The Deceived

by Brett Battles

  He dropped the car into drive and pressed the pedal all the way to the floor. He didn’t even bother shutting the driver side door. It did it on its own as they sped away.

  Finally feeling momentarily safe, Quinn leaned over to take a better look at Jenny.

  “Are you hit?” he asked. He hadn’t spotted any blood, but she’d gone down right after Blondie had shot at them.

  “I...I don’t think so,” she said. “I heard something next to my head, then I fell.”

  Quinn patted her legs, then her side. She winced when he reached her left shoulder.

  “I think...I think I dislocated it,” she said.

  He pushed on it a little harder, and she yelled out.

  “Phone’s in my pocket,” Quinn said to Orlando. “Call Ne Win. We need a doctor.”

  CHAPTER

  QUINN AND ORLANDO GOT JENNY INTO THE APART

  ment, while Nate drove away in the taxi, with orders to abandon it as

  far from their location as possible. They took her into the master bedroom and sat her on the bed. “How is it?” Quinn asked Jenny. “It hurts,” she said. “But I’ll be fine. You should have let me go. You

  should have let me talk to him.” “Just relax. Let’s not worry about that right now.” From down the hall they could hear the front door open. “Quinn?” It was Ne Win. “Back here,” Quinn yelled. The old man appeared at the bedroom door, trailed a second later

  by a younger man holding what looked like a medical bag. Ne Win was

  also carrying a bag, though it was more of a canvas shopping bag. “You’re the doctor?” Quinn asked. Though the man looked scared, he nodded. “Then get the hell over here,” Quinn said. Ne Win pushed the doctor through the door. “Don’t worry. Dr.

  Han good doctor. He just not have to make house call in a while.” Dr. Han quickly scanned his new patient. “What’s the problem?”

  “Shoulder,” Quinn said. “Dislocated, I think.” “Right or left?” Dr. Han asked Jenny. “Left,” Quinn said. The doctor glanced at Quinn, then bent down to get a better look

  at Jenny’s shoulder. As he began probing with his fingers, Jenny gritted

  her teeth, barely holding in whatever cry of pain she wanted to let out. “I’ll need you to remove your dress,” Dr. Han said. Jenny looked at Quinn, then Ne Win. “Maybe you two can go make some coffee,” Orlando said. Quinn didn’t want to leave. He felt responsible. But he nodded and

  turned for the door. “Quinn?” Jenny said. He stopped. “I know you were only trying to help, and that maybe you were

  right, maybe I shouldn’t have gone there.” “You’re all right now,” Quinn said. “Everything’s going to be fine.” “No, it’s not,” she said, with more force than any of them expected.

  “You don’t understand. Steven died trying to help me stop it.” “Stop what?” Her eyes grew intense, flickering wide open for a moment, then

  half closing again as if she’d spent whatever energy she’d had left. “If you really want to help me, you’ll get me to the congressman. We’re his only chance.”

  “His only chance?” Quinn said. “You listened to the tape, right? So you know,” she said. “Guerrero. We have to save him.” “Can I have a few minutes alone with my patient, please?” the doctor said. Reluctantly Quinn nodded. He wanted to hear more, but it could wait until after the doctor had left.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Ne Win said to Quinn. They were both sitting in the living room while Dr. Han worked on Jenny. “Dr. Han is okay. He does a lot of work for me.”

  “He’ll keep quiet?”

  “Very quiet. He know if he doesn’t, he is not doctor for long.”

  They fell into silence. At one point, Ne Win held out the canvas bag to Quinn.

  “The data player.”

  Quinn took it, then set it on the floor beside his feet. “Thanks.”

  The old man rose and headed toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

  Quinn shook his head.

  For twenty minutes, neither of them spoke. Ne Win slowly sipped his glass of water, while Quinn tried to make sense of everything. Why would she want to save Guerrero? He was the one after her. It was one of his men that had shot at her. It was his men that had undoubtedly killed her boyfriend.

  Quinn looked over at Ne Win. “Why did you send Markoff to me?”

  The old man looked at him. For nearly half a minute, neither of them even moved.

  “I only did what he told me to do,” Ne Win said.

  “What?” Quinn asked, not sure he’d heard the old man correctly.

  But Ne Win remained silent.

  “Are you saying Markoff told you to send his body to me?”

  It seemed as though Ne Win was still not going to say anything, then he leaned forward. “He told me if anything happened to him, I should get word to you.”

  It was almost as if the air had suddenly gained weight. It pressed down on him as if trying to collapse him.

  Markoff.

  He was the one who had wanted Quinn involved. It wasn’t just chance, or someone thinking Quinn should have been the one to bury his old friend. It had been Markoff from the beginning.

  “Tell me what happened,” Quinn said.

  Ne Win thought for a moment, then began to speak. “He came to me, much like you did this week. Need my help. I think okay. Markoff always fair with me. No problem help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “A little equipment,” Ne Win said, then added, “and some manpower.”

  “Manpower?”

  “One guy. Markoff doing surveillance. Needed someone to help him.”

  “The Quayside Villas,” Quinn said.

  “He did not tell me where.”

  “But your man did.”

  “My man is dead. Like Markoff.”

  Quinn paused. “I’m sorry.”

  Ne Win leaned back in his chair. “Something happened and they caught Markoff. My man trail them, trying to see where they take him. He call me on the phone and tell me what was happening. I say to him to call me back when he knows where they go. While I wait, I get my other men together. But no call back.”

  Quinn looked at the old man, letting Ne Win go at his own pace.

  “For four days, nothing. I know they dead, but I keep looking, asking people who might have seen something. Most give me nothing. Finally one woman tell me about activity down at a storage facility for shipping containers. We go have a look.”

  “That’s where you found Markoff,” Quinn said.

  “Yes,” Ne Win said. “He already dead, two, three days.”

  “What about your man?”

  “He not there. One day later, his body wash up on beach.”

  Silence.

  “The message in the container,” Quinn said. “Was that there when you found Markoff, or did you write it?”

  “Message already there.”

  “Did you know what it meant?”

  “No. But I figure it important.”

  “That’s why you sent me the whole crate,” Quinn said.

  A slight smile touched Ne Win’s lips. “Many times Markoff say how much he trust you. You his good friend.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “When you and I work together, I see what he mean. You good at

  what you do. You reliable, and you trust but with eyes open.” “I try,” Quinn said. “Whatever Markoff was doing he didn’t tell me, okay? I know

  nothing about the Quayside. I know nothing about anything. I could

  do only what he ask me to do. So I send him to you.” “Great. Thanks,” Quinn said. “It worked, yes?” Ne Win said. “You find Jenny. You save her.

  Now you get her out.”

  Quinn smiled weakly. Jenny’s words came back to him. We’re his only chance. We have to save him. Getting her away didn’t look quite as simple as it had a few hours earlier.

  “I may need your help,” he said. “Sure. I can get you out of country.” Quinn shook
his head. “No. That’s not what I mean.” The look in Ne Win’s eyes became guarded. “I give lot of help al

  ready.” “You have,” Quinn agreed. “But I may need more.” He told the old man about what he’d found in the fourth-floor

  apartment at the Quayside Villas. “Not possible,” Ne Win said. “Anyone running weapons here I know about. No one in Quayside. You’re wrong. It’s something else.”

  “I agree. It is something else. It’s only supposed to look like it belongs to an arms dealer. What will the Singapore police think when they go in there? Or even the FBI or CIA?”

  Ne Win tilted his head back as he sucked in a breath through his

  nose. “They will believe what they want to believe.” “Right,” Quinn said. “Depending on how and why they find it.” The old man seemed to think about Quinn’s words for a moment.

  “Yes. Depending on how and why. So you think it’s fake.”

  “You said it yourself. Anyone running weapons in Singapore you’d know about, and you didn’t know about this. So, yes. I think someone has set it up to be found. Under the right conditions.”

  “And what are those conditions?” Ne Win asked. “That’s where I might need your help.” “You want me to find out?” Ne Win asked, his tone doubtful.

  “I want you to keep your ears open, sure,” Quinn said. “But no. I’ll try to find out what’s up. It’s what we do about it after where you might come in.”

  Ne Win looked at Quinn for several seconds, neither of them

  moving nor saying a word. Finally the old man nodded once. “Okay.” Dr. Han and Orlando appeared at the end of the hallway a few

  minutes later.

  “I think it was a temporary dislocation when she fell. Without an X-ray, I can’t tell for sure. It hasn’t really swollen up yet, but it should soon.”

  “Thanks, Doctor,” Quinn said. He stood up and started walking

  toward the hallway. “Hold on,” the doctor said. “You can’t talk to her right now.” “Why not?” Quinn asked. “I gave her something for the pain. Knocked her out a few min

  utes ago. Sleep is what she really needs anyway.”

  “Wonderful,” Quinn said. He was anxious to talk to her, but he also knew the doctor was right. Sleep was what she needed. Sleep was what they all needed.

  “I should probably come back in the morning,” Dr. Han said. “We’ll call you first,” Quinn said. He wanted to stay flexible. “Whatever you’d like.” As the doctor headed for the door, Ne Win stood and started to

  follow. “Call me as soon as you know,” Ne Win said to Quinn as he stood in the open door. “This is my island. I don’t like surprises like this.” As soon as Ne Win and Dr. Han had left, Orlando said, “What

  was that all about?” “He’s going to help us.” “Help us what?” she asked. Quinn told her about his conversation with Ne Win. “So Markoff meant for you to be involved all along,” she said. “Looks that way.” “If he was alive right now, I’d kill him,” Orlando said. “Why?” Quinn asked. “He’s only been trying to help Jenny.”

  She let out a soft, derisive snort. “Have you stopped to take a look at yourself lately? Have you seen what this has done to you? His death has consumed you.”

  “Then why did you come with me?” he asked.

  Anger flashed in her eyes, and she opened her mouth but stopped herself before any word escaped. After a moment, she said, “You know why. You’re just not letting yourself see it.”

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then, as if he was unsure if the words had actually escaped his lips, he said again, “I’m sorry.”

  He felt her fingertips on his arm, moving slowly up and down, their very presence calming him. Then she moved to him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head against his shoulder.

  “I go anywhere you need me. It doesn’t matter why,” she said.

  He placed his hands on her back and held her. For the first time he could remember, he was no longer alone.

  They stood like that for several minutes, then finally Orlando leaned back.

  “You should get some sleep,” she said.

  “We both should,” he said.

  She picked up the canvas bag with the data cassette player inside and carried it over to her computer on the table. “I need to get the tape going first. Make sure everything is running correctly.”

  Once everything was connected, she turned on the computer, typed her password, then accessed a software application. Quinn wasn’t familiar with it, but it was easy to see it had something to do with audio.

  “Since the tape is so damaged, I want to make sure we get it the first time. This will take a little longer than normal,” Orlando said. “But it’ll interpolate the damaged audio, then filter out any extraneous noise.”

  “How long?” Quinn asked.

  “No way to tell for sure. I don’t know how much is on this tape. But no more than ten hours. Should be done in the morning.” She yawned.

  “Sleep time, I think,” Quinn said. “Which room do you want?” “Quinn,” she said. The look on her face wasn’t a happy one. “What?” “What the hell’s wrong with you?” She grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the hallway.

  CHAPTER

  THE SUN WAS SHINING BRIGHTLY BEYOND THE WIN

  dows of the bedroom when Quinn opened his eyes. His back ached, but that wasn’t surprising. He’d spent the night sleeping on the floor of the master bedroom so that he would be close if Jenny needed anything.

  Orlando was beside him, tucked against his side, her head on his chest. It was nearly the identical position they’d been in when they’d fallen asleep hours before. They had been too exhausted to do anything more than hold each other.

  He could hear Jenny breathing evenly on the bed. She had stirred only once during the night, but had not come fully awake—a bad dream, no doubt, probably heightened by Dr. Han’s pain medication.

  Quinn tried to slip his arm out from under Orlando without waking her, but she stirred, then suddenly stretched. Her eyes opened just enough to look at him through her intertwined lashes.

  “What time is it?” she whispered.

  He looked at his watch. “Ten-forty,” he said, surprised. It was the longest night of sleep he’d had since Markoff had turned up dead.

  He pushed himself up, then pulled on his jeans and a black polo shirt. “I’ll make coffee.”

  The pot was almost done when he heard Orlando come down the hall. He waited until the coffee was finished, then filled two cups and carried them into the living room.

  Orlando had changed clothes and had pulled her hair back into a ponytail. It looked like she’d run some water over her face, too. She looked refreshed and ready to go.

  She was sitting at the table with her laptop open again. Quinn set one of the cups down beside the computer.

  “Did it finish processing?” he said.

  “Looks like it.”

  “And?”

  “Hold on,” she said.

  The folder on the screen displayed a single file. She opened it.

  “Is that coffee?”

  They both looked up. Nate walked into the living room looking only half awake.

  “In the kitchen,” Quinn said.

  With a grunt of thanks, Nate shuffled across the room and out of sight.

  “Let’s hear it,” Quinn said to Orlando.

  She hit the Play button, but no sound came out of the speakers.

  Orlando stopped the playback, then moved the cursor to the middle of the file timeline and started it again. Again there was nothing.

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.

  “Hold on.”

  She tried a couple different spots on the timeline with the same result.

  “What’s going on?” Nate asked as he emerged from the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

  “Not now,” Quinn said.

  Orlando had opened the conversion software she’d been using and was e
xamining the log. After a moment, she shook her head and closed the program.

  “What is it?” Quinn asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It should play. The log says it converted fine.”

  She tried the file again. Dead air.

  She leaned back and stared at the screen.

  “There was something on the tape,” Quinn said. “Right?”

  “Yes, there was something on the tape,” she snapped. “Please, just...give me a few minutes to figure this out.”

  “Sure,” Quinn said. He touched her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” she said, glaring up at him. “There should be something here. We should be hearing it.”

  Quinn went into the kitchen to refresh his coffee and to give Orlando a little space. When he returned, her mood seemed to have gotten worse.

  “It should be there,” she said. “There’s no reason why it’s not.”

  “Then run it again,” he said.

  “That’ll take another day.”

  “Okay, so it takes another day. We’ve got nothing now.”

  “Another day will be too late,” Jenny said. She was standing near the entrance to the hall, her good shoulder propping her up against the wall. “Can I get some water?”

  Quinn shot Nate a look, then nodded toward the kitchen.

  “I’ll get it,” Nate said.

  Quinn walked over to Jenny. He put an arm around her waist and guided her into the living room.

  “Sit down,” he said when they reached the couch.

  She didn’t need to be told twice.

  “How’s the shoulder?” he asked.

  “Not too bad if I don’t move it.”

  Nate came back in carrying a glass of water. He handed it to Jenny, and they all watched while she took a drink.

  “What did you mean?” Quinn asked after she set the glass down. “Why too late?”

  “It was on the tape,” she said. “If you’d been able to listen to it, you’d have understood.”

  “We don’t have that option right now,” Quinn told her. “You’re going to have to tell us what was there.”

  She looked down at the glass in her hand and sighed. “They’re going to kill him,” she said. “Today.”