by L. T. Ryan
“So, who’s that leave?” Isa asked.
Clive shook his head. There wasn’t enough time to list all the possibilities. “Doesn’t matter right now. What does is that we get these men off the streets. Whoever found them is not going to stop until they’ve completed the job.”
Eddie alerted them to a new development. “You need to see this.”
They all focused on the monitor as a new feed ran showing a scene behind the hospital.
“That’s Logan,” Clive said. “The girl must be the one he fostered.”
“Mandy,” Isa said.
“Do we have anything on her?”
“Very little. He’s done well to shield her.”
They watched as a second man joined them as Bear killed one of the attackers, and as they finally fled the alley.
Clive looked at Isa. “Get Sadie on the phone. Now.”
Chapter 15
The gas-station-market combo looked like any of the nondescript gas-station-market combos Jack would find on any exit on every highway back in the States. It provided an odd comfort. The cameras everywhere didn’t. He glanced at Ines. Her hair draped over her shoulder. Her face angled toward the side window. It was best she was oblivious. But a nagging feeling had him wondering if she actually was.
The gas station offered six pumps. Four were occupied. He opted for the outside pump and pulled to a stop.
“Here’s some cash.” He handed Ines forty euros. “Grab some coffee and snacks.” She reached for the money; he didn’t let go. “Make sure it’s fresh coffee. Don’t bring back stale shit.”
She rolled her eyes, slipped the cash in her pocket, and jogged to the store entrance. He kept watch over her even after she slipped inside. The sun reflected off the windows, making it difficult to track her movements after she moved past the first row of shelves.
The air carried that sweet smell of fresh-cut native grasses. It was a fragrance that fescue and Kentucky bluegrass just didn’t produce. Thoughts of his childhood home filled his mind. Him and his brother nearly drowning trying to pet a manatee. His sister… He pushed the thought away before heading down that dark tunnel.
The pump clicked off and Jack shielded his eyes against the glare to catch a glimpse of the woman. She wasn’t at the register or anywhere near the front of the store. The coffee must not have been fresh. Go figure.
He pulled open the rear door and moved the duffel bag from the backseat to the front. He just needed to get a few miles down the road, then he could check out the contents. Maybe figure out who the guy really was. Might be an asset Jack could use to get out of this mess.
Noble slid in behind the wheel, pushed the start button. The engine purred, ready to be put to the test. “Bad idea,” he muttered to himself.
The entrance door swung open. Ines stood there, holding two cups of coffee stacked one on the other, and a white bag filled with snacks and whatever else she could get for forty euros. He had to move, and fast. He grabbed the passenger headrest and twisted in the seat to scan the area behind him. When he swung his head back around, Ines stood there with her mouth open, eyebrow raised. One cup of coffee tumbled to the ground, then the other. They crashed on top of each other, a puddle spread out at her feet. She didn’t move. The bag fell next. Jack looked back again.
“Son of a bitch.”
The first of three vans hopped the median and then the curb and into the parking lot. It veered to the right. The next to the left. And the third was heading straight for the BMW. Jack had the pedal to the floor before shifting into first gear. The tires squealed and spun and the car drifted right then left before gripping the asphalt and charging forward. Everything played out in clips as time slowed. Jack whipped the wheel and spun in a tight circle. The first van nearly caught his rear end. The van jerked as it came to a stop. Ines screamed loud enough he heard it over the commotion surrounding them.
The second van pulled to a stop next to him. The third van went from thirty to stopped in an instant. Two hooded men were up front. One produced a pistol that glinted in the sun.
He was pinned in. Stuck in a corner. The worst place to be. And the worst place to put Jack Noble. He stepped on the accelerator and veered to the left. The van couldn’t mimic the BMW’s movements. Their only chance was to shoot.
And they did.
The first bullet smashed the rear driver’s side glass. It shattered into a thousand small fragments which rained across the interior. Aside from a small flinch, the shot failed to faze Jack. He glanced over, meeting the closest man’s stare. It wasn’t long enough for him to even recall the guy’s face, yet there was a hint of recognition there. Who was the guy? Who were these people? Questions for later. For now, he had to get out.
Another shot.
The rear window shattered. The bullet blew through the passenger headrest and embedded in the dash.
Jack reached the road. Crossing into the flow of traffic was impossible. The steady stream of cars was equivalent to a class three rapid. He did the only thing he could do and turned into oncoming traffic. The nimble M5 handled the herky-jerky driving style as though it were the dirt bike his father had given him and his brother Sean when Jack turned ten. But the traffic thickened ahead. Worse, a three-foot railing occupied the median. He’d have to pull into another parking lot or take his chances with slamming the brakes and spinning halfway around in the middle of the road. One glance in the rearview told him that was a bad idea. The van was gaining ground.
Ahead, the traffic light remained stuck on red. A line of cars coming off the highway were approaching the intersection, about to turn in his direction. He veered toward the median, added thirty kilometers to his speed and tried to outrace them. It became obvious he wouldn’t be able to. Coming off the highway, there were two turn lanes. He laid on the horn as advanced warning. Best case scenario they’d move just enough for him to cross the intersection and switch to the right side of the road, while causing enough congestion behind him to slow the van down.
It only took a few seconds to reach the underpass. Flashing high beams and laying on the horn, Jack scraped against the median to avoid the first car in his way. And then the worst happened. Everyone stopped.
He slammed the brakes. A second car clipped the BMW’s fender. It fishtailed and the opposite fender hit the median rail hard. Jack struggled to regain control of the vehicle. The impending collision from behind loomed large.
For a moment, he was on the field again, holding the ball with three receivers out, draped in coverage. A blitzer coming free from behind. A hole, ever so slight, opened up between the guard and tackle, and Jack took it.
The sound of the van slamming into an innocent’s small Citroen was enough to make even Jack cringe. But he didn’t look back. His path to freedom had been cut off by a refrigerated box truck that took up the entire intersection.
One option remained. One window of opportunity to escape.
The offramp.
Riding the shoulder, Jack hugged the curved road doing fifty, which was twenty more than a safe speed. The cars he passed honked and jerked to the opposite narrow shoulder, giving him just enough room to skate past. At the top, he merged with the flow of traffic on the motorway and did his best to blend in for five miles. The upcoming exit offered nothing of value to him other than a chance to get off the road, roll down the windows, and catch his breath.
A few minutes later, he was a quarter-mile down a road that was little more than a dirt path overgrown with brush. A slight breeze wafted through the sedan, carrying with it the sweet smell of those native grasses again. Wiping his brow, he could’ve killed for a beer, but had to make do with the last swallow of lukewarm water. The crumpled bottle found its way under the driver’s seat.
He stepped out, stretched, scanned his surroundings. Nothing but fields and woods in every direction. Even the road was out of sight. For the first time all day, he felt anonymous, that no one was watching. And because of that, he took his first deep breath in hours.
>
He reached into the passenger side and grabbed the duffel bag. Guessing at the contents, he estimated it weighed around twenty pounds. A computer for sure. Some cash, visible and hidden. Passports, IDs. The pistol and spare magazines.
“Only one way to find out.”
The zipper caught and gave way after a minor struggle. He reached in and pulled out three stacks of money. Euros, US dollars, and Great Britain Pounds. Something he might have in a safe deposit box. Next, he fished out four wallets, followed by an equal number of passports, all of which he laid side by side on the BMW’s hood.
“Who are you?” he muttered. “Why would you drug the girl?”
He dumped the remaining contents, a scarf, a jacket, some snacks, onto the hood and sorted through it quickly. He retrieved and inspected the H&K VP9. It was ready to go with one in the chamber. He aimed down the sights, assumed they were good to go, too. The duffel still had some weight to it, so Jack went to work finding the hidden compartment. It didn’t take long. He found more cash, promissory notes, and a steel wallet with twenty-four words etched on it. Cryptocurrency. Might be a good amount, might be nothing. He’d get Brandon on it when they next talked. If they talked.
Satisfied he had removed all of the bag’s contents, he turned his attention to the wallets and passports. The one that caught his eye looked like a standard issue United States of America passport. That’s where he started. He peeled back the wallet, thumbed the first page over, and then he dropped it on the ground.
“Son of a bitch.”
He grabbed the next.
“Gotta be kidding me.”
He went through the other two, then the wallets. How could this be? These weren’t off some douchebag. They were…
“Jack, it’s over. It’s time to come in.”
He looked over his shoulder, dumbfounded that the woman standing in front of him was Ines.
Chapter 16
The serene countryside comprised of alternating cow pastures and lavender fields lulled Bear into a false sense of security. His pulse, which had been near maxed out since the first gunshot, had leveled off at a respectable eighty beats per second. Until his thoughts turned back to Sasha.
Had she made it out of the hospital? He had her cell phone number memorized, but this wasn’t the time to call. They might have her, and any call would tip them off to his location.
“Why are we going so far?” Mandy asked. “It’s been twenty minutes. I thought you said the train station was only five minutes away.”
The orderly glanced at Bear. The man was part of the reason Bear chose to go to the next town. The group that had coordinated the attack at the hospital likely had the train station staked out. Presumably, they’d have someone at the next station, too. But the train schedule worked in Bear’s favor. He’d take out the orderly and ditch the car, and he and Mandy would keep switching trains until they were on the other side of France. There they’d lay low until he could make arrangements to get them to England. Sasha would be there. He knew it.
The orderly slowed the vehicle down and started veering toward a narrow shoulder bordered by a deep ditch. He kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
“The hell you doing?” Bear said.
The orderly didn’t answer.
“You might think I’m incapable of taking you out—”
“I saw what you did back there,” he said. “Look, I just want to get out. The train station is ahead. If those people are there…” The man’s eyes misted over. “I don’t want to be there.” He jerked the car to a stop, turned in his seat, pointed at Mandy. “She shouldn’t be there, either. Why would you put the girl in this position?”
“She’s safest with me.”
“How is that possible? You are a dead man walking.”
Bear chuckled. “I have been for the past two decades. Doesn’t mean she’s not safest with me.”
The man started to speak. Bear cut him off.
“What are you gonna do to defend her? Help her? Get her to safety? Do you have contacts in the DSGE or MI6? Nah, they’ll wreck you, then they’ll take her, and make her bait. Then they’ll finish the job they failed at the hospital. And guess what? You die. She dies. We all die.”
The man wiped his sweat-soaked forehead and dried his hands off on his pants.
Bear continued. “You want to bounce, do it, bro. I doubt you’re any use to us anyway.”
The guy opened the door and stepped out. Bear met him around the front of the car.
Bear put his hands on the guy’s shoulders. “Look, I appreciate you getting us this far. You can give me your name and a contact number, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Those people, they wanted me dead because I did the right thing. They’ll have footage. They’ll know you were with us.”
“Are you trying to convince me to give you my info, or stay with you?”
Bear wasn’t sure anymore. His thoughts of ditching the orderly didn’t seem quite right now. “How important is living to you?” Bear waited for the guy to respond. “Let me rephrase that. How important is a quick and painless death to you? ‘Cause if they get a hold of you, you’re dead. But I guarantee it won’t be quick, and it won’t be painless.”
The orderly nodded and went back to the driver’s side of the vehicle.
Five minutes later, they pulled into the lot for the small train station. There were few cars outside of a section dedicated to a couple of car rental companies. Activity outside the terminal was minimal. An elderly couple waited on a bench, their canes nestled together in between them. A mother watched her kids play. The girl with pigtails was doing cartwheels.
The trio remained in the vehicle for a few silent minutes. Mandy spoke first.
“Does it look OK to you?”
“You tell me,” Bear said. He’d been training the girl for a while. Her instincts were on point, but her mind got in the way. Most people suffered from this. It’s what separated people like Jack and Bear from the rest of the population.
“The only possible threat comes from within,” she said.
“How so?”
“The old couple, they aren’t a concern. And that lady is watching her kids too intently to be any danger to us.”
“Who is then?”
“Those car rental kiosks.” Mandy pointed at the Hertz Sixt and Europcar signs. A single building away from the station housed all three companies. One person patrolled inside. “But he looks weak. I could take him out.”
“You could.” Bear paused a beat to see if she would continue. “So, what’s that leave us with?”
“Whoever is inside the station.”
“Good girl, Mandy.” He opened his door and hefted himself out. He felt steadier than he had all day. Whether adrenaline or confidence, he hoped the effects didn’t wear off any time soon. “Now let’s go see what’s waiting for us inside.”
The orderly was there the few times Bear stumbled, keeping him upright. As they approached, the elderly woman looked up, smiled, then went back to her crossword puzzle. The cartwheeling girl ran up to Mandy and asked her something French. Mandy blushed, unable to reply quickly enough. Her French wasn’t terrible, but she hadn’t reached a point of mastery yet.
Inside, they purchased a rail pass good for six rides. They had just missed the last train. The next would arrive in ten minutes. Depart in twenty. Too much time. Bear imagined a dartboard, with the hospital at the bullseye. There would be surveillance showing the direction they had turned when leaving the hospital. From there, every mile, every right or left turn, expanded that circle, but they were still within an inch of the bullseye in the grand scheme of things.
The orderly plopped down in a chair, folded his arms, tucked his chin to his chest. Poor guy had no idea his day would turn out like this. But he couldn’t turn into Jell-O yet. Not until they were on the train. Bear planned to keep him around for one or two changeovers. Then it would be
time to put him to sleep. For a bit.
“Eyes up,” Bear said.
The man didn’t look up.
“Eyes up,” Bear repeated. “Can’t let our guard down yet.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Just look for anything suspicious.”
The orderly shook his head as he struggled to get out of the chair. The moment of respite had sapped him of his strength. Bear had seen it hundreds of times before. He’d experienced it plenty himself, even before his surgery.
“There’s the train,” Mandy said.
Bear glanced at the clock. “Ahead of schedule. God bless the French.”
The orderly chuckled. “Haven’t spent much time here, have you?”
“Let’s go.” Bear grabbed Mandy’s hand and started toward the platform. A couple hundred steps stood between them and the chance to expand that circle. He had it mapped out in his mind. They just had to get on that train.
The train squealed to a stop. A warm gust of wind blew past carrying with it a myriad of smells that conjured up images in Bear’s mind of Yankee Stadium. The train hissed as it settled. The doors opened. A handful of people exited and walked off in a line. No one took notice of the odd threesome making their way toward the train.
Each step felt lighter than the last. A hundred feet. Fifty. Twenty. They’d be at the door in a moment. He felt his knees weaken and stumbled. The orderly swept in and caught him. An employee took note but stopped short of coming to help. Bear pushed forward. The orderly held him back.
“What is it?”
“Anything suspicious, right?” the orderly muttered.
Bear didn’t wait for him to continue. He followed the man’s gaze down the platform toward the front of the train.
