Black Sheep (Noah Wolf Book 6)
BLACK SHEEP
Copyright © 2017 by David Archer.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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“I am a Wolf: It is in my nature to be kind, gentle and loving. But know this: When it comes to matters of protecting my friends, my family, and my heart. Do not trifle with me. For I'm also the most powerful and relentless creature you will ever know.”
PROLOGUE
Noah Wolf packed his things while Neil and Marco prepared their own. The three of them spoke only when it was absolutely necessary, and usually in sentences of fewer than five words. Sarah’s loss was weighing heavily on them all, and none of them, not even Marco, wanted to make it seem more real by talking about it.
There was a knock on the door and Neil turned to open it. Jenny was standing there, her own team behind her with their luggage.
“You guys about ready?” she asked. “I don’t think I can stand this place much longer.”
“Another minute,” Noah said. “Our flight doesn’t leave for a few hours, there’s not exactly a rush to get to the airport. I was thinking about grabbing some lunch on the way.”
Neil scoffed. “Geez,” he said, “are you serious? Damn, Noah, even I can’t think about food right now. Sarah’s gone,” he choked out, “doesn’t that affect you at all?”
Noah looked at him, but his expression remained stoic. “There’s a hole in my world,” he said. He turned back to Jenny. “We’ll be ready in five minutes. You guys can go on with the rental car, we’ll meet you at the airport and get some lunch at one of the restaurants there.”
Jenny nodded and turned away without a word. The other three men followed her as Neil closed the door again. He stood there with his back to Noah for a moment, then released the doorknob and turned around.
“Look, Noah,” he said haltingly, “I’m sorry about that. Maybe you don’t feel things the way we do, but I know how important Sarah was to you. I shouldn’t have said that, and I really do apologize.”
“Let it go,” Noah said. “We each have to deal with the reality in front of us. That’s how life works, remember?”
They finished packing and went down to check out of the hotel, then Marco chose a taxi at random. The car was small, and the driver used a bungee cord to hold the trunk closed over their luggage as they got into it. A moment later, they were on the way to the airport.
Noah was in the front seat with Marco behind him, and Neil was behind the driver. He watched Noah as the car rolled along, noticing how the big man watched the city passing by. There was something in Noah’s demeanor that Neil felt was different, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
* * * * *
Mr. Pak watched the Americans walk away, then turned to the monk.
“Did they believe you?” he asked.
The monk met his gaze. “The cold one recognized the locks of hair. Strewn among the ashes, they imply that we honored her according to our customs.”
Pak nodded solemnly. “Agreed. I suspect that if you were doubted, both of us would soon be prepared for our own burials. The cold one, as you called him, is an American assassin, as is the woman. The lives of monks and businessmen would mean little to them.”
He turned and left the temple, returning to the gym. There was no sign that the Americans had stopped there, so he went back into his office and relaxed. Lom, his most trusted man, stepped inside and bowed respectfully to him.
“They are gone,” Pak said. “Prepare the girl for her journey. I want her out of the country before midnight.”
Lom bowed once again and walked out of the room. Now in his fifties and showing the thinning that comes to an aging athlete, he had once been among the most respected of Muay Thai trainers. He passed through the parting sea of fighters and students that crowded the gym as he made his way to a door at the rear, then opened it and stepped through, descending the stairs into the basement. One of the many students who revered him, one of the many who hoped to earn a place in Nay Thas by his side, sat on a chair beside yet another door and rose as Lom approached. Without a word, he opened the door and let his Master step through it.
The girl lay on the mat that had been placed on the floor, curled up on her side. Her head turned as Lom entered the room, but she only groaned when she saw that it was him again. He had been the one who had seemed to buy her on the island, and it had been he who had taken charge of her on the boat, lifted her from it and carried her like a lifeless doll to whatever excuse for a doctor they used. The wizened physician had pronounced her alive, if somewhat bruised and with a mild concussion. She would live and could travel, and that was all that seemed to matter to these people.
“Can you stand?” Lom asked in perfect English.
“Screw you,” the girl said. A hand went to her head and stroked what remained of her hair. It was less than an inch long, and the filth of the mat had turned it from blonde to a dirty gray.
“I do not wish to hurt you,” Lom said. “If you will get up, I can see that you are fed and able to wash. You will be taking a journey this evening, and it is up to me to see that you are as comfortable as possible. I even have clean clothing for you.”
She rolled onto her back and simply looked up at him for several seconds, then extended a hand. Lom stared warily into her eyes for a moment, then carefully reached out and took it in his own to help her to her feet.
She was not quite standing when she suddenly yanked him forward and threw a kick at his head, but he blocked it easily with an elbow, then caught her ankle in his hand. He had expected it, of course; she was a captured American agent and would be seeking any opportunity to gain the upper hand, even for a moment. Thrown off balance, she fell back onto the mat on her backside and his foot stopped barely short of crushing her throat.
“Men and women who have trained for years in Muay Thai are unable to successfully attack me,” he said calmly. “Whatever training you have received, it will not be sufficient to allow you to overcome me. Please do not attempt it again, for I was speaking truth when I said I do not wish to hurt you.”
She glared up at him, but when he pulled on her hand again she got to her feet. When he stepped aside and pointed toward the door, she shuffled slowly through it, favoring her right hip. The rip in the pants she was wearing allowed Lom to see the bruise that had spread on it, and he resolved to punish the fool who had damaged the girl. The entire party had been warned that she was of great value; there was no excuse for the condition she had been in when they had brought her
to him. The old physician had said she suffered no permanent or serious injury, but valuable property must be handled with care. That fool would be an example to the rest, so that such problems could be avoided in the future.
He followed her out of the room and pointed to another door across the basement. “There is a bathroom in there, and I have already left some clothing in it for you. There is soap for your body and your hair, so that you may at least feel clean. Go and wash, and I will have food brought to you.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said. She limped toward the door and opened it, then stepped inside and pulled it closed behind her.
The man who had been guarding her raised an eyebrow at Lom, but said nothing. “Leave her alone,” Lom said. “She is not to be disturbed as she bathes.” He walked over to the bathroom door and slid a bolt into place, locking her in, before he turned and went back up the stairs.
Inside the bathroom, the girl heard the bolt slide home and then slowly began stripping off the filthy clothing she had worn since being taken from the prison. They stank, both from her sweat and the fact that she had been locked in a box with her own urine. She sat down naked on the toilet and made use of it, resenting the gratitude she felt for being allowed such a small touch of dignity.
When she was finished, she stood and stepped into the bathtub beside it. There was a curtain on a rod, and she pulled it across out of habit as she turned on the water and set it to be as hot as she could stand before pulling up the lever that would redirect it to the shower head. It came out cold at first, and she gasped, but then the hot water made it up the pipe and she let it flow over her head and down her body. The heat felt good.
After a moment, she pulled her head out from under the shower and looked around. There was a bar of soap and a small bottle on a shelf, and it wasn’t long before she had scrubbed herself red. Once her body was clean, she used a handful of shampoo on the short remnants of her once-flowing blonde locks.
By the time she had rinsed herself off, the water was starting to cool. She turned it off and pulled back the curtain, found the towel that was hanging beside the tub, and rubbed herself dry. She tossed the towel onto the floor and stepped out onto it, then picked up the pair of jeans from the back of the toilet and slid into them before pulling the t-shirt over her head. They fit fairly well and were comfortable, despite the fact that she had no bra or panties.
She heard the bolt slide back, and then Lom opened the door just a crack. “Are you dressed?”
“Would it matter?” she asked. “Since when do animals like you have any respect for a woman’s modesty?”
There was no answer. A second later, the door opened the rest of the way and she saw that he was holding a tray. There was a bowl on the tray, along with a bottle of some kind of juice.
“I brought the food anyway,” he said. “As I told you, you will be going on a journey. I don’t know how soon you will be able to eat again, so I suggest you take advantage of the opportunity now.”
She glared at him, but then reached out and picked up the bowl. It was full of rice, with fish and pork and some sort of sauce mixed into it, and when she lifted a spoonful to her mouth she realized that she truly was hungry. Perhaps that was the reason it tasted so good. She’d read somewhere that hunger was the best sauce of all; it might have been true.
Lom turned and pointed, and she saw that he had set up a small table with a chair, so she carried the bowl over and sat down. She took another bite as he set the tray on the table, then looked up at him.
“So, where am I going?” she asked. “Somewhere close by? Some rich man’s playground?”
“I’m afraid I cannot give that answer to you,” Lom said. “I can only tell you that you will be leaving Thailand by boat. Someone has paid a very high price for you.”
“For me? Then somebody is going to be disappointed. I’d rather die than become somebody’s little sex toy, and not everyone has had the kind of training you have.”
Lom’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “Sex toy? I’m afraid you might soon prefer that fate to whatever awaits you. There may be many reasons behind your buyer’s insistence on purchasing you, but I am quite certain that not one of them has anything to do with sex.”
The girl looked at him askance. “Why not? Isn’t that what you bastards do? Round up girls and sell them as sex slaves?”
“That is indeed a profitable business, but you have proven to be far more valuable than that. Are you truly surprised to find that there are those who will pay well for a captured American agent?”
She managed to keep the surprise out of her face, but her eyes gave it away. Despite her denials, she knew exactly what he was saying. “American agent? I’m just a girl who got busted for trying to buy some drugs.”
Lom smiled at her. “Ms. Child, please do not think me stupid. We know exactly who you are, and who you work for.”
She looked him in the eye for another second, then lowered her gaze to the bowl in front of her as she took another bite. “Boy, have you got the wrong girl. My name is Kayla Maguire, and I work for Dempsey’s Department Store back in Omaha.”
The smile didn’t waver. “No. Your name is Sarah Child, and you are an agent of the United States organization known as E & E. Your duties normally include being the driver for the American assassin whose code name is Camelot. We know this because the information was provided to us by a CIA informant who was involved in preparing the plan for your insertion into the prison, and it was quite costly.”
Her eyes rose slowly back to his face, and he could see the defeat in them. She stared at him for almost a minute, then put another bite into her mouth. She picked up the bottle of juice and took a long drink from it, never letting her eyes move from his own.
“CIA sold me out?” she asked. “Who was it? Can you tell me?”
“I do not have that information. However, does it truly matter? The fact is that you have been compromised. As I understand it, your government will never acknowledge your existence. Should they ever admit that you and your compatriots were in Thailand to perpetrate an escape from our prison system, it would create an international incident, and could well be considered an act of war. Once you are captured, you become useless to them. Your only value now is in the information that can be extracted from you.”
“Then you’re still screwed,” Sarah said. “As you pointed out, I’m just a driver. I don’t exactly get briefed on any important state secrets.”
“I’m certain you do not, but you know, at the very least, what your mission objective was, and I’m certain you know a great deal about the organization you work for and how it functions. I would naturally suppose that this is the information your buyer hopes to obtain. Considering how valuable such information seems to be, there is little doubt that those who bought you will stop at nothing to get it.”
The fear in her eyes shone through for a moment before she could hide it, but then she put on a brave face. “I don’t know that much,” she said. “They can do their worst, but they’re not going to get anything worth having.”
Lom shrugged his shoulders. “That does not matter to me, of course. My duties only involve getting you ready for the journey. If you have finished eating, then I should be taking you to the docks.”
“Keep your panties on,” Sarah said, and she picked up the spoon again. “Like you said, I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to eat again.” She shoved another bite into her mouth, then cocked her head to the left. “And just so you know, while my government might do nothing to try to get me back, that doesn’t mean I won’t be rescued. Remember that assassin, the one known as Camelot? His number one rule is that he never leaves anyone behind. I feel sorry for you when he finds out I was here.”
“I don’t think I have anything to worry about,” Lom said. “You see, he was here just an hour ago, and he was taken to the temple and shown evidence that you are dead. Our contact says he is already making preparations to return to the United States.”
ONE
The flight from Pattaya back to Denver took nearly a day and a half, with a total of four layovers along the way. It was already after ten PM when Noah and the rest were finally able to leave the airport and head back to Kirtland.
Jenny and her team had come back with them, but they had a van of their own waiting in long-term parking. By pure coincidence, it was parked only three spaces away from Neil’s big Hummer, so they drove out of the parking lot and hit the highway together. Dave Lange drove the van, and kept it on Neil’s tail until the Hummer peeled off the exit and onto the highway that would take it to Noah’s house.
“What do you think will happen now?” Neil asked as he drove along the dark road. “Will there be a funeral, a memorial service?”
“Of course,” Marco said. “Neverland never forgets her people. Sarah was one of its best, so you can be sure Allison is planning something big for her.”
“Won’t matter,” Neil said, and there was a sniffle in it. “Sarah’s gone, and it just won’t be right to have someone else in her place. Especially not right after we lost Moose, y’know? She shouldn’t have even been in that prison, they should’ve sent Jenny or someone like that in there. Not Sarah. She was just too—she was too nice, y’know what I mean?”
“Let it go, Neil,” Noah said. “There’s nothing you can do, and it wasn’t your fault. You have to let it go or it’ll eat you alive.”
“Yeah, and that’s from the man who can’t even grieve over the woman who loved him. Forgive me, boss, if I don’t think you’re all that qualified to advise me on emotional matters, okay?”
“We all grieve in our own ways, Neil,” Marco said, but Neil cut him off.
“Not him,” he said. “Noah doesn’t grieve at all. He doesn’t even know how.”
The kid shook himself, then, as if he was just hearing the things that were coming out of his own mouth. “Noah,” he said, “man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of that...”