Noble Intentions- Season Three

by L. T. Ryan

  “You must have been instantly charmed,” Jack said, his words laced with sarcasm.

  Dottie waved him off. “He wasn’t like that when I met him. And don’t forget, I was younger and more than capable of taking care of myself. So, yes, maybe he came off a bit rough. It didn’t bother me. After years of working with some of the deadliest men in Britain,” she paused, smiled, looked between Leon and Jack, “in the world, for that matter. Well, I couldn’t be with a guy who retired at night in front of the TV, falling asleep in an oversized recliner, his hands resting atop his beer belly while I fetched him another pint.”

  Jack smiled. “I wouldn’t have expected you to.”

  “What can I say? I’ll always be a gal ready for action.”

  Jack’s smile lingered, then faded. “So what happened?”

  “What happened?” she repeated the question, perhaps trying to find an answer. “Thornton made his money in glass. You believe that? A billion dollars from glass?”

  Jack didn’t believe it. Didn’t say as much though.

  “But that was only half the story. He invested his money with certain people. Some of them the same people I fought to put away, you see. Some of them the type of people I hired you to take care of, Jack. I didn’t know this at the time, though. I thought all of his wealth was from glass.”

  Jack nodded. Had nothing to add yet, so he said nothing.

  “Things were good for the first four years. Then, a couple years ago, they changed. He changed. Thornton became abusive, verbally and physically. He became secretive. I thought maybe he was having an affair. His anger a reflection of the guilt he felt. If I asked a question, I got hit. Simple as that.”

  “Why’d you stick around?”

  Dottie looked away. Jack followed her stare. Her gaze traveled beyond the window, past the garden, settled on some imaginary point that Jack couldn’t see.

  “I don’t know,” she finally said.

  “You don’t?” Jack said.

  Dottie turned her head ninety degrees, locked eyes with Jack. “Maybe I do, but I don’t want to say.”

  Jack lifted his hands in an I surrender gesture. If she didn’t want to tell him anymore, that was her prerogative. He wouldn’t push. Some things were better left for therapy.

  “So as you can see, after the month I spent in a hospital in Monte Carlo, I retreated to this place. He doesn’t know where it is. I never told him. I bought it years ago. I knew if things went wrong, either with Thornton or one of his associates, I’d need a place to hide. This place works well. I have a security force in place that he doesn’t own. He’s got money, but I brought my own dowry to the party. All this is mine, Jack. He paid for none of it.”

  “What else?” Jack said, ready for her to get to the point.

  Dottie nodded, shifted her eyes to her right for a second, a signal for Leon to leave the room.

  Plausible deniability.

  “I’ll be back in a few.” Leon rose, nodded at Jack, then slipped past the table and out of the kitchen.

  Jack placed one arm on the table, leaned forward. “So what is it you want me to do, Dottie?”

  A smile formed and quickly rescinded. Her expression eroded, leaving behind a face twisted with pain and fear and anger. “End him.”

  “Why me? Why not Leon, or one of your other guys here, or one of your old agents?”

  “Because you are the best. And he’s scared of you, Jack. The moment he sees you, he’s going to panic, and that will buy you a few extra seconds. Those few seconds are all you’ll need to finish the job.”

  Jack leaned back, inched to his left, placed his left arm across the back of the chair, held the half-full mug in his right hand. He swirled the coffee in a counter clockwise motion, causing the lighter brown residue on top to form a spinning island in the center. He thought that he’d like to be on an island this morning. Someplace tropical and nowhere near mainland Europe. He owed Dottie in more ways than one. She’d helped him get started. Got him back on his feet when his world had crumbled around him. She introduced him to people who had helped him to become a wealthy man. But above all, she’d always been a friend, and now she was in need. And he couldn’t turn her down.

  He took a drink from his mug and then set it on the table. “I’ll do it.”

  Dottie rose and walked around the table, past Jack.

  “I need to know some things first,” he said.

  “Of course.” Dottie went on to give Jack Thornton’s home and office address and the security codes required for access. She told him the restaurants and bars and strip clubs that he frequented. She gave him the names of Thornton’s most trusted men. She mentioned the names of his women, of which there were many. When she was finished, she said, “Anything else you might need?”

  “I’ll need access to weapons. An M40 for the hit, if I can do it ranged. Two pistols, preferably 9mm. I’ll need an HK MP7, S model, with a suppressor and at least three spare magazines, in case I go to war with his men.” Jack picked up the mug and took one final pull on the lukewarm liquid. After he swallowed, his mouth was littered with coffee grounds like silt trapped in a net. “Also, I want a lethal pen.”

  “A lethal pen?”

  “Looks like a pen, equipped with a needle and a reservoir filled with poison. When you place the end of the pen to someone and then click the tip, the needle protrudes and penetrates and a moment later the fluid is forced out of the reservoir and into the victim.”

  “Interesting.”

  “If it comes down to me doing this in a crowded bar or strip club or on the street, I don’t want to be spotted with a gun drawn. Everyone has a camera phone these days. Last thing I need is my face on the TV again. I’ve got nobody to help me out anymore if things go south.”

  “I’m behind you, Jack.”

  “But you can’t afford to be associated with a known assassin, Dottie. It won’t take them long to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I know that a lot of the work I did for you was not sanctioned. You don’t need that stuff coming to light now.”

  She nodded, forced a smile, said nothing.

  “So can you get the weapons?”

  “Leon has access to some. I’ll make some calls for the rest. By tonight I should have everything you need.”

  “Got a car?” Jack asked.

  “Out front. It’s ready for you.”

  “Thornton doesn’t know about it?”

  “Just bought it yesterday, cash, my money. Registered under a false name. He knows nothing and will find out nothing about it.”

  Jack pushed back in his chair, got up and refilled his mug. He placed the cup on the counter and hunted for a travel mug. He found one in the cupboard and transferred the coffee and topped it off.

  “Keys are in the ignition. There’s some cash, an ATM card, and an untraceable cell phone in the glove box.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back this evening.”

  “No, don’t come back. Get a hotel. It’s best that you not return in case you are spotted and followed.”

  Jack agreed she had a point. “Give me a number to reach you and one for Leon then.”

  “Already programmed into the phone. I’m speed dial number two, he’s number three. Four and five are for emergencies.”

  “What about one?”

  “I never program one, Jack. Too hard for me to reach with my thumb.”

  Jack reached out to Dottie, pulled her close in an embrace. Her perfume overpowered the strong smell of coffee, bringing back several of the memories that he had repressed for so long.

  “You be careful, Jack. If you don’t think it’s going to happen, call me. I can get Leon or someone else out there to help.”

  Jack shook his head. “Alone, Dottie. This one needs to be done alone.”

  He wasn’t sure if he meant it, or if it was some kind of false bravado. Maybe he could use the help. Maybe it would only hinder the mission. He didn’t know, yet he’d already sealed his fate. It’d be tough to go back on his statem
ent.

  He pulled away and left the kitchen. Dottie remained behind. Leon met him by the front door, handed him a second Browning.

  Jack tucked the pistol in his waistband. His pants tugged downward under the weight of the two handguns. “Got anything semi-automatic?”

  “It’ll have to do for now. I’ll have better weapons by tonight. Call me at five and we’ll arrange a place to meet.”

  Jack exited the house without replying. He saw a lone car, a red Fiat, parked in the center of circular driveway. He tilted his head to the side, wondering how he was supposed to fit inside. Did she have something against Land Rovers? Even something mid-sized would have worked for him.

  Reluctantly, Jack slipped in behind the steering wheel. He found it to be roomier than it looked. He turned the key in the ignition and shifted the transmission into first gear. He eased off the clutch as he depressed the accelerator and the car rolled down the driveway.

  CHAPTER 9

  Hannah heard the high pitched whine of a small engine combined with the sound of tires kicking up loose gravel. She hurried to make sure that she hadn’t missed Ms. Carlisle. The last thing she wanted to do was hang around outside the house waiting for her boss to return home. She emerged from behind the hedges in time to see the rear of a red Fiat pulling away from the front of the house. The car was unfamiliar. Hannah took a deep breath, felt confident that she hadn’t wasted her time coming to the house unannounced.

  She stepped across the trenched gravel, kicking loose stones back into place as she passed. She stood before the tall wooden entrance door. She took a deep breath in preparation of the groveling she expected to have to do. An aged brass knocker stained from years of rain and snow and ice hung from the mouth of an equally aged brass lion fixed to the middle of the door. She lifted the heavy brass ring and let it fall. It creaked as it dropped and then hit the door with a solid thud.

  The door cracked open, an eye peered through. It opened a bit further. The man greeted Hannah with a smile.

  “We weren’t expecting you,” he said.

  “I know, Leon. I really need to talk to Ms. Carlisle, though.”

  “Is everything OK?”

  Hannah shrugged and held out her arms, palms up, thumbs out.

  “Well, come on inside, then. Ms. Carlisle is upstairs getting ready for the day. She’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  “Hey, who was in the car that just pulled away?” she asked.

  Leon turned and walked away without replying. Hannah followed him inside. Instead of turning left and following him toward the living room, Hannah continued straight into the kitchen. The smell of fresh cut melon and strawberries and coffee enveloped her. She glanced toward the counter, saw three mugs next to the sink. Upon closer inspection, they had all been used recently. Each had a thin layer of black sludge at the bottom. One was stained around the top with red lipstick, the same shade that Ms. Carlisle wore. Her gaze drifted across the granite countertop. The coffeemaker was on and the twelve-cup pot less than half full, indicating that at least one person had refilled their mug. If Ms. Carlisle was only now getting ready for the day, then who had been drinking coffee? Did this mean that Erin and Mia were home from vacation already? Or had Ms. Carlisle and Leon been sitting with whoever left in the red car? Surely Ms. Carlisle would have already prepared herself if a guest had been by.

  “Hannah, what a treat.”

  She jumped at the sound of the voice. She hadn’t heard anyone enter the kitchen.

  “Would you mind pouring me a cup too?” Ms. Carlisle asked.

  “Sure, ma’am. Which mug were you using?” Hannah waited for her response without turning around.

  “Those are from last night, dear. Grab fresh mugs from the cabinet.”

  The mugs could be explained away, but not the half-filled pot of coffee. Hannah dismissed it, filled two mugs, brought them both to the table where cream and sugar were already waiting. She touched the pewter cream dish. It was cold, as was the cream inside of it. She looked up and smiled at Ms. Carlisle. Why had the woman lied to her? What was she hiding?

  “What are you doing by today?” Ms. Carlisle asked. “I didn’t expect you for at least a week.”

  Hannah chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment while she pushed aside the coffee mug mystery and focused on her real problems.

  “Hannah? Is everything all right?”

  “They took away my scholarship, ma’am. I won’t be able to afford school.”

  “Well, I’m sure I can help you out with that.”

  “I don’t want a handout, ma’am. If I have to take this term off, that’s fine, I’ll do it. What I’d like to know is if I can put in some extra hours. I’m willing to do things outside of being a nanny for Mia. I can work here, or at one of the other houses. I’m willing to do anything you need.”

  Ms. Carlisle rose and walked toward the window. “I don’t know if that is possible, Hannah. At least not right now. I’ve—“ She paused, turned to face Hannah. “We’ve got to leave for a while. Probably, that is. I don’t know for sure yet. But I might be gone for a month, maybe two. Mia won’t be around, and the houses won’t need tending by anyone other than the staff already at hand.”

  “Please, ma’am,” Hannah said. “I’ll have to go home, and you know I can’t spend that much time around my father. He can’t handle it and he’ll—”

  “OK, Hannah,” Ms. Carlisle placed a comforting hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “You won’t be attending school this term?”

  “That’s correct. Without the scholarship I can’t afford it. I’d hoped that I could work extra for you and save the money and have my scholarship reinstated next semester.”

  “What if you accompany us? You could be Mia’s travel nanny. Since you’d effectively be working at least double the hours, I’d increase your pay by two and a half times your current rate. How’s that sound?”

  Hannah rose and threw her arms around the older woman. She inhaled the subdued aroma of her sweet perfume, noting that it wasn’t as strong as it should be if she had recently put it on.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Ms. Carlisle said.

  Hannah pulled back. The lump in her throat prevented her from talking. She nodded at the tear-blurred image of her boss and then leaned in and hugged her some more.

  “All right, that’s enough.” Ms. Carlisle wrestled herself from Hannah’s grasp. “Why don’t you spend the next few days helping out the maids? You can start in here with the kitchen.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Hannah turned and walked to the sink. She grabbed the three mugs, placed them under the faucet. She soaped a rag then wiped the coffee sludge and lipstick and fingerprints from them.

  CHAPTER 10

  Jack sat in the Fiat across the street from the building that bore the address Dottie had given him. Thornton’s office. It was a three-story gray brick building that occupied half the block. Three rows of evenly spaced mirrored floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped the exterior. Behind one of those windows was Thornton’s office. Jack wondered if the man was in there. Who else was in there? Did Thornton keep a security force with him all the time, even at his corporate office? Did the man’s employees know what else Thornton was into? Hell, were some of them into it as well?

  Jack had a number of questions eating away at him. Sitting outside the building and waiting left him with little else to do other than question the situation. It had been obvious to Jack when he’d laid eyes on Thornton in Monte Carlo that the guy was bad news. Still, it was shocking to find out that the man was as heavily involved in criminal activities as Dottie had said. He had no reason to doubt her, but he still couldn’t get rid of the nagging in the back of his mind telling him that she’d made some of it up just to harden Jack toward the man.

  It didn’t matter, though. He remembered how Thornton tried to kill him. He’d saw what Thornton had done to Dottie. If he’d seen it before the police arrived and detained Thornton, Jack would have killed the guy on the spot. But he hadn’
t, and he didn’t. And now he was in London to do what should have been done over six months ago.

  He figured his image was burned into Thornton’s memory. But would the guy notice him in bright daylight? The casino bar had been dimly lit. The docks where they’d had their confrontation were dark, with only an orange overhead light or two. Maybe Thornton held a distorted image of Jack Noble, one that barely resembled reality.

  The thought gave Jack the courage to enter the building and finish the job right then and there. But he didn’t. He knew that he couldn’t take that kind of chance so soon. There were too many potentially innocent people inside, for one. And there was the possibility that Thornton knew exactly who Jack was and, given the advent of security cameras and systems, Thornton would know Jack was in the building the moment he stepped foot on the property.

  And so Jack’s mind wandered. He began to think about the implications of doing the job, which led to him once again questioning why him. He knew that Dottie trusted him. Always had. They’d worked together in the past on both sanctioned and unsanctioned jobs. He’d never let her down, and she’d never let him down. But in nearly all those instances, Jack had the element of surprise working in his favor. His target didn’t know his face. Except for two hits when he was contracted to take out rogue agents. But those were sanctioned, and he had the freedom to do whatever he deemed necessary without fear of the government or police or anybody, except the rogue agents themselves, of course.

  Now here he was, outside the offices of his target. A target that knew his face and knew his name. Hell, Thornton might even know Jack was outside.

  What if Dottie had set him up? What if she was working with someone like Frank and together they had arranged for Jack’s life to end? He had thought it odd that the call from whom he presumed had been Leon had come shortly after he told Frank that he was done with the agency and the business. All he wanted was his freedom, to retire. Perhaps Frank had a different idea.

  Suddenly, every face he saw became a threat. Not a possible threat, but a real bona fide threat. Every man, every woman. Young, old, in between. Because in the world of espionage, it’s not the one you expect to kill you who does. It happens when you let your guard down around the innocent looking person who seems incapable of taking a life.