There were two windows in the room. One was narrow and too small for even her to fit through. The other was Julien’s emergency escape exit. Anyone else who looked at it would see a window in a frame that had been painted over so much it wouldn’t open. But a switch would release the frame and allow the whole thing to be shoved out or pulled in. The problem was, Julien had only shown her the switch once, and she couldn’t remember where it was.
The man called out her name again. She ignored him and searched along the wall for something that would trigger her memory.
A sudden, muffled crash caused her to whip around. It could have only been someone breaking through the front door. Maybe he’d been telling her the truth. Maybe there were others.
It didn’t matter. Others or not, she had to get out of there now.
Where the hell is that damn switch?
As she desperately tried to find the window release, she heard the spit of a sound-suppressed gun, followed quickly by several more shots.
Where are you? Where are you? Where—
Hold on. What was that?
She moved her gaze back a few feet. She’d been looking at a bookcase, then the top of the dresser. There’d been something, something that had seemed familiar.
There!
She rushed over to the dresser. On the wall just above it were several framed photographs. They were all shots Julien had taken around Rome. It was a specific one that had drawn her attention—an image of a fountain in a small plaza where two kids were jumping in the water.
“See,” Julien had said. “To play like this is an escape to a different world. Simple, huh?”
She lifted the picture off its hook. Behind it, recessed into the wall, was a plastic switch that looked like it might turn on a light.
As she started to reach for it, there was a second crash. Not the front door this time.
The door to her room.
__________
QUINN TWISTED AROUND in time to see the front door fly inward on its hinges.
Both he and Nate pulled out their guns at the same time, and aimed them toward the still-unoccupied opening. Quinn didn’t like this one bit. Based on the conversation he’d had with Peter, it was clear the former head of the Office had been charged with finding Mila, so it didn’t take a genius to figure out that whoever had just busted down the door was probably working for him. Mila was a loose end on a termination Peter had ultimately been responsible for. That meant it was a mess he’d want to clean up before anyone else found out.
“We can’t let them see us,” Quinn whispered. “I don’t want anyone knowing we’re here.”
“Do we take them out?”
“Not if we can help it.” That would cause even more problems.
“I’m heading your way,” Daeng said over the comm.
“No,” Quinn said. “We don’t know where they all are, so someone might be watching the entrance. You’re no use to us dead.”
“Neither are you.”
Someone moved a few inches into the doorway and tried to look in. Quinn let off a warning shot, hoping that would delay them long enough so that he could figure something out. Instead, it elicited a round of blind fire into the room.
Not wanting the strike team to just rush in, Quinn and Nate shot back.
“We need to get in the bedroom,” Quinn whispered.
“You hold them. I’ll get us in.”
As Nate ran back to the closed bedroom door, Quinn let off a couple more shots. How much longer they could keep the others out of the apartment, he didn’t know, nor did he have any idea what he’d do if they came in.
Behind him, there was a loud crash, followed quickly by a second one.
“Come on,” Nate whispered.
Quinn sent three more rounds through the apartment then sprinted to the back end of the hall.
The door to the bedroom had been cracked nearly in half. Nate pushed it and the chair that had been jammed under the knob out of the way.
“Stop,” Mila said as Quinn and Nate rushed in.
She was by the dresser, holding a pistol. Both men halted a few feet inside the room.
“It is you,” she said.
“Of course, it’s me,” Quinn replied. “But we can say hi later. Right now, we’ve got to get out of here.” In the apartment, more bullets smacked into the walls. Soon the others would realize the return fire had stopped and they’d rush in. “If we can get to the kitchen, we can get out the window and drop down to the courtyard.”
She seemed to be contemplating something, then said, “You’d better not be lying to me.”
“Lying?” Nate said, annoyed. “Those aren’t rubber bullets they’ve been shooting at us.”
Mila lowered her gun. “We don’t need the kitchen.”
She reached over and flipped a light switch that had been oddly installed inside a wall divot above the dresser. From the left came the faint sound of metal moving against metal.
“You want out, follow me,” she said.
She hurried over to the larger of the room’s two windows and pushed on it. It moved several inches. She pushed again, and this time it popped out of the opening, and fell out of sight. A few seconds later, there was the crash of glass as it hit the ground. Mila was already climbing through the opening.
Daeng’s voice suddenly cut over the comm. “I’m on the street. Do I come in or not?”
“Clear out the hotel,” Quinn said quickly. “We’ll meet you at the emergency rendezvous point.”
“Are you sure?” Daeng asked.
“Yes.”
Daeng hesitated. “All right. You will make it, right?”
“That’s the plan.”
Nate nodded toward the window. “Go with her. I’ll buy us a little time.”
Quinn went after Mila and stuck his head out the window. The space outside was a narrow gap, not much more than six feet wide between adjoining buildings. On the ground below was the shattered window. Unfortunately, there were no exits at either end, just walls that would trap them there. Behind him, he could hear Nate shoot off a couple of rounds.
“This way!” Mila called out.
Quinn looked up. She was a floor above him. Her feet were on Julien’s building while her hands were pressed against the one on the other side of the gap. She was working her way toward the roof two more floors above. It wasn’t exactly the best escape route ever, but better than any of their other choices.
Quinn moved out and joined her. He’d made it about half a floor before Nate exited the apartment and started climbing behind him.
There was no question they were in a race against time. If the others stuck their heads out the window before the three of them reached the top, it was all over.
Hand, foot, hand, foot, up, up, up.
Quinn kept glancing down at the opening into Julien’s apartment.
Any second now.
He was so focused on watching for the danger below that he wasn’t paying attention to his own position. As he reached up, he found nothing for his hand to grab on to.
The top! Dammit!
He tried to snag the edge, but his balance was off and he started to swing to the side. Suddenly, a hand thrust out and grabbed his wrist, steadying him.
“I got you,” Mila said.
He clamped on to the lip of the building and let his feet drop against the wall so that he was dangling high above the ground. Pushing up with his arms, he swung his legs over the edge, and rolled onto the safety of the roof.
“Thanks,” he said to Mila.
She grunted in response as she moved a few feet away, her gaze suspicious.
Quinn glanced back into the gap just in time to see Nate grab for the top. He guided Nate’s hand up, then hooked him beneath the arms and pulled. As he did, a head appeared out of Julien’s window. The man looked down first, then twisted around and looked toward the sky.
“Hang on,” Quinn said, yanking as hard as he could.
Just as Nate cleared the ed
ge, two bullets slammed into the wall inches from where he’d been.
“Had to leave the bag,” Nate said.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Nate glanced around. “Where’s the girl?”
“What?” Quinn twisted around, his head jerking side to side.
Mila was gone.
Near the middle of the roof was a small structure that undoubtedly served as roof access for a set of stairs. But using them would be suicide. They were on the building right next to Julien’s. Trying to leave from it would be a foot race they’d lose for sure. He couldn’t imagine that Mila hadn’t realized that, too.
He stood up and quickly scanned the surrounding roofs. “There,” he said with relief.
She was one building away and preparing to hop across to the roof of another.
He sprinted after her, with Nate only a step behind him. They jumped to the next building without breaking stride.
“Wait!” Quinn yelled.
Mila didn’t even look back.
The next gap was wider. They had to stop, back up a bit, then make a run at it and jump. By then, Mila was already on the adjacent roof, but instead of continuing on, she headed for the building’s stairwell door.
“Mila, no!”
Again, she acted as if she hadn’t heard him.
“I got her,” Nate said.
In a burst of speed, he raced past Quinn, jumped the next gap, and made a beeline for the access door Mila had just gone through. As Quinn ran after him, he could hear sirens heading in their direction. Someone had called the cops. Normally, that would have been a problem, but in this case, unless the ones shooting at them were complete idiots, they would be forced to make themselves scarce. Anything that accomplished that would be a good thing.
He rushed through the door and onto a small landing, quickly grabbing the handrail to keep from losing control. He’d expected to hear the steps of the other two pounding down the stairs somewhere below him, but what he heard instead were the unmistakable sounds of a struggle.
He found them lying on the third-floor landing. Nate was behind Mila, his arms wrapped tightly around her, and his legs entwined in hers so she couldn’t kick out. That wasn’t stopping her from trying, though, or from attempting to head-butt him in the chin.
“I could use a little help,” Nate grunted as Mila jammed her head back again.
“You can let her go,” Quinn said.
“Are you sure?”
“She’s not going anywhere.” To make certain of that, he blocked the flight of stairs leading down.
Mila went on struggling as if she hadn’t heard Quinn.
“Relax,” Nate told her.
As he let go, he scooted away to avoid being hit. She rolled onto her hands and knees, and jumped to her feet.
“Get out of my way!” she yelled at Quinn.
He held his ground. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Then why did your partner tackle me?”
“Wasn’t exactly something I wanted to do,” Nate said, standing.
Quinn could see several red marks on Nate’s neck and face, and what looked like teeth marks on his hand. He focused on Mila.
“What the hell were you thinking showing up again? You’re going to get yourself killed for sure this time.”
Her jaw clenched, she said, “I don’t care. I don’t have a choice.”
“What are you talking about? Mila, do you want to really get killed this time?”
She stepped toward him and tried to push him to the side, but he wouldn’t move. “Please. Get out of my way.”
“I can’t.”
“Move!”
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because Julien’s not alive to save you from yourself. It’s my job now.”
__________
WHEN THE CALL came in, both Peter and Olsen were in their shared office.
Peter checked the ID.
“Is it them?” Olsen asked.
Peter nodded, then picked up the call. “Report.”
“The team we’d designated Group C turned out to be a direct hit,” Michaels said.
“Is that so?”
“They led us to an apartment, and a little while later, the woman arrived.”
Peter knew Julien and Mila had been close, and that Julien had lived in Rome up until his death. Where, exactly, Peter hadn’t been able to find out. It had been a risk to send the team there, but it’d been the only lead Peter had. After that it had been up to Michaels to find out who else might be working in the city, and perhaps helping the woman. Peter was happy it had paid off.
“Did you get her?”
Michaels hesitated. “No.”
Peter forced himself not to look at Olsen. “Go on.”
“We gave her some lead time, then followed. When we broke down the door, we ended up exchanging fire with the two men we’ve apparently been tracking. Unfortunately, they made their escape through a back window. And…”
When his team leader didn’t go on, Peter said, “Michaels?”
Though he could hear the other man breathing, Michaels still said nothing. That’s when Peter realized the man must have information he wanted to give Peter, but wasn’t sure he should be relaying it over this call. Peter said, “It’s clear—to me, anyway—that they’ve been working together.”
It wasn’t quite standard code, but Michaels got the message. “I’m only talking to you?”
“Right,” Peter said.
“Okay. I got a glimpse of the guys with her. They were a couple dozen feet above me, and backlit by the sky, so not easy to get a good read on them, but…”
“Yes?”
“I can’t be sure, but one of them stuck his head over the edge of the roof, and, well, I think it might have been…Quinn.”
Quinn? What would Quinn be doing in Rome with a woman he was supposed to have disposed of years ago? “Is that a positive?”
He could hear Michaels take a breath. “Sixty percent, maybe. I wouldn’t put it much more than that.”
Low, but still more than Peter liked.
“I can tell you one thing,” Michaels said. “The apartment belonged to the Frenchman. There were pictures inside of him, some with the woman, some without.”
“Where do you think…she is now?” He almost said “they,” but caught himself at the last second. For the time being, it was better if Olsen was unaware of Quinn’s involvement, at least until Peter knew more.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know. The police showed up so we had to pull out before we could locate her again.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Just a few minutes.”
“She can’t be far, then. You need to find her.”
“Understood,” Michaels said.
As soon as Peter hung up, Olsen asked, “They missed her? How?”
In the time it took Peter to pick up his empty coffee cup and stand up, he considered his options and came up with a course of action. “Apparently she wasn’t alone. She and her companions were able to get away.”
“Who was with her?”
Peter shook his head. “The team wasn’t able to get a visual on them. No way to know.”
“So they’ve lost her?”
“For the moment.” Peter headed for the door.
“You’re awfully calm about this,” Olsen said.
Peter paused. “It’s only a matter of time before we find her again.”
“That’d better be true. Otherwise this will all fall on you.”
CHAPTER 18
FRIDAY, MAY 12th 2006
12:53 PM
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
WHEN QUINN SAW Julien exit the terminal at McCarren Airport, he hit SEND on his phone, shooting off the text he’d written ahead of time.
The Frenchman stopped and pulled out his own cell. After reading the message he’d just received, he casually turned away from the line of taxis, walked over to the crosswalk, waited un
til traffic had stopped, and made his way onto the bridge that led to the parking structure.
Quinn lowered his binoculars and started the car. He arrived at the exit to the stairwell just as Julien came up the final step. The Frenchman threw his bag into the trunk, climbed into the front passenger seat, and they took off.
“I did not know I was so important,” Julien said, then let out a low, full laugh. “A personal pickup?”
“I had a little time.”
“Merci beaucoup.”
Quinn nodded, but said nothing else as they exited the parking garage.
“I’d forgotten how brown it is here,” Julien said as they drove toward the Strip.
“It is the desert.”
“Sure, but you don’t think about that when you think about Vegas.”
“Maybe you don’t think about that. I do, every time. Looks better at night, I guess.”
“The neon,” Julien said, excitement in his voice. “Yes. I remember.” He paused. “So, do you think there will be any time to do a little gambling?”
“Probably not.”
Though Quinn had told himself when he asked Julien to fly out that he was still unsure what he was going to do about Mila, the truth was, the moment Julien became involved, the future was set. Quinn could no longer pretend there were any other options. There was only one road they could go down now.
He pulled into a gas station near the Strip, and parked off to the side. For a few seconds he stared out the window, then he turned to Julien.
“What is it, my friend?” the Frenchman asked.
“I had an ulterior motive for having you come out here.”
Julien nodded. “I thought there might be something. The notice was very short, and…” He shrugged. “I’m sure you could have found someone closer who could do whatever you needed done. So, is there a job, or is this something else?”
“There is a job and it’s something else.”
“Two things?”
“One thing that’s both.”
One of Julien’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “Now you have my interest.”
“You’re going to wish that wasn’t the case.”
__________
QUINN LAID IT all out for him, going step by step through Jergins’s plan, and ending it by telling Julien who the intended target was.
The Destroyed Page 13
