“I don’t care what the client requested. The retention rule is no longer valid and you know it.”
“This is a grandfathered client. Our hands were tied.”
She bit back a response, knowing things could spiral into a tangential conversation that would distract her from finding out more about what had happened at Peter’s place. After giving herself a moment to calm down, she opened the O & O client database and said, “Who’s the client?”
“Is there something specific you’re trying to find out? Maybe I could—”
“Yes. I specifically want to know who the client is.”
“If you’re unhappy with how things are—”
“Dammit, Gregory! Give me the code!”
Stone read her the client code.
Helen typed it in and the client name popped onto her screen almost instantly.
DARVOT CONSULTING
Is this some kind of joke? she thought, staring at her screen.
Darvot was as gray an organization as one could get. More than a few stories had circulated through the legitimate intelligence community about the lengths Kyle Morten, president and CEO of Darvot, and his dog Griffin would go to in helping their clients. Unfortunately, they were good at covering their tracks so it was all rumor, but Helen knew they were dirty, and Helen hated dirty.
She’d thought she’d seen it all from O & O, but this had to be the biggest example of the organization’s incompetence. No proper agency would even answer Darvot’s phone calls, and here O & O was doing potential wet work for them.
Dear God.
“Helen?” Stone said. “Helen, are you still there?”
She needed to dig into this properly so that none of it blew up in her or her superiors’ faces. She bit back the riot act she wanted to read him and said, “I’ll call you back.”
CHAPTER 13
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
THE ADDRESS TURNED out to be for a place called Wysocki Self-Storage in a mixed-use neighborhood. The facility consisted of several two-story buildings, some with roll-up doors along the outside, and some that Quinn guessed were entered through hallways running down the middle of the structures. There was a small office located right on the corner, with a counter inside where two employees were assisting customers.
Quinn pulled out his phone and looked at the instructions that had accompanied the address. The first two items read:
1. Bldg 6
2. 72591
He took a second look at the storage place. Painted on the side of each building was a number. The one directly across from where they were parked was labeled 2, and the building next to it 3.
“Around the corner,” he said.
Howard pulled away from the curb. As they turned, the sides of three more buildings came into view. Number 4 was first, then 5, and finally 6.
Quinn pointed at a spot opposite 6. “Park there.”
Howard did as instructed.
Like the other buildings that made up Wysocki Self-Storage, number 6 had an access door off the street, with a small square box mounted on the wall next to it.
“Steve, stay here and keep an eye on that door.” He nodded across the street at 6’s entrance. “If anyone other than us goes through it, call.”
“Got it,” Howard said.
“Daeng, Misty, let’s go.”
The square box by the door was exactly what Quinn had expected—a security keypad. He consulted his phone again, and tapped in 7-2-5-9-1.
When he heard the buzz of the lock releasing, he pulled the door open. The inside also turned out to be what he’d thought—a wide hallway traveling the length of the building, lined with equally spaced doors. Behind each would be a storage locker.
“Which one?” Misty asked.
Quinn checked the photo.
3. 6-117
He looked up. The door on the right was marked 6-130, and on the left 6-129.
“Should be down about halfway. We’re looking for one seventeen.”
They found the unit just shy of the middle. The door was secured by a padlock, with six side-by-side tumblers on the bottom where the combination would be input.
4. 318037
Quinn thumbed the numbers into place and pulled, thinking the door should now be unlocked. But instead of the shackle disengaging from the body, a portion of the lock’s outer skin slid open, exposing a surface of black glass. He immediately knew what it was.
“Place your thumb on it,” Quinn told Misty.
She hesitantly pressed her thumb against the surface.
There was a thunk from inside the door.
Quinn pulled the lock again. Though the lock remained fastened, the whole door and frame swung out an inch. He pulled until the opening was wide enough for them to get a look inside.
The locker space was underutilized—about a dozen boxes stacked toward the back and that was it. Peter could have easily gotten away with a locker a quarter of the size. Hanging in the middle of the room was a light fixture, but Quinn didn’t see any way to turn it on.
“What’s the next instruction?” Misty asked.
“The combo for the lock was the last one,” Quinn said.
She looked around dubiously. “So this is what he wanted us to find?”
“Apparently.”
While Daeng remained in the hallway, Quinn and Misty moved into the locker to see what was in the boxes.
The first three they opened were full of books and old magazines.
“My God, do you think there’s something hidden in one of these?” Misty asked. “That’ll take us forever to go through.”
“Let’s check all the boxes first, then we can decide what to do next.”
Most of those remaining also held books, while the last few contained Tupperware containers, plastic cups, and disposable plates.
“I don’t get it,” Misty said after they finished. “Why would he want us to come here? This is all garbage.”
It wasn’t quite garbage, but Quinn understood her frustration. Peter must’ve had some other reason for leading them here. Perhaps whatever he’d wanted them to find was already gone. Or maybe, because of the dim light, they were missing something.
He pulled out his phone and called Howard.
“Everything all right?” Howard asked.
“Do you have a flashlight in your car?”
“Sure.”
“Can you meet Daeng at the door with it?”
“On my way.”
Ninety seconds later, Quinn had the flashlight in his hand. He took a quick look through each of the boxes again before panning the light slowly around the rest of the space.
At first, he thought the line on the floor had been created in the dust as they’d moved the boxes around. But it was a little too perfect and a little too long. He knelt down and pushed a box of plastic cups out of the way.
Not dust at all.
A cut in the concrete.
“Help me with these,” he said.
Once the boxes were out of the way, there was no missing the perfectly cut square in the floor. He noticed a small divot at one end and slipped a finger inside. Grabbing on to a lip, he pulled, but the square didn’t move.
Quinn leaned back and thought for a moment. If this was the opening to a secret storage place, then Peter would probably have been concerned about someone walking down the hallway and seeing it open.
“Daeng, get in here,” he said. “And shut the door.”
Two things happened the moment the door clicked shut. First, Quinn could feel that the hatch was suddenly free to move. And second, the light came on.
“Would have been nice if that little bit of information had been included in the instructions,” Daeng said, glancing up at the bulb.
“No kidding,” Quinn agreed as he pulled up the hatch.
Daeng moved through the rearranged boxes to join them. As soon as he saw the hole, he said, “Whoa.”
Quinn pointed the flashlight into the opening. This was no mere extr
a storage space. This was some kind of tunnel. The vertical shaft went down fifteen feet, then appeared to run off to the left, out of sight. To get there, a metal ladder had been built into the side of the shaft.
“I’ll go first,” he said. “If everything’s all right, you guys follow me.”
He lowered himself into the hole. As soon as his feet touched the ground, a row of lights came on, revealing a tunnel extending to the side.
“So?” Daeng called down.
“Passageway. High enough to stand.”
“Where’s it go?”
“Not sure yet. Can’t see the end. I’ll be right back.”
The arching tunnel was six and a half feet tall at its apex, and no more than four feet wide. Even sticking to the center, Quinn couldn’t help feeling the urge to duck as he made his way along. At what he guessed was about seventy-five feet in, the tunnel took a hard turn to the left. Another fifty feet ahead, he came to a door.
This one had no lock, which wasn’t particularly surprising given all the security before this point. On the other side of the door was a room outfitted with monitors, a large desk, computer keyboard and trackpad, half-sized refrigerator, and a couch. There were two other doors. One led into a bathroom, and the other into a space just large enough for the mattress that filled it.
Quite a little hideaway.
He returned to the other end of the tunnel and called up, “Come on down.”
“I don’t know,” Misty said. “I could wait here.”
“Trust me. You’re going to want to see this.”
With obvious reluctance, she crawled down the ladder. Once she reached the tunnel floor, Daeng followed, and Quinn led them back to the room. Misty was barely past the threshold when she gasped in surprise.
“Damn, Peter,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me about this place?”
“Nice,” Daeng said as he entered. “An evil lair.”
Misty whipped around. “Peter was not evil.”
“Just a joke,” Daeng said.
“Not a very good one.” She paused, gathering herself. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you meant.”
In typical Daeng fashion, he shrugged and said, “No problem.”
The desk ran the length of the wall opposite the door. Underneath were cabinets, and an open space in the middle for whoever sat in the chair in front of the keyboard. On the wall in front of the desk were six, identically sized monitors broken up into two rows of three.
Quinn reached out and touched the space bar on the wireless keyboard. Immediately he could hear the whir of a computer somewhere under the desk. After a short delay, the center screen on the bottom row turned on. It remained gray for several seconds, an animated dial in the middle twirling as the computer woke itself up. Finally, the dial was replaced by a rectangular text box. At the left end of the box was a blinking cursor.
“One guess what we should type in there,” Daeng said.
Quinn pulled out the chair. “Misty?”
After she was seated, Quinn placed the index card from Peter next to the keyboard. Misty took a deep breath and began to type. The text box, however, remained empty.
“Try it again,” Quinn said.
Misty input the password. “It’s not working,” she said. “Why isn’t it working?”
Quinn looked at the keyboard. It had been working fine just moments ago when he’d woken the computer. He picked it up and turned it over—and revealed a small glass square inset in the desk. Another scanner, he realized.
“Try your thumb on the glass,” he instructed Misty.
The instant she pressed her thumb down, the scanner lit up.
When the light dimmed again, Quinn said, “Now try the password again.”
This time each keystroke appeared in the text box. When she finished, the screen went black for a moment before an image of Peter appeared, staring out at them.
“Hello, Misty,” Peter said. “If you’re here we both know what that means. But let’s face it—it was bound to happen at some point. There is no one I trust more than you. That’s why I had to bring you here. I need you to do one last thing for me. Clean up what I’ve left behind and destroy any physical information that I’ve kept here. Knowing you, you grabbed the files from my safe at the apartment when you found the note with the code I left you.”
Note he left? Quinn thought. He hadn’t left the note—he’d mailed it. Maybe he’d decided to change the procedure.
“If you did, great,” Peter went on. “You can add them to the stuff here. If not, you’ll need to go back and destroy them. The townhouse is another matter. I may or may not have left sensitive information there. If I did, it’ll be in the safe, so once you finish the other tasks, please go there and check. I also have several other safe houses spread around the district. You’ll find a list in the townhouse safe. At the time of this recording, none of them contains anything important, and I don’t foresee that changing. But, as time permits, I would appreciate it if you would check each. You needn’t worry about any of my digital information. That’s already being taken care of.”
Quinn unconsciously leaned forward, tensing.
“The archive at the Library of Congress began its wipe procedure the moment you logged off after entering the code I gave you. The computers at the townhouse began their purge when this video started. And the computer here, well, we’ll get to that in a minute.”
Something wasn’t right, Quinn thought. Peter shouldn’t be instructing them on a personal erase job, he should be telling them why he thought someone was going to kill him, right? That’s what Quinn had been expecting.
“Okay, this is how I’d like you to destroy the items here. There’s a safe located along the back wall behind the refrigerator. The wall there is a false panel. Push once on the top, twice on the bottom, and it will pop out. The combination is simple this time. It’s your birthday. Gather everything from inside and put them on the desk. That’s all you need to do.”
Quinn looked over at Misty, wondering if she was as confused as he was, but she was staring rapt at the monitor, hanging on Peter’s every word.
“Misty, I realize I wasn’t the easiest person to work with, and I didn’t tell you nearly enough how much I appreciated your help. But know that I did, and that I would have failed long ago without you.”
That was another odd thing. The video seemed directed solely at Misty. So why had Peter wanted Quinn there, too? Misty wouldn’t have needed Quinn to help her get rid of a few files. Granted, things hadn’t exactly been normal when they’d visited the apartment, but Peter couldn’t have known Misty would be in physical danger.
“I apologize for not being a better boss, but, well, I can’t be someone I’m not. And I definitely can’t change anything now. I’m sure you understand and forgive me. You always did.”
Quinn snatched up the index card and read it again.
Y7(29g)85KL/24
I need your help.
Call Quinn. A last assignment. For both of you.
He stared at the last words. For both of you.
“Okay,” Peter said. “Enough of the sentimental crap, huh? Now this part is very important. You’re going to have to work fast, because in exactly ten minutes, this room will turn into an inferno.”
Quinn jerked his head up, his gaze shooting back to the image of Peter.
“So as soon as the files are on the desk, get out of here, but remember to seal all the doors behind you so that the fire is contained to this space.”
What the hell, Peter? Quinn thought. He looked down at the card again and silently mouthed the words. “For both of you. For both of you.”
“That’s all you have to do,” Peter continued. “You can forget about this place after that. The rent is paid for years, so chances are no one will discover the bunker until then. When they do, it will only lead to questions with no answers.”
“For both of you.” This time the words slipped out of Quinn’s mouth in a whisper as he realize
d what they must mean.
“Thank you, Misty,” Peter said. “Now go—”
Quinn lunged and slapped his thumb down on the scanner. The video of Peter froze and then went black as the glass scanner lit up.
“What are you doing?” Misty asked. Her water-filled eyes stared at him in confusion and hurt. “Why did you stop it?”
It was Peter who answered as he once again appeared on the screen. Only this wasn’t the same Peter from moments before. The previous video had been shot in that very room, but the new one had been taped in what looked like Peter’s apartment. His clothes were different, too, and he looked more tired and…angrier.
“So you both made it,” Peter said. “Thank you. I don’t know how much of the other video played before you activated this one, so excuse me if some of what I say is a repeat. You have ten minutes to get out before this place is incinerated.” He then gave instructions similar to those from before about the items in the safe. “There is one thing in there, though, that I want you to hold on to. This.” He raised a dark-stained wooden box. It was about four inches square and an inch high. As he set it back down, he began speaking again. “We’ll get to what’s inside in a minute.” He paused and frowned. “The fact that you’re watching this means that apparently my efforts have failed. I’ve been poking around in something others would rather I leave alone. Now I’m asking you to poke around in it, too. You can decline. I’ll never know, and if that’s your decision, I understand. I’m hoping it won’t be, though.” He leaned toward the camera, his gaze intensifying. “A tragic injustice was done. It can never be righted, but it can be avenged. Unless I died from an obvious accident or from verifiable natural causes, you should assume that those behind this…event are responsible for my death. Hell, even if my death certificate claims I did die from an accident or natural causes, it could have been staged by these assholes. They are capable, and they have done similar things before. You’ll see what I mean when you go through the file.” He paused. “We should talk about that.” He lifted the box into frame again. “In here you’ll find the file with everything I’ve collected to date. It’s encrypted using Hansell IV. The protocol is base seven. I need you to come at this with fresh eyes, so I’ll let you read the file without any commentary from me. The thing the file can’t tell you is the name or names of those I’ve been hunting. I’m close, but I haven’t been able to uncover that yet. You have a huge advantage I didn’t. My death.” An ironic smile. “Find out who killed me and you’ll find out who I’ve been looking for.” He tilted back away from the camera. “Time for you two to get out of there. The clock’s ticking. And don’t forget to close the doors on your way out.”
The Enraged (A Jonathan Quinn Novel) Page 10
