by L. T. Ryan
“Then you have nothing to worry about, Mr. Logan.” He reached over and brushed something off Bear’s shoulder. “My job was to provide you with the address of the building they had occupied and to tell you about their routine. Anything after that is on you.”
Bear didn’t know what it was about this guy that set him off. He was used to dealing with flighty people, but Mr. Jones was different. He relished it. It was like a game to him. And with Jack’s life on the line, Bear didn’t have the patience for that kind of attitude.
But if he needed to talk to Mr. Jones again, it sounded like Sadie knew how to get in contact with him. So instead of answering, Bear stood up and walked away.
It was time to get some rest and then do some digging on his own.
6
When Bear woke up the next morning, it took him a minute to place where he was and what he was doing there. He’d grabbed a hotel on the outskirts of London late at night and checked in with Sadie to give her an update. The conversation was brief, which didn’t bother Bear. He still felt off following the cocktail he’d taken to get on the plane. He’d needed to sleep.
He sat up and stretched. His head felt clearer, but that only made matters worse. His meeting with Mr. Jones the night before still wasn’t sitting well with him. The guy was paranoid, sure, but he went through a lot of trouble just to slip Bear an address. The price tag on that information seemed a little steep.
He’d decided as he was falling asleep that it was time to hit up his own contacts. He knew a couple people in London who’d be willing to help him out, especially if he mentioned that Jack was in trouble. The two of them had built up quite a network over the years, and Bear was thankful for that now more than ever.
The shower was hot and did wonders to finish waking up Bear’s body. He did his best to tame his beard, but as usual it was a losing battle. Anyone who knew him would be surprised he wasn’t covered in cuts and bruises. By all standards, he was looking pretty good this morning.
Probably wouldn’t last.
Bear wondered, not for the first time, how Jack was faring. If he was deep in hiding, then there was nothing to worry about. He was probably eating beans out of a can and enjoying a good book. Bear imagined him in the middle of the woods, living off the land. Maybe he even had a dog.
Worst case scenario? Jack was dead. Bear didn’t like to linger on that thought. Jack was tough. He’d gotten out of situations with impossible odds before. No way Noble was going to let Thorne get the best of him.
But that didn’t mean Jack was in good shape. Maybe he was just in hiding. Or maybe he was being tortured. Jack could take a lot before he cracked. Still, Bear didn’t want to waste any time. If anything, Jack would give him shit for dragging his feet as much as he had already. He wasn’t looking forward to that earful.
There was still no evidence that the missing agents had anything to do with Jack’s disappearance, and Bear was itching to get some answers on that front. If someone wanted to wipe the evidence from the building the agents were staying in, it’d be gone already. If there was anything left to be found there, it’d keep for a day or two.
Bear made a mental search for people he could trust in London and cross-referenced that with those who might have heard anything about Jack. A couple names stood out, but one in particular seemed like the smart choice: Dottie.
Tracking her down was easier than it should’ve been considering Dottie had been an agent for MI5, but she knew how to disappear when she needed to. Since that wasn’t the case here, Bear figured it was a good sign. No one was looking for her as far as he knew, which meant a meeting with him would go relatively unnoticed.
Or at least he hoped. That tingle of paranoia was still sitting firmly in the back of his head.
But Dottie knew how to pick a good location too. They met at a busy restaurant, something a bit more commercial than the place where he’d met Mr. Jones, but it served their purpose. Big crowd. Lots of noise. No one would be listening in, and the overworked waitstaff wouldn’t be checking in on them every two minutes.
Bear arrived first and walked around the block twice to make sure he wasn’t being followed. No one stood out, so he entered the restaurant and got seated after a few minutes. The place was packed wall-to-wall with tables and chairs. He had requested a spot in the back corner, and even though he had to squeeze in against the wall, it would be worth it for the additional privacy.
Dottie walked in ten minutes later. Bear had already ordered a cup of coffee and was halfway through it when he spotted her. He attempted to get up out of his seat, but she held up her hand to stop him.
“I’m not sure you’d be able to get back in there again, Mr. Logan. Better not chance it.”
Dottie’s accent was clean and posh. It was either the result of fancy schooling or a lifetime of making sure she sounded like a proper English lady. Bear wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. A neutral accent didn’t stand out as much.
Bear always forgot Dottie was a bit older than him and Jack, and it took a minute to realize it. Her skin was smooth and her hair was either dyed to look natural or she was lucky enough to be one of those women who never had to worry about grays. She might not have been as lean and toned as she used to be, but Bear had no doubts she could handle herself. She’d been in this game longer than he had, and he didn’t want to test her limits.
Luckily, there was little chance this meeting would come down to that.
“Thanks.” Bear shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable angle. “Coffee’s good here. You want some?”
Dottie removed her scarf and sat down. Her eyes were bright and mischievous. “Yes, please.”
Bear caught the eye of their waiter and ordered two more coffees. When he left, Bear leaned back as best he could and folded his hands over his stomach.
“How have you been? Keeping dry?”
“Oh, you know. Best as I can.” Dottie smiled and pushed a piece of hair out of her face. “And you? It’s been some time, Mr. Logan. We don’t see you over here too often.”
“I was actually just here about a week ago. Business keeps me coming back, I guess.”
“And how are you enjoying your time so far?”
Bear held back his answer as the waiter delivered their coffees. They both declined ordering breakfast. When the man walked away, Bear returned his attention to Dottie.
“It’s been a little quiet for my liking,” Bear said. “I’m trying to track down a friend.”
“So you said in your message.” Dottie looked at Bear over the rim of her mug as she took a sip. When she set it back down on the table, she looked serious. “Is Jack okay?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. I haven’t heard from him in a while.”
“That’s not unusual sometimes, though, is it?”
Bear took a sip of his coffee. The heat sliding down his esophagus relaxed and reinvigorated him at the same time. “Depends. Sometimes he disappears for a while. He usually tells me. He told me before he went away this last time.”
“Then what has you so worried?”
Bear took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. He was either going to trust Dottie or he wasn’t. She was Jack’s contact, someone he had worked with a few times in the past. Bear had met her once or twice, but their interactions had been brief.
Still, in that time, Bear felt like he’d gotten a sense of her. He trusted her, probably because Jack did, but there was still something that made him a little uneasy. He chalked it up to the fact that she was a British operative. She had secrets to hide, like they all did. That didn’t make her any less trustworthy. In fact, it made her the right person to keep this inquiry quiet.
He leaned in a little further. “Do you know anyone by the name of Daniel Thorne?”
Dottie looked down at the table like she was trying to read something invisible in front of her. Her eyes moved back and forth, like she was skimming through all of her memory files in a matter of seconds.
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” she said, slowly. “Context?”
“American. Don’t know much about his operations, but he’s clearly been around for a while. He’s made waves but toes the line.”
Dottie laughed. “Sure you’re not talking about Jack?”
Bear couldn’t help but smile. “Fair point.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve come across him before. Or if I have, it’s possible he was using an alias.”
Bear nodded. “It was a long shot. Here’s another question. Have you heard about a group of CIA operatives stationed in London disappearing off the map?”
Dottie twisted her mouth. “No, but that’s not surprising. You Americans don’t share as much as you say you do. And neither do my superiors.”
“You mind looking into that for me? Finding what you can hear through the grapevine?”
“Sure.” Dottie tilted her head to the side. “But what does this have to do with Jack?”
“To be honest, maybe nothing.” Bear dragged a hand down his face. “But Thorne has been a pain in our ass for a while now. CIA took him in a week or two ago, and his last words were about Jack.”
“What’d he say?”
“How’s Jack?” Bear repeated. “Have you heard from him lately?”
Dottie drained her mug. “Not much to go on.”
“I didn’t think much of it, but I tried to find him anyway. Looked everywhere. Even here. No signs. Nothing. Jack always leaves a trail for me, unless—”
“Unless something’s wrong.”
Bear nodded. “I’m not saying it’s anything. Maybe he’s sitting on some beach drinking out of coconut shells and learning how to surf.”
“Doesn’t really sound like the Jack I know.” Dottie laughed. “And he would’ve told you if he was just taking a vacation.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“I’ll see what I can find. Jack’s always been clever. If he doesn’t want to be found, you’ll never catch him. But I’ll at least ask around. Quietly.”
“I appreciate that, Dottie. And if Jack’s in trouble, I know he’ll appreciate it, too.”
“Let’s just hope it’s the kind of trouble you can get him out of, Mr. Logan.”
Bear slid a piece of paper across the table. “My number. In case you do find anything.”
Dottie slipped it into her pocket and stood. Bear didn’t even attempt to get up this time. It was a lost cause. They said their verbal goodbyes and Bear let Dottie leave first. He paid the bill and waited ten more minutes as a courtesy before exiting the restaurant.
Even if no one was watching, it didn’t mean no one would notice. It was better not to be seen together.
7
With Dottie on the case, Bear’s next logical step was to check the address Mr. Jones had provided. He had some other contacts he could get in touch with if the occasion called for it, but too many hands in the cookie jar meant something was bound to break.
So instead, he made his way to the address he had committed to memory the night before. The place the agents had been staying was in an area of Camden that Bear had never been to before. It was obvious why the operatives had chosen this place in particular: it was easy to keep a low profile.
And that’s exactly what he did. He wound his way down several roads, avoiding the one that housed the apartment building. He wanted to get a feel for the area and a general map of it in his head. If he had to make a quick getaway, this information would be invaluable.
Plus, it was a good way to see if he was being followed.
Once he was happy with the mental map he’d created, and was sure no one was stalking him, Bear walked down the same block the apartment was sitting on. It was a modest building, made of dirty bricks and tiny windows. It was utterly ordinary, neither the best nor the worst building on the block.
It was clear these agents hadn’t wanted to be noticed. It was only their regular schedule and Mr. Jones’ keen eye that had given them away. Although, Bear couldn’t be sure someone else hadn’t picked up their scent, either. Had they moved on to another area, unsanctioned, or had their mission been permanently cut short?
Bear made two passes before he found a pub down the street and made himself comfortable. It’d be much easier to keep an eye on the place once the sun went down. He could blend into the shadows. See who frequented the building. Try to figure out what the hell this could have to do with Jack.
Bear ordered another Fuller’s and sat in a corner where he could watch the patrons of the bar and the street outside. It was a modest pub, with plenty of locals chatting loudly about whatever was on TV. Bear didn’t bother looking. Instead, he had his nose buried in his phone.
Dottie had messaged him to say she’d put the word out. Nothing yet, but she had high hopes. So did Bear. Dottie was one of the most well-connected contacts he and Jack had. If these agents had anything to do with Jack, Dottie would at least be able to help him start connecting the dots. Once he had a thread, he’d follow it as far as he could go.
Until then, all he could do was wait.
Sadie checked in once, but she didn’t have any news either. Bear passed the time drinking and making a mental note of who else was in the area that he could reach out to. Then he crossed off everyone he couldn’t trust with information about Jack’s possible disappearance. It didn’t make for a long list.
“You waiting for someone?”
Bear looked up to find the waitress switching out his empty beer bottle for a full one. She didn’t seem worried about the idea that he had been there for hours.
“Nah.” He lifted the new beer in thanks. “Just thinking.”
She nodded her head knowingly. “That’s the kind of thing that gets people in trouble.”
“That it does.”
When it looked like he wasn’t going to offer up any more information, she knocked her knuckles on his table. “Well, let me know if you need anything to wash your beer down with.”
He gave her a small smile. “Thanks, I will.”
Beyond that, no one said anything to Bear, and by the time he’d had three more beers, he was ready to take a closer look at the apartment building. It was dark and the streets had cleared out for the most part. He’d probably fit right in with anyone willing to hang around after hours. His whole mouth tasted like beer, which meant he probably smelled like it too, but he had been drinking slowly enough to keep his mind from being clouded.
The air had chilled since he’d been outside last. He stuck his hands in his pockets and hiked his shoulders up around his ears. He kept his eyes down but made sure to stay aware of everything that crossed through his peripheral vision.
The apartment building wasn’t particularly tall, not like they were in New York City, but he counted six stories and four windows across the front. There’d likely be a basement too, and at least fifty apartments.
Just as he was debating the best way to work his way through the building without causing suspicion, he noticed a young boy, maybe eleven or twelve, running straight for him. He had on a dirty jacket and a knit cap, but his sneakers looked bright against the night. Stolen.
The kid didn’t slow down as he barreled toward him, so Bear angled his body and planted his feet. Not that it would’ve mattered. The kid was skin and bones. Still, the action had the desired effect. When the boy hit Bear, he bounced off and fell down, spread eagle on the concrete. Bear looked like he’d been hit by a leaf passing in the wind.
Sure enough, when Bear looked down, the kid was clutching Bear’s wallet to his chest.
“You rely on speed too much.” Bear grabbed the kid’s arm to simultaneously help him up and keep him in place. “You need to be more subtle.”
“Let me go!” The kid’s voice was just a squeak. “I’ll scream.”
Bear grabbed his wallet back, but didn’t let go of the boy’s arm. “Or you can earn this money instead of stealing it.”
The boy stilled and looked up at Bear. He seemed suspicious. “How?”
Bear let the kid go and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I need you to go in there and tell me everything you see. I want to know what it looks like, what kind of people are inside, if you see anything weird.”
“Weird?” The boy didn’t talk much, but there was a hint of an Irish accent. “Weird how?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.” Bear knew what kids like this had to deal with on a daily basis. They had an innate sort of alarm for danger inside of them. “Anything that feels off or wrong, I want to know about it.”
The boy crossed his arms and stood up taller. “How much do I get?”
“Fifty pounds,” Bear said. “And we’ll get takeout too.”
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Deal.”
Bear could practically hear the kid’s stomach growl. “You got a name?”
“Seamus.”
“Bear.”
“Bear?” The boy laughed. “What kind of name is that?”
“It’s what my friends call me.”
Seamus smiled. “Okay then, Bear. What kind of takeout are we getting?”
“I’m in the mood for some Thai. That good with you?” He’d spotted a stand around the corner when he was doing his sweeps earlier.
Seamus nodded. “Good with me.”
8
Bear had to force Seamus not to eat all his noodles in one sitting. He was worried they’d come right back up if the kid had to climb six flights of stairs. The boy looked sad as he watched Bear close the lid on his takeout container, but he wiped his hands on his jacket, pulled his cap down over his ears, and made his way back up the street toward the apartment building.
This was the worst part of the job sometimes. The waiting. The cautiousness. Sometimes Bear wanted to employ the Jack Noble method and just barrel his way into a situation, guns blazing, and come out the hero every time. Jack had a knack for that kind of shit. But Bear was a bigger target. Best case scenario, he’d end up with a bullet in his ass. Worst case scenario, Jack would have to come out of hiding to attend his funeral.
