The Random Affair

by James H Roby

  " 'Morning, Mrs. Steed," Jordan said and thumbed through the stack.

  “Is it laundry day, sir?”

  Jordan paused from scanning the letters. Mrs. Steed’s face was still on the computer screen before her.

  “I just got back from house hunting. I did put on a sport coat.”

  "Your mother called," Mrs. Steed said. She looked over the rims of her glasses with those pale blue almost gray eyes of hers. Clearly, she was the employee, but the motherly quality about her always put Jordan at a disadvantage.

  "Mrs. Steed..."

  "Poor dear, she sounded so worried."

  "Mrs. Steed, I -"

  "I know how nice it is to get a phone call from your son. My boys call every week, like clockwork."

  "I've been meaning to call, but -"

  "I truly wanted to put her mind at ease, but what could I say, I don't know where you are most of the time..."

  "All right, all right, I'll call her right now."

  Gloria Steed popped her head up. Her mouth and eyes all went big chasing away the wrinkles of her face. "Mr. Noble, I hope you don't think I was trying to influence you in any way."

  "Yeah, yeah," Jordan said. "You made your point. Anything else?"

  "Yes, that nice Dr. Myers called. She won't be able to meet you for dinner Friday. I'm so sorry."

  Jordan rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Steed, it's not that big a deal."

  "Would you like to reschedule?"

  Jordan started away from the desk. "I'll take care of it. Thanks."

  "You really shouldn't let her get away."

  Mrs. Steed!" Jordan shouted, "I told you -"

  "Yes, yes, I know, just friends. All the same..."

  Jordan stopped and turned around. The old Polish lady was his first hire at UrbanKnights and had been giving him hell ever since. Sometimes he wondered why he put up with it. Others he wondered how he made it without her.

  "Mrs. Steed, why do you do this to me?"

  "Do what?"

  Jordan sighed and continued on his way. Only four offices were on this floor. The first two had the doors closed and locked. Jordan looked at his watch. The time was 10:03. He walked on, wondering where the occupants were. Across the hall from his office, E-Man sat on a corner of his desk, talking on the phone. He saw Jordan, terminated his call and jogged across the hall.

  "Hey, what's up, E," Jordan said as he opened his door.

  " 'Sup."

  They entered the spacious office. E-Man commented football could be played in it. Of course, it wasn't quite that large. A formal office space complete with wooden desk before a bookshelf set opposite the door. To the left, a couch and pair of leather chairs were stationed in front of tall floor to ceiling windows.

  Jordan slid off his jacket and hung it on a coat tree off to the right of his desk. He threw the stack of letters on his desk as E-Man sat in a chair. The morning sun beamed from high in the eastern sky, catching a corner of the south windows behind Jordan. The glass towers of the Renaissance Center across the street bathe in the morning sun, gleaming like a jewel. E-Man picked up the remote from the desk and turned on the TV in the book shelf on the south wall.

  "What I miss?" Jordan asked as he booted up his laptop. With practiced motion, he opened three windows – his mailbox, a local news and a national news site.

  "Not much," E-Man said. "You saw that mess Jerome still screwing around with?”

  “Yeah.”

  “OK. Me? I’d fire that brother." E-Man switched off the TV and tossed the remote back on the desk.

  The two men worked silently – Jordan on his computer while E-Man browsed through his phone. A comfortable, familiar routine dating back to their time in the service. Ten minutes passed.

  "Where the hell is Don and Malcolm?"

  E-Man laughed his signature laugh. A noisy throb through his nose followed by a snort. "You gave them the day off."

  "On a Monday? What the hell was I thinking? Why didn't you stop me?"

  "You the boss," E-Man said with a broad grin.

  Before Jordan could respond, the intercom beeped. "Yes, Mrs. Steed?"

  "Did you call your mother?" the voice crackled over the speaker.

  Jordan mouthed the word Damn. "No, Mrs. Steed."

  "Well, it's too late now. There are two men to see you."

  Jordan’s eyebrow shot up as he wondered how these men got around the formidable Ms. Brown to reach Mrs. Steed. "Do they have an appointment?"

  "No sir, but they say they're from the CIA."

  Jordan and E-Man’s eyes locked.

  "CIA?'" E-Man asked.

  Jordan shrugged. He turned back to the intercom. "Who are they, Mrs. Steed?"

  A moment passed before Mrs. Steed's voice returned. "Agents Stiles and Thomas."

  Jordan and E-Man exchanged looks again.

  "Anyone you know, E?" Jordan asked.

  "Nope. You?"

  "Nope. What do you think?"

  E-Man put his elbow on the desk and made a gesture of surrendering. "It's up to you. You the boss."

  “You go there too much.” Jordan gave him a sideways look. "Show them in," he said to the intercom.

  They got up and Jordan made his way around the desk. He went to his coat rack, debating whether to put his jacket back on. He didn’t exactly hate the CIA but if they lost all their funding he wouldn’t shed any tears. Between competing with them for intel and other SNAFUs while with the DIA, he and E-Man had no shortage of bad blood with their sister agency. He shrugged and put the jacket on. What the hell.

  "CIA, huh?" he said.

  E-Man bobbed his shoulders. He had no jacket, which was par for the course. E-Man had to be forced into a suit. He wore a gray button down and dark striped slacks. It wasn’t as outlandish as he had been known to get but not quite professional neither.

  "Damn spooks," E-Man said. "What the hell do they want?"

  "Guess we’ll find out."

  A knock announced Mrs. Steed at the door.

  "Show time," Jordan said. "Come in."

  Mrs. Steed ushered in the two visitors. After the men came in, she left and closed the door. The older of the two stepped forward. He flipped open an ID.

  "Special Agent Tom Stiles," he said. The ID picture looked just like the tall, mid to late fifties blond. "This is Agent William Thomas."

  Jordan gave the photos a cursory glance and introduced himself and his partner. The two CIA agents fit the stereotype. They both wore black suits with black ties. Jordan noticed the bulges on their sides in the general area he carried his Heckler and Koch P7M. He started to say something about bringing guns into his office but decided to spare himself a lecture about the Second Amendment or Operational Parameters. He directed the men to the couch and chairs.

  "I was just saying to Mr. Manning that we don't know you gentlemen."

  "You probably wouldn't," Stiles said as he sunk into a leather chair. His voice was low and like gravel. "I've been on the special White House staff for the last six years, haven't done much field work lately."

  "Yeah," Thomas said from the couch across from Stiles. A voice higher, less impressive, came from his thin dark frame. "And I've only been in the field for three months."

  Jordan looked across the coffee table to E-Man lowering onto the couch. He nodded just enough for Jordan to notice.

  "What can we do for you?" Jordan asked.

  "Yeah, but we ain't going back to Russia!" E-Man said.

  Jordan frowned as the joke fell flat. “It was just an embassy.” A quick look explained his displeasure.

  “Which is technically Russia,” E-Man said and sank deeper into the couch.

  Stiles placed his briefcase on the coffee table and opened it. "No, we don't want you to go to Russia." He sorted through the case. "We want to do something for you."

  Jordan and E-Man leaned in. Stiles closed the case and produced a file.

  "Do you gentlemen remember
Cody Random?"

  E-Man made a sound in the back of his throat. Jordan, face at neutral merely stared at Stiles.

  Did I remember Cody Random? How could he not? That hot night in Miami. When Jordan killed Random's brother Michael. Yes, he remembered. It wasn't everyday Jordan killed someone, even in the dangerous world of his past life. But if that wasn't enough, the days following were equally memorable. At the trial, Random made quite a show. Jordan and E-Man were called upon as witnesses in the state's case against Random. During Jordan's testimony, Random exploded – vowing vengeance. To never rest until he had killed his brother's killer. He did his duty, still Jordan understood the pain. He could only imagine what it would be like to see his sister killed before his eyes.

  He cocked his head to the left slightly. “That depends. Are you read in?”

  Stiles’ face did something could be interpreted as a smile. “I’m read in on everything.”

  Jordan raised his chin. I hate the CIA.

  "The name sounds familiar."

  "Well," Stiles said, "He certainly remembers you. Here." Stiles handed Jordan the file. Inside were various news clipping and photos. They all had a central theme: Jordan Noble.

  "I think Random knew more about you than you do, huh?" Thomas said. "We collected this from his cell down in Florida."

  Jordan continued through the file. His promotion to major. The separation from the Air Force. Well, the public version. It was all in there.

  "Are my eyes really brown?” Jordan closed the file and handed it to E-Man. “Y’know, that’s all very interesting, but why are you telling me this?"

  Stiles groaned and took back the file. "Cody Random escaped from the federal pen he was being held two days ago."

  Jordan’s brow knotted in anger. E-Man whistled a high note.

  "Given Random's interest in you," Thomas said, "We thought you’d want a heads up."

  "What’s up with that, anyway?" E-Man asked. “Why we have anything to do with Random? He was just some damn drug dealer with a passport.”

  “He was operating on an Air Force Base in Germany,” Stiles said. “Thus, the Department of Defense’s interest.”

  “Sounds like a job for Office of Special Investigations,” Jordan said, referring to the Air Force’s federal law enforcement agency which provided independent criminal investigations.

  An awkward pause elapsed. “I’m sure I don’t know,” Stiles said.

  “Uh huh,” E-Man said. “So where is Random now?”

  "We're not sure," Stiles said and turned his cool blue eyes to E-Man. "Federal, state and local authorities are looking for him now. It's the considered opinion that Random's on his way here, to Detroit."

  E-Man stood up and walked to the window. "To do the whole vengeance thing. Well, that's just great.”

  Jordan narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t the time for the ‘evils of the federal government’ routine. E-Man deflated.

  "Any leads?" E-Man said.

  Thomas said, "No. All we really know is that his traveling with his cellmate – one Oscar P. Norton."

  E-Man turned to Thomas. "Norton? What’s his story?"

  "Murderer."

  E-Man threw his hands in the air. "Oh, great! It's a party now. Damn! Well, what's the angle on Norton?"

  Thomas looked at his partner. Stiles remained silent, like he was testing his younger partner’s resolve.

  Thomas said, "The FBI's got his place in Kentucky staked out, but we doubt if they'll show up there."

  "No," E-Man said sitting back down. "We just have to wait 'til he shows up here."

  "Look, man," Thomas said and leaned towards E-Man, "I feel you. But this escape, man, it was flawless. It’s like they had inside -"

  "Like we said," Stiles interrupted, "we’re pretty clueless."

  Jordan watched the interplay between E-Man and Thomas. He too had been measuring his partner’s action. E-Man was usually the calm, cool, collected one. At least in the face of authority. E-Man got a strange kind of pleasure out of showing the suits he didn’t care about anything. Jordan slipped a smile at his friend’s concern. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stiles slowly nodding his head as he evaluated his own partner. He cleared his throat. "OK, you don’t know where he is. Any idea what he’s been up to? Anyone visit him?"

  "Yeah," Stiles said and produced another page from his briefcase. "Some lawyer, Daniel Moore."

  Jordan took the page, a bio and scanned it. “You've questioned Moore." Jordan stated more than asked.

  "Wish we could," Thomas said.

  "Killed about six hours after the breakout," Stiles said.

  "Seems Random didn't waste time covering his tracks." Jordan's face was still on the bio. "Says Moore worked for a Donald K. Warrington. Who's he?"

  "Only the biggest distributor of designer drugs on the West Coast," Stiles said. “Practically cornered the gray market there.”

  "Designer drugs, huh?" Jordan said, his head came up for a moment. "That figures. Random was trying to create some super drug when we busted him. But why off this Moore guy?"

  Thomas sat forward and gestured. "The way we figure it, Random wasn't interested in going out to the West. See, we think that Random got help from the Warrington operations, escaped and high tailed to Detroit. He probably killed Moore so Warrington wouldn’t know anything went wrong until it was too late."

  Jordan nodded at the explanation. "All this to get to me. I'm touched. But that still leaves one question…"

  Stiles and Thomas regarded each other as Jordan paused. He turned to E-Man giving him the go ahead.

  "Why is the CIA involved?" E-Man asked.

  Thomas's face bore a puzzled expression as if he didn't know why the CIA was involved. Stiles smiled devilishly and stood up, his partner stood as well.

  "Let's just say there's a national interest here," Stiles said.

  Jordan came to his feet. He was in the Defense Intelligence Agency long enough to know that 'national interest' translated into 'none of your business'. He extended his hand to Stiles, "Thanks for the warning, Agent Stiles."

  "Not a problem," Stiles said. He shook Jordan's hand. Next to them, E-Man and Thomas exchanged handshakes.

  "Yo," E-Man said as if an idea just occurred to him, "maybe we can help you out?"

  "Oh, no," said Thomas, "This is a government matter. You're just civilians now. No, just keep your eyes open. We'll handle Cody Random."

  "Yeah, whatever." E-Man looked at Thomas with a bit of disgust. His voice was high and proper. He had probably been out of the 'hood for a while if he was ever in. Jordan knew from experience that didn’t sit well with E-Man.

  The men all headed for the door. As they reached the portal, Stiles turned to Jordan. He handed the detective his card. "I want you to call me if you find out anything or see Random, OK?" He smiled like a politician as Jordan took the card.

  "Sure," Jordan said. "No problem."

  Stiles took a step closer to Jordan. His smile widened. "You may not know me, but I certainly know you. You two made quite the name for yourselves while you were DIA agents. Something like...mavericks, right?"

  "Something like that.”

  Stiles smile vanished. "Well, no mavericks on my watch, get me? I do things by the book. You were a good agent, Noble. That's why I warned you. But you're a civilian now. Stay out of this." The smile returned. "Thank you for your time, gentlemen. Good day."

  Stiles turned and left the room. Thomas’s eyes darted about and sought out the floor. He mumbled a goodbye and ran out after his superior. Jordan and E-Man stood at the doorway.

  “What the fuck, over?” Jordan asked.

  “Please, E-Man closed his eyes. “Please don’t talk Air Force to me. You know I hate that.”

  Jordan chuckled and went to his desk. E-Man said, "Can you believe this? What's with him? I mean, do you really think we're just gonna sit here and wait for Random to come and kill you?"

  Jordan bo
unced his shoulders. “Sure, why not. Hey, I'm selling the Ambassador Bridge too. Want to buy it?"

  E-Man snorted a short laugh.

  "Guess I got to cancel Don and Malcolm’s day off," Jordan said. "Looks like we've got work to do."

  Chapter Three: It Was Bad Then