Noble Intentions: Season One

by L. T. Ryan

  "Perverts," she muttered.

  Clarissa fell back into her bed, placed her hands behind her head and continued staring at the ceiling.

  What now? The old man has the documents. What the hell does Sinclair want with me?

  She closed her eyes, sighed and ran a hand down her body. It was only then that she realized they had changed her clothes. She lifted her head and curled her lip at the sight of the drab grey cotton shorts and tank top they dressed her in. She didn't recall seeing her backpack either. So much for the Italian designer clothes she bought before boarding the cruise ship. She sighed and closed her eyes again.

  Her thoughts turned to Jack. She wasn't one to wish for a knight in shining armor to come save her, but right about now she found herself wishing Jack would show up and rescue her from this cell.

  A rap at the door jarred Clarissa from her thoughts. She sat up and put her feet on the floor. A clicking sound filled the room. The door cracked open. Clarissa stood and positioned herself against the wall, next to the door.

  "Present yourself," a male voice said.

  Clarissa said nothing.

  "Now," the voice said.

  Clarissa stood motionless. The door opened a bit more and she saw a white canister appear.

  "I'll gas you," the man said.

  Clarissa pressed back against the wall. She took a deep breath and jumped toward the door, lunging into it with her shoulder. She pushed against it with all her weight. The door didn't budge. The sound of the gas being sprayed hit her just a moment before the gas itself. Her throat tightened and she fell to her knees. She crawled toward the back of the cell, toward the sink. It felt like swimming through wet cement. By the time she reached the sink she could barely lift her hand an inch off the ground. She forced herself back on her heels and managed to get one arm up on the sink. She fumbled for the handle, turned it and placed her hand under the faucet. A stream of water trickled over the sink and onto her face. She opened her mouth and let the water slide down her throat. The muscles of her throat relaxed and she fell to the floor, gasping to fill her burning lungs with oxygen.

  Footsteps approached. "Ready to go peacefully now?"

  Clarissa propped herself up on her elbow. The blond haired man stood over her. Tall and lean. She figured she could take him. She sat back on her heels, facing him. Smiled.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled a stun gun out. "Don't try it, doll."

  Doll?

  Clarissa lunged, managing to wrap her hand around his testicles before he fired the stun gun at her. Fifty thousand volts of electricity coursed through her body. She shook violently. Her hand, still wrapped around his groin, squeezed even tighter, allowing the electricity to flow through him as well.

  The man screamed as they both collapsed to the floor.

  Clarissa smiled through the pain.

  The burst of electricity only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to render both of them useless piles of flesh on the floor of her cell.

  Clarissa shook the effects off. She lifted her head and saw the door wide open. She dragged herself over the incapacitated guard and made it to her knees. She tried to get to her feet and stumbled. The after effects of being tased hit her every few seconds and she convulsed uncontrollably. It seemed to take forever to reach the door.

  She stuck her head out and checked the hall. Empty. Dumb damn luck, she figured. Inch by inch she crawled through the doorway, pulled herself up on the wall.

  "Stop," the guard said from inside her cell.

  Clarissa threw her body forward, grabbed the door and pulled it tight. From the other side, the guard railed his knuckles against the door. She smiled at the sight of his twisted face pressed up against the mirrored window.

  "Now what?" she muttered while trying to figure out which direction offered her the best chance for escape. She shrugged and turned right, keeping her left hand against the wall, leaning in for support while her muscles still spasmed.

  She reached the end of the hall. Looked left. Dead end. Looked right and saw that there was an adjoining hallway at the end. She moved faster now, regaining control of her limbs. Her pace quickened. Occasionally she touched the wall for balance. She heard voices. Turned around and saw no one. Kept pushing forward. The cold air made the sweat that clung to her body feel like ice. Her fingers and lips tingled. Paranoia swept over her and she couldn't shake the feeling that her every move was being watched. She brushed it aside and kept moving. "Just get out" became her mantra.

  She reached the end of the hall and stopped before the corner. Pressed her back tight to the wall, closed her eyes and listened. Silence. It didn't make sense. She recalled the camera in her room. If there was a camera, then there should have been someone watching. If someone was watching, then they would have alerted everyone that she escaped. Yet, there were no alarms and no one seemed to be following her.

  Satisfied with the silence, Clarissa rounded the corner. Three men stood twenty feet or so from her, blocking the hall. All three were armed, two with pistols and one with a rifle.

  Clarissa stopped. Gasped. Backed up and dove for the corner. She hit the floor with a thud, the wind knocked from her lungs. She got to her knees and pulled her body up using the wall again. Clarissa ran, clutching her stomach, down the hall. She looked over her shoulder at the empty hall behind her. The men weren't following. She slowed down and inched closer to the hall she'd run through moments before. The hall remained quiet. She peeked around the corner. Three different men blocked this hall.

  They moved toward her.

  She backed up and screamed.

  A light filled the dark end of the hallway as a door opened. A man stepped out, working his way through the shadows.

  Clarissa slid to the ground. Trapped. The first three men stood mere feet from her. The other three men blocked the path back to her room. All six trained their weapons on her. She turned her focus to the lone man in the shadows.

  He stepped into the light.

  She gasped.

  "Now where were you planning on going, child?" Sinclair asked.

  Clarissa buried her head in her hands and cried. The guards reached under her arms. She didn't struggle as they lifted her and drug her down toward the open door Sinclair had come from. She braced herself for what was to come.

  They pushed her through the opening. The room was painted off-white. A table filled the middle of it. Two chairs sat at either end of the table.

  "Sinclair will be in to see you soon," one of the men said as they left the room.

  3

  Bear paced the full parking lot. Row after row, he walked looking for signs of Clarissa.

  Mandy followed close behind.

  "Bear," she said. "I'm tired of this."

  Bear glanced down at her.

  "What are we looking for?" she asked

  "Not what," Bear said. "Who."

  Mandy sighed. "OK, then. Who are we looking for?"

  "Ms. Clarissa."

  "Did she know she was s'posed to meet us here?"

  "No."

  Mandy stopped and put her hands on her hips. "Then what are we doing here?"

  Bear laughed at the girl's sudden attitude. "We're here because I said so. End of story."

  Mandy sat down in the middle of the road. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "What do you think you’re doing?"

  Mandy didn't say anything. She crossed her arms and turned her head.

  "Get up," Bear said.

  Mandy didn't move. "Did someone say something?"

  "Now," Bear said. "Mandy, don't try me."

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and quickly turned away again.

  Bear walked up to her, stood over her. "You can be a good girl and get up now or—"

  "La, la, la," Mandy said in a sing-song tone.

  "—or we can do this my way."

  She stopped and looked up at him.

  Bear reached down and scooped the girl off the ground, threw her over his
shoulder.

  "Bear," she screamed. "No."

  A family stopped and stared at them.

  Bear waved.

  The man dropped his bag and walked up to Bear.

  "Is this man bothering you?" he said to Mandy.

  "Yes," she said.

  Bear turned so he faced the man directly. "I suggest you leave."

  "We—" he looked back to his wife and two sons. "I'll call the cops."

  Bear took a step forward.

  The man jumped back three steps.

  "She's just tired of walking," Bear said with a nod to the man's family. "You got kids. I'm sure you know how it is."

  The man gulped. His bottom lip quivered.

  "Get outta here," Bear said.

  The man backed up and turned. "It's nothing," he called out to his family. They turned and walked toward the pier.

  Bear followed them, Mandy still slung over his shoulder. He spotted a cop and risked talking to him.

  "Officer," Bear said.

  The cop nodded in acknowledgment.

  "I'm trying to find my friend," Bear said. "I was supposed to pick her up here. She didn't show up. Here's a picture."

  The cop took the picture from Bear and smiled at Mandy. He stared at the photo for a moment. "Doesn't look familiar."

  Bear fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, she was supposed to be here. She's not. What can I do?"

  "How long she been missing?" the cop asked.

  "A day."

  "Can't do anything for forty-eight, y'know. And besides, maybe she just wanted to disappear. It happens, y'know."

  "Yeah, I know." He grabbed the picture from the cop and turned. "Thanks for nothing." He set Mandy down and led her by the hand.

  "Hey," the cop said. "Wait up."

  Bear turned.

  "Gimme the picture, I'll make a copy and pass it around. Maybe somebody saw something."

  "Thanks," Bear said with a nod and a curt smile.

  The cop slipped off with the picture and stepped inside a small yellow building at the edge of the parking lot.

  Bear pulled out his phone and dialed Clarissa's number. No answer. What's that, thirty times now? And still no answer. That couldn't be good. He tried Jack's number again. And again, there was no answer.

  The cop emerged from the small building and walked back to Bear at a quick pace. "Here's the picture. Gimme a number to reach you at."

  Bear spit out a forwarding number. Hell if he was giving a cop his cell.

  The cop nodded. "I'll call you tomorrow with an update. Good or bad, I'll call. We can file a missing person’s report then."

  Bear nodded and said nothing.

  "You should get outta here though," the cop said. "Some guy and his family are inside filing a complaint about a large man with a beard and a blond girl harassing them."

  Bear laughed. "Frigging wuss, letting a little blond haired girl harass him."

  "Say again?" the cop said.

  Mandy laughed.

  "Nothing. We're outta here." Bear turned and led Mandy back to the car.

  An hour later Bear pulled off of I-95 and pulled into the empty parking lot of some greasy diner that apparently didn't see much action despite the constant flow of traffic along the interstate. He turned the car off and sat back. Panic flooded his system. He took several deep breaths. Closed his eyes. He worked his large muscles, tightening and releasing them. The panic subsided, for now, at least. Bear learned to control his emotions, any emotion, at a young age. Countless times he'd pushed through and controlled the symptoms in order to complete a job or get out of a sticky situation. And every time he did so, it made him stronger.

  Bear looked over at Mandy. "Stay put, OK?"

  Mandy looked up from her book and nodded with a smile.

  He stepped out of the car, closed the door and moved toward the back. He kicked at the loose gravel as he reached into a deep pocket for his cell phone. He tried both Jack and Clarissa again, but didn't get an answer. He cursed under his breath and searched for Brandon's number. The phone rang.

  "What can I do for you, Bear?" Brandon said.

  "You find anything out about my friends?"

  "Not looking good, my man."

  "What do you mean?" Bear asked.

  "Everyone's a ghost, Bear." The sound of Brandon tapping on his keyboard filled the ear piece. "I can't find a trace on any of them."

  "Dammit," Bear said.

  Brandon said nothing.

  "I'm gonna need some favors."

  "Name it."

  "Not now," Bear said. "Not on the phone. I'm coming to New York. I'll call you when I'm close."

  "You got it, man."

  Bear hung up and climbed up on the trunk, the rear end of the car sagged under his weight. He studied the traffic light. Watched as cars lined up, blindly obeying a single red light for no reason other than that's what they had been told to do. The light turned green. The cars took off. A car door opened. Mandy stood in front of him. Tears welled in her eyes. Bear leaned over and placed his hand on her head. Stroked her hair.

  "I'm sorry," she said softly.

  "For what?"

  "You're mad at me, I know." She looked down at the cracked asphalt and gravel. "I acted like a brat and now you're mad at me." She sobbed and sighed loudly.

  Bear slid off the trunk and picked her up. Hugged her tight to his chest. "Listen to me, I could never be mad at you. Got it?"

  "I love you, Bear."

  Bear squeezed her and ran his large hands through her hair. For the first time in a long time, a tear fell from his eye.

  4

  Sergei Ivanov stood still in front of the full length mirror in the corner of his study. He admired himself. Most men his age didn't have his physique. Hell, some men half his age didn't. He liked the attention it brought him. The stares it elicited from women. Of course, those stares might be due to the fear and power he held over them. He knew this, and it didn't bother him. There was no greater weapon than fear. It kept the masses in check. It kept those under him in check. He'd learned long ago how to use fear to his advantage.

  He smiled at his reflection, wiped down his hair and eyebrows. He slipped into his coat and saluted himself. A smile crept up.

  "Today," he said, "is a good day for fear."

  A knock on the door caught his attention. He spun on his heel and walked to the other side of the room. "Who is it?"

  "Julij."

  Ivanov opened the door and waved Julij into his study as he retreated toward his desk.

  "Sir," Julij said. "The American and the Frenchman are being prepped for trial."

  Ivanov stared out his window at the bleak courtyard. Brown grass littered the ground. Dead trees swayed in the cold breeze. "Do you know what makes these men different from others?"

  Julij shrugged and said nothing.

  "What makes them," Ivanov continued, "different from even us?"

  "They are an abomination—"

  "No," Ivanov said, his hand held out. "All men, in their own way, are abominations, Julij." He sat on the corner of his desk, one leg on the floor, the other dangling in the air. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his inside coat pocket. He lit one and offered it to Julij, who shook his head. Ivanov continued, "Even the pope had to claw and hack his way to the top. He didn't kill men. No. He couldn't, right?" Ivanov paused and took another drag. "He killed souls, though, during his pursuit to the top. Made backroom deals with others, others who may be of dubious nature, to secure his position among the elite and be remembered forever. It's been that way for centuries, Julij."

  Julij nodded.

  Ivanov straightened up and laughed at the younger man's blank expression. "You don't understand, do you?"

  Julij's pale cheeks flushed. "No, Sir."

  Ivanov turned his back on his young ward and looked out the window again. A woman walked with her son toward the playground where a few other children played. A smile crept up on his face as he watched the children. He cracked the wi
ndow and tipped his ash outside. "Take another guess. Why are these men different?"

  "They kill without purpose?"

  "Are you asking or telling, Julij?"

  Julij rubbed his hands together and shook his head.

  "No, they have a purpose, my friend. Just as you and I have a purpose for killing. Only, our purpose has the power of belief behind it. Understand?"

  Julij said nothing.

  "These men—"

  A rap at the door interrupted Ivanov. He frowned at Julij. "Who is it?"

  The door opened and a young man stepped in and saluted. "Sir, they are ready for you in court."

  Ivanov nodded and waited for the door to shut. "These men will kill anyone for money. They won't stop until it's done. We promise our own men freedom, power, and the ability to be feared. Yet some leave us the first chance they get in order to return to mundane lives. It doesn't matter what amount of money or other perks we offer them." He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on his desk. "If we offered these men enough money, they'd kill their own leaders for us. They wouldn't question it. And they wouldn't stop until the job was done. Pit bulls, Julij. These men are pit bulls."

  "Makes sense," Julij said.

  "Of course it does," Ivanov said. He stepped toward the door. "Let's go."

  "Sir," Julij said. "One more thing to discuss."

  Ivanov turned. "Yes?"

  "The documents, sir. The ones that were lost in transit a few weeks back."

  Ivanov nodded.

  "Intelligence found a blip."

  Ivanov scratched at the short grey stubble on his face. "A blip? Where?"

  "France."

  Ivanov studied the ceiling for a moment. "Coincidence?"

  "We could try to find out."

  "I hate asking questions that I'm not sure I have the answer to, Julij. That's the kind of thing that can cause a problem for us. Find out."