Ferber remained silent.
“When did you find out they were going to kidnap Brunner instead of just talking to him?”
“Three days ago.”
“Three days. And you did nothing?”
“They said they’d make it very clear to Dr. Brunner that they weren’t really kidnapping him, but taking him somewhere quiet so they could talk. They were going to let him return to his bodyguards as soon as they were done.”
“And you believed that?” Kincaid said.
Quinn shot him a look, silently telling him to be quiet, then said to Ferber, “When was the last time you heard from Lilly or Rasmus?”
“Around two a.m. this morning. I called her, wanting to know if everything was okay.”
“What did she say?”
“That there’d been a complication.” His gaze flicked to Kincaid. “That I was going to hear that one of the guards had been killed, but that I shouldn’t worry. Everything was going to be fine.”
Quinn sensed Kincaid tensing, so he spoke before the bodyguard could. “What else did she tell you?”
Ferber’s chin dropped to his chest. “That I needed to be at the office this afternoon. That Brunner would be calling by six p.m. to resign, and it would be better if I was there to deal with the fallout, since I was the one who set things up with FIS.”
“Then why weren’t you there?” Kincaid asked, his tone indicating it might have been better if Ferber had done as Lilly suggested.
But it was Quinn who answered. “Because he chickened out. Isn’t that right, Eric? You knew your father would be upset, and would take Brunner’s defection out on you, so you didn’t want to face him. But then you heard there’d been an accident at the office and rushed back?”
Tears spilled from Ferber’s eyes again.
Quinn slapped his face. “Stop it. You don’t get to cry.”
Ferber tried to stifle his sniffles but was only partially successful.
“Did it ever occur to you to check if your scientist friend or Lilly or Rasmus really worked at Clydestern?”
“I…I…didn’t have a reason…not to believe them.”
“Wrong. You had a million reasons. But they were telling you things you wanted to hear, so you didn’t want to open your eyes to any other possibilities. How many people died today just because you were angry with your father?” Quinn scoffed and shook his head. “You may not have personally triggered the bomb, but you’re the one ultimately responsible for it.”
Ferber hung his head, his tears continuing to flow.
“There’s one last thing I need you to tell us,” Quinn said. “Why would someone be so interested in Brunner?”
“I-I really don’t know,” Ferber said, his voice a near whisper. “Not for sure.”
“How can you not know? He works at your company.”
“He’s in the technologies research division. Everything that goes on there is confidential. I’ve never been…in that loop. All I know is that Brunner is their star. That’s why he has an apartment on site.”
“There must have at least been rumors about what he’s been working on.”
“Only that he’s been developing some kind of breakthrough product. But that’s it.”
“And you really don’t know what it is?”
“No.”
Quinn could see the man was telling the truth, which sucked because Ferber had been their big chance to get a handle on what was so important about the scientist. Still, the conversation hadn’t been completely useless.
“Well, Eric, I’m out of questions. Thank you for being so forthcoming.”
Quinn picked up the gardening shears and other tools, motioned for Kincaid to follow him, and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Ferber asked.
Quinn didn’t answer.
“You can’t just leave me here!”
Quinn stopped outside the doorway and glanced back. “Don’t worry. You won’t be alone for long.”
He and Kincaid returned to the first floor. After handing the tools to the bodyguard, Quinn pulled out his phone and increased the volume. “You get all that?”
A whispered, “Hold on,” and then the sound of movement. Seconds later, he heard the muffled click of a door shutting. Finally Orlando said, “There were a few points when I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I don’t think it was anything important. I should be able to edit a cut of the highlights pretty quickly.”
“Excellent. Send it to Misty, and also tell her to send someone to pick this son of a bitch up. And make sure she keeps him on ice. I don’t want anyone finding out we talked to him.”
“Will do.”
“How long until you arrive?”
“I’m due in at seven-forty a.m. tomorrow morning.”
“And the others?”
“I sent you an email with everyone’s itineraries.”
“I’ve been a little tied up.”
“Ugh. Fine, Jar should be landing in about an hour. Daeng not long after that. Nate arrives tomorrow around the same time as me. Will you be heading back to Zurich? Or will we need to meet you somewhere else?”
“I’ll grab Jar and Daeng. Don’t know about the morning yet, though. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Sounds good. I love you.”
“Love you, too.” Quinn hung up and looked over at Kincaid. “When Ferber was talking about the woman, you looked like you wanted to say something.”
“The description. I’m pretty sure she’s the same woman who was on the train, helping Clarke.”
“That would make sense,” Quinn said as he shoved his phone into his pocket. “I’m going back to Zurich. You still want to tag along?”
“Absolutely.”
Chapter Nine
Jar stared out the terminal window, mesmerized by the flakes of snow drifting through the air. Actual, real-life snow. Until now, she’d seen it only in movies and photos.
But while it was beautiful, it looked cold. Very cold.
Despite the fact she’d walked off her plane straight into the warm Zurich Airport, a shiver ran down her spine. She was wearing two T-shirts, a sweater, and the heaviest jacket she owned, but now she was sure they wouldn’t be enough. Having spent most of her life in Thailand, nothing in her wardrobe—including the jacket and sweater—were manufactured to be effective in this kind of weather.
She pulled herself from the window and rejoined the other passengers making their way to passport control. Her phone vibrated with a text from Daeng.
You here yet?
Her connection through Dubai had been delayed by forty minutes, allowing Daeng, originally scheduled to arrive after her, to reach Switzerland first.
She punched in a reply.
Heading to immigration now.
If not for Orlando, Jar wouldn’t have been able to enter Switzerland at all. Being Thai limited the countries to which she could travel visa free—this country included. Per Orlando’s instructions, Jar had made a stop at the US embassy on her way to Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok, and paid a visit to the office of an official named Kenneth Murray.
“You’re Jar?” he’d said after the aide who’d escorted her to his office left.
“Yes,” she replied. It was an unnecessary question. Who else would she be?
“You’re…younger than I expected.”
Oh. This again.
She’d received similar comments in the past, and it annoyed her as much now as it had then. She didn’t think of herself as young. She was an adult, old enough—as of a month ago—to drink in every country in the world with an age limit. But what did it matter anyway?
People. They worry about such unimportant things.
“Can we hurry this along?” she’d said. “I need to get to the airport.” She held out a Thai passport. The name inside was not hers but one of her many aliases.
“I won’t be needing that,” Murray said.
She cocked her head. “But you are supposed to give me a Swi
ss visa.”
He looked at her as if she’d spoken gibberish. “That was not what Orlando requested.”
“What did she request?”
He picked up a bulky camera from his desk and waved at a large sheet of white paper taped to the wall. “Stand in front of that, please.”
Confused, she did what he requested.
He looked at her through the lens. “A step closer to me.”
She made the adjustment.
“Perfect. Hold still.” He snapped a couple of photos and said, “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Where are you going?”
He exited the room without answering, taking the camera with him.
Jar wanted to text Orlando to find out what was going on, but she resisted. If Murray was following her boss’s instructions, who was Jar to question it?
As the minutes piled up, however, she’d grown worried. Suvarnabhumi was outside the city and, even without traffic, would take a good thirty-plus minutes to reach from the US embassy. And this was Bangkok, so there was always traffic. If she didn’t make her plane, she would miss her connection, and because of Zurich’s ban on flights in or out after 11:30 p.m., her arrival in Switzerland would be pushed back until at least the next morning.
That was unacceptable.
Finally the door opened and Murray reentered.
“Here you go,” he said, handing her a dark blue-covered booklet.
She turned it over. Printed on the front were PASSPORT and UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, separated by a golden eagle. She opened it and saw her face staring back at her on the information page. It wasn’t the best photo ever taken of her, but that didn’t matter. She was holding an honest to goodness, official US passport with her name inside—well, her alias. Orlando must have given it to him.
This was much better than the faux Swiss visa she had anticipated receiving.
So much better.
“Thank you.”
“Please make sure Orlando and Quinn know I did a good job,” he said, sounding oddly needy.
“I will.”
“I appreciate it. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
She checked the time. “Yes. You have kept me here longer than I anticipated. I need you to get me to the airport before my plane leaves.”
He smiled. “I can make that happen.”
An embassy vehicle with an official Thai police escort had gotten her to her flight on time.
As expected, her new passport made Swiss immigration a breeze. In no time, she was passing out of customs into the public area of the terminal.
The place was crowded with both arriving passengers and those waiting for them. She looked around for Daeng but didn’t see him anywhere, so she headed toward a less crowded spot to call him.
“Jar!”
She whirled around. Daeng and Quinn were walking toward her, both smiling.
Though she was happy to see them, she braced herself for what would happen next. Emotionally, she appreciated their welcoming hugs, but physically, such contact made her uncomfortable.
“Good flight?” Daeng asked.
“The delay in Dubai was irritating, and the fruit served with dinner was overripe.”
He laughed. “So, a normal trip, then.”
She thought for a moment and nodded. “I have been on worse.”
“It’s good to see you, Jar,” Quinn said. “This is Kincaid. He’s working with us on this job.”
Until that moment, Jar had thought the African man behind Quinn was someone who just happened to be in the same area. He was a giant compared to her, over a half meter taller, and easily three times her weight.
He held out his hand and said in a deep, resonating voice, “Nice to meet you.”
She shook with him, her tiny hand disappearing in his. “Nice to meet you, too.”
As they walked toward the exit, Kincaid said to her, “You might want to put on a heavier coat.”
“This is my heavy coat.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Here, you can use mine.” He started taking his off.
“That is ridiculous,” she said. “You are much larger than me. I will never be able to walk in that.”
Kincaid looked at Quinn and Daeng. “She always this blunt?”
“Always,” Daeng said, then removed his own jacket and held it out to her. “Use this.”
Daeng was also large but not like Kincaid, so Jar took the coat and draped it over her shoulders.
“Thank you.”
The moment they stepped outside, she was grateful for the extra layer. She had never felt air so cold in her life, and knew it would have easily cut through the clothes she wore under Daeng’s jacket. As they passed from under the covered walkway into the falling snow, however, thoughts of the cold disappeared. She reached out to catch a snowflake. When it hit her palm, it immediately started to melt.
“Is this your first time seeing snow?” Quinn asked.
“Yes.”
“This is nothing. Wait until it starts sticking to the ground.”
The thought of that excited her. “How long will that take?”
“Not sure if this storm’s big enough to drop that much. It’s still pretty early in the season for anything significant.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed.
“Don’t give up hope yet. There was some still on the ground earlier from yesterday, so anything’s possible.”
They hurried to Quinn’s car, put Jar’s suitcase in the back next to Daeng’s, then drove to a hotel ten minutes away. Quinn led them past the reception desk to an elevator, which they took to the fifth floor.
“Here,” he said, handing Jar and Daeng key cards. “Jar, you’re in 522. I’m next door in 520, and Daeng, you’re in 523, right across the hall.”
As they walked toward their rooms, Quinn said, “Do you guys need to get some sleep? Or are you up for a little chat? I’d like to brief you on the mission.”
“I am not tired,” Jar said. She didn’t need much sleep in the first place, and she’d had more than enough on the plane.
“I’d like to sleep, eventually,” Daeng said. “But if you want to talk, I can do that.”
“How about I give you fifteen minutes to get settled, then we’ll meet in my room.” To Kincaid, Quinn said, “You should be there, too.”
Kincaid nodded.
When they reached Quinn’s door, Jar and Daeng split off to their rooms, while Kincaid continued walking down the hall.
Jar took her time opening her door, waiting to see where he was going. His room turned out to be six doors down on the other side. Room 535, if the numbering sequence was unbroken.
When he turned the handle on his door, he looked back, saw Jar, and gave her a wave.
She blinked and awkwardly waved back before entering her room.
She didn’t know what to think of Kincaid. He was big. In the short amount of time they’d spent together, she sensed in him an undercurrent of anger, like a coiled snake ready to strike. She would have to keep an eye on him.
After a quick shower and a change into clean clothes, she knocked on Quinn’s door three minutes early.
Daeng was already there, sitting on the bed and drinking sparkling water.
A glass of beer sat on the table by the window. Quinn picked it up and nodded toward the mini-fridge. “Help yourself.”
“I am not thirsty,” she said.
“Quinn was telling me about his new friend,” Daeng said.
Jar looked at Quinn. “Friend? What new friend?”
“Kincaid,” Daeng replied.
“I did not get the impression he was Quinn’s friend. Only someone he is working with.”
“It was a figure of speech.”
Jar frowned. She was not a fan of figures of speech. She was getting better at understanding them, but it was still hit or miss. And, to be honest, more miss than hit. Why couldn’t people speak directly and not use words that obscured what they really meant?
&n
bsp; “I would like to know about Kincaid, too,” she said. “He is very large.”
Quinn almost spit out his beer. “Yes, he is, isn’t he?”
“That is why I said it.”
When Kincaid arrived, Quinn was in the middle of telling them about the bodyguard’s failed escort mission and the events that happened later in Zurich. The man took a seat at the end of the bed Jar was sitting on, causing the mattress to dip in his direction. This forced her to put a hand down to make sure she wouldn’t fall over.
When Quinn finished bringing her and Daeng up to speed, Daeng said, “So the job is to find whoever is behind all this?”
“Our mission is to find Brunner and bring him back. But we can’t do that without finding the others.”
“Any clues as to who they are?”
“The only thing we really know is that they have access to some high-end equipment. The bomb was sophisticated, and the attackers at the house were all armed with HK G38s. But the real kicker is the kidnapping. I checked through police reports, and there’s no mention of anyone on the train hearing anything unusual during the timespan after Brunner disappeared and Kincaid was arrested. But when I looked out the window of the cabin from where he likely exited the train, I found these just above it, caught on the outside frame.” He pulled a small plastic bag out of his pocket and handed it to Daeng.
Daeng held it so that Jar could see it, too. Inside were several fibers.
“Rope?” Daeng asked.
“That’s what it looks like to me.”
“So he climbed onto the roof?”
Kincaid shook his head. “I was on the roof before the train stopped, very near that room,” Kincaid said. “There was still some snow up there. But there weren’t any footprints.”
“Then they used a helicopter,” Jar said. It was the only logical answer. “Likely a stealth model.”
Quinn nodded. “My guess exactly.”
“Ballsy,” Daeng said.
“So, we are looking for someone who has access to explosives, automatic weapons, and a stealth helicopter,” Jar said.
“That’s not small time,” Daeng said.
“Definitely not,” Quinn agreed.
“If we knew why Brunner was so important, it might help us narrow down who’d want him.”
The Unknown Page 10
