Noble Intentions: Season Three (27 page)

Leon lifted his gaze from the
floor. “Someone found them.”

Dottie reached for the counter to
steady herself. “How? Where?”

“Outside of Brussels. Don’t know
how. Two men, English, killed the bodyguard Jack had arranged to protect them.”

“Are they OK?”

“Erin got shot in the leg.”

“Oh my God.”

“The wound isn’t serious, Dottie.
She’s already seen a doctor.”

“Where are they now? Do those men
have them?”

Leon shook his head. “Fortunately,
there was a woman traveling with the bodyguard. She had been out when the
break-in occurred. She returned, killed one man, the other got away.”

Dottie released her grip around the
counter, sat down. “What do we know about these people?”

“The attackers? Nothing.”

“No, the ones who were tasked with
keeping my nieces and Hannah safe.”

“Nothing at all. That’s why I
didn’t want to do it this way.”

Dottie said nothing. She stared
blankly at the wall.

“I think it’s time we called Jack
to find out more.”

“Where are they now?”

“I told them to head to Ostend.”

“The ferry?”

“Yes, to Ramsgate.”

“Do you think that’s safe?”

“Safer than the airport.”

Dottie nodded. “Who will meet them
there?”

“I will.”

“You can’t leave me here. If
someone found them, they can find us.”

Leon turned his head, stared out
the window, scanned the front of the property. “Then you’ll need to come with
me.”

“OK. When do we need to leave?”

“It’ll take two hours for us to get
there. They’ll arrive in six. We should leave no later than three hours from
now.”

“Are you sure they aren’t being
followed?”

“I’m not sure of anything right
now, Dottie.”

Neither spoke for a few minutes.
Dottie rose, poured a cup of coffee for herself, refilled Leon’s mug.

“They should have been with us,” he
said.

“Those men might have come to us,”
she said.

“And I could have dealt with them.”

“The same way Jack’s man did?”

Leon said nothing.

“I have no doubt that the man Jack
reached out to was as capable as you, if not more so. And he knew someone was
coming. He had to have known.”

“I fear that Jack had some
involvement in this, Dottie.”

“Never. I’ve known him for ten
years. Jack Noble is the most loyal man I’ve ever worked with.”

Leon looked away. “Then you should
hire him to be your bodyguard.”

Dottie reached for his arm. He pulled
away at her touch. “I didn’t mean it like that, Leon. I trust you, and only
you, with my life.”

Leon left the kitchen. He exited
through the back door. The small cottage had been in his family for over two
hundred years. Situated on England’s southern coast, it offered him a place to
get away from the stress that came with his line of work. He hadn’t used the
house in five years, though. Not since the day he started working for Dottie.
He’d heard people complain about working a full time job. They had no idea what
it meant to be committed to their work.

He walked to the edge of the beach.
The wind whipped past and sent tiny particles of sand and sea spray toward him.

Dottie’s words had been hurtful,
but that wasn’t what he focused on. He thought only of Erin. From the moment
he’d first laid eyes on her, he’d loved her. It took close to six months for
him to get her to speak to him. And as Mia grew, he befriended the child. The
relationship with her gained him further access to Erin. He was sure any day
now their friendship would blossom into a romance. Her smiles lasted longer, as
did the glances they shared.

Of course, the arrival of Jack
Noble had thrown a wrench into his plans. He’d heard the rumors, confirmed them
the moment he laid eyes on Jack. No denying the child’s eyes were his.

And now that bastard had placed
Erin in danger. Wounded. She could have died. Leon cursed himself for allowing
the women to leave his protection. No man would have harmed Erin had he been
around.

“Leon,” Dottie’s voice struggled to
find him through the wind.

He pretended not to hear her,
walked onto the packed sand where foam danced along the beach ahead of the
waves.

“Leon,” she said again.

He looked over his shoulder. She
stood ten meters away.

“What?” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

He said nothing.

“I know…” She paused, looked up at
the sky, then walked toward him. “I know of your feelings for Erin.”

He forced a confused expression. “I
don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you better than you know
yourself,” she said. “You’ve loved her for a long time.”

Leon looked away. His gaze scanned
the sea, lifted to the hazy gray horizon.

“I’m worried for her too, Leon. We
can’t do anything until she’s on shore, though. So you have to put it behind
you. We don’t know if we’re next.”

Leon nodded. In an instant, his
mind shifted and focused. “OK.” He turned and walked past Dottie, toward the
house. “We should probably leave now.”

They made their way inside. Dottie
showered and dressed. He fixed breakfast and placed the food in plastic
containers so they could bring it with them. When Dottie returned, they tossed
their bags in the car and left the cottage, headed east toward Ramsgate.

The thin drapes did little to block
the early morning sun. Jack woke up and glanced at his phone. He performed time
zone calculations in his head. Six-thirty a.m. He’d managed to sleep an hour
longer than he expected. According to his running tally, that still left him a
year behind on the recommended eight hours a night.

He rolled out of bed and headed to
the bathroom. The mildew covered shower did not appeal to him. He figured he’d
end up dirtier if he used it. So he splashed some water on his face, then left
his room.

The same woman sat behind the
counter in the lobby. He walked toward her, cleared his throat about ten feet
away. She didn’t look up.

“Can you call me a cab?”

She didn’t reply.

He looked between her and the phone
that remained a foot to the left of her.

“Can I use the phone?”

Again, no reply.

“Just wait till I leave you a Google
review, lady.”

Jack left the hotel. The area
looked dodgier in the daylight. Homeless hung out in the front stoops of the
buildings. A man dealt drugs on a nearby corner. A group of younger men stood
on the other side of the street. They chased away the men that passed, made
obscene gestures at women.

Jack looked up and down the street.
He wasn’t sure which way to go, but he knew he couldn’t linger for long. Stares
fell upon him. A couple of bums headed toward him. He noticed that he’d caught
the attention of at least one of the men across the street. It all added up to
an impending confrontation. And that was something Jack needed to avoid.

So he began walking. He headed away
from the approaching bums, and held eye contact with the guy across the road long
enough to let the man know Jack would not be an easy target.

Another block further, Jack spotted
a bus stop. A few people waited on a bench. He looked back. The group of men
walked in the same direction, at roughly the same pace. They remained on the other
side of the street. Their loud talk and exaggerated actions told Jack all he
needed to know. They preyed as a pack. Individually, they were nothing. But
together they might be trouble.

He had a choice to make. Wait for
the bus and risk a confrontation with the guys, or keep on walking.

He stopped at the bus stop. “How
long until the bus arrives?”

“About five minutes or so,” an
elderly lady said. She patted her white curls into place and smiled.

Jack nodded. He looked back toward
the group. They’d stopped, too. He decided as long as they stayed in place,
he’d wait for the bus. Another minute later, the men turned and walked away. It
had been nothing, after all. At that moment, he appreciated the extra hour of
sleep. He knew he’d need it today.

The red bus pulled up a couple
minutes later. Jack waited for the other passengers to board. He stepped onto
the first step of the platform, said, “I’m trying to get to the tourist area.”

“This bus don’t go there,” the
driver said.

“Are you going somewhere that will
allow me to get there?”

“Might take you all day.”

Jack figured he was maybe ten miles
from the center of the city. He could walk there in three hours, so the thought
of public transportation taking all day didn’t ring true.

“Any other suggestions?” he said.

“Get on, son. I stop by the
underground a few miles down the road.”

Jack nodded, stepped up and took a
seat behind the driver. He used the rear view mirror to study the passengers.
Everyone on board looked like they were low-wage working class or poorer. Half
were elderly. Probably not as old as they looked. Aged prematurely by a life
that kicked them to the ground and put a knee in their lower back, refusing to
let them up.

The bus rolled to a stop and the
driver pointed to the underground entrance. Jack tucked a ten pound note in his
palm and shook the driver’s hand. If the man appreciated the gesture, he failed
to let Jack know.

Jack hopped from the bus to the
sidewalk. The area teemed with activity. A mix of people. In that short two
miles he’d gone from the ghetto to that in between zone where classes mix. He
stopped in front of a map and determined the series of trains he needed to
catch in order to reach the city center. He had to switch trains once. The
straight forward route allowed Jack to use the time to clear his head.

Forty-five minutes later, he
emerged two blocks from the site of the bombing.

The hotel he’d had reservations at
no longer rose into the sky. It lay in shambles, its guts spilled out into the
street. A smoky haze lingered. A smell he’d only experienced one time in his
life enveloped him.

Yellow police tape cordoned off the
area. Onlookers were kept a block away on all sides. Tape would not keep Jack
from entering, though. The bomb had been intended for him, after all. He had to
investigate the scene. Perhaps the attackers had left something behind that
only he’d recognize.

It wouldn’t be easy getting closer,
though. Several police officers guarded the scene. They were positioned every
fifty feet or so along the road, behind the barrier of yellow tape. Jack walked
the perimeter but could not locate a spot to slip through.

And the help arrived in the most
unusual form.

A group of reporters and cameramen
rushed past him. They spoke excitedly through ragged breath. Jack looked toward
the end of the road. He saw a gray Rolls Royce pull up and stop in front of the
police tape. Several officers abandoned their posts and went to the Rolls. They
formed a barrier between the vehicle and the throng of reporters. Voices rose.
Cameras flashed. Cops shouted. A horn blared.

Jack walked another twenty feet,
stopped, scanned the area. Security from that point on had been abandoned.
They’d all rushed to the aide of the Rolls. Jack crouched and slipped
underneath the tape. He glanced around, saw that he’d gone unnoticed. He made
his way behind the row of buildings that led to the crumbled hotel. The empty
alley provided him with a clear path. He didn’t rush. Instead, he chose to act
like he belonged there.

And in his mind, he did.

He faced his first test as he
neared the restaurant where he initially encountered Leon. Forensic techs were
working behind the building. He spotted a woman collecting shell casings. The
woman looked up at Jack. She studied him for a moment. He prepared himself for
her to question him, or worse, alert others to his presence. He was armed and
roamed a crime scene unchaperoned. At the least, he’d spend half a day in a
police station if caught.

He nodded at the woman. She nodded
back and returned to her job. Jack watched as she placed numbered cards on the
ground to mark the spots where she’d found evidence.

He’d wanted to enter the
restaurant, but decided against it while the team worked. So he continued past
them, then came to a stop behind the spot where the hotel had stood. The hill
of rubble blocked him from anyone on the other side of the building. Not that
it mattered. He was in the heart of it now. The people here were busy working,
not protecting the scene of the attack.

Jack spotted a blue police issued
windbreaker hanging from a post. He glanced around, then pulled the jacket from
its perch and put it on. If anything, it would attract fewer questioning eyes
in his direction. He decided that if questioned, he’d state that the U.S.
agency SIS had sent him to assist MI5. It’d take the authorities several hours
to track down Frank Skinner, acting director of the SIS, by which point Jack
would have made contact and Frank would have everything in place.

So Jack rounded the remains of the
building. He made his way through the scattered concrete slabs that lay in the
street. It was difficult to avoid the dried pools of blood. A clump of matted
hair that stuck to a jagged section of the building’s facade caught his eye.
Linens and clothes littered the road. Papers rode the wind. A fine powder-like
layer of dust coated everything.

He spotted a patch of brown, knelt
down and moved a pile of debris aside. He reached in and pulled out a teddy
bear. The stuffed toy was intact, if not a bit dirty. He rose, patted the
stuffed bear. A gray plume rose into the air in front of him. He continued on
his way, teddy bear in hand.

“You there,” a female voice called
from his left.

Jack ignored the voice, kept moving
forward.

“I said, you there. Wait up.”