Noble Beginnings (7 page)

The big man
spun. “Like hell, man. He’s ours.” His large arm stretched out toward me. He
took two steps forward, looked back at the MP. “Just try and stop me.”

I knew the MP
wouldn’t, so I did. I lifted my leg toward my chest and drove my heel down and
into the side of his knee. Popping sounds filled the room as his ACL and MCL
tore upon impact. He went down hard, his head slamming into the tile floor, a
pool of blood forming under him.

All hell broke
loose after that.

The MPs quickly
took care of the two standing prisoners, restraining them and piling them near
the door. Easy work, considering I’d already beaten them. With the prisoners
out of the way, the MPs turned their attention to me. I stepped forward and was
met with a quick strike to the side of my head by the blackjack. Searing pain
traveled from the spot of impact, and then around my head. The impact knocked
me off my feet. I landed hard on my side. The MPs pulled me off the floor. Two
of them pinned me against the wall. They leaned in with all their weight to
hold me still. The third took the blackjack and placed it across my throat. He
leaned on it in an effort to force my windpipe to close shut. My oxygen starved
lungs screamed out in pain. The edge of my vision darkened while flashes of
light filled the center. The last thing I remembered before passing out was the
sound of the door opening and a deep voice yelling my name.

A hard slap
across my cheek jarred me from my unconscious state. I opened my eyes. Bear
stood over me. His eyebrows pushed down over his eyes. He helped me to my feet
and steadied me against the wall. I tensed and checked over the room. Empty.
Trails of blood led from the middle of the floor to the door.

“What the hell
happened, Jack?”

I shook my
head. “They wanted to cut my hair.”

“What?”

“Retaliation,”
I said. “For breaking my cell-mate’s jaw.”

“Yeah, I heard
about that.”

“He swung at me
first.”

Bear took a
step back. His lips thinned as he looked me over. “Christ, they did a number on
you. How do you feel? Can you walk?”

I pushed away
from the wall. Took a step, steadied myself.

“Yeah, I think
I’m good.”

I walked to the
row of sinks and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Blood trickled from a
small gash on the side of my head. My nose was red and swollen, but not broken.
That was the worst of it, though. There were no broken bones and no major
lacerations. I came out it OK, all things considered.

“Where’d
everyone go?” I said

“They scattered
when I came in.” Bear said.

“How’d you
know?”

Bear hiked his
shoulders. “Word spread pretty quick down there,” he nodded toward the door,
“that they were fixing to do a number on you.” He shook his head. “Damn, they
sure did. We’ve got to get out of here, Jack.”

“It’s not that
bad.” I ran cold water over my face, grabbed a handful of paper towels and
cleaned out the cut on the side of my head. It’d probably needed stitches, but
it’d heal without them, leaving a scar behind of course. Scars were good for my
line of work, though. They added an element of intimidation.

“I’m with you,
Bear. Lead the way, and I’ll follow.”

At that moment
the door swung open and a middle aged man dressed in his combat utility uniform
stepped in. He looked around the room, his gaze stopping at spots where a
struggle had obviously occurred. His eyes set on Bear, then shifted to me. He
shook his head.

“What a mess,”
he said.

I looked at
Bear. He nodded at me. We both moved to the center of the room, within arm’s
reach of each other.

The man took a
step forward, letting the door swing shut behind him. He pushed his arms out in
front of him. “I’m a friend.”

We said
nothing.

“Abbot sent me.
I’m Lt. Col. McDuffie.”

“Sent you for
what?” I trusted nobody at this point.

“To get you
guys the hell out of my Brig,” he said. “Look, this is a mess. I don’t like it.
I don’t know where it’s coming from, and I don’t like it.”

His eyes
bounced between me, Bear and the bloody mess in the bathroom. He turned, opened
the door and stuck an arm out. When he turned around again, he was holding
fresh clothes. He tossed a shirt and a pair of pants to Bear.

“Noble, why
don’t you get cleaned up first,” he said, clutching the clothes intended for me.

I nodded,
headed to the back of the room and showered. The hot water stung as it washed
over cuts and scrapes. I grimaced against the pain and hurried to finish. Then
I put on the fresh clothing, which consisted of camouflage cargo pants and a
plain gray t-shirt.

“I’ve got boots
for you guys in the car,” he said.

“The car?” Bear
asked.

“Yeah, the
car,” he replied with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I told you I’m getting
you out of here.” McDuffie turned and opened the door and stopped and looked
over his shoulder. “The MPs outside this door are mine. They won’t do anything
to you if you stick with me. They’ll follow us and keep you safe.”

We followed him
out of the head without any further questions, heading toward the stairs. We
took one flight up and then passed through a security door. We followed the
narrow hall to the check-in room where McDuffie retrieved our belongings from
the pale skinny MP at the counter. I wondered if anyone else ever manned it, or
if Lance Corporal Skinny was the only one. We left the room and continued on,
through the wider hall, past the two sets of security doors and all the
administrative offices.

I had to shield
my eyes from the sunlight when we stepped outside. As my eyes adjusted, I
caught sight of a platoon doing their morning PT jogging by. Their rhythmic
pace matched their cadence:

I
know a girl dressed in Red,

Makes
her living in a bed.

I
know a girl dressed black,

makes
her living on her back.

I
know a girl dressed in green,

and
she is nothing but a screwing machine.

Ooooorah
up the hill, Ooooorah down the hill

McDuffie walked
around the front of a black Ford Crown Victoria parked against the curb ten
feet away. He turned to us. “Get in the back.”

Bear shifted on
his feet and hesitated. He glanced at me, looking for confirmation that it was
OK to get in the car.

I felt the same
hesitation. At this point we only had McDuffie’s word. Neither of us knew the
man, and Keller hadn’t mentioned him when he visited me the night before. There
was the very real possibility that this could be a set up, and both of us knew
it. We felt it, instinctively. But in the end, I decided I’d rather take my
chances in the car with the middle aged Lt. Col., than with the prisoners and
MPs in the brig.

“Go on,” the MP
behind me said with a push to my back.

“Let’s go,
Bear,” I said.

Bear opened the
back door on the passenger side and got in the car.

I walked around
the back of the vehicle and grabbed the handle, but stopped before getting in.

McDuffie stood
with his hand on the open door to the driver’s seat. He studied me for a
moment. “Go on, get in.”

“I can trust
you, Lt. Col.?” I said.

“I’m on your
side, Jack,” he said.

*
* *

We left Camp
Lejeune behind. Houses, fields and stretches of forest passed by in a blur. We
drove for forty-five minutes without saying a word.

McDuffie pulled
into the parking lot of a small shopping center near I-95, just outside of
Fayetteville. He parked the car and opened his door. “Let’s grab something to
eat.” He pointed toward a 24-hour breakfast diner.

We got out and
crossed the parking lot. McDuffie walked in front, and Bear and I followed
close behind.

We must have
missed the breakfast rush because the diner was empty. A cute hostess warily
greeted us and sat us in a booth then dropped off a carafe of coffee. Moments
later a blond haired waitress with red lipstick and a name tag that read Jenny
took our order.

Bear and I sat
shoulder to shoulder, across from McDuffie. He said nothing to us. His eyes
scanned the road in front of the diner. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit
one and dropped the pack on the table.

I followed his
gaze, stared out the window, watched cars pass by on the road we had traveled
on.

“Glad you guys
could make it,” a voice said from behind.

I turned and
saw Abbot standing there, dressed in faded blue jeans, a white polo and a tan
jacket.

“Sorry things
got out of hand in there, Jack,” he said.

I hiked my
shoulders. “Not your fault.”

“You should
have never been in there.”

“Hear
anything?”

He shook his
head. McDuffie slid in toward the window and Abbot sat down next to him.

“No,” Abbot
said. “I’ve called every contact I have.” He placed his elbows on the table and
steepled his fingers. “Half of the bastards wouldn’t even take my call.”

“What about
General Keller?” I asked. “Did he reach out to you?”

“Briefly,”
Abbot replied. “After he spoke with you.” He grabbed a menu, looked it over,
then poured himself a cup of coffee from the steaming carafe. “He’s looking
into it, too,” he added.

“So what now?”
Bear asked.

Abbot held the
mug to his mouth and blew into it, sending ripples through the coffee and a
puff of steam into the air in front of him. He took a sip and his mouth
contorted in response to the aftertaste. He set the mug down then lowered his
hand to his lap, returning a moment later with a set of keys that he tossed
onto the table.

“D.C.”

“Washington?”
Bear asked.

“Yeah,” Abbot
replied. “Neil Delaney.”

He slid a
folded piece of paper across the table toward me. I reached out, grabbed it and
then unfolded the paper, reading the name and phone number on it. I offered it
to Bear, but he shook his head, perhaps because he trusted me with the
information, or maybe because he didn’t want to take his eyes off the men who
sat across from us.

“Who’s that?” I
asked.

Abbot cleared
his throat and fidgeted with his scuffed gold wedding band. He brought his
hands to his face and rubbed his chin with the tips of his thumbs, holding his
index fingers inches from his mouth. His eyes shifted toward the window and he
said nothing.

“Colonel—”

Abbot raised
his hand and shook his head slightly. “He’s an old friend. He’s got contacts
that I don’t. Delaney might not have any idea what’s going on when you meet
with him, but give him a few hours and he’ll be able to tell you everything.
Who’s behind it, why they’re behind it, how high it goes. Everything, Jack.”

He glanced over
my shoulder and lifted an eyebrow while nodding once.

The waitress
stopped next to me, a brown tray perched on her hand and shoulder. She expertly
balanced it while setting our plates down in front of us, muttering each order
under breath. In a thick, East Carolina accent she asked, “Can I get y’all
anything else?”

We shook our
heads in unison and waited for her to leave before speaking.

“What else?” I
asked.

Abbot looked up
at me with his mouth slightly open like he wanted to say something else but was
holding back.

“I know there’s
something else, Abbot. What is it?”

He placed his
fork and knife on the edge of his plate, sat back in the booth, folded his
hands together and placed them on the table. He stared at me for what felt like
ages before finally speaking.

“There’s the
chance, Jack, that this could be coming down his chain of command. Understand?”

“You haven’t
spoken to Delaney,” I said, not a question.

“No, I haven’t.
So you need to know,” he lifted his hand and wagged an outstretched finger
between me and Bear, “that this could go badly. Once he digs into it, if it’s
his, uh, organization behind it, he’ll turn. He’s that kind of guy. Personal
loyalties are superseded by the job.”

I nodded. I
understood, in a sense. In another I didn’t. The job was just a job. There was
a personal code of conduct that couldn’t be violated. You might be able to move
the line now and then, but there had to be a point where the line couldn’t
stretch any further without breaking. And when a friend needed help, that line
was drawn thick and deep.

“Who does Neil
work for?” Bear asked.

Abbot shook his
head and looked down at his plate.

Bear looked
from him to McDuffie. “You know?”

McDuffie hiked
his shoulders and shook his head. “Never heard of him in my life. I’m a damn
prison warden. I’ll leave the spy stuff to you guys.” He chuckled and then
stuffed his mouth with a forkful of butter and syrup covered pancakes.

“That
information is on a need to know basis,” Abbot said. “Right now—”

“Don’t tell us
we don’t need to know,” I said. “At least give us this.”

Abbot said
nothing. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head toward the
window.

I sighed and
shook my head. “OK, then. How’re we getting up there? Can’t travel on a plane
right now. TSA will flag us.”

Abbot turned
his head, pointed at the keys. “You’re taking my car.”

I reached out,
picked the keys up off the table and stuck them in my pocket.

“But listen,”
Abbot said. “It won’t be long before that car’s hot. Understand? Like I said, I
don’t know who is watching and who’s not.”

I nodded.

“You see blue
lights, you be ready to run, Jack.”

I nodded again.

We finished
breakfast without saying another word, and then we walked out together. Bear
and I collected our things from McDuffie’s car. Abbot walked us to his.

“Delaney,”
Abbot said to me. “He’s a bit of a shifty character, Jack. But you can trust
him.”

“As long as his
agency isn’t behind this,” I added.

Abbot’s pursed
his lips together and drew his eyebrows down. “Yeah.”

We stopped in
front of Abbot’s car, a new silver Audi A8. I whistled and ran my finger along
the sleek body of the car. “So this is what my dirty work pays for, eh?”

He stood behind
the car and smiled while I opened the driver’s door and slid into the leather
bucket seat. He moved forward and rapped on the window. I started the car and
rolled the window down.

“Take it easy
with her,” he said. “Please. Oh, and no smoking.”

I shrugged.
“We’ll see.”

“Here,” he
said. I looked over and saw him holding a billfold stuffed with cash and a few
credit cards. “This should cover anything you need. Pin numbers are in the
center. Commit them to memory. There’s a bag in the trunk, where the spare
would normally be. Inside that bag is an assortment of weapons.” He paused and
stared at me for a moment. “Don’t get caught with them.”

By the time I
had the money in my pocket, Abbot was gone. I turned the key in the ignition.
The engine roared approvingly. We pulled out of the parking lot and then hit
the I-95 north on-ramp. I pushed the gas pedal and hit 85 miles per hour before
we merged onto the interstate, then wove the car through traffic and into the
fast lane.