The Good Soldier (12 page)

I looked between Bear and Jessie, who now stood and paced along the far wall.

"We control everything, Jack."

"Maybe you and I should meet," I said. "Settle this like men. Frankly, I'm tired of the cloak and dagger crap. Know what I mean?"

The man laughed. "You think this is a joke? Listen up. You're going down, Jack. And anyone that helps you is dead. Got that? Even the nurse. Dead as a doornail, Jack."

The line went dead and clicked to dial tone. I looked down at the phone, turned it off. Placed it on the coffee table and walked toward the window. I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger and slid them down.

"What's going on, Jack?" Bear said.

"We need to go."

The sound of a car racing down the street filled the room. Tires squealed. Car doors opened then slammed shut. The voices of two men drifted in through the open windows.

"Get down."

I cut the lights and moved into the next room and took position against the wall next to the double window. A lace curtain hung over the window panes. I peeled it back and parted the blinds with my fingers. A dark sedan was parked at the end of the driveway. Scanning the yard, I spotted two men, both dressed in dark suits. They didn't appear to be armed, but I wouldn't trust the outward appearance. Armed and dangerous would be the appropriate term. These guys had all the markings of government spooks, Federal agents, maybe even assassins. They hung out at the base of the driveway. One spoke on a radio or cell phone. He stood at an angle and his head blocked the device he spoke into. His other arm waved in circles as he spoke.

I clutched my Beretta M9 tightly. The only thing that stood between me and them was a glass window and I was prepared to break it and open fire if necessary. I went into the woods with two full clips earlier. I'd emptied one and fired three shots from the second. That meant I had twelve rounds at my disposal, which would be more than enough to take care of these guys.

The man with on the phone or radio shook his head and stuffed the device in his pocket. He said something to his partner and they both turned to face the house. The window next to me was open a crack, but I couldn't hear what they said. The two men started toward the house, walking slowly. Both pulled their weapons, holding them low with both hands.

I needed a plan and needed it to form fast. There were two men in front which meant that meant there were probably two out back. There was no way these guys would come here alone. Were they the men from earlier, the shooters in the woods? Had they really managed to follow us to Charlottesville? I guess it was possible, but it didn't add up. The car looked similar, but it was dark now just like it was dark when I rammed the shooters' car while leaving the park.

The only solution I came up with involved me barging out of the house, guns blazing. Not the ideal choice. Getting into a shooting match with trained agents, killers or not, was not high on my priority list. I crouched down and took a look through the open part of the window. I set the barrel of my gun on the window sill. I had a clear shot at them if they took the porch steps. The only barrier was the screen. No glass to break.

The men were close enough that I could make out certain words spoken in hushed tones. They didn't say much, but hearing "Noble" was enough. They knew exactly who I was. They knew exactly where I was. Just like the man on the phone said. Could one of them be the man on the phone? I doubted that. For one, someone that brazen wouldn't be in the field. So it had to be their boss, or their boss's boss.

The faint sound of a cell phone ring-tone filled the air. The men stopped and the agent pulled his phone from his pocket. His voice rose. "What the hell do you mean?" He stepped back during a long pause. "Yeah, OK. OK, we're going." He turned and hurried to the car. His partner walked backward with him. He raised his gun and kept it aimed at the house. He fumbled behind his back for the door handle of the car and then slipped into the driver's seat. The sedan roared to life, then rolled away, stopping at the stop sign at the end of the street only a few houses down. The car turned right and disappeared from view.

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes and listened. Silence filled the house. Silence crept through the open window from outside. Had they turned the corner and cut the engine? Were they now on foot returning to the house? Did they leave the neighborhood?

I took a deep breath and returned to the den.

"Can you see the side street from upstairs?"

"What?" Jessie said.

"The side street." I pointed toward the other room. "The main road, whatever. Can you see it from anywhere in here?"

She shook her head and said, "No."

"We have to get out of here. Jess, is your car in the garage?"

"Why?"

"Don't ask me why." My voice rose. I took a deep breath and regained control. "Is it or isn't it?"

She bit her lip and looked to the side.

"Yeah, it's in there."

"OK, grab the keys. We need to go."

"Where?"

"It doesn't matter," I said. "Let's go."

Bear got up and walked toward the kitchen.

"Garage is that way." She pointed to a hall on the other side of the den. "Do I need to bring anything?"

"Yeah." I turned to walk away then paused. "But there's no time. Any minute now they are going to start shooting."

"What?" She grabbed her purse and pulled out her keys, blowing by me and Bear on her way to the garage.

I could be right. Most likely I was wrong. But I had no intentions of waiting around to find out.

I took one last look through the front window, and then, satisfied the spooks weren't out there, went to the garage. I stepped through the open doorway. Bear and Jessie were already inside her white Chevy Tahoe. Bear sat in the passenger seat and Jessie behind the wheel.

"I'm driving," I said, standing in between her and the door, preventing her from shutting it.

"This is my car, Jack," she said. "I'm driving."

"Get in back, Jess."

She screamed and slammed her hands down on the steering wheel. The loud horn blared and echoed throughout the garage.

I shook my head and stared at her. "If they are just around the corner, they likely heard that."

"Sorry," she said and then she threw her hands in the air. "Fine. You drive." She turned in the seat and brought her legs up. Slipped between the two front seats and sat down in the middle row.

"You could have used the door."

"And risk touching you? No thanks." She turned away and stared out the window at a wall covered with rakes and gardening tools.

Bear laughed and shook his head.

"You think that's funny?" I said. "We got God knows who chasing us, ready to kill us, and you laugh at her jokes."

I turned the key in the ignition. The Tahoe's V-8 engine roared into life, flooding my ears as it reverberated through the garage.

Jessie cleared her throat and leaned forward, pointing toward the console on the ceiling of the Tahoe. "The garage door opener is right-"

I ignored her and threw the car into reverse and smashed through the garage door.

"What hell, Jack? My garage!"

I gunned the car down the driveway, slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel, sending us screeching backward into the street. I shifted into drive and raced to the stop sign, coming to a quick halt. I looked left and saw nothing, and then I looked right. I saw the spooks a few blocks away, parked behind Abbot's Audi. At that moment I realized it was the car. They had been tracking us with the car somehow.

I looked over at Bear. He stared out the window at the dark sedan parked behind the Audi. His head bobbed up and down.

"The car," he muttered, reaching the same conclusion as me.

They must not have heard the Tahoe smash through the garage door, because they didn't move or turn to look in our direction. I tapped the gas and turned left and drove down the street with the lights off until I reached the main road.

* * *

"Why did you destroy my garage door?" Jessie asked.

I looked up into the rearview mirror, taking my eyes off of I-64 for a moment. It was the first thing any of us had said in thirty minutes. Her stare caught me off guard. I started to speak then closed my mouth and said nothing.

"Jack," she said.

"Surprise," Bear said. "He did it for the surprise factor."

"Yeah, well, it worked," she said. "I sure as hell was surprised. Just like he's going to be when I mail the bill to him."

Bear laughed and shook his head. "Not you, Jess. If those feds had been outside your house, the crash would have surprised them. That moment of distraction would have been the difference between us living and dying." He rolled his window down a crack. Wind rushed through the car, the cold air stinging upon impact. "Yeah, we're in this big car, but those guys are trained. One of us would have been hit."

I looked up at the mirror again. A look of knowing washed across Jessie's face. Her eyes teared up. I could tell that the full gravity of the situation had finally hit her and it likely crushed against her chest.

"That was them," she said. "Parked on the side of the street." She looked into the mirror.

I nodded. "Sorry, Jess. We're going to get you someplace safe."

"Safe? How do you know they're not following you now? How-" she pressed her hands into her face and rubbed to the side. "How did they know about me? That was them. The call. Right? How did they know you were at my house?"

"The same reason they knew the car was there." I pulled over on the road's shoulder and stopped the car. Got out and opened her door. "Look at me, Jess. We think…they had a way to track the car. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"No, no it doesn't make sense. They might know the car, but they called for you. Called for you on my phone." By this time she was half out of the car and slamming her fists into my chest.

"There are files on me," I said. "You know what I do and who I am. Well, they do too. They have to know. It's their job to know. When they saw where the car went all they had to do was cross check that against anyone in my file and they found you. That's all. It'll stop there. I promise."

She looked at me with tears in her eyes and shook her head. Her arms lifted over her shoulders and then fell onto me, wrapping around my neck and squeezing tight. A mixture of her tears and hot breath washed over the side of my face. A knot formed in my stomach. I fought back feelings that I hadn't allowed myself to feel in a long time.

I held her tight, running a hand through her hair until she stopped shaking. I let go, turned and got back in the car. The back door slammed and I checked the rear-view mirror to make sure she had gotten back in. She had.

"I'm calling Abbot." I pulled out my cell phone, dialed the number and put the Tahoe in gear. The empty road behind me was a green light to jump back on the interstate. I pressed the gas and got the speed up to sixty. Abbot answered as I merged back into the travel lanes.

"Hello?"

"It's Jack."

He said nothing at first. I heard the sound of his fingers or an object banging on a hard surface. I pictured him sitting in his home office, behind his dark cherry wood antique desk. "What happened up there, Jack? You didn't kill Delaney, did you?"

"What do you think?" I didn't kill him, but I couldn't help thinking that, in some way, I was responsible for his death. If I'd have just kept my damn mouth shut in Baghdad, none of this would be happening. I looked up into the rear-view mirror and caught Jessie's eye. She smiled, and I looked away.

"I don't think you did, but, well, that's what's being reported on-"

"I know," I interrupted. "I saw the report. It's BS, Abbot. We were ambushed. Delaney was hit in the back of the head. Bear took a slug to the shoulder. I tracked them down through the woods, but they had a car parked at the edge. They took off, and then returned to wait for us outside the parking lot. Managed to get by and fled on the interstate." I paused, thought about whether or not I should tell him about Jessie. I didn't. "The report came on TV. Then someone called for me, not on my number, and next thing I know these two spooks showed up outside at-" I avoided mentioning any names. "Outside the place we stopped to patch Bear up."

There was a pause on the other end. I assumed he was filtering the brief conversation, trying to decide what to believe, who to believe, me or the news. I turned my head and looked at Bear, then shifted my eyes to the rear-view mirror to check on Jess. She sat just out of view, resting against the door. I returned my attention to the road. The stretch of interstate heading east toward Richmond, Virginia was empty.

"OK, Jack," Abbot said. "Come to North Carolina. I need you close."

"I'm not returning to Lejeune. If you think that then you can kiss my-"

"Don't come to the base, Jack, for Christ's sake. You think I'm an idiot?" He paused. Was he looking for an answer? Before I could respond, he continued. "Pick a place, but don't tell me where. Some place close enough to Jacksonville that you can be there in a few hours, but far enough away you won't be spotted accidentally." It sounded like he shifted the phone in his hands and changed ears, the phone rubbing against his face with a sound like static as he did so. "Definitely stay far enough away that you won't be made for a Marine."

"You've seen my hair, Abbot. Nobody is going to mistake me for a Marine." I laughed.

He didn't. "This is no time for jokes, son. You two are in serious trouble."

I said nothing. My eyes focused as far out as they could, settling someplace between the road, the mountains and the black darkness of the night sky.

"Some place quiet, Jack. I'm serious." He cleared his throat. "And don't go making a commotion when you get there. Call me in the morning, Jack. First thing."

The line went dead. I dropped the phone in the center console. He wanted us to go someplace quiet. Plenty of places in North Carolina fit that description. He had a point. I'd want to be close enough that I could return to base if necessary. And definitely far enough away that nobody would recognize my face. He didn't say what I knew he was thinking. Stay out of trouble. Whatever you do, stay out of trouble. Don't give the police, or anyone else for that matter, a reason to pick us up. That would be a death sentence wrapped up like a Christmas present under the tree. And the sticker affixed to the wrapping paper would read Jack Noble.