Noble Intentions: Season Three

by L. T. Ryan

  Bear stood in the doorway, arms stretched above his head, fingers gripping the trim above the door. Two cop cars pulled into the parking lot. They cut their sirens, left their strobe lights on. Red and blue lights bounced off of every surface.

  “Up there,” a short, stout cop said. “Don’t move.”

  “You’re wasting time,” Bear said.

  “Shut up,” the cop said.

  “This guy is toast,” Bear said. “The other guy took off. Headed east. Black Firebird or Trans Am.”

  The short cop nodded to the other, the guy who had one foot in his patrol car and used the door to shield himself. The guy tucked his gun in his holster and slid back into his cruiser and pulled out of the parking lot.

  The short cop turned his attention back to Bear. “I want you to step out of the room and place your hands on the railing.”

  “I shouldn’t do that,” Bear said.

  “Do it now.”

  “I’m going to ruin your crime scene if I do.”

  The cop looked confused, unsure. “All right. Don’t you move. I’m coming up there.”

  Bear had tucked his pistol behind his back. The cops were sure to search him at some point, and he knew that they would not let him out of their sights.

  “Bear?”

  He shifted his body to the right. “Mandy, I need you to come over here, but stay out of sight.”

  The girl approached without uttering a word. Bear lowered one hand and pulled his shirt up a couple inches. “Grab the gun, Mandy. Then I want you to take it and put it in your bag.”

  She took the pistol and stepped back. “Shouldn’t I tuck it in my shorts, like you did? They won’t search me. Will they?”

  “Just hide it in your bag, sweetie. You won’t get in trouble that way.”

  The short cop must have called for backup. Another cruiser sped into the parking lot and slammed on its brakes. The vehicle skidded about fifteen feet, kicking up gravel before coming to a stop. A few minutes later, a third patrol car pulled up. Two of the patrol cars blocked the entrances. Bear wondered why a detective hadn’t showed up yet. Maybe the town was too small.

  One cop stood in the parking lot while the two others approached from either end. Their hard soled footsteps alternated as they made their way up the stairs. The short cop cursed when he hit the landing and saw the bloody scene. The other leaned over the railing and threw up.

  Bear figured they didn’t have too many murders in this part of Tennessee.

  “Just stay right where you are,” the short cop said.

  Bear nodded. “I’m not going anywhere as long as you guys stay cool. I saw everything that happened. I can tell you exactly what you need to know.”

  He did his best to shield the room from their prying eyes. It wasn’t difficult for his six-six frame to block the doorway. He knew eventually they’d get inside, though, and they’d pull Mandy aside and question her. They might even get her to tell them about the gun. And all the other secrets her brain contained.

  It didn’t come to that, though. Bear heard the rear window slide open. Heard the sound of a bag hit the ground. Heard Mandy whisper, “There’s a fire escape. I’ll be hiding in the woods.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “Does she know about me?” Jack said.

  The sun shone through a stained glass window. Splinters of red, yellow and blue light fell across Erin in disorganized patterns.

  Erin shook her head, looked down at the table. “She thinks her father passed away before she turned one.”

  “You showed her pictures of him?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I showed her pictures of some random guy. Grabbed it off the internet. A guy from Australia. Figured no chance of her ever meeting him.”

  “Clever.”

  Erin smiled, dipped her head. “I thought it for the best, Jack. I didn’t think you’d ever show up again. And if you did, I planned to hide her from you.”

  “Didn’t work so well, did it?”

  “I had no idea you were here. Believe me, if I knew, we would have been clear across the country. I can’t believe Aunt Dottie didn’t warn me.”

  Me too.

  “Maybe she wanted me to find out.” He offered a slight smile.

  “Don’t kid yourself, Jack. She knows that Mia’s better off not knowing you. Any of us would be.”

  His smile faded. The emotional impact of her words hurt more than any wound he had ever suffered. But on some level, he knew Erin’s words held the truth. The people who surrounded Jack ended up dead, and not in a pleasant manner. He knew anyone he cared about was better off far away from him.

  “I’m sorry,” Erin said. “I have to protect her.”

  “I understand. It comes with the territory. Can I at least sit down with her for a bit?”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Jack.”

  “Come on, you can be there too. I just want to talk to her for a few. I won’t say anything about being…”

  Erin shook her head, looked away. Her mouth twisted to the left. Jack knew that she was biting her cheek. A sign that she considered allowing him to talk to Mia.

  “What do you say?” he said. “I just want to find out a little about her. Right now, I see this cute little girl and if I don’t know more than that, I won’t remember her the way I should.”

  Erin said nothing.

  “I just want to know what she’s like.”

  “OK.” Erin rose, turned and started toward the kitchen without saying another word.

  Jack followed. He entered the kitchen and saw Mia sitting at the table, eating a sandwich. He headed the opposite direction and grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee. He found it amusing that he could face any man in the world without trepidation, yet the reality of sitting across a table from his daughter frightened him.

  Dottie got up and left the room. The look on her face told Jack that she did not approve. Leon remained seated, a curious smile on his face.

  “Mia,” Erin said. “My friend Jack used to be a spy.”

  “Really?”

  Jack glanced over his shoulder and saw the girl’s eyes widen.

  “She’s fascinated with spies,” Erin said.

  Jack walked over to the table, sat down.

  “You were really a spy?” Mia said. Her gaze filled with wonder and suspicion.

  Jack smiled. “Yup, sure was.”

  “Did you ever spy on a famous person?”

  “You know I can’t tell you if I did.” He tilted his head forward, winked, lowered his voice. “It’s all classified.”

  The girl sighed.

  “What else are you interested in?” Jack said.

  Mia told him about playing soccer and dolls, drawing and reading. She had friends, both real and imaginary. She went on for close to an hour. Somewhere in the middle of it, Leon had got up and left the room, leaving Jack alone with Mia and Erin.

  “How do you know my mum?” Mia asked.

  “We’re old friends,” Erin said.

  “I asked him,” the little girl said.

  “Right. Of course you did,” Erin said.

  “We met when I was working as a spy,” Jack said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “Were you spying on my mum?”

  Jack laughed. “No. And of course, your mom didn’t know at the time. She was quite the proper lady and wouldn’t have had anything to do with me if she knew my secret.”

  “Were you boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  Jack and Erin looked at each other.

  “That’s complicated,” Erin said.

  “Why?” Mia said.

  Explaining that would confuse the girl.

  “No,” Jack said. “We were just friends. Good friends.”

  “So why have I never met you before?” Mia said.

  “You know the spy business.” Jack hunched over and met the girl’s stare at an equal level. “Never know where it’s going to take you. I haven’t been in London in
seven years.”

  Erin choked on her coffee. She cleared her throat, said, “I think it’s been closer to eight or nine, Jack. Hasn’t it?”

  “Ah, you’re right.” Jack couldn’t believe he had slipped up like that. “Life of a spy, I suppose. The years blend together.”

  The little girl giggled. The room went quiet, stayed that way for a minute.

  “Did you know my father?” Mia asked.

  “I met him after Jack left,” Erin said.

  Mia looked to Jack, who shook his head and said, “Never met him, sweetie.” The words pained him as his own eyes stared back at him.

  Dottie entered the room. “What do you say we go into the city today, Mia?”

  Mia nodded. “I’d like that, Auntie.”

  Dottie turned toward Jack and Erin. “That’ll give you two some time to catch up. That is, unless you are planning on leaving today, Jack.”

  “Not going anywhere for a while,” Jack said.

  Dottie met his words with a disapproving stare.

  The kitchen fell silent again. Jack heard a vacuum cleaner doing its job somewhere in the house. He figured he’d never live in a place large enough to require outside help to keep it clean. Although, the thought of a maid to take care of his properties while he was away appealed to him.

  Then he heard footsteps approach with intention. Fast, deliberate. They carried news. He straightened up in his chair.

  Leon entered. His face looked pale. This was not the news they had been expecting.

  “What’s wrong, Leon?” Dottie said.

  “There’s been an attack,” Leon said.

  “What kind of attack?” Jack said.

  “A terrorist attack.”

  “Where?”

  “In the city, near Buckingham Palace.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “How’d you find out?” Jack said.

  “It’s on the telly,” Leon said.

  “Show me.”

  Leon darted out of the kitchen. Jack rose and caught up with the man. They stepped into the study, a square wood paneled room about fifteen feet on each side. The furniture was heavy and masculine. Built-in bookcases matched. He doubted Dottie spent much time in the room. Everything in it had probably been left behind by the previous owner.

  Leon grabbed the remote and unmuted the television. A frantic female reporter looked over her shoulder at the building that had been hit. Flames jutted through blown out windows. Smoke poured out and rose into the air. Dazed people stumbled around on the hazy street and sidewalk. Bodies lay on the ground. Some of them were dismembered.

  “Unbelievable,” said Leon.

  The audio feed had cut out. Instead of the reporter’s voice, all they heard was static and grinding feedback. A banner scrolled along the bottom of the screen. It read, “Suspected Terrorist Attack Near Westminster Bridge.”

  The image shook, then steadied. The audio returned. Voices screamed. Jack heard someone yell, “Another one!” The reporter and cameraman dropped to the ground. Another explosion ripped through the city block.

  “There’s been another explosion. It happened right—”

  The audio cut out again.

  The camera rotated from sideways to upright and focused on the shattered remains of the front of a restaurant. A large man a with red beard stood in front of it. His bloodstained apron hung in front of his round stomach. Untied, it flapped in the wind. Blood gushed from a wound on his head.

  “That guy looks familiar,” Leon said.

  Jack nodded. He recognized the man. The cook from the back of the restaurant. And the building that had been bombed was the hotel where he had reservations.

  Red looked up to his left, flinched, turned and ran.

  The audio cut back on.

  “Run,” the reporter yelled.

  The image bounced and shook and jerked as the cameraman followed close behind the reporter. Most of the image on the screen was of her head and back. Black curls bounced with every stride she took. After a few seconds, the cameraman spun around. The camera focused on the hotel. Another explosion ripped through it. A fireball exploded through the ground floor windows. The door shot twenty feet into the air and landed on top of a woman who had been knocked to the ground by the blast wave.

  The building began to shake, then it collapsed. A huge cloud of dust and dirt and bits of concrete erupted upward and outward. It raced toward the camera. The cloud enveloped the reporting team in a matter of seconds.

  “My dear Lord,” Leon said.

  Jack said nothing. He stared at the foggy image on the screen. The audio remained on. He heard sounds of the collapsed building settling and people screaming. Some for help, some out of fear, some in an attempt to be heard before they died.

  How many people had been inside that building? How many people were still alive and trapped under the rubble?

  The dust cloud began to thin. The frazzled reporter stared at them from the other side of the screen. She knelt in the middle of the road. Blood covered her left cheek. Her eyes blinked slowly. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. She looked like a fish that someone had tossed on the ground beside them.

  Red approached from behind her.

  “There were seven of them,” he said.

  The cameraman angled his equipment toward Red.

  Red continued. “I saw them come up from behind the hotel. Two of them came running toward me, armed with submachine guns.”

  The reporter appeared to become aware of the red haired man and the fact that he said something newsworthy. She slipped into news mode and back into center frame.

  She said, “Can you describe them?”

  “Nah,” Red said. “They had masks. But they came in the restaurant, shot half the people in there.”

  “Including you.”

  He shook his head.

  She pointed at the wound on his scalp. “You’re bleeding profusely. Looks like you were nicked.”

  He wiped his palm across the top of his head, stared at his hand for a few moments. He looked up, said, “They killed the owner.” His outstretched arm pointed at a mound of clothed flesh on the ground behind him. The camera focused on the body. “I dragged him out in case the building collapsed. His family deserves an open casket.”

  “That’s the guy from the restaurant too,” Leon said. “The manager who gave you a hard time.”

  Jack grabbed the remote, muted the TV.

  “The guys that killed Thornton,” he said.

  “What about them?” Leon said.

  “That’s who did this.”

  “Why?”

  “They talked about an RDD.”

  “This was simple explosives and firearms, though.”

  Jack nodded. “I get that.”

  “So why do you think it was them?”

  “Because this wasn’t a terrorist attack,” Jack said.

  “You’re not making sense, Jack,” Leon said.

  “He’s right,” Dottie said from the behind.

  Jack turned and saw her standing in the doorway. Dark tear tracks lined her cheeks. He said, “They had a target.”

  “Who?” Leon said.

  “Jack,” Dottie said.

  Leon turned his head and stared at Jack. Said nothing.

  Jack shook his head, dropped the remote. “It was me they were after, Leon. Someone set me up, and I have a good idea who it was.”

  “Who?” Leon said.

  “I’ll make some calls,” Dottie said.

  Jack nodded. He walked over to the window, glanced outside. His view of the street was obstructed by the high hedges in the middle of the yard and the tall fence surrounding the property. All that could be seen was the gap left for the driveway.

  “What kind of monitoring system do you have here?” Jack said.

  “A good one.” Leon said.

  “You have the back covered? Angles that cover the street?”

  “Yeah, we do,” Leon said. “Now you want to clue me in on what the
bloody hell is going on?”

  Jack pushed past the man, said nothing.

  “I have contacts too, you know.”

  Jack stopped, turned around. “Then get on the phone and find out what they know about that bombing. Just act like you’re concerned about your safety. Don’t mention my name. Not yet. We’ll see what intel they have first.”

  “Got it.” Leon pulled his cell phone out and placed a call.

  Jack walked to the kitchen. Mia smiled at him. Erin looked up, a worried expression covering her face. Hannah had joined them at the table and shared in Erin’s worry.

  “I don’t think this was a terrorist attack,” Jack said.

  Erin looked at Mia. “Hannah, why don’t you take Mia out back for a few?”

  “No,” Jack said. “The other room. Not outside.”

  “Why not?” Mia said.

  “Come on, Mia.” Hannah led the girl out of the room despite Mia’s protests.

  Jack and Erin remained quiet for a minute.

  “What’s going on, Jack?”

  “I’m positive that explosion was an attempt on my life.”

  “By who?”

  Jack shook his head. There was a delicate balance at work here. He couldn’t tell her too much.

  Erin said, “You don’t know? Or you don’t want to tell me?”

  Jack said, “Both.”

  “Do you think that they believe they were successful?”

  “Without a positive ID on a body? No.”

  “Do you think they can trace you back to here?”

  Jack lied. “No.” He didn’t think she believed him.

  “Jesus, Jack. What did you do? What did you come here for?”

  Jack saw something out of the corner of his eye. He pulled his pistol out and moved toward the window. His stare darted around the backyard, scanned the woods. The scene was tranquil. The yard and woods appeared empty.

  “Jack?” Erin said, her voice a little less venomous.

  “I came here for a job, Erin. My last job.”

  “So that’s why they tried to kill you? Revenge for whatever you did to complete the job?”

  Jack shook his head. “I never completed it. These guys had it taken care of for me.”