Noble Intentions: Season Three (24 page)

“Clarissa. Of course.” Erin gazed
over Clarissa’s shoulder. “You’re the girl he used to go on about then.”

“Suppose so. Kind of an uncommon
name these days.”

“So you can tell?”

“That he’s the father? Yes.”

“Jack figured it out, too. I’m
still pissed off at Dottie for not telling me he was around. It’s like she
wanted him to know. It was never her damn choice to make. It was supposed to be
mine and I never wanted him to find out.”

“Why?”

Erin said nothing.

“Jack’s a good guy, you know. He
can provide for her. In time, be there for her.”

“No, he can’t. Trouble follows him
everywhere.”

“I understand what you’re feeling.
He takes a lot of risks.”

Erin nodded, said nothing.

“But at the same time, they both
deserve to know about each other. At least have a chance of knowing each
other.”

“Who are you to say that? She’s my
daughter. Not yours. Not his. Mine.”

They both turned their heads toward
the doorway at the sound of a sniffle. Mia stepped out of the shadows. Tear
tracks stained her cheeks.

“Oh, my little darling,” Erin said.
She rose and went to her daughter, embraced her tight.

“Jack is my father?” the girl said
through choked sobs.

Erin said nothing. She wrapped her
hand through the girl’s hair and pulled her closer.

Clarissa rose, walked past mother
and daughter. “I should leave you two alone.”

The room went dark as the last rays
of sunlight fell behind the houses across the street. Jack rose and gestured
toward the kitchen.

“Let’s go in there for now,” he
said. “Getting too dark in here.”

“He’s got lights,” Gloria said.

“Yeah, and if you flip them on the
sniper on the roof across the street will have an easy shot.”

Mason turned toward the window.
“Where is he?”

“I’m speaking hypothetically,” Jack
said.

“Can I get my gun?” Mason said.

Jack still felt unsure about what
Mason’s role was in everything that had happened. His being there had been more
than coincidental. Jack didn’t know why, though. If he was to make any use of
the man, he’d have to at least give off the vibe that he trusted him.

“Get it. Holster it. Don’t dare
pull it.”

Mason nodded, picked up his pistol,
stuffed it in his holster. He placed two fingers on Gloria’s elbow and led her
into the kitchen. She reached out and flipped the light switch on. Jack found
the move curious. To him, it had been evident that the home had always been
Mason’s and Mason’s alone. The documents upstairs proved that he’d moved in
after the divorce. But the way Gloria flipped the switch without having to look
told him that she’d spent more time in the house than Mason’s attitude toward
her indicated.

“Want a beer, Jack?” Mason said.

He’d only had one, and that had
been a couple hours earlier. “Sure, why not.”

“I can fix some dinner,” Gloria
said.

Jack nodded and she went to the
fridge and pulled out a package of steaks. Jack wondered why Mason had a whole
package defrosted.

“I cook in bulk,” Mason said.

Jack hiked his shoulders in the air
an inch. Said nothing.

“We’re both spies. We think alike.
Just want you to know that no one’s going to be knocking on the door. No spy
convention dinner party here tonight.”

“Outside of us, at least.”

Gloria brushed past Jack as she
walked to the other side of the kitchen. She slid the knife block out of the
way, then stood on the tips of her toes and reached for the top shelf. Her
blouse lifted a few inches. A colorful tattoo decorated her lower back. Jack
only saw half and couldn’t determine what it was. From what he saw, it appeared
to be a butterfly. At that moment, he saw why Mason still allowed Gloria to
hang around despite the man’s hatred for his ex.

She set three plates on the
counter, reached up again, set down a serving dish. She shuffled to the side,
pulled open a drawer with her right hand, reached inside for silverware.

Then she made the wrong move with
her left hand.

Jack pulled his gun and aimed it at
Mason.

“What the bloody hell, mate?” Mason
said. A plume of beer rose into the air as Mason’s arm jutted upward. It
splashed on the floor, created a couple small puddles.

“Turn around real slow, Gloria,”
Jack said. “I mean it. Slow. Too fast and your ex will have two holes in his
stomach.”

Gloria lifted her hands above her
shoulders. The long knife blade reflected a beam of light. She turned around,
her face frozen in fear, mouth open, eyes wide.

“What were you planning to do with
that?” Jack said.

“S-S-Separate the steaks. They’re
kind of frozen in the middle still.”

Still. Had she been here when
they’d been pulled from the fridge?

Jack studied her for a minute. Her
hands trembled, eyes watered. She wasn’t a killer, not even close. He’d never
met anyone who could act that afraid without actually being that afraid. He
lowered his gun, looked from Gloria to Mason and back again, began laughing.
Mason joined him.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said.

Gloria dropped the knife on the
counter and grabbed the steaks and brought them to the sink. “I’ll just let
them sit in the water for a bit.” Her voice shook and rose to a high pitch.
Jack imagined her throat closed in upon itself as she tried to keep from
sobbing.

Jack turned toward Mason. “No hard
feelings.”

Mason shrugged. “I left you in the
middle of the woods with no directions. If you can look past that, I can look
past this.”

Idle talk prevailed for the better
part of half an hour. They waited for one of Mason’s contacts to call. They
were in the dark. The news couldn’t provide them with solid information, so
they were reliant on outside sources. And none of those sources were
forthcoming at that time.

Gloria had just begun cooking the
steaks when Mason’s cell vibrated. The phone skated along the counter top.
Mason grabbed it and held it out. “Speaker?”

Jack looked at Gloria, shook his
head. He’d have to rely on Mason to provide him with accurate details.

Mason answered the call and slipped
into the living room. Jack and Gloria stared at each other while the steaks
simmered in a frying pan, coated in a mixture of butter and olive oil. He
avoided listening to the one sided conversation so that his brain wouldn’t fill
in the blanks with inaccurate information.

Gloria opened her mouth to speak.
Jack shook his head and brought his right index finger to his lips.

Mason reentered the kitchen, shook
his head.

“What’d they say?” Jack said.

“Not much, unfortunately,” Mason
said.

“Do they know where Naseer is?”

“No. They lost track of him early
this morning. Before he went to the warehouse. Apparently, he slipped out some
time late last night. Their best guess, at least. They trailed everyone who
left the house, but nothing came of it. One woman who’d only recently been
spotted at the house went to the train station. She bought a ticket to Paris.
Guys at the other end lost sight of her in the station. Something about a
couple of French agents following her through the terminal. They didn’t want to
raise any red flags, so they hung back. Lost her. A couple other guys left the
house and went about routine activities, chores and the like. But no sign of
Naseer and his main man, Samir.”

“So he had this planned. Probably
wasn’t even at the house last night.”

“That or he has another way of
leaving the house that we haven’t figured out.”

“Or whoever is reporting back to
you is our rogue agent.”

Mason shook his head. “Doubtful.”

“Possible.”

“Not probable.”

Jack nodded. No point in pushing
that argument until they had something substantial. “He’s under twenty-four
hour surveillance, right?”

“Naseer?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. We’ve always got a team
positioned near the house. I can’t go into any more detail on that, though.”

“Think he knows?”

“About the surveillance?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure he knows.”

Jack nodded. “With the people that
your guys saw leaving, how many were left unaccounted for?”

“Half dozen, give or take one or
two.”

“Some could have been inside.”

“Others outside with him.”

“The bombing could have been
remote.”

Mason walked across the room. “But
the shooters had to be there.”

“Could have been men in the
organization, but from outside his compound.”

“Most likely guys from out of the
country.”

“That or you have an entire team of
corrupt agents in MI5.”

“Or across the way at Legoland.”

Jack had considered this. “You
think that’s a possibility?”

“I’ve been around long enough to
know that anything’s a possibility.”

“And money has a way of getting
people to forget their ideals and convictions.”

“Steaks are ready,” Gloria said.

Both men turned to toward her and
said nothing.

“Just letting you know,” she said.

Jack and Mason ate and then
returned to discussing the situation.

“Here’s the problem, mate. I don’t
know who I can and can’t trust.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Right, well, for all I know, the
guy I just spoke with, and no, don’t ask me his name, is corrupt and on
Naseer’s payroll.”

“And he fed you a line.”

“Right.”

“But you said, not probable.”

Mason shrugged. “I just don’t know,
mate. The more we talk, the less sure I become.”

“Talk to everyone you can then.
Someone’s bound to make you feel sure.”

Mason paused for a moment then
responded. “You don’t think that won’t draw some unwanted eyes?”

“It might. In fact, I’m hoping it
does.”

Mason lifted a curious eyebrow,
said nothing.

“Build a better mousetrap.”

“Plus, the more people I talk to,
the greater the chance of talking to the wrong person.”

“And a greater chance of talking to
the right person.”

Mason pointed toward Gloria. “What
about her?”

“Stuck with her for now.”

“It’s putting her in danger.”

“I think she’ll be in more danger
if she’s alone.”

“How so?”

“Someone is after me, Mason. That
someone might be able to put you in that car with me. Now, if they can, then we
both know that person will be pretty much able to find out whatever they want
about your life. Meaning they’ll find out about her. They’ll go after her if
they can’t get to you. I know it’s not a good long term idea for her to stick
with you, but until we have a better alternative, she goes everywhere you do,
which, for the time being, will be here and nowhere else.”

Jack left the kitchen, headed
toward the front door.

“What about you, Jack?”

Jack stopped, his hand on the
doorknob. “Every mousetrap’s gotta have bait.”

No one knew of the house, not even
Naseer. He had received a call late yesterday. They’d told him that the
bombings would be carried out and that it was best for him to disappear for a
few days. He had the home swept for bugs the moment they arrived. He didn’t
trust anyone. Couldn’t trust anyone.

He and Samir stood side by side at
the edge of the wooden deck at the rear of the house. Naseer reached for his
drink, which he’d set atop the deck railing. The cold sweat on the glass coated
his palm. The moon was full and it illuminated the property. He saw clear to the
edge of the woods. His gaze darted left and right, scanned the area in
sections. Paranoia, he believed, was what kept him alive. Despite being over
two hundred kilometers from London, he would not let his guard down.

Leaving his own house undetected
had been easier than he thought. His contact had seen to it that one of the
agents watching his property was on the payroll. The guy had been the one
responsible for the front of the house. All Naseer had to do was place a phone
call and the agent turned his back.

Naseer and his men spent the night
at a hotel, then arrived at the warehouse early that morning. From there, they
traveled to the hideout.

“What do you think of Owen?” Naseer
said.

“He killed for you,” Samir said.
“Doesn’t that say enough?”

“I paid him to do that. Plus,
Walloway was one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever met. I’m sure Owen agrees
with that. And think about it like this, he spent a lot of time with the old
bastard. I bet he was happy to pull the damn trigger.”

“But he killed his partner, too.
Simply because the man stood up to you. While he might have hated the old guy,
he and his partner had likely gone through a lot together. When it came down to
it, he didn’t hesitate to kill him. That has to tell you something.”

“So you agree with bringing him
along?”

“Yes, I think he’ll be a valuable
asset. He killed for you. Maybe he’ll die for you as well.”

Naseer nodded. Dying for him was
the unspoken requirement. He paid well for it. His people understood this. But
Owen wasn’t one of his people. The man was an outsider. When the time came,
would he place himself in the thick of the hail of a thousand arrows if told to
do so?

“What of the women?” Samir said.

Naseer opened his mouth to answer
when Samir hunched over and pointed toward the woods. He reached for his
sidearm and dissected the area with his aim.

Naseer ducked when he saw Samir
draw his weapon. He no longer had a view of the property. “What is it?”

Samir paused for a minute. The
sounds of the night amplified. He chuckled, holstered his weapon. “Nothing to
worry about. A dog or something.”