Noble Sanction (Jake Noble Series Book 4) by William Miller

Author:William Miller [Miller, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-24T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty-Two

Noble hurried after Eliška. She strode along the sidewalk with her head down and her hands stuffed deep in her pockets, leaving a trail of damp shoeprints on the cobblestones. Noble chewed the inside of one cheek and considered his options. If Noble wanted to stop her, he would have to hog-tie her and carry her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Her father was in danger. Eliška was determined to save him. She might be a remorseless killer, but every girl loves her daddy. That was pop psychology 101. His other option was to help.

He checked his cellphone and found it was dead. The dunk in the river had killed it. He wanted to contact Langley and find out what they knew about the United Front. That would have to wait. He pocketed the useless device and said, “Alright, I’ll help, but we’re going to do this my way.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Eliška said without slowing down.

“You don’t have a choice,” Noble told her. “It’s my way or the highway.”

She stopped and turned to him. “What does this mean? ‘My way or highway’?”

“It’s something my mother says,” Noble explained. “It means we can do this my way or not at all.”

She sized him up and nodded. “Okay, Jakob. What is your plan?”

“We’re going to need hardware,” Noble said and clarified, “Guns.”

“You are in luck,” Eliška told him. “Czechia makes the world’s best guns.”

“Agree to disagree,” Noble said.

She led the way through the crowded streets of Old Town to a crumbling building tucked away on a side street off Malá Štepánská. The brick façade looked like it was ready to come down any second. Noble imagined the front of the building calving like the side of a glacier into the street. A simple placard had the name in Czech and a picture of barbell underneath.

Noble said, “Is this a gym?”

“Praha CrossFit.” Eliška pulled open the door and motioned him inside.

He stepped into a spartan gymnasium of bare concrete floors covered in dusty mats. The equipment consisted mostly of Olympic bars and kettlebells. A few pull-up stations were bolted to the walls. The place smelled like armpit and chalk. A powerfully built woman in spandex clean-and-jerked a 150-pound barbell to her chest. Her face turned beet red. Veins stood out on her neck. She pressed the weight overhead, then let the bar slam to the ground—it impacted with a heavy clang. The woman transitioned directly to a pull-up bar and cranked out a dozen reps while Noble watched.

“Impressive, yes?” Eliška asked.

Noble nodded.

There was a young man thumbing through his phone behind the front desk. He looked up when they entered and asked if they were members, first in Czech, then English.

“I’m need to speak with the manager,” Eliška told him.

He motioned to a door marked, “private.”

Eliška motioned for Noble to follow. They crossed the gym, passed the locker rooms, to the manager’s office. Eliška opened the door without knocking. The room was small and lit by green-tinged fluorescents.

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