by L. T. Ryan
The man’s eyes bugged out as he struggled to get his hands around Bear’s wrist. The fear in the guy’s eyes brought a smile to Bear’s face. He was sure he looked like a madman, and that’s what he wanted. He hoisted the guy up and began slamming him into the wall. A red spot grew on the block with every repetition.
The man went limp. Bear dropped him to the ground. The sound of the man trying to breath rattled from his chest. Time to end him. Bear put his foot on the guy’s neck and pressed down with all his weight until it was over.
He dropped to his knees and searched the man’s pockets, finding a laminated card, a wallet, and a cell phone. On the guy’s right hip was a concealed holster. In it was a H&K 9mm. He peeled back the slide, saw a round in the chamber. Dropped the magazine. It was full. Sixteen shots at his disposal. He hoped to use them all.
Because that’s how many bastards had to die today to make him feel at least a little bit OK.
Chapter 44
When Clive told Sadie and Jack his team had a potential location on Bear, Noble felt his stomach drop. Had they been tracking his messages to Brandon this whole time? How would that even be possible? Brandon probably built all the systems they used.
Then he remembered: the license plate. Someone with a cell phone camera caught the van racing away from the scene. They uploaded it to Twitter. Isa found it under the hashtag #WTFjustHappenedHere. It didn’t take long to trace the van back to a dry cleaner owned by a Montague Sanderson. Odd name, yes. Also, an alias for Sanders Montague, a European “activist” known to use far right and left ideology to whip crowds into frenzies that turned into riots which served as backdrops for various crimes and assassinations.
For all their planning to make these events happen, they failed to do the one thing to keep them from being tracked. License plate readers along the highways left a breadcrumb trail for Clive’s team to follow. Once it stopped, they had an area to search. MI6 wasted no time providing highly-detailed and real-time satellite imagery. Sasha was one of their own. Legoland offered their full support to the team.
It took Clive’s gurus all of ten minutes to identify three possible locations. Another five minutes of zooming and panning and changing angles led them to the van.
They had their destination.
Now, back at the same airstrip, a jet en route, Clive, Sadie, and Noble hovered around Clive’s laptop and iPad, both connected to a high-speed satellite network run by MI6, watching a live feed of the operation.
Ines and her team were already in the area, having followed the LPR data. It took them less than an hour to liaise with MI6 operatives. Together, they had a force of over a dozen, armed to the teeth, ready to burn the place down.
After they retrieved Bear.
Jack was aware of the general area where the building was located. And it was a hundred miles from the ping Brandon had locked in on. Clarissa’s had gone dead. Vanished. But Noble had an idea where to head to find her.
First, Bear had to be saved.
Then Noble had to break free from Clive’s grasp.
Clive had Ines on speaker as they watched footage from her body cam.
“We’re in position and ready to move in. Good cover until we hit the parking lot. We’ll slam into the building if we have to. Nothing nice and easy about this one. Everyone got it? Maximum carnage. They need to pay for this.”
Clive muted the line and turned to Sadie. “Still can’t figure out what they want with Bear and Noble. These guys, this isn’t their thing.”
“Who are they working for?” Jack said. “That’s the question.”
“I agree with you, Jack, however, even that deviates from everything they do. They use political disruption to achieve criminal goals, but rarely is any one person’s or group’s ideology or desire the basis of their crimes. They take what they want to take and kill who they want to kill for themselves.”
“Then I must’ve really done something to piss them off.”
Sadie’s laughter melted the tension. “That could be anyone, and I mean anyone.”
“Everyone needs a talent. Mine is being a jackass.”
Ines saying the word “go” refocused their attention on the op. On one screen, they had satellite footage of the vans’ approach. There had to be cameras on the route to warn the group of incoming traffic. Nothing much else was on the road, and it dead ended at the building. Everyone knew it.
The team raced in at full speed, one van in each of the two narrow lanes between parked cars. Hitting the brakes at the last minute, the vehicles stopped feet from the building’s entrance. Frag grenades exploded near the front doors. A haze lifted into the air, obscuring the view.
Jack turned his attention to the laptop, Ines’s body cam. She was the only one that spoke, barking orders to the team. Two small groups provided perimeter support as the remainder breeched the building. The first shots rang out, followed by several more.
The smoke cleared and the footage became easier to discern after they cleared the entrance. Anyone who popped out of a room or raced down a hallway was mowed down.
No questions asked.
No mercy shown.
Payback for the hospital massacre that kicked this whole thing off.
Isa piped in from the temporary headquarters. “From what we can tell, the back side of the building is where the most heat signatures are located.”
“How the hell do they know that?” Jack asked.
“Spy craft has come a long way,” Clive said. “You can’t get away with bashing your head into a wall anymore.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Everyone’s luck runs out, my friend. Remember that.” He lifted an eyebrow while pointing at Noble.
“Mine did a long time ago. Living on borrowed time now.”
Isa continued. “There is a group moving, Ines. If you continue down the current corridor, there is an intersection. Go to the right and they’ll appear at the next intersection in less than thirty seconds.”
Ines asked, “How many?”
Isa replied, “Four to six. Some of the signatures are blurring.”
“How many others in the building?”
“Can’t say exactly, but I’ll let you know what else is coming your way. Teams outside, be prepared, too. You’ll have the advantage, but this group could split off and exit on the north side.”
Ines led her team to the intersection. Jack didn’t recognize the man with the angled camera allowing them to see what waited on the other side.
“All clear,” she said.
The team moved as one, checking rooms as they went.
“You got five seconds,” Isa said.
Ines gave a signal. The team dropped into position. The men coming had no chance as dozens of rounds exploded from HK MP7s in rapid three-burst shots. They dropped almost as a collective unit, bodies flinching and twitching on the ground, puddles melting into one lake of blood. Ines held steady for a few moments, waiting for any hidden attackers.
Isa said, “You’re clear, but proceed with caution, there’s one signature at the end of the hall, could be two people.”
Ines replied, “Shouldn’t be a problem.” She glanced down, leaned over, looked the dead man in the eyes.
Two men advanced forward, ignoring the bodies in the way. They stood in the opening with their weapons aimed down the hall. They barked orders.
Ines rushed forward.
Jack felt his chest, neck, abdomen constrict.
“C’mon,” Clive said.
One of the men fired off two three-burst shots. The other did, too.
Ines rounded the corner and a large figure on the floor came into view. His outstretched hand clawed at the tile.
“No,” Sadie said. “Jesus Christ, no.”
Jack had the computer in his hands. The words coming from his mouth were indecipherable. The tears threatening to burst from his eyes stung his sinuses.
Then they broke free.
Not from sadness.
But because
of the big man coming into focus from the other end of the hallway, looking down at the body on the floor as he staggered past, yelling, “Yo, this my rescue party? Or I gotta kill y’all, too?”
Chapter 45
They touched down outside of Strasbourg, France, late evening. Situated on the German border, and not far from Switzerland, the town offered plenty to visitors with its central location and attractions, including an Astronomical clock dating back to the fourteenth century, located in the towering Cathédrale Notre-Dame of Strasbourg.
The mess Noble faced started a hundred miles from here, in Luxembourg. His thoughts drifted to the reporter. The guy suggested a secure meeting online. Safer for all parties. No, someone could track him if he did that, was Noble’s response.
I’ll make it right. I swear.
He added it to the long list of things to make right, which now included Sasha’s murder. Chances were good the op team took the shooter out. They had not left a single soul alive at the facility where Bear had been detained. But if not, Noble vowed to hunt them down one by one until all were dead.
He was anxious to see Bear, but he had been moved to a U.S. medical facility in Stuttgart for emergency surgery. Clive had connections there, and assured Jack they would have several guards protecting him while he recovered. The moment Bear was cleared to move, Clive would take care of it, and get him to safety.
A new life.
Noble’s request for his best friend. Get him back to the States and let him forge a different path.
Sadie convinced Clive to let her take Jack out for dinner. They caught a local train into town and wandered around until they found a small place that sold American style hot dogs and cheap Budweisers.
“Doesn’t get much more perfect than this while in France, eh Jack?” Sadie pulled the door open without waiting for his input. The perfect smell of a baseball stadium in late spring greeted them.
He followed her in and told her what to order him, then stepped down the hallway to the restroom. It looked like something out of the late eighties. Posters for Guns N’ Roses, Metallica, and The Beastie Boys were plastered on the walls and stall door. His face scrunched. Smelled like it was last cleaned in the eighties, too.
He returned to the dining area and found a cold can of Bud Light waiting for him. He picked it up and offered a cheers to Sadie, who smashed her can against his, causing a mixture of their beers to spill over on the table.
“Only the best.” She winked.
He took a sip. Felt the burn of bubbles encircling his tongue and washing down his throat. “Only the best.” He exhaled as he set the can down and looked toward the kitchen. “What’d you order?”
“A dozen dogs.”
“A dozen?”
She shrugged and pouted while blinking her eyes. “Don’t judge me.”
He leaned back in his seat, stretching his right arm over the back. “Oh, I’m not. Kind of impressed, actually.”
“I figured you’d eat eight or nine.”
“Probably figured right.”
“I know my guys.”
“I’m your guy now?”
“Close enough.” Her smile lingered for a few extra moments. Her eyes were bright tonight. Hints of gold flecks amid the dark brown. Her loose curls draped over her shoulders, blending well with the caramel leather jacket she wore.
“Anyway,” Jack said, pointing to the counter. “They’re plating up a bunch of dogs over there.”
She lifted the can to her lips and took a long pull. Sighing, she said, “Another?”
“At least.”
She winked as she rose and turned toward the counter. He couldn’t help but notice how her jeans hugged her curves. He had never allowed himself to go there with Sadie due to her close relationship with Bear. And Jack didn’t do the boyfriend thing well. He didn’t do the side piece thing well, either. Serious, casual, it never worked. If there were multiple connections, he stayed away.
Well, mostly. There were exceptions.
But Sadie wouldn’t be one. Not a decade ago. And not tonight.
She came back with two beers and set them on the table. A few seconds later, she returned again with a tray filled with hot dogs and two large baskets of fries.
“We’re gonna be worthless tomorrow. You know that, right?”
“What do we gotta do tomorrow?” She laughed while shoving a hot dog in her mouth, chomping down on a third of it in one bite.
“There’s the whole Clarissa thing.”
Sadie rolled her eyes. “I am so tired of this woman, Jack. I don’t know her. Never met her. But damn if I didn’t get tired of hearing about her a decade ago. And I’m tired of hearing about her now. Swear to God, if she really did this, I’m gonna put her away myself.”
“Tell me how you really feel.”
She smiled and covered her face sheepishly after a piece of bread fell to her plate. “Look at me, Jack. I’m a hot mess. You see why I’m single, right?”
“I thought it was because of your pantsuits.”
She aimed a finger at him. “Better watch your mouth, young man. You can’t say things like that anymore.”
“I only insult the people I love.”
“People that say that usually do so to hide what they’re really feeling.”
“Wait a minute, I thought we came here for dinner, not a therapy session.”
“You need both, so eat up and answer my questions.”
“Don’t think I like where this is going.”
She shoved another quarter-dog into her mouth and shook her head, covering her smile. After swallowing, she said, “I think you’re a good man.”
“Thanks. Most disagree, but I appreciate your input.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes again as she grabbed a napkin to wipe off her hands before pulling out her ringing cell phone. “It’s Clive. This’ll take a minute. Grab us a couple beers, OK?”
She slipped through the open front door and walked left a few steps, spun on her heel, and came back the other way. Her free hand animated the conversation. She looked through the glass and smiled, shook her head, kept going.
His own phone buzzed against his thigh. He checked the message.
“got the location of Bear’s phone. coords incoming”
Noble looked over his shoulder. Sadie continued further. Scanning the street, he spotted an alley on the opposite side not fifty feet away. Did it cross over? It would be worth the risk to find out.
He dropped forty euros on the table, finished both beers, and grabbed two hotdogs, wrapping them in the paper lining from the red woven basket they sat in. Bruce Springsteen played in the background. No hungry hearts here, but Jack did step through the door and never looked back.
Chapter 46
The next move would be among the riskiest of Jack Noble’s life, but his proximity to Switzerland afforded him an opportunity he hadn’t been willing to take since Skinner’s death.
Throughout his years of service and contract work, he had set up several numbered accounts, and had safe boxes at a few banks in Geneva, a place he could not go.
But Bern, Switzerland provided some anonymity. Not the numbers of people in Geneva, but not as many prying eyes, either. And the account he could access there was one nobody, not even Bear, knew about. His oh shit identity. One that could get him anywhere in the world, at least once. He wasn’t crazy about burning it to get to the other side of France. But if it worked, and he did it fast enough, he could reach the coordinates of Bear’s phone safely, too.
The guy Noble hitched a ride with smoked a lot and talked a little. He offered Jack a cigarette each time he lit one, which happened to be every ten minutes. Jack almost gave in, having inhaled half-a-packs’ worth of secondhand smoke the first two hours of the ride.
The box truck hummed along the four-hour drive, avoiding the highway and skirting small towns. Noble had the driver stop so he could run into a pharmacy. He grabbed the driver’s hat. It took a moment to locate the items he needed,
which he paid cash for. The family restroom offered privacy. He took his purchase in, locked the door, wet his head. The next part was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Using the scissors, he cut his hair as short as he could, rinsed it again. Did the same to his beard.
The shaving cream lathered up nicely in his hands, and he coated his head and face with it. The pack of five-blade razors was plenty, and he changed blades after getting the thick patches off his face, and again after smoothing it out. It took three more blades to finish the job.
Noble stared at his bare reflection for a few minutes. Shaking his head, he said, “You look like a dick, Jack.” It made him chuckle, though, and no one would ever recognize the docile-looking man as Jack Noble.
The driver got a kick out of Noble’s new look and offered him another cigarette. Jack didn’t bother declining. He leaned his hairless face against the window and reveled in the cool feeling against his skin. Then he slept for the next ninety minutes, when the truck came to a stop.
The soft red glow of the traffic light filled the cab. The driver looked like a demon, smoke pouring out of his nose. He said something in chunky German as he pointed at a building ahead.
Jack shook his head, shrugged his shoulders.
”Hostel. There.” The man’s finger bounced. “Good place for guy like you.”
Jack opened the door and slid down to the street. Before shutting it, he asked for the driver’s hat. The man shook his head no, but said, “Wait.” He reached behind his seat and grabbed a bright orange hat that said Being a Princess is Exhausting. “Take this.”
He caught it mid-air, tucked the bill into the waistband of his jeans. He strode toward the hostel with no intention of entering. The traffic light turned green. The box truck rolled forward. Jack ducked into an alley and navigated from memory across town to the bank, where he found a stoop to wait until morning light.
The sun crested the building across the wide street. Warmth spread across his arms, chest, chin, part of his cheeks. The hat blocked the rest of his face. He considered not wearing it. It stood out, which made him stand out. But it also made him look more like a homeless person, and that worked to his benefit. He’d made it through the night with no one bothering him.
