The Buried

by Brett Battles

  Knowing it was a waste of time, she ran a trace on the license plate anyway. It was not a match for the car the men had been driving.

  Leaning back, she rubbed her eyes with one hand, and her indigestion spot with the other.

  “You work too hard. You need rest.”

  Mrs. Vo was twisted around in her chair, looking at Orlando.

  “I’m okay,” Orlando said.

  “Not okay. Computer all the time not good for baby.” Mrs. Vo pushed off her chair and moved over to the kitchen. “You need sleep. Food, too, I think. What you want to eat?”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Not say again. Not fine. You be mother again soon. You need take care.” Nodding, she said, “I heat up pork chop, okay?”

  Without waiting for a response, she opened the refrigerator.

  Orlando would have told her she didn’t need to do that, but in truth, one of Mrs. Vo’s pork chops sounded great.

  “You lie back on seat,” Mrs. Vo said. “I wake you when ready.”

  Orlando closed her computer, thinking a little rest wouldn’t be such a bad idea, but as soon as she lay down, her phone rang.

  With a sigh, she started to push herself back up, but Mrs. Vo said, “No, no, no. Sleep!” and snatched the phone off the table.

  Orlando thought she was only moving it out of reach, but Mrs. Vo said, “This Quinn?….No, cannot talk. She tired…she fine, she fine. Just need sleep. She pregnant….Yes, I know you know, but cannot—”

  Orlando had shoved herself up. “Let me talk to him.”

  Mrs. Vo waved at her to lie back down and said into the phone, “I have her call you back.”

  “Mrs. Vo, give me the phone,” Orlando said.

  “I don’t know how long,” Mrs. Vo said to Quinn. “One hour. Two hour. Maybe morning. Okay?”

  Struggling to her feet, Orlando said, “Mrs. Vo, please.”

  The woman huffed before handing over the cell. “You need sleep. Not talk long,” she said. With another huff, she returned to preparing the food.

  “Hey,” Orlando said into the phone.

  “What was that all about? Are you feeling all right?” Quinn asked.

  “I’m fine. She’s just being overprotective, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure? Do you need to see a doctor?”

  “Quinn, relax. Nothing’s wrong.” As if taunting her, her indigestion chose that moment to flare back up. She turned so Mrs. Vo wouldn’t see her wince.

  “What?” Quinn asked.

  “What what?” she asked back.

  “It sounds like you’re in pain.”

  She hadn’t realized she’d made any noise. She rubbed a hand across the same spot as before, willing the burning sensation to cease. “You’re hearing things.”

  “Maybe you’re in labor.”

  “I’m not in labor.”

  “You can’t be sure.”

  “Of course I can be sure. Don’t you think I’d know if I was in labor or not? This isn’t my first time, remember?”

  A second of silence. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m about to hang up on you.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

  She lowered herself back onto the bench seat, a loud exhale escaping as she finished. Before Quinn could react, she said, “Not labor! Just sitting down. I’m fat. It isn’t easy.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “But you were going to.”

  His non-response confirmed she was right.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “Walla Walla. And you?”

  “Somewhere along the Columbia River. If you wait, we can meet up with you in a few hours.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m uncomfortable enough with you following us,” he said. “In fact, I was thinking it would be a good idea for you to go back to Portland and wait there.”

  “No way. You may need help.”

  “And you’re in perfect condition to give that to us, I suppose,” he scoffed.

  “I’m better than nothing. And I’ve got Daeng.”

  “I don’t like you out on the road. Not right now. Maybe I should call Daeng. He’ll do what I say.”

  “Quinn, stop. We’re not turning around.”

  Mrs. Vo walked over to the table and set down a plate with two cut-up pork chops, a mound of rice, and some broccoli on it. “I get sauce.”

  “Thanks,” Orlando said.

  “You talk too long.”

  “Just a few more minutes.” When Mrs. Vo left, Orlando asked Quinn, “Any more helicopters?”

  “Not for a couple hours,” Quinn said. “I did get our passenger to talk a little, though.”

  “You did? And?”

  He told her about his conversation. He hadn’t learned a lot but it was more than they’d had before.

  “Dani, huh?” Orlando said when he finished.

  “Still might not be her real name,” he said. “I take it her ID photo hasn’t brought back any hits.”

  “Not yet.”

  She became aware that Mrs. Vo was standing a few feet away, holding a bottle of fish sauce and impatiently staring at her.

  “The plan still the same?” Orlando asked Quinn.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” he said. “We’ll get a few hours’ rest here and then head for Idaho. Have you found someplace for us?”

  “I have. Just east of Moscow. I’ll e-mail you the details.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Food get cold,” Mrs. Vo said.

  Orlando glanced at her and said into the phone, “I need to go or I’m going to get grounded.”

  “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

  “I’m pregnant. What do you think? I’ll talk to you later.”

  Mrs. Vo waited until Orlando put the phone away before handing over the sauce. “You eat, you sleep.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Vo.”

  “No more phone.”

  “Okay.”

  “Also no computer.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Mrs. Vo scowled.

  CHAPTER 21

  CENTRAL WASHINGTON

  STEVENS AND HIS team stayed at the interstate junction outside Ellensburg for three hours. During the first two, Stevens had hoped they would spot the girl’s abductors, but by the end of the third hour, he knew the targets hadn’t come their way.

  There were only three possibilities for what had happened. One, the targets had circled back and returned to Seattle. Two, they were holed up somewhere between Seattle and the junction. And three, they had turned off I-90 and gone in a new direction.

  He could speculate all he wanted on which was the most likely, but what he needed were facts. And though he had hoped he and his team could wrap up this mission without any assistance, he reluctantly admitted that was no longer the case.

  He called his bosses in Los Angeles and enlisted the tech department to see if they could track down the car the targets were using. At five p.m., he received word that the vehicle was a khaki green Jeep Grand Cherokee, last sighting two hours and twelve minutes earlier right outside Yakima.

  Stevens and his team piled back into the helicopter and made the quick flight due south. It angered Stevens that somehow their targets had made the transition onto the I-82 without his team spotting them, but there would be time later to assess where the error was made.

  They touched down at the airport and arranged for three vehicles so they could split into teams and search for the Cherokee more effectively.

  It was nearly nine p.m. when the Jeep was located behind an A&W restaurant. One touch of the cold hood told Stevens all he needed to know. The SUV hadn’t moved in hours. The targets were driving something else now.

  The techs went back to work to identify the new vehicle. The task was tedious and time consuming, but at 11:14 they had it. A blue Audi A4 sedan. Fourteen minutes later, they’d traced it as far as Walla Walla, and Stevens and his men lifted into the air again.

  __________


  THE FLYOVER OF Yakima had proved useless, so Orbits resorted to an old-fashioned ground search and finally discovered the Grand Cherokee in the A&W lot at 7:50 p.m.

  Hoping to find out what vehicle Quinn and his friend were now using, he had Donnie hack into the local police department’s system and search for cars stolen that afternoon. It had turned out to be a slow day crime-wise. Only two vehicles had been reported missing. One was a three-year-old Ford F-150 crew cab truck taken right out of the driveway of the owner’s home. Not the kind of theft an operative would usually undertake. The second stolen vehicle was textbook tradecraft. An hour and a half earlier, a blue Audi A4 had been reported missing from a hotel parking lot not far from the freeway.

  Using a time range of two hours prior to the report, Donnie hunted for the Audi. By 8:20, he spotted the car on archival footage, heading southeast on the interstate. He tracked it all the way to Kennewick and then east toward Walla Walla, where the trail once again stopped.

  Orbits was already driving his rental car back to the airport when Donnie shared this news. As he pulled in, Orbits was momentarily surprised at the sight of the California team’s helicopter sitting not far from his ride.

  Its presence meant the team had identified the Jeep, but since no one seemed to be around, he assumed they were in town looking for it. He briefly considered sabotaging the aircraft, but he could neither risk the time it would take nor the chance of getting caught.

  He hurried into the building where he’d left his pilot, only to find that the man wasn’t there.

  He looked around until someone pointed him in the direction of Security.

  “You Orbits?” the night supervisor asked when he inquired about Sutter.

  “Yeah.”

  “Operations sent your pilot to a motel to get some sleep. Apparently he was over his hours.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m just telling you what I was told. He can’t go up again until morning.”

  “Is there anybody else?”

  “You mean like another pilot?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean,” Orbits said, not hiding his frustration.

  “Not my area, but I doubt it at this time of night.”

  Orbits stormed out of the building, fighting hard not to punch every wall he passed. The girl was right in his sights, but if he didn’t catch up to her and her friends soon, the Californians would get her first.

  “Goddammit!” he shouted into the darkness.

  There was only one thing to do. Walla Walla was about a hundred and thirty miles away. He could drive that in less than two hours.

  CHAPTER 22

  WALLA WALLA

  QUINN’S EYES POPPED open when the phone under his pillow vibrated. He turned off the alarm and sat up.

  In the dim light, he could see Dani asleep on the other bed in nearly the same position she’d been in when he lay down.

  Quinn got up and walked over to Nate, who was sitting on the chair by the door, reading something on his phone.

  “Right on time,” Nate said.

  “Go ahead and head out. I’ll get things ready here.”

  Earlier, after he’d talked to Orlando, Quinn had driven the Audi into the heart of town and left it parked behind a strip mall where, hopefully, it would be at least a day before anyone took notice of it. They still needed another ride, though.

  “Back in a flash,” Nate said, and left.

  Quinn took a quick shower, the hot water helping to stave off his desire to return to bed. When he was done and dressed, he turned on the bedroom lights and gently shook Dani’s shoulder.

  “Time to get up,” he said.

  She groaned. “Already?”

  “You can sleep in the car. If you need to use the restroom, now’s the time.”

  Reluctantly she climbed out of bed. “Do I have time for a shower?” she asked as she walked into the bathroom.

  “If you make it fast.”

  She started to close the door, but then stopped. “Sorry, I forgot.”

  “No, it’s all right,” he said. “Close it.”

  She glanced at him like she thought he might change his mind, then gave him a thankful smile and shut the door.

  As Quinn checked the duffel bags to make sure they were ready to go, he heard the shower come on. When the water went off again a few minutes later, he looked toward the main door.

  Nate should have been back by now. Quinn waited another minute, and then sent his partner a text:

  ETA?

  __________

  NATE STROLLED OUT of the hotel, looking like a guest in search of a late-night snack or maybe a bar, and headed toward the heart of town. When he was out of sight of the building, he picked up his pace. Though he was too close to where they were staying to procure a vehicle, his practiced gaze took in each car he passed and assessed its potential.

  He gave it another few minutes before he turned down a new street and began his search in earnest.

  __________

  ORBITS ARRIVED IN Walla Walla at 10:57 p.m.

  During the drive, he had checked in with Donnie every fifteen minutes, and was told each time that the Audi had not reappeared on the highway. This made Orbits cautiously optimistic, but there was still the very real possibility that his prey had switched to another car again and were miles away already.

  Thankfully, Walla Walla was a third the size of Yakima. He divided it into sectors and began quickly working his way through the town, looking for the Audi. After a little more than an hour, he’d almost made it to the eastern end, with still no sign of the car.

  He turned onto Wellington Avenue. The first two blocks were strictly residential, but after that, small businesses started cropping up—a couple motels, a tavern, a lumber store. He checked the lots of each but saw no sign of the car.

  Not much farther up the street, he tensed involuntarily as he passed the offices for the Washington State Patrol. Doubting the Audi would be anywhere in its vicinity, he turned off Wellington, intending to pick up the search several blocks away. But as he rounded the corner, his headlights lit up a man walking down the sidewalk.

  Orbits kept driving, making no indication that anything was amiss, but he recognized the walker. The guy had been in the photos of both the Jeep and the Audi.

  Quinn’s partner.

  Watching through the rearview mirror, he saw the man cross the road and head down Wellington the way Orbits had come.

  As soon as the guy was out of view, Orbits turned down a parallel road and doused his headlights.

  Son of a bitch, he had them. All he needed to do was follow the guy back to wherever they were keeping the woman.

  He worked his way back toward Wellington and parked half a block short of the intersection, next to the warehouse building of the lumber supply place. After making sure the dome light was off, he opened his door and climbed out.

  Other than a few scattered security lamps, the area was dark enough that he was able to move unseen through the lumberyard parking lot until he was almost to Wellington. There, he hunkered down beside the front building.

  He’d expected to hear footsteps, so when he didn’t, he became concerned that the guy had already disappeared into the night. But then he heard a crunch, faint, almost not there. Sand between shoe and concrete.

  He waited, but there was no second step. He was pretty sure the noise had come from his right, which meant the guy had already passed the lumber place. He eased around the corner and worked his way along the front of the building, until he reached a short wooden fence dividing the lumber store’s parking area from the tavern’s next door. He tried to pick up the steps again, but too much noise was coming out of the tavern for him to hear anything else.

  He noted a few people standing—smoking, it looked like—near three stacked wagon wheels under the tavern’s sign, but none were the same shape as his target.

  He figured the guy must be farther down the street than he thought. He was about to sne
ak over to the sidewalk to get a better look when he detected movement in the tavern’s rear lot. He carefully scanned the couple dozen cars parked there. Halfway through the back row, he spotted Quinn’s partner standing next to a sedan. For a second, it didn’t look like he was doing anything, but then he yanked his arm up with a quick thrust and opened the door.

  Orbits noted the make and model—a Nissan Altima—then turned and hustled back to his own vehicle. He went the long way around the block, avoiding Wellington altogether until he neared the other side of the tavern. There he slowed as he passed the parking entrance, and saw that the Altima was pulling out of its space.

  Orbits continued through the intersection and stopped at the curb, quickly taking his foot off the brake so that the lights would go out.

  Turning in his seat, he watched the Altima exit the lot and head in the opposite direction.

  Grinning, Orbits executed a U-turn and took up pursuit, lights off.

  __________

  WHEN NATE HAD started his cleaner apprenticeship, Quinn had made him learn many things that went beyond the specific means of dealing with death. At the time, Nate didn’t always understand why he needed to perfect certain skills, but one thing he had recognized as important from the beginning was the ability to know when he was being followed.

  As he pulled out of the tavern’s parking area, he noticed the car parked at the curb on the other side of the intersection, and the silhouette of someone in the front seat. The vehicle had most definitely not been there when he’d walked into the lot.

  Another customer arriving for a late-night drink?

  Perhaps.

  Just to be safe, he turned the other way. Two blocks on, as he was preparing to turn again, he checked his mirror. Enough light was spilling from the tavern for him to see the other car was no longer at the curb.

  His senses went on alert. Instead of turning right on the new road toward the motel, he went left. Checking the mirror every few seconds, it wasn’t long before he caught a glint off the windshield of a darkened vehicle turning the corner behind him.