No one did.
He crept back to where Jar waited. She had her phone out, and was focused on the screen.
“Cameras,” he whispered.
Without looking up, she said, “I already know that.” Her thumbs moved rapid fire over her phone until she finally looked at him. “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, the cameras are not a problem.”
“Wait. You didn’t jam them, did you? They’ll notice that.”
She stared at him like he was an idiot. “No, I did not jam them. They are now looping old footage. No one will notice. Their networking equipment is at least three years old, ancient. Easy to hack. I guess that is what happens when you retire.”
She looked at Nate as if he should know whether or not that was true.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m not that much older than you.”
She looked him up and down, but said nothing more.
“There are probably more than just those two in the back.”
“There are. Three each on the longer sides, and two more in the front. I took care of all of them.”
“Oh. Um, well…good.”
With Nate in the lead, they moved quickly from the shed to the back of the house, and checked around each corner. Along the side facing the field were windows but no doors. Along the other, however, was a side door, and about twenty meters straight out from it was the other building he’d seen a sliver of from their vantage point back in the Audi.
He’d thought at the time it might be another deteriorating shed, but it was a barn, about the same size as the house, in decent shape, and had a light on inside.
Caution dictated that they check it out before attempting to sneak into the house. Nate was about to whisper as much to Jar when the barn’s door opened. Dehler and three of the men from the SUVs exited.
Dehler was a giant, juicy target just waiting for Nate to take out. It was the aftermath that would be the problem. He could deal with one of the other men, maybe even two. But the odds dipped considerably for all three. Then there were their colleagues somewhere on the property. A shoot-out on snowshoes. Not exactly the optimum situation.
And all of this was not taking into account that Nate and Jar still had to rescue Daeng.
Dehler would have to wait.
Nate watched as she and her escorts made their way to the house and disappeared inside. He and Jar held their position for another few minutes in case someone came back out, but all remained quiet. Hopefully, Dehler and her friends were in for the night.
Nate led Jar to the barn in a wide arc that took them to the side of the barn facing away from the house. Peeking through a gap between two boards, he could see not just one light on, but several. He couldn’t tell much else, though, due to a stack of boxes blocking most of his view.
He pressed his ear against the wood. A hum, low and steady, coming from somewhere toward the middle of the barn. Like a fan, or maybe an electric motor. As he was about to pull his ear away, he heard a sniff. Someone was still inside, no more than three or four meters away from him.
Nate scanned the wall, hoping to locate another gap he could peek through, but the best he discovered was a hairline slit that revealed nothing.
At least one man in the barn. Likely two.
He moved down the wall to the end that faced the long driveway and the main road. Three-quarters of the way to the other corner was a door and a window.
He motioned for Jar to hold there, and then crept in a crouch along the wall until he was below the window.
Keeping his movement slow but steady, he rose until his eyes cleared the sill.
He tensed at the sight before him.
DAENG DREAMT OF the monsoons.
He was on the Chao Phraya river, north of Bangkok, near the temple where Quinn had gone a few years before to recover, and where Daeng had first met Nate.
Daeng was skimming along the surface in a long boat he was driving, a heavy rain pounding down on him. Water below, water above. He laughed and shouted in glee at the feeling of freedom.
Lightning pierced the sky and smacked into a palm tree on the riverbank ahead. The fronds crowning the tree were suddenly ablaze, creating a beacon that signaled the way home.
He laughed again and aimed the boat toward it, while the rain kept pouring down harder and harder and—
“Wake up!”
Ice water washed over him and ran down his torso to the floor, where it joined the other bucketfuls his captors had been slinging at him.
Daeng opened his eyes.
This was the third—no, fourth—time they had awakened him. Each time the woman had been waiting. Sometimes she was alone, and sometimes, like now, others were with her. Her guests this time were three men trying to look tough. Daeng didn’t see the older guy with the slicked-back hair anywhere, but it was a big room, and they had him tied up in a way that prevented him from seeing behind him. Reiser didn’t appear to be around, either. Daeng hadn’t seen him since he was kidnapped in Salzburg. Maybe Reiser had finally been able to extricate himself from Dehler’s mess.
“What’s Quinn’s plan?” Dehler asked. It had become her favorite question.
Daeng smiled. “You will have to ask him.” This was his favorite answer.
The broom handle slapped him in the ribs. The repeated beatings and the cold had numbed him so he barely felt it now.
“What’s his plan?”
“How should I know?”
Slap.
“Don’t try to sell me that bullshit,” she said. “You’re not just a pawn.”
“I never said I was.”
“What’s his plan?”
“You might as well hit me again. I have no answer for you.”
He braced himself.
Instead of whacking him again, however, Dehler yelled in frustration and then said, “You’re willing to die because your boss wants revenge for me ruining his mission? It was business. What the hell is wrong with you people?”
This was also a sentiment she had previously expressed. And, like those other times, he didn’t reply.
Dehler went berserk and slammed the stick into Daeng over and over and over. Her aim was no longer limited to his stomach and ribs. Blows struck his arms, legs, and face, too.
He was only one or two hits from passing out again when she finally stopped.
His head hung forward, blood dripping from his mouth and the cuts on his cheeks onto his lap. If none of his ribs had been broken before, he was sure several were now.
He could hear Dehler growling as she wound down. A few moments later, he heard the stick clatter to the ground.
“Don’t let him sleep,” she said.
Daeng heard her turn and start toward the door. He was probably going to die here, but he could at least rattle her cage and hopefully cause her to do something stupid that might help his friends.
“You’re wrong, you know.”
His strength was so depleted that he worried he hadn’t spoken loudly enough to be heard, but the woman’s steps stopped.
“What?”
“You’re wrong. You didn’t ruin the mission.”
She took a few steps back toward him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Dima.”
“What about her?”
“You didn’t kill her. She’s in America now.”
“Sure she is.”
“You didn’t even hit her.”
“That’s a lie. I heard the scream.”
“That’s because you killed someone else.”
“Oh, really. And who would that be?”
It took nearly all his strength to lift his head and look her in the eyes. “Quinn’s sister.”
“DID HE TALK yet?” Reiser asked as Dehler entered the house with the bodyguards Keller had brought in.
She barely heard him as she hurried upstairs to the bedroom she was using, shutting the door behind her.
It was a lie, she thought as she paced the room.
It had to be. If anyone had died that night, it was Dima.
A knock on the door. “Katrine?” Reiser said from the hallway. “You all right in there?”
Why would Quinn take his sister out on a mission? Was she in the business, too?
“Katrine?”
Dehler grabbed her phone and texted Esa, her go-to information specialist.
Jonathan Quinn, cleaner.
Does he have a sister who works with him?
Need answer asap.
“Are you okay?” Reiser asked.
She glared at the door. “Leave me alone.”
Six and a half paces of the room later, her phone vibrated with Esa’s reply.
Did a quick check. Nothing comes up.
She punched in:
Does he even have a sister?
Instead of a return text, Esa called her.
“So?” Dehler answered.
“There is no sister on record,” the Swede said.
“Good,” she said, relieved. Daeng had lied. “Thanks.”
“Hold on. There’s no record, but…do you remember Julien, the Frenchman?”
She frowned. The name was familiar. “He was that big guy, wasn’t he? Always happy?”
“That’s right.”
“Didn’t he get killed a few years ago?”
“He did. Rumor was, he was helping Quinn at the time.”
“Okay. But what’s that got to do with—”
“Helping protect Quinn’s sister.”
“You just said he doesn’t have a sister. Which is it?”
“I said there are no records. But he could have easily hidden their connection.”
“Well, I need that unhidden! And if he does have a sister, I need to know if she’s still alive.”
“It won’t be cheap.”
“Whatever you need. Do it.”
She hung up the phone and started pacing again.
As much as she hoped Daeng had lied, things would make a lot more sense if he hadn’t. If anything had happened to one of Dehler’s siblings, she would have stopped at nothing to balance the scales. Of course, Quinn would do the same.
It suddenly felt like the room was shrinking.
I need to get out of here. I need to get as far away from here as possible.
She grabbed her bag off the bed, stuffed her few belongings back inside, and headed for the door. When she yanked it open, Reiser, still standing just outside, jumped back.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She pushed past him. “I’m leaving.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
He grabbed her arm. “What happened out there?”
She shoved him away. “Don’t touch me!”
“He did say something, didn’t he?”
She started toward the stairs, but then stopped.
If she was going to survive this, she needed to hide in a way no one would ever be able to find her. That meant eliminating weak links.
Reiser knew her and her idiosyncrasies. If she left him behind, he could—by coercion or voluntarily—divulge information Quinn’s people could use to track her down.
“You’re coming with me. Let’s go.”
“You need to tell me what the hell is going on. Where are we—”
The rumble of an engine cut him off.
NATE COUNTED THREE men in the barn, Daeng and two guards. The latter two were sitting in front of a portable heater, their backs to the window Nate was looking through, while Daeng sat strapped to a chair.
Nate’s friend didn’t look good. If it weren’t for the restraints, Daeng would have likely fallen to the floor. The only good news was that Nate could see his chest moving up and down, so at least he wasn’t dead.
Nate tried the doorknob. Locked, but only by a simple latch. He retrieved his picks and quietly disengaged it. A peek through the window revealed neither guard had twitched.
He activated his mic and whispered, “I need you to go down to the other end of the barn, and when I give you this signal”—he tapped once on the mic—“I want you to knock something against the wall. Nothing too big. I just need them curious. And then get out of sight.”
“Got it,” Jar said.
“Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Copy.”
Nate took off his snowshoes and set them under the window. He turned the knob and started to ease the door open. Suddenly, a swirl of wind whipped around the side of the barn and tried to tear the door from his hands. It almost succeeded but he was able to hold on. As soon as the gust passed, he peeked through the gap, and froze. One of the men was looking over his shoulder toward the door. Nate held it as still as humanly possible, and hoped the distance between the man and the door made it look like it was still closed.
Nate saw the man say something, but couldn’t hear the words. When the guy finally turned back around, Nate maintained his position until he was sure the man wouldn’t get up and come over.
“Ready,” Jar said.
“Copy. Wait for the signal.”
“Copy.”
Nate eased the door open enough to slip inside, and then gently shut it behind him. Five soft steps had him behind a shelving unit full of boxes, out of sight of the guards.
He could hear the men talking now, though he was still too far away to make out what they were saying. It sounded conversational. There was even a laugh here and there.
Nate moved deeper into the barn, using the boxes and shelves as cover, until the only thing that separated him from the guards was five meters of open space.
He peeked around the box and took a long look at his friend.
Daeng’s arms and face and neck were covered in bruises and cuts, and his clothes appeared to be soaked. If the injuries didn’t kill him, he would freeze to death before long.
Nate took one last look at the guards, and tapped his mic.
AS SOON AS Jar reached the far end of the barn, she looked around for something she could use to create the distraction. But snow covered everything, and if there was a board or a branch or even a rock nearby, she couldn’t see it. As her gaze passed over the ground near her feet, however, she realized she was already in possession of the perfect implement.
Crouching, she unbuckled her snowshoes from her boots and grabbed one in each hand. Yeah, they would do the trick.
She moved into position and clicked on her mic. “Ready.”
THUNK-THUNK.
The guards jumped out of their seats as if the cushions beneath them had caught fire.
“What was that?” the bald one asked.
“I don’t know. The wind?” the one with the beard said.
“Check it.”
“I don’t want to go out there. It’s probably nothing.”
“Check it,” bald guard repeated, sounding annoyed.
Nate ducked back behind the boxes and listened as the bearded guard crossed over to the door that faced the house. As soon as the man went outside, Nate sneaked out from his hiding place.
Bald guard was now standing in front of the heater, bent at the waist to warm his hands. Nate made it to within a few steps of the man before the guard seemed to sense he was no longer alone. He started to rise and turn, but Nate’s arm was already wrapping around the man’s neck.
The guard tried to pry Nate’s arm away but Nate held tight, and soon the guy’s strength ebbed as blood stopped flowing to his brain. Within no time, he was unconscious.
Nate laid him on the ground then jogged over to the door, getting behind it only seconds before the other guard pushed it open. Nate heard the man take a step inside, and then stop and say, “Nikolaus?”
As the bearded guard hurried over to his downed colleague, Nate moved in behind him, grabbed the back of the guy’s coat, and yanked him off his feet. He followed the man down to the ground and whacked his elbow into the guard’s jaw.
Stunned, the guy was easy to roll over. Nate then sent him into dreamland via the same technique he’d used on
the bald guard.
“Jar, inside, now,” Nate said as he jumped up and sprinted over to Daeng.
He placed his hands on both sides of his friend’s head and tilted it up. “Daeng. Wake up.”
When the door opened behind him, he glanced back to make sure it was Jar before returning his attention to Daeng.
“Come on, Daeng. Up and at ’em. We’re getting you out of here.”
Jar was beside them a moment later.
“Help me get these restraints off,” Nate said. “Then I want you to use them on the guards.”
Together they worked to free Daeng from the chair, and Jar repurposed the straps as Nate had suggested.
“Daeng, come on. Wake up,” Nate said.
A groan, then the flutter of eyelids, and a very low “Nate?”
“Good. That’s it. I’m going to need your help. We’re getting you out of here.”
“Deh…ler.”
“Yeah, I know. She’ll pay for this. Don’t worry.”
“She’s…here somewhere.”
“We’ll deal with her later.”
“No.” Daeng blurted out, his tone momentarily stronger. “Now is your chance. Don’t…waste it…on me.”
“Would that we could, but you need help.”
“I can…wait…for a little bit.”
“No, you can’t.”
Daeng tried to protest again, but what little strength he had finally ran out.
They needed to get him to a doctor ASAP. The problem was one of logistics. The Audi was on the other side of a field that would take far too long to carry Daeng across. Thankfully, there were options closer at hand.
He turned toward Jar. “See if you can get him standing. I’ll be right back.”
NATE CREPT OVER to the van and two SUVs parked in front of the house.
He chose the newest of the SUVs, and, using one of Orlando’s specialty apps, tapped into the vehicle’s computer and made it believe Nate’s phone was its key. He unlocked the doors, turned on the electrical system, but left the engine off.
He opened the rear passenger door next, lowered the backseat so that the cargo area was now a bed, and opened the rear hatch. Now that their ride was ready, he disabled the van and the other SUV, tossing the cables he’d yanked out into the back of the SUV they were taking. He was under no illusion this would keep Dehler at the farmhouse, but hopefully he’d slow her down.
The Aggrieved Page 15
