Noble Beginnings: A Jack Noble Thriller (Jack Noble #1)

  Chapter 2

  Martinez and the others peeled away in the van we had rode in. That left Bear and I searching for a way back to headquarters. But before that, we had to get away from the house before the police arrived. We managed to slip around the corner before a squad car arrived.

  “You pay attention on the ride in?” I asked.

  Bear nodded. “I’ve been out here before.”

  I scanned the street. Empty, except for a few small cars parked on narrow strips of dirt between the road and houses.

  “Take your pick.”

  He pointed at a blue two door that didn’t look like it could fit one of us, let alone both of us. He started toward the car parked a half block away. The sound of driving slowly echoed from behind.

  “We better pick it up,” I said.

  We reached the car. Both of us were ready to smash in the windows. I checked the door handle and found it to be unlocked. We got inside just before white light flooded the street. I looked back and saw a police car at the end of the road with its spotlight pointing in our direction. Bear pulled at the cheap plastic underneath the steering column and ripped it free. He touched the ignition wires together and the little car buzzed to life. He put it in first gear and we rolled to the end of the street. Anticipation and anxiety filled the front of the car. We stopped at the end of the road. The floodlight still illuminated the street. It didn’t get closer, didn’t fade away.

  “Turn left,” I said.

  “We need to go right.”

  “I’m sure we can pick it back up, Bear. But let’s go left, circle back and see what these guys are doing.”

  He nodded, eased the car forward and made a left turn. The shift from bright light to darkness messed with our vision and we almost didn’t notice the group of men in the road.

  Bear hit the brakes. “Really?” He pounded on the horn. Short bursts of high pitched honks filled the air. “Doesn’t anybody hang out in a bar in this damn country?”

  “Flash your highs and move slow, Bear.”

  He did.

  The group of men split in the middle, just enough for us to pass between the divided group. They leaned over and peered through the window. A few pushed against the small car, rocking it on its chassis.

  “I got a bad feeling, Jack.”

  “Just keep going.”

  I clutched my Beretta M9 tight against my chest, ready to fire on the first man to punch through the window. The M16s were lying across the back seat. A chill washed over me at the thought of one or two of the men getting into the back of the car and getting their hands on the fully automatic weapons. One squeeze of the trigger and they could take us and half their group out before they realized they had fired.

  The car slowed to a stop.

  “What the hell, Bear?”

  “Want me to run him over?” He flung his arms forward.

  I opened my mouth to say yes and turned my head to look out the windshield. A small kid, maybe seven or eight years old, stood directly in our path.

  “Put it in reverse.”

  Bear’s eyes darted to the rear-view mirror.

  “They’re blocking the path.”

  I turned in my seat to get a look at the gathering of men behind us. Three silhouettes blocked the moonlit view of the street.

  “Run them over.”

  “What?”

  “They put themselves there,” I said. “They have a choice. That kid didn’t.”

  Bear’s hand moved to the shifter. He slid it over then down, into reverse. Hit the gas. Three quick thuds filled the car. Two men fell to the side. The car bounced as we rolled over the third.

  The rest of the men separated and we sped backward. They regrouped and huddled around their injured friend. A few turned their attention toward us and then bottles and rocks rained down on the little car.

  Bear whipped the car around in a tight circle. Threw it into first then sped away in the opposite direction. I kept my head turned and watched through the back window for nearly five minutes.

  “I think we’re good.”

  Bear nodded, checking the rear-view mirror every three to five seconds. “It’s getting too hot, Jack.”

  “I know. I don’t like this any more than you.”

  I leaned back in my undersized seat, rubbed my eyes with my thumbs, then turned my head and stared out the window. We were outside the city, past the suburbs. The barren landscape was a welcome respite from the hordes of roaming vigilantes and anti-American Iraqis we encountered on a daily basis.

  “I’ll call Abbot and Keller after we get back. See about getting us out of here.”

  Bear didn’t say anything. His big hands wrapped around the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the empty road. We rode in silence the remaining twenty miles back to base.