Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Noah
Noah stretched, watching from the sofa as his twelve-year-old daughter, Clara, suppressed a yawn as she moved a chess piece while sitting across from Jack.
She wouldn’t win, but that didn’t matter to her. She was as stubborn as her mother. Ginger’s spitting image too, with red hair more auburn than fiery.
Jack was taking it easy on her, of course—Noah had seen him demolish opponents in a handful of moves—but it was late, and Noah had spent most of the day waiting for the opportunity to catch Jack alone, once the children were asleep.
Ginger had retired after dinner, but she’d rouse for conversation once Noah came to bed.
And when Ivy had seen Alex wander off, nose in a book, she’d mumbled some excuse to go help Victoria with inventory at the hospital. Noah had always anticipated that Ivy’s childhood crush on Alex might one day be more obvious to his son, but, for now, Alex remained oblivious.
Maybe purposefully so.
Which left Clara. She was putting up a valiant fight—not only to win but to stay awake—but it was time. Noah met Jack’s gaze, then gave a subtle tap to his wristwatch. He caught the hint of a smile at Jack’s mouth as he gave a barely distinct nod.
Jack moved a knight, then Clara sat up straighter.
“That was foolish.” She reached for her rook, then happily took Jack’s knight … and stopped short. Her eyes narrowed, then she looked from Jack to her father, then back at Jack. “Are you trying to throw the game, Uncle Jack?”
He feigned an innocent look, lifting his hands. “Not a chance. I just messed up. Must be tired. Speaking of which—we should probably wrap this up in the next few minutes. I have a bed waiting for me.”
Clara groaned, then replaced the knight with a scowl. “If you wanted to end the game, you could have just told me.” She sighed and stood. “You owe me a new game tomorrow.”
Jack cringed, clearly chagrined. “I will, I will.”
She went to his side and kissed his cheek. “Promise?”
“Always, kid.”
She smiled, then scooted over toward Noah. “Good night, Papa.” She gave him an equally enthusiastic kiss, then hurried out of the room.
“She’s sweet, that one,” Jack said, watching as the door closed behind her. “Smart. But sweet.”
“Better than smart but surly?” Noah chuckled and stood. Alex already occupied that position, of course. “Scotch?” he asked, going over to a decanter on a table near his desk.
“God, yes. I’ve been drinking Bedouin moonshine for the last six months.
” Jack palmed his face, then sat back in his chair, loosening his tie.
The distress etched into his face said enough.
Once upon a time, Jack’s dark-brown eyes would have found a way to light with humor, even in the worst of situations.
That humor had all but gone dry now.
While Roche and Knight had still been here, Jack had explained that his sister, Alice, had gone missing while working with Woolley’s team at Ur. That he needed Noah’s help to locate her and that—of course—required clearance and assistance from British officials.
But Noah was certain Jack had much more to tell him.
Noah poured the amber liquid into a glass, then took it over to his friend, sitting in the seat Clara had just vacated. “So are you going to tell me what really brought you to my doorstep this afternoon?”
Jack sipped his drink, then held Noah’s eyes.
“The whole situation is a nightmare, Noah. I’m sorry I’m here at all.
” He sighed, swirling the whisky in his glass.
“Alice is still working for Prescott, you know. He’s the one with his foot to my throat.
And I thought I was prepared for it. I spent my whole goddamned life waiting for him to turn up and try to use Alice against me like he did—but he was smarter. Three steps ahead of me, as usual.”
Jack took another swallow, then sat back. “Prescott says Kit was working with Alice.”
Noah stilled, then reached for a pawn, thinking for a moment before he responded.
If Kit was alive, it changed everything for Jack.
“Didn’t you say Kit was dead?” He didn’t know the particulars. Jack never spoke of his first love, and Noah had never met her. But one time in Egypt, a few years earlier, Jack had confessed that Kit had died during the war. That he’d seen her die.
Jack nodded.
“So is Prescott lying?” He rolled the pawn in his palms. That would be the logical thing—that he was manipulating Jack with that hope. “She left America to escape him, didn’t she? Why would she suddenly be working for him now?”
“He swears it’s true. That she didn’t die and came back to work for him.” Jack avoided his gaze. “I’m not sure if I believe it. But if she’s alive and I didn’t save her … what does that make me?”
“But your curiosity’s been piqued. And now it’s not just about Alice anymore, either.” Noah had to admit there was a mad bit of genius to Prescott’s claims. True or false, Jack couldn’t do nothing.
“Right.” Jack finished his drink, then set it down.
“And, God, I could have punched him. He stole my own damned sister from me and then has the gall to come to me and say, ‘But, Jack, surely you have a vested interest in finding your own sister—don’t you?’” Jack imitated Prescott’s voice with disgust. “And then he flaunts Kit at me? I felt so … helpless.”
The pain etched into Jack’s features said as much. Noah flexed his arms, muscles bunching with tension. He hated to see Jack so desperate. “So you agreed to help.”
“Sort of. I agreed to see what I could do and went to Roche. According to Alastair, he knows more about Syria and Iraq than anyone—spent years there working for both the French and the Brits. But Knight got to him first. He’s put a dossier out on certain individuals.
He doesn’t want anyone in his network aiding or even speaking to them without his sign-off. I’m on that list. So are you.”
“And Roche directed you to Knight.”
“Basically. And Knight agreed to help me, if and only if I got him you.”
Noah clenched his jaw, his palm closing around the pawn. “Of course.”
“He’s been after you for a while, hasn’t he?”
Noah nodded.
Jack cracked a smile. “I think he may be in love with you.”
Noah didn’t return his grin. He’d heard enough about Knight’s purported proclivities that it wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility, however discomforting the thought might be.
But that didn’t bother him as much as the fact that Knight had played his hand in all this well: he knew Noah just might be swayed if Jack needed it.
And Ginger would hate every second of it if he said yes.
“He wants me for a section of MI5 he’s created to infiltrate subversives,” Noah admitted, releasing the pawn. It had left a crescent in his palm—small, but sharp enough to linger.
“Well, he would. You’re good at that. A natural choice, despite your Irish and Egyptian blood and your fondness for nationalists.”
Noah set the pawn down quietly, then rubbed his burning eyelids. “Is it too much to ask to be left alone to live my life in peace?”
He’d fought hard for this quiet life. For his children, for Ginger. For normalcy. And now here he was, being asked to enter into a world where the consequences of even minor missteps could destroy everything he’d built.
Jack chuckled. “Believe me, I understand. I was hiding in a half-buried temple in the Kharga when Prescott came for me.” Jack released a long, slow, guttural sigh.
“We’ll be paying for the sins of our youth for the rest of our lives, it seems. We had the audacity to survive the war with mostly interior scars. ”
Noah rubbed the stubble of his chin. “They’re after all of us. Last time I saw Lawrence when I was in Dorset, he had the same complaint. The man turned his back on it all, changed his damn name—and they still can’t leave him alone.”
“You’re right. They want all of us. You think Woolley isn’t still involved somehow? Not a chance. The fact that Alice was there makes that clear enough. You know what Prescott’s organization does.”
Noah peered at him. Jack had never gotten into the specifics, but Noah could assume the basics. “Maybe it’s time you give me a better idea of it, Jack. There’s no use in trying to protect me from the man. If he’s the menace you’ve always claimed, he’s well aware of me by now.”
With a sigh that sounded more like a groan, Jack stretched back and rolled his shoulders, then looked around the room.
“It’s always felt like such a risk to speak of it, but you’re right.
You should know what you’re up against if you’re going to help me.
” He drummed his fingers against the table, his thumb settling into a scarred groove that Alex had placed there as a child.
Noah watched him intently, waiting for him to continue. Prescott Federline and his daughter, Kit, had shaped Jack’s youth in many ways. The man was to blame for the death of Jack’s father and he’d eventually recruited Alice to work for him—Noah knew that much.
“Prescott’s organization—Blackwell—they’re …
a global mercenary network of operatives,” Jack said slowly, his eyes dark and troubled.
“They specialize in collecting intelligence or covert, unsanctioned operations. Assassinations. When governments want something done but don’t want to get their hands dirty or be implicated—they call Blackwell. ”
Noah had suspected as much. “What’s his goal?”
“Goal? Power. Money. Influence.” Jack gave a bitter chuckle.
“People want to believe they’re truly free because their government tells them they are—all the while, the ones with the real power are tightening the nooses, playing with them like puppets on strings.
Bigwigs like Prescott, organizations like Blackwell—they’re the ones that are really calling the shots.
And then they throw their weight behind agendas that suit them …
like suppressing the peoples and races they hate. ”