NOIR

Associations

By Steve Edward

Chapter Two

Present Day...

Randy Baldwin stood at the window in cogitation. The view of the rural Georgia country side the light of dawn just breaking seemed at odds with events just hours earlier, that Randy had experienced.

The October morning would be crisp and sharp, the early cold snap had seen to that. Within his home that once belonged to his late grandfather and grandmother, asleep in his grandmothers' bed was Mireille Bouquet.

Randy was dressed in a brown flannel shirt with blue jeans and was wearing a rugged pair of hiking boots, the brown leather nearly matching the color of the shirt. Over the shirt he had donned a Bianca shoulder holster with the butt of the Colt Commander within easy reach.

Ten hours earlier, Randy had been doing his favorite pastime since retiring from the Agency and it was fishing along the banks of the Chattahoochee River. The last thing he had expected was seeing Mireille Bouquet again, since parting company four years earlier.

After flying off the carrier with Kirika and Mireille on an Agency manned Navy Carrier Onboard Delivery aircraft they had landed in Bahrain and were whisked to a waiting Gulf Stream which eventually landed in Italy.

They had gone their separate ways at that point, exchanging hand shakes. Kirika and Mireille had then surprised Randy by hugging him, Mireille going so far as to blow him a kiss.

The debriefing had been harsh on Randy after returning to Langley Virginia, but he had held his ground. The Director herself had personally been the debriefer. She had gone step by step through his mission report which he had written while flying from Italy. Why had he not stopped and aborted the mission? Why had he allowed himself to be briefly taken captive by two women who had later identified themselves as Noir? Why had he after retrieving the data, had risked loosing it in combat while carrying one of the women on his back? Why had he destroyed the recording media inside each of the aircraft, the surveillance photographs and videos of the two women forever lost? The questions that he could not really answer kept being fired at him.

When the Director asked for their names, Randy stood his ground and refused to answer the Director, even when she nearly climbed on top of him screaming into his face making the demands. Then abruptly her tone changed, and she went back to her chair and sat.

The Director then signed and initialed the report, and stood holding out her hand offered a hand shake which he accepted.

Sitting on the river bank in the gathering darkness, Randy had baited his line with a cricket and had cast it out into the slow moving Hooch. The bass were being crafty this night, but he was patient with time to spare. He had built a large retirement fund during his years with the Agency and the income from numerous investments was substantial as well as the substantial monies that had belonged to his late grandfather who had been in banking among other things. With part time consulting that he dabbled in, he was not wanting for money.

Patience was one of Randy's virtues and wearing the light windbreaker to break the chill while waiting for the nibbles to begin, Randy leaned back into the chair and listened to the surroundings. With eyes half closed, he watched the float as it drifted about in the current.

The distant sound of gunfire caused him to sit up. Cocking his head slightly to pin point the source, it grew louder and with it came shouts of men. Someone was running through the underbrush, the fallen leaves from the hardwoods marking their passage.

This area of the Chattahoochee River could be walked across at this time of year, and Randy following the progress of the person trying to run through the underbrush realized that they were about to appear directly across from him.

Quickly yanking his line back in from the river, Randy stood and walked into the water toward the source, just as several rounds of gunfire erupted; the bullets whizzing over his head and thumping into a tree to his rear.

The Colt Commander, slipped easily from the shoulder holster into his hand and with no concern about the surrounding water; Randy crouched into the water and began to duck walk across focused on the noise of the leaves being crushed.

Mireille Bouquet had her share of troubles with the men closing from behind. One had scored a lucky hit which was slowing her down. Mireille glanced to her rear towards the men pursuing her. There had been five but now only three remained, and one was moving slowly while the other two outpaced him.

Breaking into a small clearing near the river bank, Mireille assumed a firing stance and triggered off all the remaining rounds in the magazine. Firing five in all and seeing the wounded man go down followed by one of the others; she turned to run into the river. The remaining gunman took careful aim and fired. Mireille nearly into the river itself was spun about by the .40 caliber bullet from the Glock as it hit her in the left side passing cleanly through.

Randy had been correct about the path of travel, the darkness obscuring the tree line the person stumbled onto the river bank nearly in front of him and had nearly set foot into the river when he heard the next gunshot. Randy watched as the person was violently spun around and then collapsed into the river.

The body had fallen face first into the water, and was drifting toward him. The shooter leaving the wood line spied the body and was taking aim to deliver the coup de grace when loud splashing from the river interrupted him.

Randy, standing to his full height of six foot two inches gave no warning and punched out 6 rounds of .45 caliber Remington 245 grain hollow points at nearly point blank range, the impact driving the man back into the wood line as the last round blew the top of his skull messily off.

Randy turned his attention to the body drifting to his left, and quickly turned the person onto their back. Looking downward in surprise, he wasted no time and began mouth to mouth as he pulled Mireille Bouquet to the opposite bank.

Mireille was dreaming the childhood home where she had been raised, was restored to all its grandeur. She could hear the sound of laughter coming from the sitting room, the happy voices were those of her mother and father as they were listening to her brother.

But in the distance the sound of thunder, perhaps an approaching summer rain storm coming from the sea, it was to her none threatening though not hot and uncomfortable it would bring a sweet smell and coolness to the air.

Randy had just dragged Mireille onto the river bank when noise of someone crashing through the woodlands interrupted him. Turning to see who it was he spied another man who hobbled out of the woods.

Randy did not wait to find out who he was, and raised the Colt Commander again and fired two more rounds, hitting his target dead center. The force of the impacts knocked the man backwards into the woods where he landed next to his deceased partner.

Randy reloaded, and then turned his attention back to Mireille. Resuming CPR, giving two breaths to 15 compressions, Mireille bucked under him and spewed river water as she desperately gasped for air. Turning Mireille onto her side, Randy gently thumped her on her back while whispering into her ear, "Breath Mireille, breath!"

Kirika had entered the compound separately as planned by Mireille. She was to enter through the rear while Mireille gained entry from the side. In the central foyer, is where the trap for both had been sprung and it became a running gun battle.

Kirika had seen Mireille sprint into the woodlands and being chased by six men just as she was. They had already planned to meet back at their vehicle in the event there was trouble.

Doubling back, Kirika had killed three outright in near silence, and two more with her silenced Beretta. The sixth was still dogging her not letting up on the pace. To her right she could hear gunfire. It gave her confidence that Mireille was still fighting.

Pausing briefly behind a tree, waiting for her pursuer Kirika heard the reports of a different hand gun, being rapidly fired then followed by a chilling silence.

Her pursuer, rounding the tree missed the crouched form of Kirika and paid for that mistake with his life. Rising up and then kicking his feet out from under him, Kirika grabbed his neck and twisted violently.

Randy had seen and heard enough. Further up stream to his left, more gunfire. Kirika no doubt he mused as he scanned the opposite tree line one last time. Scooping up Mireille into his arms he headed to the Chevy Silverado 2500HD pickup truck parked above.

Mireille, her warm dream over had been shocked back to reality, the confusing image of a man above her and his hands pressed against her chest; the pain from her side then urge to breathe. Passing out again Mireille experienced an assortment of visions then the sudden cold as she regained conciseness.

Randy opened the passenger door of the truck and laid Mireille across the seat and then grabbed the seatbelt latching into it into place.

Closing the door he headed back to the riverbank and retrieved his fishing gear and chair and put the fishing tackle and the small chair within the storage box mounted to the rear of the cab.

Kirika headed towards where the Ford Escape SUV had been parked in hopes of meeting up with Mireille. The roar of a diesel truck engine in the distance caught her attention and she scrambled to the edge of the dirt road just at the pickup sped past kicking up an angry rooster tail of dirt from its rear tires. She only caught a brief glimpse of the driver his attention partially drawn to passenger side of the vehicle, as he accelerated past her.

Randy Maynard Baldwin.

Randy thought someone was standing at the edge of the dirt road just moments earlier but considering what he had just gone through he was in no mood to stop and investigate as he had more pressing concerns at the moment. Reaching the black top, he cranked the wheel to the right while holding onto Mireille; fish tailing from the dirt road the Chevy pointed its nose westward towards Highway 365 and for the time being safety.

Kirika started the Ford Escape and went the direction that the pickup truck had taken. Coming to the black top, the spinning tires of the truck had indicated it had turned to the west and she accelerated catching a brief view of the receding tail lights.

Mireille, her head pressed against the right hip of the man driving the vehicle tried to move, but with the seatbelt and the driver's arm holding her, Mireille could not. She was in some kind of truck and the sound of the engine with the high pitched whine of a turbo told her it was a diesel.

The driver suddenly tightened his grip as he made a sudden left turn, the tires squalling in protest as the truck made a near too sharp of a turn at high speed. Jostled around as she was the driver still would not ease his grip on her. Randy turning left headed south on Highway 365, and put the accelerator to the floor.

Kirika coming to Highway 365 paused briefly having lost the truck. Listening she heard the diesel engine racing away from her on the left and turned south.

Pressing the accelerator to the floor, Kirika set out in pursuit in the darkness.

Randy had hit triple digits within seconds, having tapped the by-pass switch on the dashboard, which switched the computer chip to a secondary that would allow the engine to give him everything he needed.

Mireille passed out and came to during the high speed trip, catching bits and pieces of an urgent conversation being conducted on a cell phone. The driver ever mindful of his passenger needs divided his attention between the road and her.

When Mireille passed out again, she felt as though she was plunging into a dark nightmare as the truck suddenly slowed and made another hard turn.

Randy noted the headlights of the distant vehicle behind him as he turned east onto Highway 52, blowing the red light.

His phone call had been to the one person he could trust in the matter ahead, Doctor Harold Francis a semi-retired practitioner of medicine was hopefully already headed to the house as well.

Kirika had just topped the hill and even running flat out the Ford Escape had not even been able to gain on the truck. She watched as it turned left in the distance at the traffic light which was red and disappeared from view.

Approaching the intersection the light turned green and she raced down the road but there was no tail lights in the distance, only the headlights of a car turning left ahead of her.

Passing the side road where the car turned, she saw the brake lights of another vehicle brightly lit bathing a farm house in red.

Doctor Harold Francis drove up the gravel drive and parked his car next to the old concrete smokehouse. His headlights passing briefly over the opened passenger door of the truck, at which stood Randy Baldwin who looked like he had been swimming.

The passenger in the doctor's car was his wife of nearly 45 years; Darla took in the young woman cradled in Randy's arms. Her wet hair in disarray, hanging haphazardly as she was carried into the house by Randy, Darla did not miss the exposed handgun hanging from his holster.

Kirika turning the headlights off circled back, the farm house a two story affair seemed out of place with the surroundings. A modern contemporary look, the brick structure was imposing in the darkness and she could see that the security lighting had been placed in such a way that no area of the grounds surrounding the house remained uncovered.

Randy placed Mireille on the large pine table in the kitchen after it was draped in several layers of sterile surgical sheets by Darla. Taking a pair of scissors, Harold cut Mireille's shirt off her body; exposing her wounds.

Mireille came to briefly; the view of a ceiling light was the first thing she saw. Turning her head slightly Mireille took in the older man physically examining her by touch. The probing soft, gentle and caring and as she tried to turn her head again an oxygen mask was placed on her face.

Darla who not only was the wife of Doctor Francis but a licensed anesthesiologist administered the gas to knockout Mireille. Standing to the rear, Randy watched as the treatment began.

Doctor Francis glancing up took note of Randy, "Mr. Baldwin we have things well in hand here. Get out of those clothes before you catch cold. We will be fine. Now go."

Harold looked at Darla who nodded and he began the surgery.

The chime of the elevator which had been originally installed for his wheel chair bound grandmother announced the return of Doctor Francis and the pattering of small feet alerted Randy to the presence of his Jack Russell terrier, Kirby as he scampered into the room behind him.

Turning away from the window, he watched Harold make another examination of his patient, who had been sedated. Grunting in satisfaction, Doctor Francis turned to Randy.

"Your friend is doing as well as can be expected considering the circumstances. She is running a slight fever but that is to be expected. I did make an inquiry to Phil as requested, but he would not comment on anything happening up north. But he is nevertheless on his way here now to see you Randy."

Randy absorbed the news and frowned, "Harold did he say why he was coming?" as Kirby nosed his pant leg.

Harold shook his head no, "He did not communicate anything to me, but I believe he knows something is going on up here and he intends to find out."

Sheriff Phil Nagle, an ex-Navy Seal who had after getting out of the Navy had joined the Sheriffs Department. Phil had worked his way through the ranks and had eventually run for Sheriff his first term beginning nearly eight years earlier. Well respected and liked by the citizens of the county and even by the former Sheriff who had graciously accepted defeat.

Randy knew Phil had a nose for finding and solving crimes, but this would situation was out of his league. Then there was the matter of Kirika Yumura, she was out there somewhere and close. Randy could sense it. He did not know if she would treat him as friend or foe; but with Mireille in the house he doubted she would risk an assault.

Kirika had been patient, working her way around the perimeter of the farm house carefully noting the placement of the security lights; looking for telltale camera emplacements but finding none. She was convinced it was Randy Baldwin who had driven past her and he had Mireille.

Was he involved somehow in the ambush that had been set for both? The gunfire that she had heard before silence had descended likely was Randy wielding his gun. Had Randy fired at Mireille? Or was it someone else?

The sound of an approaching car, its headlights blazing as it sped down the highway caused Kirika to crouch back into the brush. The car slowing turned and entered the gravel drive. The brown and gold Ford Crown Victoria with Sheriff emblazoned on its sides came to a stop next to the pickup truck and the driver exited the vehicle.

Kirika observed the man taking his bearing and purposely walk to the front door of the house and without even knocking or ringing the door bell he entered the house.

Sheriff Phil Nagle did not bother with the elevator and instead took the stairs two at a time. Approaching the top landing, Phil saw Kirby poke his head from the top of the stairs and as he reached the top, Kirby elicited a low woof and with his nub of a tail happily wagging he spun and headed down the hallway.

Randy met Phil at the door; both men of equal height and the same weight eyed each other. Phil took in the Colt Commander hanging from the shoulder holster of Randy, "Ok Randy just what is going on? I get a cryptic phone call from Doc Francis and here you are packing that cannon of yours. Peering around Randy, he could see Mireille lying asleep on the bed.

Randy expecting the question, turned to Doctor Francis "Harold, I and Phil will be in the kitchen. Call me on the intercom if you need anything" as he motioned for the sheriff to follow.

Descending the stairs and entering the kitchen, Randy glanced at the clock on the nearby mantel. 6:30 AM. Turning to Phil and offering him a seat, Randy walked to the coffee maker to make another pot.

Kirika saw the kitchen light come on and watched as the sheriff apparently took a seat and Randy prepared to make coffee. She could see him looking out the window scanning the grounds of the farm. Had she been detected or observed? The growing light of the new day would soon reveal her position to anyone looking out from the second floor.

Getting two cups from the cabinet, Randy placed them on the table and poured the coffee. Returning the carafe to the hot plate, he sat down across from Phil Nagle and began to detail what had happened.

It took nearly 30 minutes to tell what happened, as Phil having removed a small note book from his pocket jotted down various details.

Phil sat back in the chair and leaning back eyed the ceiling briefly then returned his gaze to Randy, "Ok, since we do not know if this mess is somehow related to your past with the Agency do you have any idea who the target was?"

Randy shook his head no, "No clue Phil, but you know Martinez has that huge house across the river from the county line and that was the general direction my friend was coming from when I encountered her."

Sheriff Phil Nagle frowned, "Santiago Jesus Martinez. Crap, just what we do not need. He may be a philanthropist and successful businessman Randy, but the bastard sidelines in other endeavors that the Feds have not been able to make any cases stick or even directly link him to. He has been careful not to play around in his own backyard. A majority of the activities are in other states and of course Mexico and South America with other playing fields as well. Martinez is a shrewd and intelligent man, who has a rather tight lipped organization that has not been penetrated."

Randy seemed to nod his head in acknowledgement then glanced at the clock on the mantel; it read 7:35 AM. Getting up from his chair he looked at Phil, "I think her partner is outside and might have had a rough time of it. I am going out alone." Writing a phone number on a pad of paper, Randy slid it across the table.

"Phil if I am not back in one hour, call that number and say the word Noir and give my address and phone number then hang up. Then go upstairs and get Harold and Darla the hell out of this house. Take Kirby too, his leash is by the door. Leave the woman where she is. Do not under any circumstances interfere or even draw your weapon."

Phil seemed to hesitate at the statement but Randy took note, "Phil I am not making this statement lightly. She is a professional killer and will think nothing of taking out a lawman to get to her partner. I personally consider Kirika Yumura the most dangerous woman alive next to Mireille Bouquet. Also forget those names I have mentioned. All it will serve to do is bring you more trouble than you can deal with. Remember, One hour."

Pausing at the closet, Randy picked out a wind breaker; the chill in the air rather noticeable it would serve to give a little bit of warmth as Randy exited the house he pondered his next move. Randy remembering the fishing tackle still in the storage box of his truck walked towards it and opened the lid.

Kirika watched Randy as he began removing the fishing gear and chair. Crouched as low as possible she moved to get a better view as he walked around the truck and towards an outbuilding.

It was the whistling that got her attention, the tune she vaguely recalled was named "Will You be My Sunshine."

Randy, walked unconcerned to the old smokehouse; whistling as he did so. He hoped the happy little tune would at least settle Kirika down. He had no desire to go head to head with her either hand to hand or by gun. Opening the door and setting the tackle on the shelf, Randy turned and walked towards the gravel drive while leisurely scanning the surroundings. He could see Phil sitting nonchalantly at the kitchen table drinking his coffee.

Kirika flattened to the ground, the brush providing little cover for her as Randy passed still whistling.

Strolling down to the end of the drive, Randy peered into the paper box and retrieved that day's edition of the Gainesville Times. Perusing the headlines, and then folding the paper under his right arm, Randy headed back up the drive.

Crabby as his name suggested propelled himself in a sideways motion when ever he walked, the tom cat of unknown lineage had been found by Randy three years earlier near death at the foot of the driveway. Nursed back to health and a considerable vet bill to show for it, Crabby had taken a liking to his new environs and stayed. His favorite preoccupation was hunting field mice and doing so at that moment in his usual sideways motion; Crabby encountered Kirika.

Kirika heard something scrambling through the brush at her from the left and before she could determine what it was, Crabby the tom cat landed on her back which startled both human and cat.

Phil sitting at the table in the kitchen had changed seats and was looking at Randy as he was strolling up the driveway, when something moving through the underbrush caught his attention. Seeing the crooked tail, Phil smiled. Must be Crabby, just about the time the cat landed on Kirika.

Randy too had seen the tail and stopped whistling at that point expecting to have Crabby coming out of the underbrush sideways at him, only to hear the frightened screech of Crabby as he launched himself awkwardly skyward followed by Kirika, her upper body popping up from the underbrush.

Kirika her hidden position revealed popped up nearly in front of Randy who was watching Crabby coming back in for a landing. The screech of the cat added to her headache as Randy stepped forward and snatched Crabby in mid-air just before Crabby would have landed directly on her head.

Randy trying to decide the lesser of two evils at that moment, drop the cranky feline and deal with Kirika or hold on to cat and hope for the best decided Crabby had to go. Less than a foot between them, Randy felt Kirika's eyes boring into him he looked into them and saw only death.

Phil sitting in the kitchen had initially watched in amusement at Crabby's antics but stopped smiling when the young woman appeared out of the underbrush. Her body language said it all and it sent chills down his spine. Warning or no warnings, Phil abruptly stood and headed for the door.

Kirika lashed out with her legs as she spun around to knock Randy off his feet. Missing by inches she scrambled to her feet and charged him like a line backer, impacting into his chest and knocking him to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

Randy grimaced as he tried to lift himself up only to find Kirika straddled across his chest and with no expression on her face he felt Kirika tighten her grip on his neck and felt the increased pressure on his windpipe.

Spreading his legs he managed to get them past her head and crossed them and using his leg muscles and abdominal muscles together flipped her on her back which broke her grip.

Kirika slammed into the ground, now found herself pinned with Randy Baldwin in the sitting position locking hands with her, trying to twist free only caused Randy to increase pressure on her chest with his crossed legs.

Phil charging across the farm yard drew his service weapon and sliding to a stop taking in the struggle he asked Randy if he needed any help, "Say Randy you were right, she is a handful. Do you want any help?"

Kirika turned her head and looked up at the lawman who was holstering his weapon, when Randy replied "No you twit. I have things under control. Go back inside and finish your coffee!"

Randy took in his present position and then looked at Kirika, "Ok Kirika enough is enough. I have had a really bad night, I have been shot at, I have had to kill two men and I had to give mouth to mouth to Mireille. She is by the way upstairs in bed under the care of a country doctor. That lawman is a friend of mine and I have given him a number to call if I am not back inside the house within 45 minutes. He and the good doctor with his wife will take my dog and leave after making that call and there will be so many people crawling over this house in the next hour that you will never see Mireille again. Now promise you will behave and I will let you up and we will go see Mireille together."

Kirika looked into Randy's eyes. Though flustered by the struggle, Randy's show of compassion was evident, "Very well Mr. Baldwin, I will do as you ask. Please take me to Mireille."

To Be Continued ...