Noble Intentions: Season Four (30 page)

The seconds continued to pass with no activity from the other end of the hallway. Was waiting a mistake? The man could use the extra time to call in
backup. If enough of them were out looking for Jack, there could be another team close by. They'd seal him inside the building.

The lingering effects of the tranquillizer clouded his thoughts, and he wasn't sure which ones to trust. What of his physical abilities? If it came down to
it, could he face the man, or worse, two or more of them? He could barely run ten steps without feeling like he was going to careen head-first to the
ground. He still lost feeling in his hands and feet. Muscles still burned as though a fire raged within his body.

He had to run. There was no other choice. For now, at least. Get away, off the grid, and recuperate. Then figure out what the hell was going on.

The baby had silenced. The woman in the apartment wept. One instinct told him to kick down the door and find out what happened. Another dragged him further
down the hall, away from the alley. The path felt like a maze, forcing him to turn right and left and right again. As long as he continued forward, he knew
he'd reach an exit. Of course, it could be the same one he had entered through. The ultimate irony. Walking into the waiting arms of his assailant-to-be.

He turned a corner and came face to face with a man he'd seen a few minutes before. Big, bald head. Goatee littered with gray.

The man's eyes widened. He drew his arm back, then lunged forward.

Jack dodged, but not far enough. He took the blow on the ear, sending him into a spin. As he looked over his shoulder, the bald man threw another punch.
Jack dropped to a squat. The blow missed overhead. Jack delivered an elbow to the man's midsection, bowing the guy back. He followed the move with a
reverse head butt to the top of the guy's forehead.

A dull thud was followed by the sound of the man hitting the floor.

Jack jumped on top of him. Delivered two more strikes to the man's face.

"Who are you? Who the hell do you work for?"

The man's eyes fluttered and rolled back. Jack backhanded him.

"Answer me."

"Screw you."

A door slammed behind them. Jack looked back, expecting to see the other guy from the car.

There was no one.

He felt a hand around his throat. Then another. They tightened and cut off his air supply.

Jack drove his thumbs into the guy's eyes. Then he worked his leg forward and pressed his knee down on the man's neck.

Who would last longest came down to each man's cardiovascular conditioning. And right now, Jack didn't trust his.

Down to his last few seconds, Jack withdrew his thumbs from the guy's eye sockets and grabbed the sides of the man's head. Then he exerted force on each
side, one high, the other low, and snapped the man's neck.

The hands released and fell to the ground.

Jack searched his clothes. Found nothing but a cell phone. He looked back at the empty hallway. Where was the shooter from outside? He had no plans on
waiting to see if the guy was in the building. Jack continued down the hall until he reached a set of double doors that led outside.

Jack crept toward the exit, cautiously, scanning the street for signs of familiarity. They were everywhere, and nowhere. It looked the same as the one he
had been on when he spotted the small car and the driver staring at him. Yet, it wasn't the same. The signs on the buildings were different. The faces on
the stoops didn't match. He stopped at the door, pressing his face against the glass to see as far as possible down both sides of the street. He looked for
the car or the man or a clone of either. It wouldn't change much if he spotted one. As far as he knew, there were two ways out of the building. One was
most likely covered. Perhaps this one was too. He'd have to face it at some point. Might as well be now.

He shoved the door forward. It didn't budge. Jack tried a second time and received the same results. There was no obvious lock. No reason it shouldn't
open. He took a couple steps back, ready to kick the glass, and noticed a green button mounted to the wall a few inches to the right of the doors. He
pressed it, and the magnetic lock released, and he eased the door open and stepped out onto the street.

It smelled the same here as it did on the other side of the building. The breeze continued to push chilled air around. A patch of clouds obstructed the sun
providing welcome relief to Jack's light sensitive eyes. One of the lingering effects of the drugs used to sedate him.

He glanced up and down the street. To the left, buildings lined the street with no obvious breaks between them. Right offered him the quickest routes of
escape. There were two alleys and an intersection all within a couple hundred feet. But he didn't go in either direction. Instead, he crossed the street
toward a light blue compact, idling on the opposite curb. The driver tapped on his steering wheel in time with a song Jack couldn't hear. He approached the
vehicle from the rear, using the natural blind spot to surprise the driver. It worked. The man didn't flinch until after Jack grabbed the handle and yanked
the door open. He wasn't old, nor was he young. Not fat. Not skinny. Just an average guy. And though Jack couldn't feel the impact due to his numb hands,
the punch he threw knocked the guy out.

BRETT MADE THE decision to move while Jack's tracking signal had remained motionless. Like a texting driver, he glanced from his phone's screen to the
road and back again. When the dot started moving, it didn't concern him too much. Alterations to his route could be made when he reached the area. But when
it took off at a rate of speed similar to his own, Brett watched the phone's screen more than the road in front of him. If it hadn't been for the aware
driver with right-of-way to the intersection honking his horn, it might not have mattered where Jack ended up.

He slammed on his brakes. Came to a stop underneath the traffic lights. Drivers turned as they passed, shaking their heads. Brett watched for a second,
then turned his attention back to his phone. Noble had almost slipped off the screen. Brett zoomed out and adjusted the map so that Noble was centered. The
man was driving away

"It's all right," he muttered. "Just keep him in your sights."

Simple, really.

Hopefully.

JACK KEPT HIS speed within the legal limit as he drove away from the building. Getting stopped was never a good thing. And considering he had no idea
who had shot at him, or who they worked for, showing up on anyone's radar at this juncture would lead to his death.

Almost at the point where Jack thought he was getting away, the small vehicle appeared. The man spotted Jack as the two cars passed one another. Their eyes
locked for a brief second, after which Jack pressed the accelerator to the floor and the other man slammed on his brake and violently whipped the small car
around in the middle of the road. Before the vehicle completed its arc, Jack turned hard right at the first intersection. The tires fought to maintain
their grip. He slid into the other lane, facing oncoming traffic in the form of a box truck being trailed by a couple sedans. Jack turned hard against the
slide. The back end of the car fishtailed, sending him on an uncontrollable course to the oncoming truck.

"Dammit," he shouted. He knew better than to turn away from a slide. The sedative he'd been shot with had left him in such a mental state that he'd argue
down was up if given the chance. That didn't matter, though. What did was the large truck bearing down on him, honking its horn, obviously because it
wouldn't be able to stop in time. The driver tried. Hydraulic brakes worked hard, but there was nothing they could do to slow down five tons of machine.

Jack eased off the gas, let go of the steering wheel momentarily, then regained control of it, turning into the spin. In a matter of seconds, he corrected
the vehicle and straightened. The truck's driver covered his face with his arms. Jack swerved out of the way at the last second.

There wasn't time to relax, though. Glancing back, Jack saw the small car. The man had already caught up.

The rear window burst into a thousand tiny shards.

The man wasn't intent on chasing. He was going to kill Jack no matter what. If he was crazy enough to fire from a moving vehicle, then he'd probably be
willing to run his car into Jack's.

Distance. He had to get some, quickly. Problem was, the vehicle couldn't go any faster.

Jack made a hard left, managing this time to keep from losing control, while hoping the other driver wouldn't be so lucky. But the guy was. He didn't miss
a beat. Stayed as close. And he hadn't fired again. Why? What if the guy wasn't trying to kill Jack, only get his attention?

There was that foggy thinking again. Keep pushing forward, Jack told himself, unsure how it would work out.

Street signs passed by in a blur. Not that it mattered. The city was a mystery. He had no idea of its layout. He could have been driving straight into a
maze of traffic, or heading out to the country. Either would suffice.

After five minutes, the road widened, adding lanes. He saw signs for what appeared to be an interstate. Cars crowded the right lane. Jack stayed to the
left, with the other man close behind, seemingly willing to wait it out. Only reasonable explanation was that he had informed his chain of command and been
told to do so. The downside meant that there'd be more people on the way soon.

The on ramp approached. A line of vehicles moved at a snail's pace.

Jack gunned the engine and swerved in between two vehicles, cutting across perpendicular, passing in front of a minivan that clipped his rear fender. The
car shimmied, but Jack maintained control. He scraped against one of the cars turning onto the on-ramp, then pulled over a few feet and raced down the
shoulder toward the highway. Glancing back through the rear view, he saw no signs that he'd been followed.

It wouldn't last. The other guy would recoup soon enough.

BRETT PULLED INTO an abandoned parking lot. All that remained of the structure it butted up to was a concrete foundation with grass and weeds growing up
through thick cracks.

The distance between him and Jack had grown to a point where he had to zoom out further to ensure he didn't lose him. Studying the map, he attempted to
determine where the man was headed. How well did Noble know the city? Better than Brett? Wouldn't be difficult, as this was Brett's first visit to the
country.

Noble was on Metropolitan 1, heading south, out of the city. From there, if he remained on the freeway, he'd either take Route 82, or merge onto 12 and
then take that southwest, or 1 south. 12 appeared to be the more rural route of the two, and Brett figured that's where Jack would go.

So instead of heading east to follow Jack, Brett went west, merged onto the N1 western bypass, and then south, in hopes of intercepting the man.

DRIVING BLIND IS no way to drive, Jack thought. But he had little choice. With no idea who was after him, or how many there were, he had to keep moving.
Drive until you can't drive anymore.

Was it the best option?

Perhaps. At the moment, at least. Every minute that passed led to him thinking a little clearer. Another reason to push forward. Soon enough, he'd be
operating with clarity, and his decisions would be the right ones. He'd come far enough to realize that.

Searching the glove box, he found a roadmap. He unfolded it and scanned until he determined his approximate location by finding Hillsbrow and then the
nearest freeway. The signs which had made little sense at the time now appeared fully realized in his mind's eye. He was southbound on Metropolitan 1. From
there, he had a few choices. Away from the city was his best option, and there were two routes that would allow him to travel unrestricted. One went due
south, but judging by the map, it intersected with several other cities. That might lead to traffic, which meant he'd slow down and whoever was chasing
could catch up.

That left one option. National 12. The freeway would buy him enough time to figure out his next move.

BRETT SNATCHED UP his cell and answered on the second ring.

"Update?" Ballard asked.

"He's on the move."

"Are you on his tail?"

"Relatively speaking."

"What's that mean?"

"Closer now than I was a day ago."

"Don't let him slip away."

"If you think you can do my job better than I can, then feel free to come out here and take over."

Ballard hung up without replying.

"Little rat bastard," Brett muttered. He stole a glance at his phone, confirming that he was on the right path. As predicted, Jack had taken 12 to the
southwest, and Brett was less than five miles from his position.

He'll stop, Brett thought. And when he does, I'll have him.

Unknown Location.

SHE WOKE TO a sunrise unlike any she'd seen before. Even staring directly upward at the star while standing between large buildings hadn't been this
intense. The light, bright and hot, left a red impression long after she closed her eyes.

"Pouvez-vous m'entendre?"

Her mind chewed on the phrase for a moment. It worked it from one set of words to another.

Can you hear me?

"Yes," she said. "I can."

"You are American?" the woman said. Her voice sounded funny, heavy, whispery almost.

"What?" she said.

"From the United States, yes?"

The girl blinked her eyes open and saw the source of the sunrise: a large circular light which now pointed at an angle toward the ceiling, casting a large
halo around the corner of the room.

"I…" she looked from the light to the woman dressed in blue smocks. "I don't know."

The woman's face scrunched up and she turned and looked at the girl out of the side of her eye. "You don't know where you are from?"

The girl shook her head.

"What about your name?" the woman asked.

The girl said nothing.

"I am Marie," the woman said. "And you are…?"