The Buried

by Brett Battles

  She did as he ordered.

  “Now finish it,” he told her.

  She downed the bottle.

  The first wave of dizziness hit before she had even removed the bottle from her lips. Within moments, she was leaning back, barely able to keep her eyes open.

  Ricky took the bottle from her and laid her down across the seat. “Don’t worry. You’ll only have a little bit of a headache when you wake up.”

  The last thing she remembered was hearing him get out of the car and shut the door.

  __________

  ORBITS HAD BEEN doing a lot of thinking on the drive to Spokane.

  It was possible the Californians were responsible for the roadblock, but he hadn’t seen any sign of them since Yakima so he wasn’t going to jump to that conclusion. Whoever it was had access to some pretty extensive resources. Considering that and what he had seen of the Californians’ operation, he couldn’t ignore the fact that a hell of a lot of money was being poured into capturing the girl. Which led him to one very annoying conclusion: Even with his fee doubled, he was being woefully underpaid.

  He began to wonder how many others were looking for the girl.

  There was his client, plus the Russians who’d tried to hire him, and the Californians at the very least. He was willing to bet there were more.

  His dour mood brightened as the outline of a new business opportunity formed.

  After drugging the girl, he found a quiet motel on the edge of Spokane. The room was ratty and nowhere near the standards he preferred, but it would do. Setting his alarm for three hours, he lay down and contemplated the windfall he was about to receive until he fell asleep.

  __________

  ORBITS ROSE AGAIN at 7:30, even more convinced he could pull off his idea.

  He checked the girl and called Donnie.

  “I need three things right away,” he said.

  “Hold on.” Movement on the other end, the rustling of sheets and then paper. “I’m ready. Go ahead.”

  “One, a secure location in or near Chicago. Clean, you understand? Nothing to tie it to any previous operation. Two, a four-man support team with their own gear. They can’t be afraid to get dirty if needed. And three, a private jet from Spokane to Chicago that can leave within the hour.”

  “All that’s going to be expensive.”

  Orbits knew the costs would be a drop in the bucket if everything went as planned. “I don’t care. Just do it. The plane first. You can work on the rest while I’m in the air.”

  Donnie called back ten minutes later with flight information, and a half hour after that, Orbits and the girl arrived at the specified airport entrance.

  As he’d hoped, no one questioned his story of a sick sister he was taking home to their parents’ house. It was all in how you sold your story, and boy, could he sell. He even doted on her during the flight, just because it amused him.

  When they arrived in Chicago, Donnie had an ambulance waiting, driven by one of Orbits’s temporary team members.

  They headed south from O’Hare airport, along the western edge of the city to an empty industrial building in Broadview. They passed through a gate in the fence that surrounded the property and drove straight into the building, courtesy of a large metal door rolled up.

  The three other members of Orbits’s team were waiting inside. After instructing them to take the girl into the most secure room, Orbits found an empty office where he could have some privacy. He pulled out the piece of paper he’d used to work out the details of his plan and called Donnie again.

  “I think you’re going to enjoy this,” he said before laying out his plan.

  “Whoa,” Donnie whispered when Orbits finished.

  “Whoa as in you can’t do it?” Orbits asked.

  “No, as in that’s pretty crazy. I mean, good crazy, you know?”

  “Then you can make it happen.”

  “I’ll need an hour or two to work out the details, but I don’t foresee any problems. What’s the timeline?”

  Orbits thought for a moment. He needed this to happen fast so that no one could waste time looking for him. He glanced at his watch. It was already 2:30 in the afternoon, Central time. Assuming Donnie would need all of the two hours…

  “Start it at four thirty my time, with a two-hour time limit. But use Pacific time since that’s where everyone will think she is.”

  __________

  “DAMMIT,” ORLANDO EXCLAIMED.

  Quinn twisted around in the front passenger seat, where he’d been keeping Daeng company. “What is it?”

  “Come back here.”

  “Garrett, you’ve got copilot duty,” Quinn said.

  Smiling, Orlando’s son moved to the side to let Quinn out, and then took the passenger seat.

  “Did she stop again?” Quinn asked. Twenty minutes earlier, Dani’s tracking chip had started to move once more.

  From the look Orlando gave him, he knew it wouldn’t be good news. “She’s flying.”

  “Flying? Are you sure?”

  She turned the screen toward him. The blip representing Dani was now moving eastward, heedless of any roads and at a clip no car could match.

  “Where is she going?” Quinn said under his breath.

  Though he hadn’t expected an answer, Orlando said, “Their current course will take them anywhere from Minneapolis in the north to St. Louis in the south, and as far east as New York or possibly Boston.”

  “She can’t be doing this on her own. Someone must have her.”

  Orlando nodded. “There can’t be that many places in Spokane to rent a jet. I’ll make some calls.”

  “While you’re at it, see if you can arrange one for me,” he said.

  She frowned at him, and then opened the browser on her computer.

  __________

  OUT OF THE corner of her eye, Orlando watched Quinn return to the front of the RV. She was angrier than she had a right to be, but she couldn’t help it.

  He had asked her to arrange a plane for him, not them. He’d probably take Nate and Daeng but clearly intended to leave her behind. Was it the right call? Maybe, but she didn’t care about the right call. She needed to be where she was useful, and that was wherever he was.

  The baby pushed against her stomach. “Quiet, you,” she whispered, taking the baby’s movement as traitorous support of its father’s viewpoint.

  She’d been right about jet rental places. There was only a handful in the city. She worked her way through the list and found the winner at number four. Someone there told her a man had chartered a flight that morning to take his ill sister home. But when Orlando pressed for more details, the person had clammed up and not divulged the jet’s destination.

  That wasn’t a big problem, though. She had the name of the company now, so it was easy to find a listing of tail numbers of all the company’s aircraft. Since flight plans were public record, all she had to do was plug in the different numbers until she found the right one.

  Chicago.

  She almost hollered out the info, but remembered she was annoyed with Quinn. She decided it could wait. She arranged for a jet from a rival company that could hold up to ten passengers, and then switched back to the tracking map. Though she feared the flight plan was false, Dani’s plane was still on course for the Windy City.

  A ding signaled the arrival of an e-mail. It was from Gordon Evert, a fixer in San Diego she had known before either of them had entered the business.

  Hey O,

  You’re mixing with some nasty stuff if you’re interested in Tex Winston. Might have something for you.

  G

  “How did I know you’d try me right away?” Evert said when she called.

  “How’s it going, Gordon?”

  “You know, all sunshine and pretty ladies. When you coming home for a visit?”

  Orlando had spent much of her youth in San Diego. It’s where her mentor, Abraham Delger, had recruited her. “Soon. Tell me about Tex Winston.”

&nbs
p; “What do you want to know?”

  “Ideally, where I can find him right now.”

  “I believe I can help you with that.”

  When she finished talking to Gordon, she called the jet company back and reserved a second plane.

  __________

  “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” QUINN said.

  They were in the RV, parked in the airport lot next to the private jet terminal. Mr. and Mrs. Vo had taken Garrett out to look at the planes.

  “Who else are you going to send?” Orlando argued.

  “Daeng can do it.”

  Orlando glanced at Daeng. “No offense…”

  “Why do I think I’m about to be offended?” Daeng said.

  Orlando turned back to Quinn. “Daeng isn’t the best interrogator. He’s too nice.”

  “It’s true,” Daeng agreed.

  “Besides, we can’t send him in alone,” she added.

  “I wasn’t planning on sending him in alone,” Quinn said. “I was planning on getting him some help.”

  “Just not me.”

  He hesitated before saying, “I was thinking Ananke.”

  Orlando threw her arms up. “Oh, that’s just great. You think Ananke is a better interrogator than Daeng? She kills people for a living. She doesn’t talk to them.”

  “She can handle the job.”

  “I know what to ask him. I know what we need to know. I need to be the one who goes.”

  “You and Daeng can’t do it on your own.”

  “Fine! Then…call Ananke, if you want. She and Daeng can do their thing but I’ll talk to him.”

  “Orlando, look at yourself. You’re going to have a baby at any minute.”

  “My due date isn’t for two weeks.”

  “Nine days.”

  “Okay, nine days. That’s still not today.”

  Quinn knew she would not let go of the idea. Though he was sure he’d regret it, he said, “All right, all right. Go. But anything dangerous you leave to the others.” He turned and pointed at Daeng. “And you are responsible for anything that happens to her.”

  “Me?” Daeng said. “This wasn’t my idea.”

  CHAPTER 29

  PALM SPRINGS, CALIFORNIA

  THE JET CARRYING Orlando and Daeng touched down at Palm Springs International Airport a few minutes before noon local time. Outside the terminal they found Ananke waiting for them.

  The assassin smiled at Daeng, looking him up and down as she offered him her hand. “You must be Daeng. I’ve heard so little about you, which is clearly unfortunate.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Daeng said, shaking her hand and looking only a bit flustered.

  “And Orlando, you look so…big.”

  She opened her arms, offering a hug, but Orlando took a step back.

  “No, thanks,” she said. “Did you get the car?”

  Ananke shook her head. “I only arrived five minutes before you.”

  Orlando checked her e-mail and found out where the car she’d arranged for was parked.

  “Why doesn’t Quinn trot you out more?” Ananke said to Daeng.

  Before Daeng could respond, Orlando said, “Follow me,” and led them to the waiting BMW 535i.

  With Daeng as driver, Orlando in the front beside him, and Ananke relegated to the back, they headed west into town.

  “So when are you due?” Ananke asked after they’d been on the road for several minutes.

  Orlando ignored the question as she tracked their progress on her phone.

  “You’re not having twins, are you?”

  Orlando looked out the window. “Three more streets and take a left.”

  “Got it,” Daeng said.

  “Does the father know?” Ananke asked.

  Orlando whirled around. “That is over the line. Not another word out of you.”

  Ananke had veered into the topic that had caused the rift between them—Orlando’s former lover and Garrett’s father, Durrie. Back when Orlando lived with him, Durrie had confessed that Ananke had tried to get him into bed. Orlando never knew if she’d been successful or not, but that the girl tried was enough.

  “You’re right,” Ananke said, the playful quality in her voice gone. “I’m sorry.”

  Orlando settled back in her seat.

  Evert had told her that Tex Winston owned a townhouse near the city center.

  “I know for a fact that he was there last night,” Gordon had said after giving her the address. “He called me looking for work.”

  “Do you think he’s picked up something by now?” she asked.

  “I doubt it. People don’t like working with him. He has a short fuse and no sense of humor. Not a great combo.”

  They found the townhouse complex on a wide, quiet street three blocks east of Palm Canyon Drive. They parked out front and entered through the guest gate, the electronic lock no match for even the greenest operative.

  Winston’s place was number nineteen and in the back row. A vehicle was in its assigned spot out front, and when Orlando listened at the townhouse’s door, she heard a TV inside.

  They had a quick discussion on what tactic to use, then Daeng and Ananke moved to either side of the door. Once they were set, Orlando pushed the doorbell. After a few moments, she heard feet shuffling on the other side. The peephole darkened and a voice called through the door, “What do you want?”

  “It’s Deedee,” Orlando said.

  “That supposed to mean something to me?”

  “It’s Deedee. I’m here to—”

  Instead of finishing her sentence, she grabbed her stomach, let out a little cry, and bent forward.

  Winston let her stay like that for a beat before asking, “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Please,” she said. “I need…I need to sit down.”

  The door remained closed.

  She looked at the peephole, her face straining from the imaginary pain. “Please.”

  Nothing for a few seconds, and then the door cracked open. “Are you sick?”

  “I’m pregnant. I just need to rest for a minute.”

  When he started opening the door wider, Daeng and Ananke shot around the jamb in unison and knocked him back into his house. Not giving him a chance to recover, they grabbed his arm and pushed him against the kitchen counter.

  Orlando followed her colleagues in and closed the door.

  “Let go of me!” Winston roared. He twisted back and forth, trying to break free.

  “I’d stop that if I were you,” Orlando said.

  His gaze turned to her, then switched quickly to the gun she was pointing at his chest. His mouth contorted into a snarl. “You wouldn’t shoot me.”

  “I wouldn’t challenge her, buddy boy,” Ananke said. “Her hormones aren’t exactly balanced at the moment.”

  Winston relaxed and donned a you-got-me look, then suddenly pushed up with his feet and threw his legs into the air, as if to flip onto the counter. It was all very Bruce Lee. The only flaw in his plan was that once he was airborne, Daeng and Ananke let go.

  Down he went, the back of his head cracking on the edge of the counter as he fell to the floor.

  Daeng toed Winston’s unmoving body.

  “Oh, great,” Orlando said. “Please tell me he’s still breathing.”

  CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

  QUINN AND NATE landed at O’Hare International Airport forty-five minutes after their colleagues reached Palm Springs. Following the signal from Dani’s tracking chip, they headed south until they reached an area of warehouses and small manufacturing facilities in Broadview.

  The building Dani’s signal was coming from was set back from the road, behind a ten-foot-high chain-link fence. The building was a long, rectangular structure, two stories tall and made of brick. Attached to the front section of the fence was a sign that read FOR LEASE.

  “I count three entrances,” Quinn told Nate as they drove by. One in front, and two on the left side—a set of double doors and a large roll-up. “No sign of anyone.”<
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  They continued down the block and pulled into the parking area of a wholesale plumbing-supply business.

  “How do you want to handle things?” Nate asked as he killed the engine.

  To get to the building, they’d have to go through the fence, but the only gate Quinn had seen would likely be watched. He pulled up a satellite image of the area.

  “The lot backs up to a distribution center.” He showed the image to Nate. “If these are still there”—he pointed at several shipping containers near the back of the other business—“we can get in behind them and cut a hole in the fence.”

  “Works for me,” Nate said.

  Before leaving Spokane, they had equipped themselves from Orlando’s stash in the RV, but had failed to bring along a pair of heavy-duty wire cutters. After a stop at a nearby hardware store, they made their way to the distribution center.

  The good news was that the containers were still at the back of the lot. The bad was that the entrance to the facility was guarded so they couldn’t drive on. The property next door, however, did not have the same issue.

  The sign on that building read EPSTEIN SYSTEMS. Quinn had no idea what they did but apparently it involved only a few people, as there were just four cars parked out front.

  Nate drove along the side of the building and turned around the back. As Quinn had hoped, there were no other cars, and no way for anyone inside to know Quinn and Nate were there. At the corner shared with the distribution center, they cut enough of the fence away from the pole to bend it back and slip through.

  They walked fast across the thirty feet of open space between the fence and the containers, without anyone back at the main building noticing them. When they were in position, they studied the back of the building Dani was in. No doors, just a strip of long, narrow windows running across the building a few feet below the roofline.

  Quinn pointed at an old Dumpster sitting to the side. “If we move that over to those pipes, we can scale up.”

  The pipes were a set of four electrical conduit tubes running up to the roof, each no more than an inch in diameter. They weren’t optimum but Quinn and Nate had climbed walls using less.