The Unknown

by Brett Battles

  As for the company itself, Ferber-Rae had its hands in all sorts of things, such as genetics, alternative energy, information systems, and robotics.

  The reason for Brunner’s trip to Hamburg had to do with a presentation he was to give to a small, select group of international scientists. Like the nature of Brunner’s work, the specifics of the presentation were not disclosed. The only thing that mattered was that Misty’s team needed to get Brunner to Hamburg on time and unmolested.

  The assignment came to the Office via the CIA, after the agency had received the request from FIS, Swiss Federal Intelligence Service. Misty and Orlando—Misty’s unofficial co-head of the Office—had brainstormed several ideas before coming up with a plan they were happy with. To execute it, Misty had hired a seasoned personnel courier named Darius Kincaid. He’d worked with the Office back when Peter was in charge, and Kincaid had always been reliable and efficient. But the Brunner job required two escorts, and unfortunately the handful of freelancers Kincaid usually worked with weren’t available.

  Misty had dived back into the Office’s archives and found Clarke’s name. She didn’t remember working with him directly, but he appeared to have an acceptable service record, and had done a couple of jobs similar to this one. She’d made a few inquiries to confirm his current skill level, and was told he was competent and easy to work with. So, she’d hired him.

  The fact Kincaid had never done a job with Clarke wasn’t an issue. Being paired with an operative for the first time was par for the course in their world. And there was no reason to think the Brunner job, if executed correctly, wouldn’t go off without a hitch.

  Misty and Orlando’s plan had kicked off an hour before Kincaid and Clarke took possession of their cargo, when several reliable witnesses saw someone matching Brunner’s description get into an armored truck at Ferber-Rae’s headquarters. The vehicle left Zurich on a straight shot to Hamburg, escorted by two sedans full of security personnel.

  The decoy caravan was well out of town by the time Kincaid and Clarke boarded the train with the real Brunner. Once they reached Graz, they would catch a private jet the rest of the way to Hamburg.

  At least that’s what was supposed to happen.

  A few hours into the train ride, Misty’s monitoring software dinged with an urgent message. An alert had been issued by Austrian police concerning a shooting on the Nightjet train from Zurich to Graz.

  Knowing there were no coincidences in her business, Misty immediately realized the incident had something to do with her team and she’d put in a call to Quinn. He had just finished a body removal operation in Brussels but his plane for home hadn’t left yet, so she rerouted him east to find out what had happened.

  Two hours later, one of her data specialists retrieved a preliminary police report from the Austrian town of Bischofshofen. She learned that Oscar Johnson—Kincaid—was being held by the police on suspicion of murder, and Richard Meyer—Brunner—was missing. There was no mention of Felix Vintner, the name Clarke was traveling under.

  She gave Quinn the information, and together they came up with a strategy that necessitated Misty calling in a favor from a contact at Interpol.

  It was just after six a.m. when her computer pinged with an incoming video call. She clicked ACCEPT and a window opened, showing an image from inside a car. On the right of the frame was Quinn, and on the left Kincaid.

  The bodyguard gave her a rundown of what had happened.

  The news that Clarke had been involved in the kidnapping hit her hard. Clearly she had missed something when she did his background check. She would have to go back over his record with a fine-toothed comb and see where the error had occurred.

  That, however, would have to wait.

  “Quinn, I need you to find Brunner. Fast.”

  “Is that an official assignment?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “One hundred and fifty percent of normal rate. Retroactive to when I called you this morning.”

  At thirty thousand dollars a week with a two-week minimum, Quinn was one of the more expensive freelancers out there. But he never failed to earn every penny.

  “Tentative acceptance,” he said.

  “Tentative?”

  “I’d like to know a little bit more about what I might be getting into before I officially commit.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Any idea who might have taken him?”

  “Several possibilities, including a few of the usuals: the Russians, the Chinese, Tear-Dak, Yimity.”

  “That’s a pretty diverse group. What’s so important about this guy that they would all want him?”

  “He does something science related. That’s all I know.”

  “I’m going to need a little more than that. Maybe I should contact the client directly. It would save some time.”

  Misty frowned. “I…haven’t told them about the kidnapping yet.”

  Quinn stared at his phone for a moment. “Why not?”

  “I’m hoping there’s a chance we can recover Brunner before the delivery deadline this evening.”

  “He could be hundreds of miles from here already,” Kincaid said. “I’d say the chances of finding him before tonight are close to zero.”

  “Thousands of miles,” Quinn said. “I found rope fibers outside the window of the train compartment they escaped from, along the top edge. I don’t think they jumped to the ground. I think they were hoisted onto a helicopter. We can’t keep the client in the dark any longer.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’ll call him, but I’m not sure how much I can get out of him.”

  “Then maybe I should pay him a visit. I’m sure I could convince him to be a little more forthcoming in person.”

  “That’s probably a good idea. Head that way. If he does give me everything we need, I’ll let you know and you can redirect based on that. Ferber-Rae’s headquarters are in Zurich. The man you want is Stefan Ferber. He’s head of the company. I’ll text you the address.”

  “I met the guy,” Kincaid said. “He was with Brunner when Clarke and I picked him up. I’ll go with you.”

  “Absolutely not,” Misty said. “You’re to catch the first flight to DC and report to me for debriefing. Quinn, take him to the nearest airport and then proceed to Zurich.”

  “That’s ridiculous! I can do a lot more—”

  “Buddy, take it down a notch,” Quinn said, then looked at the phone again. “Misty, correct me if I’m wrong, but our priority is to find Brunner, right?”

  “It is,” Misty said.

  “Then doesn’t it make sense to use every asset available? I’m not taking sides, but I think the smart thing is for Kincaid to stay with me for now.”

  Misty glared from the screen and said in a flat voice, “Mr. Kincaid, could you give us a moment, please?”

  Kincaid grimaced, but nodded and climbed out of the car.

  “Can he hear us?” Misty asked after she heard the door close.

  Quinn turned the camera so she could see Kincaid walking away.

  When he refocused the lens on himself, she said, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t contradict me in front of others.”

  “I was merely offering what I think is the smarter play here.” He paused, then let a small smile slip into his stern expression. “Look, I realize someone needs to pay for what happened, and since Kincaid was there, he’s the logical choice. But if we really want to find Brunner, he can help. He’s met Ferber before. He’ll have a read on him that I won’t have. He may catch something I don’t.”

  “He also lost his cargo.”

  “Because a man he’s never worked with double-crossed him.” He paused. “If you really want him back, I’ll send him back. It’s up to you.”

  AUSTRIA

  Quinn waited, watching Misty on his phone’s screen.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed her fingers across her eyes. When she looked up again, she said, “Does this mean you’re agreeing to officially tak
e the job?”

  He snorted. “I guess it does.”

  “Then fine. He can stay with you. For now. But after you talk to Ferber, I want him back here.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Listen, before you contact Ferber, can you call Orlando and tell her to send the team right away? The sooner everyone gets here, the better chance we’ll have at finding your scientist.”

  “I’ll call her right now.”

  “Thanks, Misty.”

  Quinn disconnected the call, then tapped the horn twice and watched Kincaid jog back to the car.

  When the bodyguard was once more in the front passenger seat, he said, “Well?”

  “Buckle in. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

  SAN FRANCISCO

  Orlando reread the specs she’d just entered into the order form and cursed. She’d input the diameter right, but she’d misplaced the decimal point by one position on the strength of the lens.

  She corrected the error and clicked on the PLACE MY ORDER button. The glass discs were for the next-gen gooseneck micro-camera lenses she was building. The ones she and the team currently used were more than adequate, but she’d never been completely happy with their telephoto capabilities. When her order arrived, that problem would be solved.

  She stretched and looked at the clock—3:17 a.m.

  Crap.

  She’d really been hoping to get to bed earlier. Her daughter would likely be up at the crack of dawn. Of course, Mrs. Vo would be happy to take care of Claire, but Orlando should be doing it herself.

  She gave her inbox one last check and closed the app. As she started to stand, her computer bonged with an incoming video call.

  She looked back at the screen, thinking it had to be Quinn calling from Europe. But the name in the ID window was Misty.

  Orlando clicked ACCEPT, and Misty appeared on the screen.

  “Morning,” Orlando said.

  “Oh, good,” Misty said. “I was afraid you might be asleep.”

  “I was just heading to bed now.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Sitting back down, Orlando said, “What’s going on?”

  “Quinn won’t be coming back today.”

  Orlando tensed. “Did something happen?”

  “Not with Quinn, no. There was a problem on the Ferber-Rae project.”

  “He’s not working the Ferber-Rae project.”

  “He is now.” Misty brought Orlando up to speed, then said, “He wants you to send the team out to him right away.”

  “All right, I’ll get them moving. Keep me updated on any changes.”

  “I will.”

  Orlando called Daeng first.

  “Are you free?” she asked.

  “We are all as free as we let ourselves be.”

  “Did you just smoke a blunt or something?”

  He laughed. “I take it we have a job.”

  “We do.”

  “Where and when do you need me?”

  “Zurich, as soon as you can get there. I’ll update you with a specific destination when you arrive. Do you want to travel with Jar? I’m going to call her next.”

  “I’m, um, not in Thailand at the moment.”

  “Oh, really? Where are you?”

  “Australia.”

  “Weren’t you just there a few weeks ago?”

  “I may have been.”

  She felt the urge to probe further but there was no time. “Get the next flight. I’ll see you in Switzerland.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  Orlando called Jar next.

  The young Thai woman answered with her typical “Yes?”

  “We’ve got a job. I need you in Zurich right away.”

  “I do not have a visa for Switzerland.”

  “I’ll take care of it and text you with instructions.”

  “Okay.”

  The line went dead. Jar was a woman of few words.

  Call number three was to Nate.

  “Unless you’re going to tell me I won the lotto, call back after the sun’s up,” he answered sleepily.

  “We’ve got a job.”

  No response.

  “Nate?”

  Dead air for a moment, then a sigh, and, “I’m here.”

  “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you.”

  “Are you available?”

  It wasn’t long ago that she wouldn’t have even asked the question. Any job Quinn and Orlando worked, Nate worked, too.

  But a lot had changed since Liz had died. She had been both Nate’s girlfriend and Quinn’s sister. For a while it had looked like the two men would never work together again. Thankfully, over the summer, they had ironed out their differences—for the most part—and now Nate was back in the fold.

  Sort of. Occasionally Nate would pass on a job, saying he had other things to deal with.

  “Yeah. I guess. Where?”

  “Zurich.”

  “Zurich? Like Europe Zurich?”

  “Is there another one?”

  “Probably,” he said. “Can I reconsider my earlier response?”

  “No.”

  “Figures. I suppose I need to be there yesterday?”

  “You suppose correctly.”

  “You realize the first flights out won’t leave until the morning.”

  “It is morning.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do. Which means you have plenty of time to make sure you’re on the very first one.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Orlando next booked a flight for herself, leaving SFO in three hours, and arranged for a safe house in Zurich, in case the team would be staying there for more than a day. She also sent a message to an equipment supplier she knew in the city, alerting him that she and the team might need to pick up a few items in the next day or two.

  With the logistics work completed, she retrieved her prepacked go-bag from the bedroom, added her laptop and a few other benign-looking electronics, and set the bag at the top of the stairs. She then tiptoed into her and Quinn’s fifteen-month-old daughter’s room.

  Claire was sound asleep in her crib. Orlando adjusted her blanket and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Love you, sweetheart,” she whispered.

  She left as quietly as she entered and let herself into her son Garrett’s room, where she knelt next to his bed. He was fourteen now, so she couldn’t leave without letting him know. “Garrett. Wake up, honey.”

  His eyes popped open. “What’s wrong?”

  She hated that he asked that. But he’d been exposed to more than a little of her and Quinn’s world, and had even proved brave and resourceful when he and his sister had been kidnapped the previous winter. Now he was always on guard.

  “Nothing’s wrong, honey. I have to go away on business for a little while, that’s all.”

  “Oh. Okay.” He rubbed one of his eyes. “With Quinn?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be meeting up with him.”

  “Will it be dangerous?”

  Before last January, she would have automatically answered no. But it was best not to lie to him anymore. At least, not too much. “No more than usual, I would think. Hopefully less than that.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Not sure yet. But I’ll check in with you every day, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise me you’ll take care of your sister.”

  “I will.”

  “And make sure Mr. Vo doesn’t sneak her any sweets.”

  “I’ll do my best, but if he does it when I’m at school, it’s not my fault.”

  “I know.” She hugged and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too, Mom.”

  “Go back to sleep. We’ll be home as soon as we can.”

  She carried her bag downstairs and knocked on the door to Mr. and Mrs. Vo’s room. The Vos were an older Vietnamese couple who had worked for Orlando since Garrett had been only a few years older than C
laire was now. They were, in all things but blood, part of the family. They took care of the household and when Orlando was gone, which was often, they watched the kids.

  After a few seconds, Mrs. Vo opened the door, wearing the lavender robe Orlando and Quinn had given her for Christmas the year before.

  “Business trip, I’m afraid,” Orlando said.

  Mrs. Vo stepped out of the room and shut the door. “Let me get you something to eat.”

  She shuffled past Orlando on her way to the kitchen.

  “That’s okay,” Orlando said. “I’m not hungry.”

  Without stopping, Mrs. Vo waved a dismissive hand in the air.

  Orlando followed her down the hall into the kitchen, where Mrs. Vo had already started pulling things out of the refrigerator.

  “Really, it’s not necessary,” Orlando said. “A car will be picking me up any minute.”

  Mrs. Vo tsked the comments away and turned on one of the stove’s burners. After putting a pan over the flames, she began warming up some spring rolls in the microwave. “I can warm up the chili if you’d like.”

  In addition to being a master of Vietnamese cuisine, Mrs. Vo had also learned how to cook many Western dishes, including a pretty amazing version of chili.

  “I don’t think the other passengers would appreciate it too much,” Orlando said. “The spring rolls will be more than enough.”

  Mrs. Vo looked at her and frowned. “Not enough. I make you peanut butter sandwich.”

  She opened a cupboard and pulled out a jar of peanut butter.

  Orlando wanted to tell her that having peanut breath might be just as bad, but this wasn’t even close to the first time they’d had conversations like this, and she knew it was a fight she would never win.

  So instead she said, “Thank you,” and checked her Uber app to see how far away her driver was.

  “How long you gone?” Mrs. Vo asked while she worked.

  “Not sure. Hopefully only a few days, but it could be a week or so. I’ll let you know when I have a better idea.”

  “Not forget, Halloween coming.”

  Quinn had bought a cute Captain Marvel outfit for Claire, and he and Orlando had planned to take their daughter out for her first trick-or-treating.