Noble Intentions: Season One

by L. T. Ryan

  "Wake up."

  "I'm up, sweetie."

  The little girl stepped back and smiled.

  Clarissa sat up, stretched her arms above her head and smiled back. She felt rested, but her back was tight.

  "What time is it? Do you know?" Clarissa asked.

  "Seven o'clock."

  Clarissa looked around the room in an attempt to get her bearings straight. She stood, walked toward the kitchen, found the coffee maker and put on a pot.

  "Have you eaten?" she asked.

  Mandy sat at the table and shook her head.

  Clarissa fixed her a bowl of cereal and filled a mug full of coffee for herself then she joined Mandy at the table.

  "Aren't you going to eat?" Mandy said through a mouthful of cereal.

  "Too early," Clarissa replied while rubbing her eyes. "Is Bear here?"

  Mandy shrugged. "His room's empty."

  Clarissa got up. "Stay here." She walked through the living room, didn't see him. She started upstairs and called his name from the top step.

  No answer.

  She checked his room.

  Empty.

  She made her way back to the kitchen and found her phone, dialed Bear's number and waited.

  No answer.

  She checked outside for his car, it wasn't there.

  "What's wrong?"

  Clarissa looked over her shoulder. Mandy stood on the porch, squinting against the sun.

  "Nothing," Clarissa said. "He probably stayed in the city last night, that's all." She led the little girl back inside. "I think I will have some breakfast. What's good here?"

  Mandy smiled and tilted her bowl of cereal. "This is."

  "Hmm, good choice. I think that's what I'll have." She hadn't finished filling her bowl when the sound of a car pulling up caught her attention. She dropped the box of cereal and stepped outside. She stood in the doorway, half inside, half out, and waited. The car stopped, out of sight.

  Bear appeared around the corner. "Sorry for not calling, dear."

  Clarissa sighed. "Yeah, thanks for that."

  Bear shrugged.

  "Hungry?"

  "Yeah," Bear said. "But wait a sec."

  Mandy stepped out on the porch. "Hi, Bear," she said.

  "Go inside, sweetie," Bear said. He waited for her to disappear. "Close the door."

  Clarissa did. She walked down the stairs, biting her bottom lip. "What's going on?"

  "I don't know how to tell you this," Bear said.

  "Just tell me. What's happened to Jack?"

  Bear looked down at the ground. He kicked at the grass with one foot. "He's in a Russian jail called Black Dolphin."

  Clarissa wrapped her hand around the wooden handrail, her nails digging into the wood.

  "It's not—not a good place, Clarissa," Bear said. He breathed heavily through his nose. "He's been sentenced to death."

  Clarissa felt her lips tremble, her eyes welled with tears. She looked up, then to the side to avoid the fractured sunlight.

  Bear placed his large hands on her shoulders and pulled her close.

  Clarissa allowed herself to be swallowed up by his massive arms. She buried her face in his chest and cried, screamed, beat at his back with her hands. She felt her energy drain and her legs went weak. She collapsed, held upright only by Bear's embrace.

  "What's wrong?" Mandy asked.

  "It's OK," Bear said. "Ms. Clarissa is sad."

  The sound of Mandy's voice brought Clarissa back. She pushed away from Bear.

  He caught her eye. "We're doing what we can."

  She looked up into his eyes. Reached up and placed her hand on the side of his face. "I know. And I know this hurts you as much as it does me."

  Bear looked away.

  "I've got a decision to make." She paused for a moment. "I have to make it soon."

  He didn't say anything.

  She turned, walked up the stairs and picked up Mandy. Carried the little girl inside and sat her down at the table.

  "What's wrong?" she asked again.

  "Just got bad news about a friend."

  Mandy got up and hugged her. "I'm sorry."

  Clarissa pulled out her phone and left the kitchen.

  "Sinclair," she said.

  "Hello, child."

  "I need a few more days."

  "Not a problem," he said.

  She looked out the front window at the empty street. "Can you do me a favor?"

  "If it's about Jack Noble, I'm afraid there isn't much I can do."

  "Just make some noise."

  "I'll try."

  She stuffed the phone in her pocket and turned around.

  Bear stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his large body making the entrance look small. "Who was that?"

  "Nobody."

  16

  Jack lay in bed, his head throbbing. The pain was worth it. He now had the cell to himself. Someone told him he'd have to go to court again, this time for the murder of Isai Goraya, his former cellmate. Jack just smiled. He was already a walking dead man, what difference would one more count of murder make? He'd told them that he'd kill any other men they stuck in his cell, and judging by the looks on their faces when he said it, they believed him.

  He looked backward, through the opaque window that allowed sunlight in, but offered no view of the outside world. The thought of never seeing the sky or green grass depressed him. Would he be in the prison until he died? What kind of life would that be? He brushed the thoughts aside. He knew that something like this had always been a possibility. It came with the life he chose, the job he performed. A life had to be given for all the lives taken. It had to be that way.

  And it was his life that had to be sacrificed.

  He'd heard that only one person ever won an appeal and been released from Black Dolphin. Appeals didn't exist for Jack Noble, though, not the way he was convicted. He assumed that his sentence would be carried out soon enough. The sooner the better, because the ninety square foot room drove him crazy.

  The sound of keys against the outside door of his cell disrupted the tranquil silence. He propped himself up on his elbows, prepared himself for what might happen.

  Alik stepped through the opening and unlocked and opened the inner door. "Leave us," he said to the guards behind him.

  Jack sat up.

  Alik turned and nodded at him. "Mr. Noble, how are you?"

  Jack shrugged, rubbed the back of his head. Said, "Better than Isai."

  "I'm sure." Alik tossed a bag on the table. "Come on down here. I want to talk with you."

  Jack rolled over the side of the bed and dropped his feet to the floor. His back was turned to Alik, and Jack paused for a moment, wondering if the guard would take a shot at him.

  He didn't.

  "Sit," Alik said.

  Jack turned and took a seat at the small table.

  Alik pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and placed them on the table along with a box of matches. "I trust you won't try to burn the place down."

  Jack lifted an eyebrow and shrugged. "Can't promise." He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "You know what? I was going to quit."

  "No point now," Alik said.

  Jack nodded and smiled and said nothing. He studied the guard, noticed that the man came into his cell unarmed. Where did this trust come from? Maybe telling the other guards to leave was a show and they sat just outside the cell waiting for a signal.

  Why else would Alik come in unarmed and leave the doors to the cell unlocked?

  "Jack," Alik said. "I want to help you. You don't belong here."

  "I don't belong most places."

  "That's beside the point. Allow me to help you file an appeal."

  "Why would you? Why risk your own neck?"

  "I don't have to do anything if you prefer." He turned and added in a whisper, "If I could sneak you out of here, I would, Jack."

  Jack stubbed his cigarette out. Sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. He
studied Alik. He saw trust behind the man's eyes. In that moment, Jack decided he could trust the guard.

  Alik pointed to the bag. "Real food. Eat."

  The brown bag sat on the table, the top folded down. Jack had been curious what was inside. He picked it up and dumped the contents on the table. "Where'd you get this?"

  "I have my ways," Alik said.

  Jack unfolded a paper wrapper and took a large bite of a thick hamburger. He savored the taste as grease and fat juices trickled down his chin.

  "Good?"

  Jack picked up the bag and looked inside. "No fries?"

  Alik said nothing. He leaned back against the bars that made up the inner cell wall. He smiled. His eyes never left Jack.

  Jack put down the burger halfway through, lit another cigarette. Said, "So, this appeal process, how would it work?"

  Alik shook his head. "It doesn't really matter, Jack."

  "What?"

  "I've discussed this at length with Ivanov. He won't reverse the ruling."

  Jack felt his heart race and his breath became shallow and rapid. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, trickled down his chest and back.

  What the hell is going on?

  His stomach knotted, he clawed at his abdomen.

  "First," Alik said. "The poison eats at the stomach lining in order to get into the bloodstream."

  Jack got to his feet. His chest started burning. Was it the panic, or something else?

  "Then it enters the heart, Jack."

  Jack's heart cried out in pain. He clutched his chest. The man before him turned into a blurred mass. The world started closing in on him.

  "The result is a massive heart attack. The kind no man can survive."

  Jack felt his heart exploding in his chest. His oxygen starved brain ached, his vision started to fade black. He fell to his knees and reached out with his hand, searching for Alik. "Please," he tried to say, but what little breath remained in his body was all that escaped from his lips.

  "Finally, Mr. Noble," Alik said, "you slip into that dark, deep sleep. The one you sent countless men to. May they never find your soul, you heartless bastard."

  But, I have a heart.

  "I'm finished in here, guards," Alik said.

  Jack fell forward. He barely noticed the impact as his head hit the floor with a sickening thud. The cramping in his chest ceased. His dying heart thumped sporadically, the sound of it whooshing in his ears.

  Thump-thump...thump...seconds passed...thump...

  Then, nothing.

  17

  Boris stuck the blade of the shovel into the ground, stepped on it and scooped it up. He tossed the chunk of dirt and grass to the side. He repeated the process another dozen times before stopping to light a cigarette. He propped himself up on the end of his shovel.

  "You know what, Pasha?" he said.

  Pasha lifted his chubby face up from his bent over position. His red cheeks glistened with sweat. He let go of his shovel and stood up, arching his back and groaning as he twisted side to side. "What, Boris?"

  "They are wasting our time digging this grave." He inhaled deeply, waiting for his partner to reply with the obligatory why.

  "Why's that?" Pasha said with a sigh.

  "This man, this Jack Noble, nothing but American rubbish." He spit into the shallow grave.

  Pasha shrugged and held out his hand. "Give me a smoke."

  Boris reached into his pocket and tossed the pack of cigarettes across the hole.

  "Rubbish or not," Pasha paused to light his cigarette, "he deserves a proper burial."

  "Maybe so, but why not burn his body first? Wouldn’t you rather dig a two foot hole instead of an eight foot one?"

  "I get paid no matter what I do," Pasha said. "So a two foot hole would have suited me fine."

  "You, sir," Boris said, "are a lazy bastard."

  Pasha laughed as he tossed the pack back to Boris. "You and me both, my friend."

  Boris looked around at the bleak landscape, op at the gray sky. "Rain'll be coming soon. We best hurry."

  "A drink first," Pasha said. "In honor of our new friend, Jack Noble." He nodded to the pine box set fifteen feet away.

  The men walked over to the box and took a seat on top. Boris kicked his legs out and let them slam against the side, one at a time, over and over, like a little kid sitting on a seat too big for him. He took the flask from Pasha and took a long pull.

  "Good stuff," he said. "How about a drink, Mr. Noble?"

  Pasha took the flask from Boris and tipped it over so that it poured through one of the seams at the end of the wooden coffin.

  Both men laughed. They finished the flask then returned to their shovels.

  Boris unzipped his pants and urinated in the hole.

  "Wait until we are finished digging, you idiot," Pasha said.

  Boris laughed. "Sorry." He stuffed himself back in his pants and returned to the job.

  Half an hour passed as the men took turns burying their shovels into the soft earth to create Jack's final resting place.

  "That's good enough," Pasha said. "You can take care of your business now."

  Boris shrugged. "I just want to get inside. It's cold out here." He started toward the coffin, looked back, saw Pasha following close behind. "You don't have another flask do you?"

  "No," Pasha replied. "Have another cigarette?"

  Boris lit two, handed one to Pasha. They stood in front of the coffin.

  "Poor bastard," Pasha said. "Can you imagine going like this. No one to see you off as you return to the Earth? Not a soul around that gives a damn about you?"

  Boris looked at his partner, placed a hand on his shoulder. "You don't shut up with that deep crap, it'll be you going in the grave. Not him."

  Pasha laughed. Flicked his cigarette over the coffin. "Let's put this bastard in the ground."

  Boris stood at one end, Pasha at the other. They grunted as they lifted the box, which must have weighed close to three hundred pounds.

  "Better than the last one we buried," Pasha said as he struggled to keep the coffin off the ground.

  "This guy is the reason for the last one," Boris said.

  They reached the side of the grave and dropped the coffin on the ground. Both men caught their breath and squatted down, preparing for the final push.

  "What the hell is that?" Boris said.

  Both men looked toward the prison and saw a box truck driving toward them, flashing its lights, the horn blaring. They rose together and walked to the side of the road.

  The truck stopped and Alik stepped out. "I've got orders to transport the body to—"

  "Like hell you are," Boris said. "We just spent two hours digging a damn hole. We are putting a body in that hole."

  "Then it'll have to be one of you two that goes in it," Alik said. "These orders come from Ivanov. They've negotiated with the Americans. Noble’s body for some of ours."

  Boris stepped forward, bumped Alik's chest with his own. "Show me."

  "Screw you," Alik said.

  "Then you aren't getting the body."

  "Let him," Pasha said.

  "What?" Boris said.

  "Just let him. Maybe they'll send Mikhail's body back."

  "Listen to the man," Alik said as he moved toward the back of the truck. He unlocked and lifted the door. "Bring him here."

  Boris sighed and followed Pasha to the grave. "Let's just dump him in."

  Pasha shook his head, bent over and lifted his end of the casket waist high. Boris did the same. They loaded the body in the back of the truck.

  Alik closed the door and locked it again. "You two want to ride along?"

  "I don't think so," Boris said.

  "Come on," Alik said. "What are you going to do? Go back inside and chase turds?"

  The gravediggers looked at each other and shrugged, walked to the front of the truck and climbed into the cab.

  18

  Pierre walked alongside Charles. They stopped halfway across the Po
nt des Arts, a footbridge that crosses the Seine. Pierre stared out over the river, watching the boats float by. People passed behind them in a hurry, scurrying across the bridge. Normally, he'd judge each one as they approached. Today he didn't.

  "So what's your answer?" Charles asked.

  "I'm willing," Pierre said. "Side jobs, though. I still have my commitments to the agency."

  Charles nodded. He tapped on the railing with his fist. "Can I count on you?"

  "For?"

  Charles spun and leaned back against the railing. "Missy, come here."

  Pierre glanced over his shoulder at the young, attractive, dark haired woman as she crossed the bridge. She slipped her arm around Charles's neck and kissed him. Pierre felt repulsed.

  "Missy," Charles said. "This is my new friend Pierre. He's going to be working for us from time to time."

  "Charmed," she said.

  Pierre nodded at her then returned his gaze to Charles. "What's she got to do with anything?"

  "She was taken from her home in North Dakota. Sold into slavery." Charles paused. "Sexual slavery," he said slowly, drawing out every syllable. "First thing I want you to do is bring that ring down."

  "Give me names and I'll take—"

  "No names," Charles said. "Use your intel to make it happen."

  "I can't use my resources in that manner."

  Charles frowned. "Are you telling me no, Pierre? 'Cause I don't like to be told no."

  "He doesn't," Missy said.

  Pierre sighed loudly. "Do you know who I am?"

  "Do you know who I am?" Charles said. "Who I represent?"

  Pierre turned his head and looked over the river and said nothing.

  "Can I count on you?"

  "Yes," Pierre said.

  "That's great friggin’ news. I'm glad you—" His cell phone interrupted. "Excuse me a moment."

  Pierre watched Charles walk away. Smiled at Missy, but kept his focus on Charles.

  "Yeah, Boss," Charles said. He paused, nodded, turned to face Pierre and smiled. "That is excellent news, Feng."

  "What's excellent?" Pierre asked.

  Charles ignored him. He seemed to stare out at nothing. A big smile stretched across his face. He looked like a kid on Christmas staring at the toy he longed for all year long.

  Missy walked up to him and draped herself to his side. "What is it, baby?"