Noble Intentions: Season Three (6 page)

“Glad you’re not tea people,” he
said.

Dottie gave him a merciful grin
while shaking her head. “You’ll never understand our humor, Jack.”

“That’s OK with me.”

Jack looked past the man and woman
in front of him and stared out through the extra wide and extra tall bay
window. The ground floor view of what he saw through his bedroom windows. The
lush green scenery combined with the smell and taste of the coffee could lull
him into a false sense of security. He wondered if every day of retirement
would start with this exact feeling.

His eyes lazily scanned the area
behind the house. Neatly manicured grounds boasted a tasteful selection of
flowers and shrubs. There was a children’s play set in the far corner, probably
a relic left behind by the previous owner. At least it added credibility should
someone come snooping around. Mature trees ringed the property, offering extra
privacy and protection from curious eyes. They kept Dottie and her people out
of sight. They also kept intruders hidden until the last minute.

“It’s safe here,” she said.

Jack shrugged.

“I see you looking,” she said. “No
need to worry. I’ve got security everywhere.”

“Bet I could spot them.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Leon said.

“I spotted you, didn’t I?”

Dottie lifted an eyebrow, a curious
look on her face. Jack figured that Leon hadn’t told her how the two men had
met. She’d sent her best, and Jack had bested him.

Leon smiled, shook his head. “You
said you could spot them. Not that you had. Watching your eyes, you passed over
at least three of my men.”

“There,” Jack said with a nodding
gesture. “And there,” another dip of the head. “And there,” a final toss of his
jaw to the left.

“Interesting,” Leon said.

“Anyway,” Jack said. “Do you want
to shoot the breeze for a while, or do you want to tell me what I’m doing in
England?”

“That’s why I always liked working
with you, Jack,” Dottie said. “No pussy footing around. Always right to the
point.”

“And you dance around it,” he said.

“You know me well,” she said.

“Too well,” he said, wondering how
long the tango would go on before she got down to business.

“Should I leave?” Leon said,
grinning.

“No,” Dottie and Jack said at the
same time.

The three shared a smile, sipped
from their ceramic mugs, moved to the other side of the kitchen. They each took
a seat at the round oak table, each one a point in a triangle. Jack’s stomach
roared with hunger, but he declined to ask for food. Dottie appeared to be
ready to talk, and he didn’t want to give her a reason to procrastinate any
longer.

“You had the misfortune of meeting
my estranged husband in Monte Carlo,” she said.

Jack nodded, said nothing.

“He wasn’t always like that, Jack.
Honest, he wasn’t.” She took a moment. “I thought that when I left the agency I
was through with men like that. You know, all ego, all about them, no matter
the expense.”

Jack nodded again. Still said
nothing.

“I met him around the time you last
did a job for me. I was attending some Lord’s party. I forget who. It was a
fancy event, lots of powerful people there.
Quid pro quo
. My former
Deputy Director at the agency invited me. He now holds my old position as
Director. I always enjoyed those kinds of things when I was in charge, so
naturally I accepted. And it was there that I met Thornton Walloway.”

“You must have been instantly
charmed,” Jack said, his words laced with sarcasm.

Dottie waved him off. “He wasn’t
like that when I met him. And don’t forget, I was younger and more than capable
of taking care of myself. So, yes, maybe he came off a bit rough. It didn’t
bother me. After years of working with some of the deadliest men in Britain,”
she paused, smiled, looked between Leon and Jack, “in the world, for that
matter. Well, I couldn’t be with a guy who retired at night in front of the TV,
falling asleep in an oversized recliner, his hands resting atop his beer belly
while I fetched him another pint.”

Jack smiled. “I wouldn’t have
expected you to.”

“What can I say? I’ll always be a
gal ready for action.”

Jack’s smile lingered, then faded.
“So what happened?”

“What happened?” she repeated the
question, perhaps trying to find an answer. “Thornton made his money in glass.
You believe that? A billion dollars from glass?”

Jack didn’t believe it. Didn’t say
as much though.

“But that was only half the story.
He invested his money with certain people. Some of them the same people I
fought to put away, you see. Some of them the type of people I hired you to
take care of, Jack. I didn’t know this at the time, though. I thought all of
his wealth was from glass.”

Jack nodded. Had nothing to add
yet, so he said nothing.

“Things were good for the first
four years. Then, a couple years ago, they changed.
He
changed. Thornton
became abusive, verbally and physically. He became secretive. I thought maybe
he was having an affair. His anger a reflection of the guilt he felt. If I
asked a question, I got hit. Simple as that.”

“Why’d you stick around?”

Dottie looked away. Jack followed
her stare. Her gaze traveled beyond the window, past the garden, settled on
some imaginary point that Jack couldn’t see.

“I don’t know,” she finally said.

“You don’t?” Jack said.

Dottie turned her head ninety
degrees, locked eyes with Jack. “Maybe I do, but I don’t want to say.”

Jack lifted his hands in an
I
surrender
gesture. If she didn’t want to tell him anymore, that was her
prerogative. He wouldn’t push. Some things were better left for therapy.

“So as you can see, after the month
I spent in a hospital in Monte Carlo, I retreated to this place. He doesn’t
know where it is. I never told him. I bought it years ago. I knew if things
went wrong, either with Thornton or one of his associates, I’d need a place to
hide. This place works well. I have a security force in place that he doesn’t
own. He’s got money, but I brought my own dowry to the party. All this is mine,
Jack. He paid for none of it.”

“What else?” Jack said, ready for
her to get to the point.

Dottie nodded, shifted her eyes to
her right for a second, a signal for Leon to leave the room.

Plausible deniability
.

“I’ll be back in a few.” Leon rose,
nodded at Jack, then slipped past the table and out of the kitchen.

Jack placed one arm on the table,
leaned forward. “So what is it you want me to do, Dottie?”

A smile formed and quickly
rescinded. Her expression eroded, leaving behind a face twisted with pain and
fear and anger. “End him.”

“Why me? Why not Leon, or one of
your other guys here, or one of your old agents?”

“Because you are the best. And he’s
scared of you, Jack. The moment he sees you, he’s going to panic, and that will
buy you a few extra seconds. Those few seconds are all you’ll need to finish
the job.”

Jack leaned back, inched to his
left, placed his left arm across the back of the chair, held the half-f mug
in his right hand. He swirled the coffee in a counter clockwise motion, causing
the lighter brown residue on top to form a spinning island in the center. He
thought that he’d like to be on an island this morning. Someplace tropical and
nowhere near mainland Europe. He owed Dottie in more ways than one. She’d
helped him get started. Got him back on his feet when his world had crumbled
around him. She introduced him to people who had helped him to become a wealthy
man. But above all, she’d always been a friend, and now she was in need. And he
couldn’t turn her down.

He took a drink from his mug and
then set it on the table. “I’ll do it.”

Dottie rose and walked around the
table, past Jack.

“I need to know some things first,”
he said.

“Of course.” Dottie went on to give
Jack Thornton’s home and office address and the security codes required for
access. She told him the restaurants and bars and strip clubs that he
frequented. She gave him the names of Thornton’s most trusted men. She mentioned
the names of his women, of which there were many. When she was finished, she
said, “Anything else you might need?”

“I’ll need access to weapons. An
M40 for the hit, if I can do it ranged. Two pistols, preferably 9mm. I’ll need
an HK MP7, S model, with a suppressor and at least three spare magazines, in
case I go to war with his men.” Jack picked up the mug and took one final pull
on the lukewarm liquid. After he swallowed, his mouth was littered with coffee
grounds like silt trapped in a net. “Also, I want a lethal pen.”

“A lethal pen?”

“Looks like a pen, equipped with a
needle and a reservoir filled with poison. When you place the end of the pen to
someone and then click the tip, the needle protrudes and penetrates and a
moment later the fluid is forced out of the reservoir and into the victim.”

“Interesting.”

“If it comes down to me doing this
in a crowded bar or strip club or on the street, I don’t want to be spotted
with a gun drawn. Everyone has a camera phone these days. Last thing I need is
my face on the TV again. I’ve got nobody to help me out anymore if things go
south.”

“I’m behind you, Jack.”

“But you can’t afford to be
associated with a known assassin, Dottie. It won’t take them long to put the
pieces of the puzzle together. I know that a lot of the work I did for you was
not sanctioned. You don’t need that stuff coming to light now.”

She nodded, forced a smile, said
nothing.

“So can you get the weapons?”

“Leon has access to some. I’ll make
some calls for the rest. By tonight I should have everything you need.”

“Got a car?” Jack asked.

“Out front. It’s ready for you.”

“Thornton doesn’t know about it?”

“Just bought it yesterday, cash, my
money. Registered under a false name. He knows nothing and will find out
nothing about it.”

Jack pushed back in his chair, got
up and refilled his mug. He placed the cup on the counter and hunted for a
travel mug. He found one in the cupboard and transferred the coffee and topped
it off.

“Keys are in the ignition. There’s
some cash, an ATM card, and an untraceable cell phone in the glove box.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back this
evening.”

“No, don’t come back. Get a hotel.
It’s best that you not return in case you are spotted and followed.”

Jack agreed she had a point. “Give
me a number to reach you and one for Leon then.”

“Already programmed into the phone.
I’m speed dial number two, he’s number three. Four and five are for
emergencies.”

“What about one?”

“I never program one, Jack. Too
hard for me to reach with my thumb.”

Jack reached out to Dottie, pulled
her close in an embrace. Her perfume overpowered the strong smell of coffee,
bringing back several of the memories that he had repressed for so long.

“You be careful, Jack. If you don’t
think it’s going to happen, call me. I can get Leon or someone else out there
to help.”

Jack shook his head. “Alone,
Dottie. This one needs to be done alone.”

He wasn’t sure if he meant it, or
if it was some kind of false bravado. Maybe he could use the help. Maybe it
would only hinder the mission. He didn’t know, yet he’d already sealed his
fate. It’d be tough to go back on his statement.

He pulled away and left the
kitchen. Dottie remained behind. Leon met him by the front door, handed him a
second Browning.

Jack tucked the pistol in his
waistband. His pants tugged downward under the weight of the two handguns. “Got
anything semi-automatic?”

“It’ll have to do for now. I’ll
have better weapons by tonight. Call me at five and we’ll arrange a place to
meet.”

Jack exited the house without
replying. He saw a lone car, a red Fiat, parked in the center of circular
driveway. He tilted his head to the side, wondering how he was supposed to fit
inside. Did she have something against Land Rovers? Even something mid-sized
would have worked for him.

Reluctantly, Jack slipped in behind
the steering wheel. He found it to be roomier than it looked. He turned the key
in the ignition and shifted the transmission into first gear. He eased off the clutch
as he depressed the accelerator and the car rolled down the driveway.

Hannah heard the high pitched whine
of a small engine combined with the sound of tires kicking up loose gravel. She
hurried to make sure that she hadn’t missed Ms. Carlisle. The last thing she
wanted to do was hang around outside the house waiting for her boss to return home.
She emerged from behind the hedges in time to see the rear of a red Fiat
pulling away from the front of the house. The car was unfamiliar. Hannah took a
deep breath, felt confident that she hadn’t wasted her time coming to the house
unannounced.

She stepped across the trenched
gravel, kicking loose stones back into place as she passed. She stood before
the tall wooden entrance door. She took a deep breath in preparation of the
groveling she expected to have to do. An aged brass knocker stained from years
of rain and snow and ice hung from the mouth of an equally aged brass lion
fixed to the middle of the door. She lifted the heavy brass ring and let it
fall. It creaked as it dropped and then hit the door with a solid thud.

The door cracked open, an eye peered
through. It opened a bit further. The man greeted Hannah with a smile.

“We weren’t expecting you,” he
said.

“I know, Leon. I really need to
talk to Ms. Carlisle, though.”

“Is everything OK?”

Hannah shrugged and held out her
arms, palms up, thumbs out.