As he was about to go for a third time, the door smashed back into him, sending him flying against the door frame. His left arm flailed out, looking for something solid to hold on to, but found only the light switch and inadvertently flipped it off, plunging the room into darkness.
The intruder roared as he tried to get around the door. But the cramped space and his massive size slowed his efforts. When he finally shoved past it, Quinn unleashed a right hook to his jaw.
“Merde!” the man yelled.
Quinn hit him again, this time in the soft spot just below the ribs. The intruder doubled over, and Quinn grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him out into the hall.
The man stumbled for a few feet, then fell to his knees. Quinn jumped on his back, pushing him all the way to the ground, then began releasing punch after punch to the man’s kidneys and ribs.
Suddenly someone grabbed his arm. It was Nate.
“We can’t get any info out of him if you kill him,” Nate said.
Quinn held his position for a moment longer, breathing hard, then shoved the man between the shoulder blades and stood up.
“Search him,” he said, his teeth clenched.
“Laissez-moi!” the intruder yelled as Nate patted him down.
“Gun,” Nate said, his hand at the small of the man’s back.
He removed the Glock pistol from the man’s waistband and handed it to Quinn, then continued his search. There was a knife in the guy’s boot, but that was it.
“ID?” Quinn asked.
“No wallet,” Nate said.
“Qui êtes-vous?” Quinn demanded, asking the man’s identity.
“Allez vous faire foutre.”
Quinn didn’t believe for a second his name was Go To Hell. “Qui êtes-vous?”
“J’habite ici.” I live here.
“Bullshit,” Quinn said, then shoved the barrel of the Glock into the base of the guy’s head.
“Take it easy,” the intruder said in heavily accented English.
“One chance or I pull the trigger. What are you doing here?”
“Hey, no problem. I’ll tell you. Okay? Someone asked me to look around this apartment,” the man said. “So I look around. No reason to shoot me.”
Quinn leaned back, moving the gun from the man’s neck.
“Keep your hands where I can see them and turn over,” he said. “Slowly.”
Nate released the man’s shoulders, then got to his feet.
As instructed, the man turned over and lay on his back.
The intruder had a dark beard, long and full, sticking a good five inches out from his face. Above the growth, his eyes were bright blue, and looked as surprised as Quinn felt.
“Julien?” Quinn said.
“Quinn?” the man asked.
“SO WHO IS SHE?” JULIEN DE COSTER ASKED.
They were sitting around one of the outside tables at the café below Liz’s apartment building. Quinn had situated himself so that he could keep an eye on the entrance, but be shielded by Nate and Julien in case his sister suddenly showed up.
“The relative of a client,” Quinn said. Telling Nate the truth was one thing, broadcasting it to the rest of the world was something else entirely. “He was concerned she might be in danger. Since I was in the area, he asked me to check on her.”
Julien sipped a coffee and narrowed his eyes. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Of course there’s more,” Quinn said. “But you know there are things I can’t tell you.”
“I understand,” Julien said, holding up a hand. “Not my business.”
“Julien, I’ve always trusted you. You know that. But come on, you were in her apartment. I think it’s safe to say we’re working opposite sides on this thing.”
“If I’m on the other side from you, then I am obviously not where I should be.”
Quinn said nothing.
Julien took another sip. “You can consider me off the job. But that doesn’t mean someone won’t come back and take my place.”
“I’m not trying to keep you from working,” Quinn said.
Julien scoffed. “It was a throwaway job, anyway. Don’t worry about it.”
Quinn put his hand around his cup, but didn’t raise it. “If that’s the case, would you be interested in telling me what you were supposed to be doing?”
“I don’t know,” Julien said. “Backing out of the job is already not going to help my reputation, but you want me to sell out my employer? What is so important?”
“The girl’s an innocent. Her only crime is being related to someone in our world. She doesn’t deserve to be put in danger, and I’m here to make sure she isn’t.”
Julien smiled. “You are clever, my friend.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a four-by-six photograph, then laid it on the table so Quinn could see it. “She has your eyes, you know. And your chin, too.”
Quinn had seen the same picture mounted in a frame on the piano at his mother’s house. A happy Liz, smiling, and just about to board a plane to France.
“Part of my instructions was to find a photograph of the woman who lived there. This was in her bedroom.” Julien smiled. “Your sister?”
Quinn looked up, his gaze boring into the Frenchman.
“D’accord,” Julien said, holding a hand up. “I don’t need to know.” He clapped Nate on the back. “You have a very good boss here. He trusted me when it could have got him killed. I’ve always remembered that. That kind of trust is rare in our business, know what I mean?”
“I’d love to hear what happened,” Nate said.
Julien laughed again. “I am not so easily fooled. That job was long ago, but even then we should never tell stories.”
Quinn barely heard any of this, his mind still trying to come to grips with the fact that the secret life he had created was on the verge of coming completely apart.
“Why were you in her apartment?” he asked.
Julien placed his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Last night I got a phone call for a job. I was told it was a simple check-and-report. I was given a woman’s name and an address. Nothing else. It’s not the kind of work I usually take, but business for me has been slow lately. Perhaps you heard about my trouble in Bern?”
Quinn nodded. Julien had been caught during an exchange operation in the Swiss capital. Though he didn’t know details, Quinn had heard secondhand that Julien had threatened to expose his employer if they didn’t get him out. A threat like that would tend to put a hold on any future employment opportunities.
Julien seemed to deduce what Quinn was thinking. “Don’t believe all rumors.”
“I never do.”
“I didn’t ask for anything,” Julien said. “The people I worked for started that rumor to cover their own mistakes. It was their fault I was detained. But what could I do?”
Quinn was inclined to give Julien the benefit of the doubt. Making those kind of threats was not something he had an easy time seeing the big man doing.
“Last night,” Quinn said, trying to get Julien back on track, “who called you?”
The Frenchman took another sip of coffee. “A broker who has used me in the past.”
“A name, Julien.”
Julien shrugged. “Charles Butler.”
“It sounds made up,” Nate said.
“It’s the name he’s always used. False? Probably. But the payment was sitting in my account this morning, so I didn’t care.”
“American?”
“American. English. Sometimes it’s hard for me to tell the difference.”
“What was the assignment?”
“They told me the name of the woman was Elizabeth Oliver. I was to check her apartment when she was out. They wanted a photograph and a list of contacts.” He picked up his coffee. “That’s not so easy these days. Everyone keeps their contacts on their phones and computers. I could find neither in the apartment.”
He lifted the cup to his mouth and fini
shed it off.
“So you’re saying you didn’t find anything,” Quinn said.
“Just that,” Julien said, motioning toward the photo. “I was about to leave when you shoved the door into my back. Really, Quinn. While I was taking a piss?”
“Can you think of a better time?”
Julien let out a deep, hearty laugh. “Of course not. It was perfect. But how did you know I was inside?”
“You need to brush up on your lock-picking skills.”
“The scratch,” Julien said, nodding. “I thought I heard someone coming out of one of the other apartments and my pick slipped. It was sloppy.”
“Almost got you killed,” Quinn said.
Julien smiled broadly. “How would you have gotten my body out?”
“I’d have found a way.”
“I believe that,” Julien said, laughing. “Nate, did Quinn ever tell you about the removal I helped him with in Madrid?”
“I can’t say that he has,” Nate said.
“Julien,” Quinn said, a warning in his voice.
“What? Who is going to care?” He turned to Nate. “This is one I can tell. It was, what, eight years ago? The man who hired us is dead now. And besides, that conflict is over.”
“Hey, it’s okay by me,” Nate said.
“This body, it got shoved in a basement storage cabinet at this restaurant near the Reina Sofia. Our job was to get it out. Only by the time we arrived, the staff was already there, getting ready for the day.”
“Enough,” Quinn said.
“Quinn knows we have very little time before someone discovers the body, so he says to me, ‘How is your Spanish?’ I tell him that my Spanish is fine. He then says, ‘Good. You distract them while I carry the body out.’ Distract them? How am I going to distract them? ‘You’ll think of something,’ he says.
“So I give him five minutes. He sneaks in through the back. How? I don’t know. Don’t ask me. When the time is up, I pound on the front door. A waiter opens it, and tells me they’re closed. Of course they are closed. ‘Why else would I be knocking,’ I say to him. I tell him I left my phone there the night before, and I needed it right away for a business call. So he lets me in and goes to check.
“When he comes back, of course, he has no phone. I am ready for this, and I start to talk very loud. I accuse the man of stealing my phone, then say if it was not him, it must have been one of his coworkers. He assures me that no one would have done that, but I only get louder, then demand to talk to everyone who is there.”
“And that worked?” Nate asked.
“Of course it worked. Look at me. You think they’d want to make me mad?” Julien held his arms out and smiled. “So when I have them all in the dining room, I begin yelling at everyone. Quinn hears this and knows it is time. He begins carrying the body up the stairs. Of course, this is the time my phone decides to ring in my pocket. Old girlfriend. We didn’t last much longer after that. Now everyone is accusing me of lying. We all yell at one another.
“Quinn hears all this and realizes the cover is falling apart. He races the rest of the way up the stairs. As for me, I am desperately trying to keep everyone in the room. But the cook has had enough and heads back for the kitchen. I yell after him, trying to stop him, but no. So I run as fast as I can and reach the door just before he does. ‘So you’re the one who took my phone,’ I say. He calls me a fool and a liar. ‘Your phone is in your pocket. We all heard it,’ he says. ‘Now get out of my way!’ Then he tries to push past me. But I am not so easy to push, I think. His friends, they come over and everyone is tugging and pushing. Finally someone comes in the front door and shouts, ‘Hey, what’s going on?’ ” Julien laughs. “It’s Quinn, of course. He looks at me and says, ‘Come on. We’ve got to go.’ Like he’s my friend and has been looking for me. Well, I guess that was true, huh?” Julien clapped Quinn on the back. “Thank God it was a clean kill. Broken neck, no blood. Otherwise it would have been messy, no?”
Quinn started to shake his head in resignation when he noticed a woman cross the street and approach the entrance to the apartment building.
“There she is,” he said.
Both Nate and Julien turned to look.
“Come on. Do either of you have any training at all?” Quinn asked.
But Liz hadn’t noticed the attention. Her eyes were on her purse as she dug around inside. Draped over her other shoulder was a computer bag.
Once she disappeared inside, Julien let out an appreciative breath. “How does someone like you get a good-looking sister like that?”
“I never said she was my sister,” Quinn said.
“True.”
“Look,” Quinn said. “Seems to me you have a decision to make.”
Julien looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Your client is expecting you to report back.”
“Ah,” Julien said. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell them I found nothing. Basically that’s true.”
“They’re going to ask you if you were at least able to confirm that she lives here, and were able to get a photo.”
“What would you like me to say?”
“You’d lie?”
“For you, yes. I don’t spy on my … friend’s friend’s families. That’s not right.”
Quinn couldn’t help but smile. Thirty minutes ago he was punching the man in the face, and now Julien was offering to lie for him. “You’re a good man.”
“I am only good to people who are good to me.”
Quinn was silent for a moment. “All right. Tell them that as far as you can tell, it’s her apartment, but it appears like she might be out of town.”
“And the photo?”
“Tell them there wasn’t any.”
“D’accord,” Julien said.
“They’re going to ask you to keep an eye on the building,” Quinn said.
“And I’ll tell them I’m not available.”
“No,” Quinn said. “Tell them you’ll do it.”
Julien raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Think of it as free money.”
“I like the sound of free money.”
“Then you’ll like the sound of double pay even more,” Quinn said.
Julien smiled. “What do you have in mind?”
“While they will think you’re working for them, in reality, you’ll be working for me.”
They left Julien at the café and checked in to a small hotel near the Seine River. They took only one room. If things didn’t go well at Liz’s, they could get a second one later.
They each took a shower, and changed their clothes before returning to the café. Julien was sitting at the same table. He had a newspaper now, and there was a plate with the remains of a sandwich in front of him.
“I could go for something to eat,” Nate said.
“Later,” Quinn told him. To Julien, he said, “Status?”
“Unless she snuck out the back, she’s still inside,” the Frenchman told him.
Quinn shook his head. “No reason for her to do that. And no reason for us to waste any more time. Julien, check in with your client. Nate, you’re with me.”
“That will take me only a few minutes,” Julien said. “What after that?”
Quinn gave him the once-over. “Get a haircut and a shave.”
Julien grinned. “Now you ask the impossible.”
“Then maybe you can get us some hardware,” Quinn said. “You know what I like. Nate’ll take yours. So you’ll need to replace that.”
“Why don’t I bring you both nice new pieces? Nate will be happier.”
“My plan is better.”
Julien frowned. “You want me to just pass it across the table?”
Nate picked up his backpack and handed it to him. Julien gave Nate a smirk, then unzipped the top. Once the gun was safely inside, he returned it to Nate.
“Yours I should have in an hour,” he said to Quinn.
“Good. You can take two. Is Shywawa still in busi
ness?”
“Of course.”
“Then that’s where we’ll meet.”
Julien pushed himself up from the table and thumped Nate on the back.
“Make sure you don’t shoot Quinn’s relative.” With a laugh, he took off down the street.
As Nate started to rise, Quinn reached out and touched his arm, stopping him.
“I can’t have you screwing this up,” Quinn said.
“I’m not going to screw this up.”
Quinn closed his eyes for a second to focus his thoughts. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”
“Look. I get it. This isn’t about a job. This is your family. This is about as personal as it can get. But I’m part of your team, Quinn. So that means it’s just as personal for me.”
“Thanks.”
“Shall we do this?”
Quinn tried to think if there was anything else he needed to tell his apprentice beyond what he’d already filled him in on while they were at the hotel. “Liz’s anger toward me is deserved,” Quinn said. “Don’t judge her by that.”
“Judge her? Hell, if anything, I’m going to be sympathetic.”
“Let’s go over your legend again,” Quinn said, ignoring Nate’s attempt at humor.
With a sigh, Nate said, “I’m a son of a colleague. Traveling around Europe for a few months before starting grad school in January.”
“What school?”
“UCLA.”
“In?”
“History. Just like my undergrad degree.”
“Go on.”
“Since you were in Paris on business, your colleague asked you to check on me. I arrived in town today, so I decided to hang with you for a few hours, secretly hoping for a free meal. Since we were close to your sister’s apartment, you thought we should stop by. How’s that?”
“How much do you know about me?”
“Very little. You’ve done business with my father. He works at Bank of America. I don’t know which bank you work for, and I don’t even know what you do. I hate the banking business, so don’t pay much attention.”
Quinn nodded.
“Anything else you want to know?” Nate asked.
“What’s your name?”
“Nate.”
Quinn’s eyes opened wide.
“Relax,” Nate said, holding his hands up. “My name’s Andrew Cain. My father’s Andrew also, so that would make me Junior, but I never use the Junior. My friends sometimes call me Andy. My really close friends call me A.”
The Silenced Page 13
