Noble Intentions: Season Four (43 page)

HELP COMES AT the oddest times. Like a call at three o'clock in the morning from a friend four thousand miles away.

The phone that Sasha had given Jack rang for the first time. He wondered if she had uncovered something, or if the call was to check up on him.

"I'm getting some strange hits here, Jack."

"On what?"

"There's an account, two of them, actually, that are linked to you."

"Mia's trusts," Jack said without hesitation.

"Right, and from what I can tell, they are hefty accounts."

"So what about them?"

"Someone is trying to access them."

"They'd need mine and Erin's permission." He paused, realizing the slip. "Well, I guess mine until Mia is of age."

"You're dead, Jack. Remember?"

He said nothing. Didn't need to. He knew where this was going.

"I dug a little deeper. Someone has filed custody papers of Mia."

Jack didn't have to ask her for the name.

"John C. Merrick is listed on the paperwork," she said. "But it isn't approved, yet, so I don't know what they are doing trying to access the account."

Jack had a clearer picture of what was going on. "They're trying to gain access to it now because they know I'm alive. My guess is that they are going to
push their lawyers to get this custody ruling through quickly. But how did they find out? Christ, you think they knew all along?"

"I'm going to file an injunction to stop it here, Jack. And I'm going to freeze those accounts. OK?"

"Sounds good." He paused, then added, "One more thing."

"What?"

"Can you pinpoint their location for me?"

"I can't, and I'm not sure I can use any of my assets here to do that for you. This is dark territory we're dealing in."

"What if I put you in touch with someone who can?"

"I suppose we can do that."

Jack gave her Brandon's information and told her it would be OK for Brandon to contact him with the results. If he got any at all.

Brett glanced over after Jack hung up. "What was all that about?"

Jack turned to the window. He rolled it down and let the warm air wash over him. Beyond the haze of orange stood the dark woods. The only constant on the
highway.

He turned to Brett. "Let's stop and get some coffee."

The guy shrugged and moved to the far right lane. Took the next exit. Two minutes later, they were parked in front of a convenience store. Brett went in,
while Jack remained behind on watch.

Brett returned with two large travel mugs. He set one on the roof, opened the door, grabbed the second mug and lowered himself into the driver's seat. As
he turned to hand Jack his coffee, he found a pistol aimed at his forehead.

"The hell, Jack?"

"How much did they offer you?"

"For what? To kill you?" Brett glanced between Jack and the gun. "It was a standard fee. Why do you think I let you live?"

Jack ignored the guy's smile. "No, not for killing me. You know what."

Few men could remain as calm as Brett did at that moment. Like Jack, it wasn't the first time a gun had been aimed in Brett's direction. The man had
options. Jack was aware of that, and he remained vigilant should Brett try to throw the coffee at him.

"You're going to have to give me a clue here," Brett said.

"You're leading me right to them. They stand to make billions off this. What's your cut?"

"I can assure you that I'm only here for two reasons, both of which amount to the fact that I owe you. You spared my life years ago. And now, because of
me, Erin is dead, and your daughter is being held by some very dangerous men. If I can help you get her back, then in some way I'll have repaid you."

Jack considered his words, but said nothing.

"It's up to you whether to believe me or not. But I ask that you make the decision quickly, because these paper mugs are starting to burn my fingers, and
when it comes time, I'd like to be able to operate my weapon properly."

Jack lowered the pistol an inch and shifted it to the right so it wasn't aimed at Brett.

"If you're lying to me," Jack said, "I'll kill you first."

"I wouldn't expect any less from you." He set the mugs in the center console cup holders. "What's going on? What did you find out?"

"Ever hear of the name Thornton Walloway?"

Brett glanced up, then shrugged. "Refresh my memory."

"British billionaire. Dabbled with criminals, then terrorists. Dottie Carlisle worked with British Intelligence, and did some stuff on the side. That's how
I met her. Anyway, she and Walloway hooked up a few years back. Neither had children. Walloway had no family at all, and Dottie only had her niece. Erin.
Which makes Mia her great-niece. Get the picture?"

"Mia's the heir to Walloway's fortune."

"That's right."

"Could this whole thing have been a plan to get to that money?"

"The scope of this, from what you've said and with what I expect Brandon is going to tell us, is far too great to pin it all on that. Why kill off so many
people when all they needed was me for the payoff? I think this goes back to that first meeting. It was contrived to put a face to a name. When they
started digging into my past, they came across Erin and Mia, which led to Dottie and Walloway, and someone saw it as an opportunity."

"Who?"

"They're trying to gain custody of Mia. The name on the paperwork is John Merrick."

"Which means we're dealing with Butch Monaco and whatever team he cobbled together. That pretty much confirms he killed Ballard. They probably thought you
got to him and turned the guy. Why else would he report you dead when you're not?"

Jack nodded as he sipped coffee. "Unless it was you, which it was. So, I wouldn't doubt that they've paid your apartment a visit just to cover all bases.
You probably left town at the right moment." He paused a beat. "Back in Johannesburg, someone found me minutes after I hit the street. I was so disoriented
at the time, all I could do was run. Honestly, I lucked out getting away with my life. Had to be someone they sent. I just can't see it being Frank. If he
wanted me dead, he'd have done it in New York, not waste the resources sending me to the other end of the world."

"That meeting you had, though," Brett said. "Before I even had orders to terminate you. If they wanted you dead, why not do it there?"

"Doesn't make sense, right?

Brett nodded. "They sent Erin's killer." His features darkened as he recalled his time in Tenerife. "Dammit, I saw him, Jack. Saw him in their hotel lobby.
Wasn't someone I knew, but he had the look. Know what I mean?"

Jack nodded, said nothing.

"In SA, we rarely met the others, but you could always tell. Anyway, he took the same seat I had used when I was scouting the place. I left to make
arrangements…" He paused and looked away. "I was going to take Erin and Mia offshore to draw you out. And when I left to do that, he must've started
trailing them."

Jack bit down against the anger rising. "You were doing your job, Brett. Same job I did dozens of times before. It'd be hypocritical of me to blame you."

Brett said nothing. They drove on in silence for a few minutes.

Jack recounted the events that led to him ending up in South Africa, as much for his benefit as for Brett's. From the strange meeting with who he believed
to be Monaco, to the encounter with Charles. The supposed hit in Ithaca. Finding the dead man in the house. The team closing in on him there. And then
Frank showing up. Finally, being shot with a tranquilizer and then waking up in South Africa.

"Have they been working against each other?" Jack said. "Or together? And if that's the case, why send me so far away? Just do the damn job and get it over
with."

"You know I don't trust Skinner," Brett said. "But as you've explained it, I don't see him selling you out. But it sounds like he knew what was going on
and was trying to get you as far away as possible."

"How did you find out where I was?"

"Everything came through Ballard."

"And unless Brandon finds something, we'll never know who was feeding him."

Jack's cell rang. It was Brandon.

"Tell me you found something," Jack said.

"I found lots, mostly irrelevant. But I'll get to the most important, which is totally backed up by the info your girl in London just passed on to me."

"Lay it on me, man."

"You know where the Excelsior Hotel is in NYC?"

"West 81st," Jack said. "I was there a few weeks ago. Had a run in with a couple stewards and one of their maintenance men."

"Hope you left on good terms, because that's where your daughter is. I'm close to pinpointing the room they tried to access the account from."

Brandon said he'd call back as soon as he had it, then hung up.

"Now's your chance to erase your guilt," Jack said to Brett. "Upper West Side. Excelsior Hotel."

Paris, France.

BEAR LOCATED LAURE'S home with a little help. The same help that put him in touch with private security for Mandy. A thousand dollars for two men.
Non-refundable. He prayed that meant they were
that
good.

His instructions should he not return by ten p.m. were explicit. Get the girl on a plane to Heathrow, and call Sasha Kirby.

After all, it had been her that had given him Laure's address and recommended the security firm.

She had also caught him up on everything that had happened to Jack. The guilt Bear felt was worse than bile rising in his throat. He'd deactivated the
number Jack had always used to reach him. Cut the man off. His partner. One of his oldest friends. The only one who could understand how Bear thought and
felt and acted.

He'd pressed Sasha for additional details, such as where Jack was now and whether she knew who was behind everything. She had declined to answer, telling
Bear he had enough on his plate at the moment. As usual, it was what she hadn't said that spoke the loudest.

The situation was dire, and Sasha had said nothing more in an effort to protect Bear and Mandy.

He suspected it had something to do with the forces that had come after Pierre. They might've even been tailing Bear and Mandy when they had arrived in
Nice. That was part of the reason he had to get to Laure. She knew where he could find Mandy. Bear assumed that at a minimum she had knowledge of why
Pierre had been killed. Might've even had a hand in it.

It was late morning when he arrived at her apartment. He headed down the deserted hallway, walked past her door. Did it again in reverse. On his third
pass, he stopped and checked the knob. To no one's surprise, the door was locked. He pulled out a set of picks and had the door open within fifteen
seconds.

He slipped the tools in his pocket and reached around his back for the pistol. He pushed through the doorway and came face to face with Laure.

She stood in the middle of the room with a towel wrapped around her otherwise naked body. Her hair was wet and slicked back. Drops of water rolled down her
smooth arms and legs.

Laure spun, dropping one leg back, ready to sprint.

"Don't fucking move!" Bear shouted. "I'll blow a hole through the back of your fucking head."

She pulled to a halt a few feet away from where she had been standing. Her arms went up. The back of her towel slipped a few inches.

"Turn around," he said.

She slowly spun in a half-circle, dropping one arm to support the towel. Bear didn't stop her.

"What do you want?" she said.

"Answers."

"I gave you back your girl. What more do you need to know?"

Bear walked over to the couch. He moved the cushions around and checked the seams. There was nothing hidden there. He gestured with the pistol for her to
take a seat.

"What more?" he said. "How about you answer me one question. Can you do that?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Bear kept the pistol trained on her chest. "Why all of this, Laure? Why go after Pierre in the first place? Why take out the girls? Lock one up in a cell
over the border in Germany, and move another around from hospital to hospital?"

He paused for her to respond, but she said nothing.

"Why kill Pierre after releasing Kat?"

"We had no choice. Don't you see that?"

"See what?"

"I've known Pierre longer than you. I came up in the agency under him. He taught me everything I know. And among those lessons was that if I wanted to
live, I should never question my superiors. I might not like what they ask me to do, but I'd better do it."

Bear shook his head. "That man bucked authority on a regular basis."

"And he refused to come back. Started freelancing too much. Got in over his head."

"OK, Laure. So why then? What was so bad he deserved to die?"

"I don't know. We were given the order. You showed up in Nice and threw a wrench in the plan. We were already tailing you, but just to see what you were up
to. At first it looked like nothing, but you found Pierre and we weren't sure."

"Why send us out to Germany if Kat was already gone?"

"You were never supposed to be there. And we didn't know Kat was gone until the sniper arrived. His recon indicated she wasn't there. Three days earlier,
the team holding her had left. Somehow she got out. If she hadn't, the sniper would have put a bullet in her head."

"Why? She's practically a kid."

Laure looked away. "I know that. But she'd been with him for a while. Chances are she knew."

"Where is she now?"

Laure stared at him for a moment before answering. "No idea."

Bear stepped forward and leveled the pistol with her forehead. "Not good enough."

"It doesn't matter. In my report I stated there were two shots. One for Pierre. One for her." She looked up at him. "Not like our sniper is alive to state
any different."

"What about your team? No one was in the room with you?"

"One person. He won't talk."

"The superior thing."

"Exactly."

"One more question, then I'll decide whether you live or not."