Noble Intentions: Season Three (22 page)

Clarissa felt the train slow. She
opened her eyes. The train stretched along a curved track. The station lay ahead.
She tugged on the cord dangling in front of her chest. White earbuds fell to
her lap. The quick beat of electronica gave way to grinding brakes, steel on
steel, and the low murmur of anticipation. The natural daylight that poured
through the windows was replaced with fluorescent yellow as the train entered a
short tunnel before pulling into the station.

Spiers didn’t seem to notice. He
leaned his head against the wall, eyes closed, mouth open.

She nudged him. He didn’t stir, so
she kicked his shin with the pointed toe of her boot. He grimaced, then opened
his eyes. He yawned. Stagnant breath headed in Clarissa’s direction. She fanned
her hand in front of her face, but it didn’t make a difference. The odor had
already invaded her space.

“Why’d you kick me?” he said.

“You would rather I have left you
here?” she said.

He waved her off, rose, grabbed
hold of the metal railing that ran overhead. The train came to an abrupt stop.
Clarissa jerked forward, then back. Spiers did too. He came close to falling on
top of her. She had her doubts that the move was unintentional.

The doors slid open with a hiss.
Cool air, fresh only in the sense that it was new, rushed inside and mixed with
the warm stale air they’d been trapped in for the past two hours.

Spiers said, “You get off first.
Scan the area. If everything looks good, put your right hand behind your back
and hold out two fingers. If you are concerned, same hand, make a fist. Got
it?”

“Two fingers good, fist bad. Got
it.”

She rose, grabbed her bag and
walked toward the exit. A hundred pairs of disinterested eyes greeted her. She
knew that it only took one pair being interested for her day to take a serious
turn for the worse. They might lurk somewhere in the crowd. Clarissa slipped
into profiling mode. Discount the kids, their parents, the elderly. Forget
about anyone too heavy and out of shape to keep up with her. They might be a
threat, but not one she’d take seriously. By the time she went through her
checklist, there were five people to be concerned about. They all stared at her
as she stepped down from the train and onto the platform. She knew she could
cross them off as well. No one intent on harming her or taking her into custody
would have dared to make eye contact.

She reached her hand behind her
back and extended her middle and index fingers. Then she started away from the
train. The thick crowd stood shoulder to shoulder. Instead of trying to fight
her way through, she turned to the left and walked in front of the throng of
people. She and Spiers had sat in the rear car, so naturally they were at the
end of the terminal. She didn’t have to walk far before she came upon a spot
where a clean exit was possible.

Spiers caught up with her five
minutes later.

“See anything?” he said.

“No. You?” she said.

“Nada.”

“What now?”

“Guess we wait.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m going to make a call and find
out what’s going on here.”

He reached into his pocket and
pulled out his cell. Clarissa stood a foot away, eyes on his. He stared back.

“What?” she said.

“A little privacy?” he said.

She rolled her eyes, walked fifteen
feet away and took a seat on a mesh metal bench. A familiar smell, that of hot
dogs, wafted past her. Her stomach groaned in response. She ignored the pangs
of hunger, leaned her head back against the wall, studied the crowd. Nothing
seemed out of the ordinary. She saw nobody who didn’t belong there. When it
came down to it, she was the biggest threat in the room. Next to Spiers, of
course.

He stuffed his phone back in his
pocket and approached her, shaking his head. He stopped in front of the bench.
Said, “No answer.”

She looked up at him. “What now?”

“He sent a text, like he said he
would.”

Clarissa said nothing.

“We’re looking for two women and a
little girl. Thirty-three, twenty-one, six-and-a-half. Dirty blond, brown,
blond. Green, brown, blue. Well dressed, traveling light.”

Clarissa appreciated his succinct
style. “When do they arrive?”

“Ninety minutes.”

“I don’t like being exposed for
that long.”

Spiers glanced to his left, then
his right. “Neither do I.”

“Want to get some lunch?”

“We’ll need a ticket to get back in
here.”

She reached into her pocket, pulled
out a wad of euros. “I think we can handle that.”

“Then let’s go.”

It turned out they didn’t have to
go far. Clarissa followed the smell of the hot dogs and it led them to a small
restaurant in the terminal. It hadn’t been hot dogs that sent her taste buds
into overdrive and caused her to salivate. It was blood sausage, which, despite
the name, she found fairly tasty. Spiers ate a beef dish that she didn’t catch
the name of. They shared double fried Belgian Fries, served in a paper cone
held upright by a metal stand.

For fifteen minutes, they remained
silent while they ate. They lingered in the restaurant for another forty-five
minutes. Spiers tried to order a couple beers. Clarissa didn’t let him. She
told him once they were safe with the women and the girl, he could have a beer.
But only one, no more. She didn’t know the man and didn’t trust him. Not yet,
at least. He had managed to last four hours without attempting to hurt her,
though. That carried a lot of weight in Clarissa’s book. Better to not ruin it
by him getting drunk.

They left the restaurant and
located an arrivals board. Spiers pulled out his phone and pulled up the text
message again. He pointed toward the train’s arrival information. Clarissa took
note of it and ten minutes later they sat on a bench in front of the stretch of
track where the train would pull in.

“Wish we had a picture,” he said.

“Description should be good
enough,” she said.

Spiers rubbed his eyes, yawned.

“That nap you took wasn’t enough?”

He shrugged, said nothing.

Clarissa felt a shift in the air,
as if it were being drawn away. The squeal of the brakes precluded the train
pulling into the station. A blast of hot air followed. She felt her hair lift
into the air and then settle across her shoulders. Apparently, it had reached
further than that. Spiers made a spitting sound and pulled strands of her hair
off of his face where it had become intertwined with his long stubble.

“That’s why you should shave,”
Clarissa said.

Spiers said nothing. He rose from
his seat and stepped toward the train. There were fewer people here. When she
got off their train, there had been at least one hundred people waiting.
Clarissa guessed this was the train’s last stop. For a while, at least.

“You take that end, I’ll take this
one,” Spiers said.

Clarissa nodded, started off to her
right. She turned, said, “What if it’s a set up?”

“Not a chance. Not with this guy.
If he were out to get me, he’d face me like a man.”

Clarissa figured that if someone
was looking for Spiers, they would only be looking for him. They wouldn’t
recognize her or know that she accompanied the man. So she headed further down
the track with little fear of being spotted.

The doors slid open and people
began to exit the train. She stopped three-quarters of the way down the length
of the train. She scanned the faces that emerged. None matched the description
Spiers had given her. Through the windows, she could see that there weren’t many
people left on board. She wondered if Spiers had better luck at the other end
of the track. She looked to her left, tried to spot him. The crowd that filed
toward the hall prevented her from seeing more than twenty feet away.

She returned her gaze to the train.
If she hadn’t waited another five seconds, she would have missed them.

The younger woman with brown hair
stepped off first. She turned around when she reached the platform and then
reached up for the little girl. The child’s blond hair had been pulled back
into a pony tail. Her blue eyes stood out. They seemed familiar. The last to
exit looked to be the girl’s mother. They were alike in every way, except for
their eyes.

Clarissa weaved her way through the
crowd. Her height and the two inch lift of the boots gave her an advantage, and
she managed to keep track of the women as they approached.

The brunette was the first to make
eye contact with Clarissa. She saw the woman stop, turn toward the other lady
and say something. The other woman’s gaze drifted left to right and stopped
when she found Clarissa.

Clarissa approached the group. She
smiled, left her hands exposed, fingers extended.

The little girl hid behind her
mother. The woman reached out and pushed the brunette behind her as well.

Clarissa held her hands in the air.
When she was close enough, she said, “I’m here to help.”

“You’re Jack’s associate?” the
woman said.

Clarissa nodded, unsure what to
say. She had no idea the name of the man who’d asked Spiers to help.

“How do you know him?” the woman said.

“I’m traveling with the man who
does. His name is Spiers. Your Jack reached out to him for help.” Clarissa
looked to her left and saw Spiers approaching. She waved to him. The two women
followed her stare. “That’s him.”

Spiers stopped five feet from the
group. “Ladies, we’re here to protect you. I gave Jack my word that we’d do
everything in our power to help and protect you. Between the two of us, we have
more than enough experience to keep you safe.”

The woman nodded, pulled the
brunette forward and lifted her child onto her hip. Spiers took their luggage.
He turned and began walking toward the tail end of the crowd.

Clarissa caught up to him. She
said, “Jack who?”

Spiers looked at her, said nothing.

“Tell me.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I do.”

Spiers hesitated, looked over his
shoulder at the women, then back at Clarissa.

He said, “Noble.”

Bear drove past the two-story
colonial house with red shutters and a matching front door. It looked
well-maintained. The lawn neatly manicured. Newly installed siding. It was as
Brandon had described it.

He parked on the opposite side of
the street, half a block away, along a stretch that butted up to a vacant lot.
The car glided to a stop on the recently paved street. The smell of tar penetrated
the vehicle. He and Mandy remained in the car for fifteen minutes, then they
got out, walked further down the street, crossed the road, and finally made
their way to the house.

When they reached the driveway,
Bear saw a man with shoulder length brown hair tucked behind his ears waiting
on the other side of the storm door. The guy had a trimmed beard and a crooked
nose. He wore plaid cargo shorts and no shirt. As they got closer, Bear noticed
stray hairs on the guy’s chest.

The man opened the door. “Thought
you were never gonna come up.”

Bear nodded, said nothing.

“What’s your name?” the guy said to
Mandy.

Mandy looked up at Bear, unsure. He
shook his head, then looked at the guy. Brandon hadn’t given Bear the man’s
name, and he assumed that went both ways.

“Whatever our contact told you is
enough. No more questions, just give us what we need and take us where we’re
going.”

The guy mocked a retreat and
smiled. “Just trying to be cordial, my large friend.”

Bear stepped inside. He drove his
shoulder into the guy as he passed. Said, “I’m not your friend.”

It wasn’t personal. Bear didn’t
trust anyone. Even those closest to him had gotten him into his fair share of
trouble. He often wondered what his life would have been like if he’d retreated
to the woods and lived like a hermit. A bear in the woods. He could even
imagine the sign saying so, carved in wood, hanging from his mailbox.

Mandy clutched his hand. She
brushed up against his side as she walked. Stray strands of her hair tickled
his wrist.

“Go on into the kitchen,” the guy
said. “I’ve got some pancakes made, although they’re probably cold by now.”

“We just ate,” Bear said.

“I’m hungry,” Mandy said.

Bear looked at the girl, rolled his
eyes. He had to remind himself that she was still a kid in many ways.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing. Go ahead, eat.” Normally,
he wouldn’t allow it. But since Brandon knew they were there, Bear figured the
chances of this guy doing something were slim to none. Plus, it gave him a
little space to complete the transaction.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” the guy
said. “Eat as much as you want. There’s some O.J. in the fridge, too.”

Mandy pulled out a chair and sat
down at the round oak table. She wasted no time, grabbed a fork and plunged it
into the deflated stack of pancakes.

Bear watched her for a minute, then
turned to the guy. “Let’s get down to business.”

“We leave for the airport in an
hour.” The guy walked over to the kitchen island and picked up a blue folder.
He opened it, nodded and added, “These are your passports and some background
info.”

Bear took the passports, flipped
them open. The one with his picture said his name was John James Bova, from
Mission, Kansas. Mandy’s new alias was Brittany Alexis. He glanced in her
direction.
Blond and uppity
, he thought.
She’d make a great Brittany
.

“Why’re we traveling?” he said.

“Vacation,” the guy said.

“What do I do?”

“Car salesman.”

Bear laughed. “Seriously?”

“No,” the guy said. “You work for
the phone company stringing cable.”

Bear shrugged. “Good enough.”

“And the girl.” The guy looked at
Mandy, smiled. “Well, she’s just a girl.” The guy swung his back around. His
smile faded. He looked concerned. “Of course, you could leave her here with
me.”