Noble Intentions: Season Four (46 page)

But they saw no one.

Brett pointed to the corner office. Both men hunched over and used the chairs and desks as cover as they made their way to the door. While the other
offices were surrounded with glass, this one was encased in drywall. Jack wondered if it was bulletproof drywall. It made sense, considering some of the
men who had occupied the building time to time. Mostly, it was analysts and handlers. The shooters rarely spent time at the place. They had offices
scattered through other facilities. It was not often that teams met, and even less frequent that they intermingled with individuals from other teams.

Jack reached for the handle. Found it unlocked. He opened it a crack. Brett peeked in and gave Jack a clear signal. He threw the door open. Both men rushed
in, guns scanning in advance of their gazes.

The room was clear.

It was an empty box. No desk. No table. No chairs. Just a window looking down on the back alley and over the top of the building behind it.

"So down the hall, or take our chances through the room?" Brett said.

"The hall seems like the more logical choice," Jack said. "Unless we encounter a team in it. Then we're dead."

"So through the room?"

"Let's do it."

They exited, stayed low, and worked in tandem to the midpoint. There they stopped for a moment. The building had no air conditioning. It was upwards of a
hundred inside. Both men were drenched in sweat.

The silent room offered no clues as to whether someone was there. So they continued moving, slowly, using desks for cover.

Brett stopped, held up his hand, balled in a fist.

Jack approached. Whispered, "What is it?"

Brett pointed at a thin wire running down what used to be an aisle.

"Think it's an explosive?" Jack said.

"Silent alarm would be my guess." Brett glanced over his shoulder. "Someone's monitoring. And now I'm worried we tripped one of these without knowing.
Maybe when we opened the door to the office. Could have been on the inside, you know, like the traps we set on our own doors, only this one linked to a
system."

"It's plausible. Place still has power, even if no AC."

Brett smiled. "Just be careful here on. I could be wrong about the function of the tripwire."

After five sweaty minutes, they managed to clear the floor and reach the other office. This time, the door was locked. Both men pressed their ears to the
wall. Heard nothing.

"We can't wait," Jack said.

Brett agreed. "Cover me."

The guy stepped back and kicked the door open. It swung and slammed into the wall. Brett rolled to his right, out of view of the opening. Which likely
wouldn't matter if someone started shooting.

But no one did.

Jack stepped around the corner, into the room. He ducked and checked under the desk, then rose and kicked it back. Except for being furnished, it was the
same as the other office.

Empty.

"Shit," Jack said. "They're not here. Should have trusted my gut and gone to South Carolina."

"We had to clear it, Jack, after the intel Sasha provided."

Jack walked past him and out of the office.

"The plane is only a twenty minute drive from here," Brett said. "We'll be in the air in less than forty minutes if we leave now."

They started toward the door, mindful of the path they took. No one was in the building, but that didn't mean a trap hadn't been set. One false step could
alert a murder squad and Jack and Brett would pay with their lives.

Jack grabbed the knob, turned it, stopped. A faint noise, soft and high, from somewhere nearby.

"You hear that?" he said.

Brett nodded and looked up.

They both turned toward the room Brett had said had been designated for briefings and discipline.

"It's her." Jack rushed past Brett.

"Wait," Brett called out.

"Mia!" Jack yelled.

The small voice grew loud. Her muffled calls of 'Jack' were clear.

"Don't open the door, Jack."

Jack grabbed the knob. Felt a hand on his shoulder. Brett yanked him backward.

"Hold on or you're going to blow the roof off this place."

Jack took a step back. Glanced down. Four wires ran from the room, two running under the carpet, one along the wall, and the last on the ground.

"It wasn't a tripwire," Brett said. "This place is wired to blow if that door opens."

Washington, D.C.

"HANG ON, MIA," Jack said, his cheek pressed against the door.

Brett followed each wire as far as it went. They all disappeared into the floor or behind the walls.

"Someone planned this well," Brett said.

"Or took advantage of what someone had already done," Jack said.

Brett shrugged as he considered this. "Regardless, they wouldn't put her in there with no way to get her out. She's their meal ticket. They have to keep
her alive for a while. Even if they planned on killing her, it had to look natural. I'd say that blowing up in a former secret CIA office building doesn't
qualify."

"I'm sure there's a way, but that doesn't help us." Jack looked up at the drop ceiling. He turned and walked toward a desk. "I'm going up and over."

They dragged two desks and placed one against the wall, then stacked the other on top. Jack climbed up. He knocked a ceiling tile out of the way.

"Not much room," he said as he stuck his head through. "Dammit, it's walled to the roof."

"Christ. I told you, that room was used for discipline at times. Guess they figured it might have to be used to detain someone, so they locked it in."

Jack hopped down. "Let's check the other side."

They moved the desks, stacked one on top of the other again, and Jack climbed up. He pushed a tile out of the way and stuck his head through the square
opening. Again, he found that the wall extended to the ceiling.

"Maybe roof access?" he said after he hopped down.

Brett shook his head. "Doubtful. Why wall the room to the roof if only to allow someone to move in and out?"

"I can think of a few reasons, but none that make sense under the scope of the agency's plans here."

They stood there, staring at the wires protruding from the wall.

"You think it's bullet board?" Jack asked.

"One way to find out, but that's probably not the best idea."

He was right. They could have Mia get down on the floor, but one deflected bullet could end her life. It wasn't worth the risk.

Instead, Jack kicked the wall. It gave a bit, cracked a little, but that was it. It wasn't going to break.

"The device, if there's a device, is on the inside." Brett knelt down and inspected where the wires went in. "This could be old. Might have nothing to do
with this. They left her here, so I'm betting they didn't plan on being found."

"Then there's only one thing left to do."

Brett slid out of Jack's way as he flew forward with a kick that landed inches to the side of the handle. The door bowed inward, but the lock held. Jack
kicked again. The door flung open. The room didn't explode.

In the middle of the room was a wooden table with four chairs pushed under. He looked past it. Saw Mia, in the corner, huddled with her arms around her
legs and her face buried against her knees.

"Mia," Jack said.

She wouldn't look up.

"It's me, Mia. Jack."

She cried softly as he approached. He knelt down and ran his hand through her hair.

"Did they hurt you?" he asked.

She looked up, big blue eyes, tears streaking down her cheek.

"They killed my mum," she said.

Jack nodded. "I know, Mia. I know."

Brett said, "Jack, we need to get her out of here. I know some guys we can have watch the building. Let's get her to safety."

Jack scooped Mia up and rose. She clung to his left side. He held his pistol in his right hand. Brett let them out, then checked under the table to see if
any effects had been left behind.

"Be right out," Brett said.

Jack continued forward, toward the first hallway door. A few feet from it, it swung away from him. Stunned, he stopped.

So did the man on the other side when he saw Jack carrying Mia. The guy scrambled for his holstered pistol.

Jack could've told the guy to stop or freeze or get down or hands up.

He didn't.

The gun went off. The bullet slammed into the guy's forehead, between his eyes. He fell to his knees, then collapsed forward.

Brett ran past Jack, stepped over the body and went into the hall with the MP5 at the ready. The corridor must've been free of danger, because he turned
back and looked down at the body, the question of who was the dead guy forming at his mouth.

"Monaco," Jack said.

Northern Virginia.

THEY LEFT TOWN with Mia in the back seat. She fell asleep before they hit the interstate. With no safe house to go to, they pulled into a parking lot
and both men started working their phones. Neither Sasha nor Brandon had any information on Frank.

Brett, however, had better luck.

"You'll never believe this," he said.

"What is it?"

"The agency absorbed Frank. Not only that, he's been put in charge of Special Activities SOG."

"Son of a bitch cut a deal."

"Most likely, and now he's untouchable."

"Not to me."

"Yes, to you, Jack. Jesus, you got Mia. You've ended their attempt to take her, and steal her money. I think you need to let this go."

Jack looked in on his daughter, still sleeping in the back seat.

"Would you?" he said.

"Honestly? No. But I'd be smart about it. You try to pull that off now, they'll know it's you."

Jack reached into his pocket and wrapped his hand around the cell phone he swiped off Monaco. The only one who had answers now was Frank. And Jack was
intent on getting them out of the man. The cell had buzzed twice already, presumably because they had set times to communicate, and Monaco was M.I.A.

It wouldn't be long until Frank paid a visit to the abandoned building.

Or sent a team.

On the chance Frank was tracking the device, Jack switched it off. Although, he thought there might be a chance the agency could still track it down. In a
way, he welcomed it.

"So, what now, Jack?"

He looked over at Brett. "Guess you're off the hook. But I wonder if your professional credentials are ruined now."

Brett laughed. "Most will never hear about this. In fact, I think most who have are dead now. With the dissolution of the SIS, and the termination of some
of the top black ops operators, I'm assuming they've pulled up stakes. Moved on. You know?"

Jack did. He assumed the same. He could go on, and they'd never realize he was alive. There was one problem with that. Mia. To protect the girl, he had to
be out in the open, at least until he had her taken care of.

"I do have a proposal, though," Brett said.

"I'm listening."

"Been thinking about expanding my business. Maybe take on a partner. I know you and Bear have pretty much gone your separate ways, at least in business.
So, if you're interested, I'm officially offering."

The life would never leave Jack. He knew that. But he had to make an effort to leave it. For a while, at least.

"Appreciate it," he said, glancing over at Mia. "But for now I have to pass."

"You seriously going to play daddy with her?"

He shrugged. "Don't know if I'll make the best father. But until I have her settled, I have to do what's best for her."

"Perhaps afterward, then?" Brett extended his hand.

Jack reached out. "I'll never say never, so, perhaps."

A red Jeep Wrangler pulled into the parking lot, flashed its highs, and pulled to a stop.

"That's my ride." Brett handed Jack the car keys and a slip of paper. "Take the car. On the paper is my secure phone, email account, and messaging
terminal. Reach out any time. About the business opportunity, or for any other reason."

Jack nodded as Brett walked past. Wondered if they'd ever cross paths again. If so, he hoped it wouldn't be because one of them had orders to kill the
other. The Jeep drove off.

Lingering in the parking lot seemed a bad idea, so Jack got inside the car and started the engine. Mia stirred in the backseat.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are we going?"

"Someplace safe for a few days."

He checked the glove box. Brett had left behind a roll of cash and an extra pistol.

Jack left the parking lot, headed west. He stopped at the next shopping center he found. Inside the general purpose store, he purchased a tent and a few
other camping supplies. Two hours later, he had a spot at a state park outside Charlottesville, Virginia.

He wanted to stay there with Mia for a month.

That couldn't happen.

There were things he still had to take care of.

Washington, D.C.

SIMPLE, YET EFFECTIVE. That was how Beck had sold the plan to everyone involved. With the inside information Paolo and Hood had provided, gaining access
to the compound would be a hundred times easier. They knew the locations of the scouts. They knew the communication channels used to alert inside
personnel. They'd started watching the outer perimeter armed guards, taking note of switch times, when new sentries would come from the compound to relieve
those who had been on duty.

The opportune strike time, according to Beck. The compound would be at its weakest. Guards positioned at the entrances would be expecting those outside to
return from their shifts. They would not be as vigilant when FBI and Secret Service, dressed as Charles's armed guards, approached with full knowledge of
the compound's layout and entry procedures.

When the meeting adjourned, Howell tapped Clarissa on the shoulder. As she glanced back, he nodded and gestured toward the hall. She rose and followed him
to the stairwell where they were out of earshot.

"Harris is dirty as hell, but I can't prove it," Howell said.