Noble Intentions: Season Four (42 page)

"Wait, what?"

"Amnesia or whatever. Had no idea who she was, or where she was from." She looked Bear up and down. "Makes sense she comes from your stock."

"When did this happen?"

"Overnight. She was gone before sunrise."

Bear stepped back, looked down the street, wondering which direction she had gone. Where she had gone.

"I need whatever-"

The woman slammed the door shut. Bear stepped forward and banged on it. No one answered. He hit it harder. Still no one answered. Bear punched the door
twice, then stepped back to kick it. A window above him answered. The woman stuck her head out.

"I'm calling the police," she shouted at him. "Go away."

With everything that happened, last thing Bear needed was the police to be involved. They might serve him back up to the DSGE and then he'd disappear.

He hopped off the stoop and went back to where he'd taken position earlier.

"Where are you, Mandy?" he said.

She couldn't have gone far with no ID and presumably no money. But which way?

He walked back toward the house, staying on the other side of the street. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths. Pictured the girl attacking the boy
- for good reason - and then imagined what she would do if she were him.

Opening his eyes, he studied the street in both directions. To her left, it was open, bright. People could have been out, even at a late or early morning
hour.

To her right it would have been dark, narrow, abandoned. Alleys ran between townhouses.

And that's the direction Bear headed. He'd honed her instincts enough to know that she would have taken the path that offered her escape and the ability to
hide if someone chased after her.

He showed her picture to a few men cowering under an awning. They'd seen her, earlier that day, about two miles down the road.

Bear raced to his rental car and started down the street. He pulled over after four miles, figuring she should have gone this far. The rain let up. Two
women were standing outside a door, smoking. He approached them and showed them the picture of Mandy.

The older woman nodded. She pointed across the street.

"Our family runs that restaurant. I sent her in there about an hour ago to get warm and eat."

"Thank you," Bear said as he turned and ran across the street.

A car slammed on its brakes, skid on the wet street. Bear leapt forward, just missing the opportunity to get hit. The guy rolled down his window and
shouted something, but Bear only had to look back at the guy for the driver to move on.

Bear stopped in front of the door where he caught his reflection. The rain had weighed his hair down, making his beard-clad face look puffy. His clothes
were drenched. He ran a hand through his hair and pushed the door open.

"Mandy," he called out.

Several people turned to look at him. None of them were her.

At the bar, a mane of blonde hair draped over the back of a stool.

"Mandy," he said again, heading toward the bar.

The girl seated there didn't move.

Bear placed his hand on her shoulder. Felt her tense up. Then she reached across and grabbed his wrist. She attempted to twist his arm, but only spun
herself around in her seat.

"Mandy, look I know you are having some problems with your memory, but look at me. You have to know who I am?"

She looked frightened. "Let me go."

He reached in his pocket and pulled out her photo. "See, I'm carrying around this picture of you. C'mon kid, you know me. I know you do. You know you do."
He'd leaned forward so they were eye to eye.

During this time, a patron watching the exchange had risen from his table and approach.

"Is this man bothering you?" he said in French.

Bear turned toward the guy. "Piss off."

The guy backed away.

"Listen, Mandy. I always taught you to strike at the opponent's greatest weakness. And you always asked me what's my weakness. You remember what I said?"

Tears had filled the girl's eyes. She blinked and two streams formed on her cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I always said I have no weaknesses, so you can't take me down." He paused, wiped his own eyes. "But that's not true, kid. I have a weakness, and it's a
big one. You, Mandy. You are my greatest weakness. And despite that, I want to continue raising you and make sure you reach adulthood."

The girl said nothing.

But the bartender did. He aimed a pistol at Bear's head and said, "Step back."

Bear lifted his hands to chest level, close enough to his weapon he could reach it, and took a step back.

"Listen," he said. "This is my girl. She was in an accident and lost her memory. But she's mine. She just don't remember."

"We'll let her be the judge of that."

"I just told you, she don't remember."

"And I'm holding the gun."

So am I.

Bear backed off.

"Child, who is this man?"

HIS VOICE SOUNDED so familiar. But surely a man of such stature would register in the girl's mind if she knew him. She looked back at the man behind the
bar, now flanked by two other armed men and shook her head.

The man said, "Get the hell out of here before we kill you and bury you out back."

The big man said, "Mandy, I won't give up on you." He stepped back toward the door, stopped, pointed over her shoulder. "And I'll be back for you. Count on
that."

"Get out," the guy screamed.

"Mandy," he said from the open doorway over the sounds of cars passing by on a wet road. "Remember the lessons I've taught you. They'll keep you alive."

His voice played in her head. Dozens of lines that she heard constantly, like she had when the boy attacked her. Why couldn't she remember him if he had
played such a part in her life. And here he was, pleading with her, while three men aimed guns and threatened to kill him.

I'm his greatest weakness
.

"I'm not telling you again," the man behind her said.

The man at the door locked stares with her. She sensed his pain, yet she felt nothing. He turned to leave. One door fell shut. His big hand held the other
open as he stepped to the sidewalk. The girl felt a slight yearning. A feeling of home disappearing.

"WAIT!" HER VOICE cut through the humid air.

Bear spun and re-entered the restaurant. Mandy rushed toward him. He held his arms out. She hit him with the force of a truck.

The armed man hopped over the bar and said, "What is this? Are you sure you know this man?"

Mandy looked at Bear, tears in her eyes, then turned her head. "Yes, I do. He's my father. I was angry with him for not letting me go out with some
friends, so I ran off. I was trying to punish him."

Bear took her hand and pulled her to the door. Better to get out while the men mulled over her words than to allow them to question her further. They
turned left at the next corner. Bear stopped after another half-block, grabbed the girl by the shoulders and leaned over.

"Way to think on your feet back there, kid. That was a great time for your memory to come back."

He noticed tears running down her cheeks.

"Mister, I have no idea who you are," she said. "But your voice… I hear your voice, like, all the time. Little bits of information. Lessons, I
guess."

"Mandy, that's-"

"Is that my name? Mandy?"

He nodded.

"They were calling me Madeline in that house. It sort of felt right. Guess I know why now."

Bear nodded again, said nothing.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Riley Logan, though you and most other people call me Bear."

She looked up at him. "That fits you."

He laughed. "Sure as shit does, kid."

They continued down the lit street for another few blocks in silence. He figured the kid had a lot to process. Hopefully some of which would lead to her
memory returning.

"Mr. Bear?"

"Just Bear."

"Bear?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are we going?"

"Train station."

"To where?"

"Paris."

"Why Paris?"

"I've gotta visit with an old friend."

Bethesda, Maryland.

BRETT HOVERED OVER Ballard's computer. They'd managed to get into the file system, but there was little of use there. A bunch of empty folders. It
seemed possible that Ballard knew something was going down and had managed to delete anything of importance.

"Give us something we can use," he said to the laptop.

"Maybe he did everything on USB drive," Jack said.

"That's how most of it's done these days." Brett tapped a few more keys. "But I'd expect there to be some remnants on the system. Especially with all these
empty folders."

"How secure is your cell?"

Brett pulled out his phone. "Don't think the NSA could crack the connection."

"What if the other end of the call was in doubt?"

"It'd look to them like we're in Islamabad." Brett spun the cell in his palm. "What are you getting at?"

Jack rose and walked over and held out his hand. "I've got someone who can help us with our computer problem."

Brett relinquished the phone. Jack dialed the number from memory. Two rings later, Brandon answered.

Jack said, "Bet you thought you'd never hear from me again."

"Shit, that really you, man? What the hell happened? I've heard reports you were toast over two weeks ago."

"It's me, and I'll spare you the details other than to say whoever is behind this has a world of hate and pain heading their way."

"Yeah, well I've been fighting goons from three agencies off daily. Finally found a solution yesterday. Been watching them try to crash my connection all
day long with no luck."

Jack nodded at Brett and covered the mouthpiece. "See, he's the right guy."

Brett nodded.

"So what can I do to help you?"

"An agency analyst/handler wound up dead today. Not by our doing, but we managed to confiscate his laptop. Got into it, but haven't been able to find
anything other than some video clips."

Brandon said, "OK, first off, who's we?"

"Brett Taylor," Jack said. "Name ring a bell?"

"On a couple levels. Weren't you supposed to kill him some years back?"

"Yup."

"And isn't he the guy who supposedly killed you a couple weeks ago?"

"Correct."

"Man, you're gonna have to take a couple hours and explain this to me when it's all said and done."

"Will do, Brandon. But for now, can you help with this computer?"

"I sure can." Brandon proceeded to explain to them how to connect the laptop to a secure SSH tunnel he created. "The agency can have that machine rigged
however they want. They won't be able to see a damn thing now."

With the computer connected, the line fell silent while Brandon searched the laptop. Jack took note of the concern on Brett's face. When he caught the
guy's gaze, Jack nodded and assured him that Brandon could be trusted. He'd always said there were two people he trusted in this world.

Bear and Clarissa.

In truth, there were three. Because Brandon always had his back. Just in a different way. But if the guy had arms and legs that worked properly, he'd lay
his life on the line if Jack asked.

Like he was doing right now. If anyone traced the action back to Brandon, a hit team would be en route immediately.

"OK," Brandon said. "I can tell you this is going to take a while."

"Define a while," Brett said.

"Four hours, give or take."

"Kidding, right?"

"The stuff you are looking for is in there. But it's buried."

"Brandon," Jack said, "we don't have four or five hours to kill right now. We need to be on the move."

"Yeah, well then I suggest you start moving toward New York City."

"Why's that?"

"Because from the content of this email I'm reading, seems that's where your daughter Mia is right now."

Jack picked the phone up off the bed. "I never told you about Mia, Brandon."

"I know, and I gotta say, I'm a little hurt you didn't share something like that with me. Disregarding that, I can tell you that your guy received a
message and it clearly states, 'Jack Noble's daughter, Mia.'"

"Date?"

"Yesterday. It tells Ballard to stay put, and that they'll use his guy to put an end to it."

Brett leaned forward. "Did they use a name with 'his guy'?"

Jack assumed they had meant Brett. "And put an end to what?"

Brandon said, "You guys are gonna have to give me some time to figure all that out."

Jack said, "What's going to happen to the laptop when you're done?"

Brandon said, "Depends on you, I guess."

"It has provisions to notify the agency of its location, right?"

"Affirmative."

"How about you make it light up their monitoring system as soon as you're done with it. And by done, I mean plant a bunch of bullshit information that
they're going to have to wade through for two weeks before they realize they've been duped."

Brandon laughed and said, "You got it."

"OK. We're out of here. Will call you in four hours."

Fifteen minutes later, they were merging onto I-95 north. Brett was at the wheel. Jack kept his eye on the side mirror, watching for tails, which was
considerably harder to do in the middle of the night.

"So what do you think went wrong?" Brett asked.

"With what?"

"Ballard gets a message to stay put another day or two, and then to recall me to finish something. Then he winds up dead. He had to have done something,
right?"

Jack thought it through as he stared at the passing streetlights. Their orange gaze lit up the interstate, but failed to penetrate the thick woods that
lined the highway. Then it came to him.

"Yeah," Jack said, "he did do something."

"What?"

"He lied. And so did you."

"Shit." Brett started checking his mirrors.

"They know I'm alive."

I-95, New Jersey.