“Quinn! Hurry!” Misty yelled down from the storage locker.
In the tunnel behind him, Quinn could hear a muffled growing roar, and knew Peter’s self-destruct system had kicked in. He sprinted the rest of the way to the ladder and scrambled up, making it almost to the hatch before the heat reached him.
Daeng extended a hand to him. “Take it!”
Quinn grabbed it and let Daeng yank him up to the safety of the locker. The moment he rolled out of the way, Daeng shoved the hatch down until it snapped in place.
Quinn lay on the floor, panting. “That was…not ten…minutes,” he growled between breaths.
“It was, if you take it from when the first video said it was starting,” Daeng said.
Quinn pushed himself up, annoyed. “Well, Peter certainly didn’t make that clear, did he?”
“No, my friend, he did not.”
“You’re all right, though, right?” Misty asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Good.” She punched him in the arm.
“Hey, what’s that for?”
Glaring at him, nostrils flaring, she said, “You could have gotten killed!”
“You were the one who wanted to stay,” he said.
“It shouldn’t have taken that long.”
“I wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything, so I took a quick look around.”
“Well?” Daeng asked. “Did we?”
Quinn shook his head. “No.”
Misty hit him again.
CHAPTER 14
ZURICH, SWITZERLAND
The meeting was held at the Hotel de Grasse, District 1, in an out-of-the-way room on the third floor. Morten had used the location multiple times, the hotel’s underground parking garage and private elevator that exited directly across from the meeting room perfect for maintaining his clients’ anonymity.
While a table and chairs were at one end of the room, Morten, as always, chose to use the sitting area at the other end. He was sitting in a blue, cloth-covered chair while his client — his potential client — was sitting on the matching couch.
This was their second meeting. The first had been four days earlier in Berlin. A meet-and-greet set up by the client’s chief of staff. This second meeting was the proof-of-concept meeting, where Morten would explain exactly what Darvot Consulting could do for the client.
“This is what I mean,” Morten said.
From inside his briefcase, he pulled out an eight-by-ten photograph.
“I’m not sure I want to see that,” the man said.
“Oh, I’m sure you will.”
Morten laid it on the coffee table. The picture showed two people in mid-copulation.
Despite his earlier protest, the man leaned forward and picked it up. “Is that…”
“Yes.” The male half of the couple in the photo was the popular sitting parliament member against whom Morten’s potential client was running in an upcoming election.
“That’s not his wife.”
“It most decidedly is not,” Morten agreed. “She’s the daughter of one of his constituents.”
The man was having a hard time hiding his revulsion. “How old is she?”
“Seventeen.”
Morten reached over and plucked the picture back.
“So what?” the man said. “You propose to release that? Is that the idea?”
Morten looked at the picture for a moment before putting it back in his briefcase. “What would that do? Yes, it might win you the election, but there would be a very good chance your own credibility would be undermined. People would assume you had something to do with releasing the picture. At best you’d last no more than one term. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not. Then what are you proposing?”
Morten smiled. “Your opponent would be approached. A quiet meeting, much like this one. He will learn of the pictures, and trust me, there are more than just the single shot. In fact, there’s more than just this one girl. He will then be given a choice. He will either do as we say, or the pictures will be released.”
“But you said if the pictures are released, I’ll get the blame.”
“Not if they’re released after the election. He’ll be forced to resign and a special election will be held, where you will then be the favorite.”
“And if he takes the deal?”
“Then he’ll throw the election for us.”
“How?”
“This is where you need to trust me. This is not the first time I’ve done this.”
By the time Morten headed back upstairs to his room, the man had moved from potential client to paying client. There had never really been any doubt. Morten had been doing this for a long time, and knew exactly how to hook the greedy. At least it wasn’t like the early years, when he had to be a little more involved in the execution of jobs. Now his focus was almost entirely on cultivating new business, instead of leaking stories or identifying bodies at an “accident” scene, or luring targets to faux meetings that would put them in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Of course, there were a few exceptions, like having to worry about old jobs that seemed to have risen from the dead.
As soon as he entered his suite, he activated the electronic bug jammer, and put in a call to his enforcer.
“So?” he asked.
“Nothing new,” Griffin replied.
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“Forensics swept the apartment, but whoever was there left no fingerprints.”
“Cameras?”
“Several security cameras were identified in the area, but none had a good angle.”
Morten’s jaw tensed. “Anything more on the house in Virginia?”
“Not yet,” Griffin said. “I’m going to call them as soon as we finish, and have them do a forensic check there also.”
“If O & O can’t come up with anything, pull the job and do it yourself.”
“Exactly what I was planning.”
“Good,” Morten said.
He hung up, grabbed the bottle of thirty-year-old Macallan whisky from the bar, and poured a generous amount into a tumbler. He took a drink.
Old. Goddamn. Jobs.
This one in particular shouldn’t have been a problem anymore. Peter was dead. They’d made that happen. Morten had made that happen. And with the son of a bitch’s death, that should have been it. No more chances of exposure.
Done. Finished. Completed.
Morten took another drink. As the whisky trickled down his throat, he could finally feel his body calming, and his thoughts becoming more reasonable.
There was no way to know if the people who’d been in Peter’s apartment knew anything even loosely connected to Morten or his boss. Peter had been involved in a multitude of things over the years, all potential reasons for why someone would’ve wanted a look inside his flat.
Yes, Morten needed to stay vigilant, but he didn’t need to get worked up. This was merely another project. Find the trio, figure out why they were there, then, no matter the reason, eliminate them.
Keep it simple. Get it done.
He smiled as he raised the glass back to his lips.
CHAPTER 15
VIRGINIA
Within minutes of driving away from the storage facility, Misty was slumped against the back door of Howard’s car, staring out the window. The chaos of the past twenty-four hours — twice being hunted by armed assault teams, seeing Peter again, the near immolation in the bunker — had clearly taken its toll on her.
Quinn tried to get her to talk, but it was as if she didn’t even hear him. Turning to Howard, he said, “Any place around here to get a room? Doesn’t have to be flashy.”
Howard thought for a moment before he said, “Yeah, I know a good place.”
He drove them to the Homestead Studio Suites just north of the tollway, and arranged for a room in the back wing. Once inside, Misty immediately lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. The others settled into
the sitting area by the window, where Quinn pulled the wooden box out of his pocket.
“So that’s it, huh?” Howard asked.
Quinn turned the box, taking a good look at it for the first time. The lid was hinged and clasped shut. Carved across the top were two rows of vines paralleling the edge. More vines were carved into the sides, while the bottom was smooth and unadorned.
Quinn flipped the clasp and opened the lid. Almost the entire interior was taken up by black packing foam, like the kind used in cases that carried electronics and musical instruments. Cut in the very center was a small round hole, and in that hole a chrome metal cylinder.
He pulled it out. It was no more than a half-inch long, and flat on each end.
“That doesn’t look like a thumb drive to me,” Daeng said.
“No,” Quinn said. He looked closely at the top and saw it was a movable lid, pinned at the edge. “It’s a canister.”
Gently, he moved the top away so he could look inside. Tucked within the cylinder was a roll of something that looked like thin plastic. He turned the canister over, and the roll fell easily into his palm.
“What is it?” Daeng asked.
Quinn held it out so the other two could see it. “Microfilm.”
“Microfilm? That’s kind of old school, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
Quinn twisted the roll around, examining it. There were no signs of age, and it felt flexible between his fingers. Still wary that it might be a relic from Peter’s past, he carefully took hold of the end and unrolled the first inch. It felt strong and gave no sign it might break, so he held it up to the light. All he saw was black, so he unspooled another inch and raised it again. There were brighter frames now, with little black squiggles running through them.
Words, he guessed. Documents or notes.
Instead of unrolling only another inch, he kept going until the entire strip was open. More documents. Then frames with color. Pictures, maybe? He couldn’t make out anything.
He lowered the film. “Either of you have glasses? Reading? Prescription? Anything?”
Daeng and Howard shook their heads.
“I do,” Misty said, raising her head off the bed. Apparently she hadn’t been asleep, as he’d thought. “Reading glasses. They’re in my purse.” She started to sit up, then stopped and closed her eyes, her shoulders drooping. “Which is under the seat in my car.”
Her car was still parked near Peter’s place.
“I think we passed a Target store not far from here,” Daeng said.
Quinn put the film back in the canister. “Can I borrow your keys?” he asked Howard.
“Of course.” Howard handed them to Quinn. “You want some company?”
“No, you two stay here.” Though he didn’t expect another group of armed men to break into their hotel room, there was no sense in taking chances, and two watching over Misty was better than one.
As he headed toward the door, Misty swung her legs off the bed and stood up. “Is there something I can do? Anything?”
He stopped. “The most important thing you can do right now is rest.”
“I can’t sleep. I just keep thinking about Peter and the video.” She looked lost, helpless. “Can I see what you found?”
“Sure.” He handed her the metal canister.
She opened the top but didn’t dump out the film. “Just like Peter. There were certain things he liked physical copies of.” She handed the cylinder back, her eyes half full of tears.
Quinn wanted to comfort her, but he couldn’t find the correct words, so he said, “I won’t be long,” and left.
Daeng had been right. There was a Target right around the corner. Instead of hunting for reading glasses, Quinn went directly to the office supply area and found a magnifying glass. He pulled out the microfilm and did a quick test. The glass blew up the images enough so that if the text had been readable, he should’ve been able to make it out. Unfortunately, it was illegible. What he saw were lines made up of tiny squares — some alone, some connected only at their corners, some side by side. It was like they wanted to be text but weren’t.
He looked around to make sure he was still alone before unrolling more of the film. When he reached one of the color frames, he checked it. More squares, clearly not randomly sequenced, but impossible to decipher.
Peter had warned that the information would be encrypted, but Quinn had hoped he could comprehend something.
He rerolled the film, put it back into the canister, and returned the magnifying glass to where he’d found it. He would have to figure out a way to get the frames digitized so he could then have them decoded.
On his way out, he made a quick stop in the drugs section and picked up a bottle of Tylenol PM, thinking maybe it would help Misty get some sleep. At the checkout counter, the cashier had just started to ring him up when his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and was surprised the call was from Nate.
“Seven seventy-eight,” the clerk said.
Quinn raised his phone to his ear. “Nate?”
“You’re going to want to head back,” Nate said.
“What happened? Is there a problem?”
“Sir,” the cashier said. “Seven seventy-eight.”
“Not a problem,” Nate said. “But…”
“What?” Quinn asked as he fished a twenty out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier.
“Orlando. She just woke up.”
For half a second, the world disappeared.
Awake?
As happy as the news was, Quinn was also angry. He had wanted to be there. Needed to be there. Needed to be the first thing she saw.
“Excuse me, sir.”
Quinn snapped back.
The cashier was holding out his hand. “Your change?”
“Oh, thanks.”
Quinn grabbed the change and the bag holding the pills, and headed for the door.
“When did this happen?” he asked Nate.
“Five minutes ago.”
“Did…did she ask for me?”
“She hasn’t said anything yet.”
Why not? Quinn wondered. Was there something wrong? Had something affected her speech? Or worse, her mind?
But he didn’t ask. The only thing important now was getting back to her side.
“Tell her I’m on my way.”
* * *
At the client’s request, Central dispatched a second forensics team to the house in Arlington Ridge. He was sure it was a waste of time, but the client was insistent, and it wasn’t Central’s place to question. What was Central’s place was going above and beyond for clients whenever feasible. In other words, if you had people sitting around doing nothing, and there was an angle on a client’s job that could get done, do it. Director Stone always said showing the client they were willing to go the extra mile was a good way to make sure the client used O & O again.
As Central went over the reports from the previous day, he had noted a hole in one of their operations pertaining to this client. The assignment in question was the forensic follow-up at the Georgetown apartment. While the apartment itself had been thoroughly checked and deemed clean, the area around the building had been neglected.
Though unlikely, it was possible the intruders had left clues to their identities outside during the chases. There was also the matter of transportation. While the group had left on foot, it was not known how they had arrived. Sure, if they had driven there, chances were the vehicle would have been retrieved by now, but it was something worth checking.
And Central did have a two-man recon team available.
He mulled it over for less than a minute, but could think of no serious argument against doing it. So he located Teig’s number on his computer and clicked CONNECT.
“Hello?”
“Teig? This is Central. I have an assignment for you.”
* * *
“She’s awake,” Quinn said as he reentered the hotel room.
Misty apparently had
decided not to lie back down, and had joined Daeng and Howard in the sitting area. “Orlando?” she asked.
Quinn nodded.
“When?” Daeng said.
“Within the last half hour. I…I’ve got to go.”
“Of course. Do you want me to come with you or stay?”
Quinn thought for a moment. “I’d like you to stay until we’re sure things have calmed down here, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
Quinn looked at Howard. “Is there any safe place, not connected to the business, where you all could hole up for a while?”
Howard took a moment to consider the question. “I have a friend who has a cabin in the forest near the border with West Virginia. As far as I know, he’s not using it right now.”
“And he’s not in our world?
“Not even close.”
“Good. You can drop me at the airport on the way.”
“Wait,” Misty said. “What about my car? My purse?”
Quinn had forgotten about the car. Before he could come up with an answer, Howard said, “We could swing by there. Probably a good idea to move it out of the neighborhood just in case, don’t you think?”
Quinn knew it was risky, but leaving Misty’s car near Peter’s place for so long wasn’t good, either. “Drop me at the airport first, then go for the car. If you spot anything unusual, get the hell out of there.”
CHAPTER 16
WASHINGTON, DC
“Central, we are now on site,” Teig reported as Holt, his recon team partner, turned their car onto the calm Georgetown street.
“Copy that, Team Seven,” Central replied.
Teig set the radio down and started checking addresses. “That’s it.” He pointed at a building a quarter block away.
Holt pulled the sedan into an open spot. “What first?” he asked as he turned off the engine.
“Check around the building. Central said there should be a pass-through on the left side that’ll take us to the alley in back. After that, we’ll check the street.”
“Works for me.”
* * *
“How do you want to do this?” Howard asked Daeng as they reached Georgetown.
The Enraged jqt-7 Page 11
