set up a trap that can shut him down for good, but if I can’t, I’ll be needing you to make the cancellation we discussed earlier.”

  It was Catherine’s turn to hesitate. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll cooperate, but contact me immediately if you need me to do anything. As much as he’s irritated a lot of the populace, we really cannot let anything happen to the crown prince.”

  “I don’t intend to,” Noah said. “But the best way to prevent it is to eliminate the threat, don’t you agree?”

  “Oh, I absolutely do,” she said. “I’ll be waiting for a call.”

  She closed the phone and sat back for a moment to gather her thoughts, then got up and walked out of her own office and straight to Sam’s. He was at his desk, and looked up at her with ice in his eyes as she entered.

  “You’re right,” she said. “Adrian is planning an assassination, and the American is working to stop him. I’ve been assured that as soon as he learns who the target is, I’ll be notified.”

  Sam stared at her without speaking, but the anger in his eyes gradually faded. “How long, Kate? How long have you been playing both sides?”

  “The Americans asked for someone in our ranks to be liaison and station chief,” she said, “about two years ago. I was handed the job and told to keep it to myself. It’s a symbiotic relationship, you might say; occasionally, we need the very special services the American outfit offers. In return, I’m given access to information that can assist whenever they have a mission in our jurisdiction.”

  “Special services? Dear God, are we talking about the Icemen?”

  Catherine couldn’t suppress the grin all the way. “Well, I’ll admit I’ve heard them called that, though they never speak of themselves that way. But, yes, we’re talking about those people.”

  Sam stared at her in silence for a full minute, then shook his head. “Forget I ever asked about it, can you do that?”

  “Certainly, Sam,” Catherine said.

  “I’ve only one more question, then,” Sam said. “When this bloody mess is all over, would you be free for dinner some evening?”

  Catherine smiled. “When this bloody mess is all over,” she said, “I’ll make certain to be free any evening you like.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  One of the things fiction writers tend to get wrong about espionage work is the illusion that it’s all action and glamor. In reality, most of it involves tedium and boredom. Noah wasn’t much affected by such things, but his team was going stir crazy by the following evening.

  Nothing more had happened after Catherine’s call. Noah had checked in with Broussard later that night, only to learn that he’d heard nothing from Adrian. The following day, Tuesday, was just as quiet so that by the time evening rolled around, Moose, Neil and Sarah were all suffering from anxiety. They knew something was going to happen, but the waiting was worse than they had expected it to be.

  At a little after seven, Noah called Broussard once more. “Do you have a way to reach Adrian?” he asked when the old man answered.

  “I have a number, of course,” he said. “Should I give it to you?”

  “Yes,” Noah said. “I should’ve thought of this earlier. Let me have it, but be sure to let me know if you hear from him.”

  Broussard gave him the number, and Noah scribbled it down and passed it to Neil. He said goodbye to Broussard and ended the call, then looked at the skinny kid on the computer.

  “Well,” Neil said, “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.”

  “Let’s get the bad news out of the way,” Noah said.

  “Okay. That number isn’t really tied to a cell phone. It’s a VoIP number, Voice over Internet Protocol. A forwarding number, basically. If you dial that number, the call is forwarded to an actual phone somewhere else.”

  “So you can’t track down the location of the phone that receives the call, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes, but there is still the good news. The good news is that I may be able to hack the server that reroutes the call, and find out where it’s actually going. That should get me the real number, and a shot at locating the phone it’s connected to. And before you ask, I’m already working on it.”

  Noah sighed and nodded. “Okay, let me know if you get anything.”

  Unfortunately, hacking the server proved to be difficult. Its encryption was equal to that of most financial websites, Neil told Noah, so getting into it without an actual username and password was nearly impossible. Still, he set up a program to keep trying even after they finally went to bed at close to midnight.

  * * * * *


  Adrian wasn’t as bored. Eddie finally called that morning, and he drove out to meet him at yet another restaurant. This one had tables outside, and he saw Eddie and Georgie sitting at one off by itself.

  “Are we set, then?” Adrian asked as he took a seat.

  “Wasn’t any problem at all,” he said. “My new bird was happy to let me pick her up after work at the school, took her out for a few drinks then shagged her 'til she squealed. Georgie here nicked her keys and took them out to get a copy made, had ’em back in her bag by the time we were done. She’s a bit sweet, I might hang onto her for a bit.”

  “And she never saw Georgie?”

  “Not even once. There’s nothing to tie us to the job. Georgie got in and out of the auditorium in the wee small, everything’s set.”

  Georgie giggled. “Shaped charges,” he said, “just like we said. They’ll blow straight up, anybody on that stage is gonna be part of the ceiling.”

  “And the detonator?” Adrian asked.

  Eddie pulled a small, cheap cell phone out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “This won’t make any calls,” he said, “it’s just a simple remote made to look like a mobile. Just push the little red button,” he said, “and it all goes boom. Just make sure you’re not standing too close when it does; it’ll blow straight up, right enough, but some of the roof might come falling back down. You’ve only got to be within 500 meters, that’ll do the trick.”

  Adrian smiled and pulled another envelope out of his pocket. He slid across the table and Eddie made it disappear.

  “I added a bit of a bonus,” Adrian said. “You boys do good work, and I’m sure we’ll be talking again.”

  Eddie and Georgie both smiled from ear to ear. “Our pleasure,” Eddie said.

  * * * * *

  Wednesday turned out to be bright and clear, but Noah was no closer to any ideas about how to track down Adrian than he had been before. By nine o’clock, even he was beginning to feel the strain of inactivity. Twice he picked up the phone to call Broussard, but both times he put it down. He was quite certain the old man would call him if he had anything to report.