Noble Intentions: Season Three (40 page)

“Come off it,” he said. “Let her
go.”

She refused to release Mia. A fist
to her stomach was her punishment. Or reward, she thought, for being the
protector. The shock of the blow was worse than the actual shot she took.
Still, it had been enough to loosen her grip on Mia. The girl’s screams were
muffled by the bag on her head and likely the hand that covered her mouth.

Footsteps and voices faded, then
returned. Hannah had managed to get upright and had the bag halfway up her
face.

“Out you go,” the guy said.

Hannah felt a hand on her upper
arm. The guy yanked her up. Her head banged into the trunk lid. A dull pain
spread across the back of her skull. She wanted to reach behind and check for
blood, but he jerked her around so quickly she didn’t have the chance. The guy
pulled her forward, then let go. She fell face first. It felt like a hundred
tiny rocks dug into her cheeks, lips, nose and forehead. Not concrete, gravel.

“Get the bloody hell up,” the guy
said as he pushed her forward with the heel of his shoe.

She instinctively placed her right
hand on the ground in front of her. Her arm buckled, pain radiated through her
wrist. Any remaining doubt that her arm was fine disappeared at that moment.

He grabbed a handful of her shirt,
and pulled her up, and led her forward. “Three steps up.”

“Where are we?” she said.

“Shut up.”

She knew they couldn’t be someplace
populated. Not with the way he treated her. The woods, perhaps? Her body lunged
forward and she fell once again. This time, a soft surface broke her fall. It
felt like a tightly knit rug. Smelled like the ground. A mat you place at the
front door, she figured. The air no longer felt light and airy. It was still,
oppressive, warm. Not quite as bad as the trunk, though. They were inside.

“About ten paces forward, then sit
down.”

Hannah got to her knees, then her
feet, then she shuffled forward with her good arm extended in front of her. Her
left shin bumped into the edge of a chair or sofa. She ignored the pain and
turned and took a seat. A small hand grabbed her thigh. Hannah let out a sigh
and reached out for Mia. The girl responded to her touch with a soft cry.

“You can take those hoods off now,”
the guy said.

Hannah wondered where they were.
What would this place look like? Surely it had to be in the middle of the
woods, worn down. She expected it to be messy and old. Cobwebs in the corners,
dirt on the floor. That would match the welcome mat.

She tugged at the hood until it
pulled up over her nose. One final pull released her from the veil of darkness.
Her eyes adjusted to the bright light. It didn’t take her long to realize she
knew exactly where they were.

Jack leaned with his back against
the splintered wooden fence. Bear crouched next to him. The big man had to get
lower, being four inches taller. The earwigs they wore remained silent. They
waited for Jon to give the go ahead. Jon and Alex were at the front of the
house. An argument had ensued over what and how much of a part Alex would take
in the raid. No amount of persuading convinced the Prime Minister to back down.
He wanted to be there for Jack.

Sasha had arrived at Number 10
moments before they left. They’d convinced her to remain behind. Under normal
circumstances, she’d have been an asset to the operation. She still didn’t seem
right after the blow she took to the head the previous night, though.

“I’ve got your back.”

Jack looked to his left, at Bear,
and nodded. “I know, big man. You always have.”

“If something happens in there, I
want you to know that Mia will always be looked after.”

“Same for Mandy. But nothing’s
gonna happen, Bear. We watch out for each other in there like we always have
and we’ll get through this just fine.”

A break in the clouds sent bright
rays of sunshine in their direction. Jack glanced up, over the top of the fence
across the alley. Faces pressed against windows, eyes watched them. He gestured
for the people in the windows to move away. The last thing they needed was for
Kemp and Godfrey to be tipped off by the prying eyes of neighbors.

Jon’s voice came through the
earwig. “OK, backup teams are in place and we’ve got four more guys at the entrance.
We are good to go. Jack, you and Bear move now. Call out when you’re inside and
then we’ll enter.”

“Ten-four, we’re moving,” Jack
said.

He and Bear slipped through the
gate after Bear cut the lock. They stayed low and moved quickly toward the
house. It would have been better to perform the raid in the dark, but that was
a luxury they couldn’t afford. Not with so much at stake.

They hit the back door hard and
went in yelling. Jack clicked his mic on for a moment. It was enough notice for
Jon and Alex to enter.

The rear entrance led into an area
between the kitchen and an empty room. A man took a seat at an old table
against the wall. The guy looked up, shocked, unmoving for a moment. Then the
man rose, kicked the table away. The table flipped forward. The radio that had
been perched on it crashed to the floor and broke into a hundred parts. The man
reached for the pistol at his side.

Jack recognized the man. He
couldn’t forget that face. It was the guy in the warehouse who’d killed
Thornton and his partner. The man was unmistakably Owen.

Jack aimed, but not fast enough.
Owen had outdrawn him. He grimaced, but didn’t flinch. He had to get a shot
off. Before he could, Bear pulled his trigger, hit the guy dead center. Owen
stumbled backward, crashed into the door at the far end of the kitchen. He slid
to the floor, leaving a red trail in his wake.

Bear walked up to the guy, nudged
him with the tip of his boot. Owen didn’t move. That didn’t stop Bear from
firing one more shot into the guy’s head.

At the same time Jack and Bear had
encountered Owen, Jon and Alex and their team had raced upstairs. Their
footsteps shook the ceiling. Bits of plaster fell and collided with the floor,
sending up plumes of white powder.

Jon was the first one down. “It’s
empty.”

“Are we sure they were here?” Bear
said.

Jon nodded. “Two beds, unmade, one
more than the other. Couple spots of blood on the floor, on the sheets. Pretty
fresh. I’d say under an hour.”

“The girls were moved,” Jack said.
He pointed at the dead man in the kitchen. “Owen was waiting for Godfrey to
return or to be given his next location.”

“Maybe,” Jon said. “Maybe Owen was
hiding out here. In light of everything that happened, he had to be scared. Who
would look for him here?” Jon tipped over the bulk of the shattered radio.
“That’s a police scanner. Maybe they figured someone would show up here. That
could explain why Owen waited around.”

“Perhaps,” Jack said. “How long do
you think he and Godfrey were working together?”

Jon shrugged. “No idea how it even
happened. Owen’s a career criminal. Was one of Thornton Walloway’s top guys.
Worked his way up over the past five years or so. As you said, he popped
Walloway, so he must have had something going with Naseer for a while now.
Maybe Sasha or Mason can shed some light on that. I’d imagine that’d be how he
and Godfrey hooked up.”

Jack walked into the empty room,
crouched and studied the footprints on the floor. “Tiny feet. Mia was in here.”

No one said anything.

“So what then? You think maybe
they’re acting alone?”

Jon shrugged, offered no reply.

“What does this have to do with me
and my daughter? What do they want with me?”

“I don’t know, Jack,” Jon said.
“Wish I did.”

“You men, out,” Alex said to the
group of agents that hovered near the front door.

The agents cleared the room,
leaving Jack, Bear, Jon and Alex alone with Owen’s corpse. Jack’s phone rang.
He pulled it out, looked at the display.

“It’s Dottie,” he said.

“Put her on speaker,” Alex said.
“She might have heard something.”

“Hello, Jack.” Dottie’s voice sounded
different than normal. Deeper, unemotional, no inflection.

“Have you heard anything, Dottie?”

“About?”

“The girls.”

A pause stretched for several
seconds. “I know where they are, Jack.”

“Where?”

“Mia’s right here with me. She’s
safe, for now. That will all depend on you, shortly.”

“Dottie, you’re making no sense.
You found her? They released her?”

“Not exactly, Jack. I have her.”

Jack said nothing. The reality of
the situation had begun to settle in. All heads leaned forward. All stares were
on him. The men waited, mouths open, for her next words.

“Are you with Alex?” Dottie said.

Jack looked at the Prime Minister,
who nodded.

“Yeah, he’s with me.”

“Who else?”

“No one. The rest are attending to
the dead body.”

“Who’s dead?”

“That son of a bitch, Owen.”

“Oh well, just a cog in the
machine.” She paused to clear her throat. “Now Jack, I want you to say hello to
your precious little daughter.” Her voice faded. “Mia, say hello to Jack. He’s
your dad after all.”

Mia into the phone. “Jack, I’m
scared. Please help me. Get me out of here. Aunt Dottie’s gone…” The little
girl’s voice trailed off.

“That’s enough of that, dear,”
Dottie said.

“What have you done?” Jack said.

Dottie took a deep breath, exhaled
into her phone’s speaker. It sounded like a gust of wind through a leafy tree.

“What do you want?” Jack said.

“Oh, it’s pretty simple, Jack. I
want you to kill the Prime Minister.”

Jack fought for a response.
Couldn’t find one. Jon reached for his gun, pulled it from its holster, aimed
it in Jack’s direction. The guy looked confused, scared. Alex took a step
toward Jon, reached over and pushed Jon’s arm down.

Not yet,
Alex mouthed.

“Jack?” Dottie said. “I haven’t
heard a gunshot yet. Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear.”

Mia’s screams burst through the
speaker. “Don’t shoot me.”

Alex took off his jacket, dropped
it to the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his right shoulder.

Jack hit the mute button on the
phone. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Shoot me, Jack.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Jon
said.

“Do it,” Alex said. “In the
shoulder. I’ve got a plan, but we don’t have time to discuss it. You’ve got to
do this now. Then I want you to start firing afterward, Jon. Into the ceiling,
not at Jack.”

“Do I have your attention!” Dottie
yelled.

Jack unmuted the phone. “You’re a
sick woman.”

“And you’re about to become a dead
man. You and the Prime Minister.” She laughed. “That is, unless you want young
Mia to suffer a painful death.”

Mia’s cries slipped through the
speaker.

“I’ve got people all over this
city,” Dottie said. “Don’t even try to fake this. Your Mia will pay with her
precious young life.”

Jack looked at Jon, then Alex. Both
men nodded. Jon took a step back. Alex took a step to the side.

“Go to hell, Dottie.”

Jack raised his Beretta, aimed at
Alex’s shoulder and pulled the trigger.

Alex’s screams blended with the
ringing in Jack’s ears. Men burst into the house through the front door. Jon
and Alex held out their hands to stop the men from doing anything. Then Jon
shot four times into the ceiling. Chunks of plaster crashed to the floor.
Alex’s blood mixed with some of the white residue.

Dottie laughed. “Yes, Jack, yes.
Enjoy your trip to hell.”

“I’ll be waiting there for you.”
Jack cut the phone off.

Bear had lunged in front of Jack,
placing himself in front of men with itchy trigger fingers.

“Phone’s off,” Jack said.

Jon said, “Stand down. This was
planned.”

Alex wriggled in pain along the
floor.

“Are you OK?” Jon asked.

“No,” Alex said. “I’ve been bloody
shot.”

“We need an ambulance here now,”
Jon said.

“And the news,” Jack said.

“What?”

“She said she had people
everywhere, watching. Well, what better way to tell her this went down than to
show me being escorted out by the cops, and Alex with a bunch of damn tubes
sticking out of his body while he’s covered with a blood soaked sheet.”

“That’s a damn good idea,” Alex
said through his clenched teeth.

Bear knelt next to Alex. He
steadied the Prime Minister and applied pressure to the wound. “Take it easy.”

“Have you ever had a GSW to the
shoulder?” Alex said.

Bear pulled his shirt collar to the
side and showed off an impressive scar. “As a matter of fact, yes I have. And
Jack was there for that one, too.”

“I must be bad luck,” Jack said.

Bear and Jon laughed. He felt the
Prime Minister would have, had he not been the recipient of the bullet.

A couple minutes later strobing
lights bounced off the walls.

“Ambulance is out front,” Jon said.
“And it looks like the news isn’t that far behind. There’s a helicopter
incoming.”

The medics entered the house.
Already serious, their expressions changed to panic when they saw who their
patient was. Jon did his best to ease them.

“It’s not a fatal wound. But I need
you to make it look that way.”

“What?” a medic said.

“Tape everything you can to his
face, chest, wherever. Douse the sheets with his blood. This needs to look
bad.”

The woman, her nameplate said
Nikki, went to work without questioning him further.

The agents in the room escorted
Jack outside. The helicopter hovered overhead. News vans lurched to a stop in
front of the house. Cameras were pointed in his direction.

“Jesus, that’s the Prime Minister,”
someone shouted. “He’s been shot.”