Quinn and Orlando waited until she was only a couple of meters away before they turned and greeted her.
“Nice job,” Orlando said.
“Thanks. I’ve been practicing walking all my life,” Monica replied.
“Snap that line,” Ananke announced. “We’ve hooked a fish.”
“The watchers?” Quinn asked.
“Tahir. The watchers haven’t made the connection—oh, there we go. Everyone’s on board now.”
“What are they doing?”
“Tahir pulled out his phone. And the other three look like they’re about to drool all over themselves.”
“Coming around,” Daeng broke in. “Five seconds.”
“All right, everyone. Here we go.”
Keeping Monica angled away from the watchers, Quinn and Orlando hustled her over to the curb as Daeng pulled up, looking like an Uber driver with the square sign in his window. Since the spot was not a place where cars usually stopped, horns began blaring behind Daeng almost immediately.
Orlando opened the back door and climbed in, Monica following. Quinn shut the door and hopped into the front passenger seat.
“FYI,” Ananke said, “you’ve got four very panicked people over here.”
“Good,” Quinn said. “All right, Dylan. Your turn.”
“Copy.”
Daeng pulled the sedan back into traffic.
“YES, YES,” TAHIR said into his phone, all but shouting. “She is with them now.”
“You are sure?” Kassab asked.
“Positive. I am looking right at her!” Across the street, the fixer and her two American friends were headed to the curb, where a sedan had pulled up. “I need to go.”
It was highly disrespectful to hang up on Dima and Noor’s uncle, but Tahir had no choice. He waved his arm to flag down a taxi. The first empty one drove right by, but the next one pulled over.
He jumped into the back, dropped a hundred pounds onto the front passenger seat, and pointed down the road. “That gray sedan. I need you to follow it.”
MR. COOPER FELT like he’d gained a new lease on life. His plan of following the cleaner to Dehler had finally paid off. There she was, right across the street—his salvation, and the key to a pretty hefty payday to boot.
He knew he should call his client and report the good news, but wouldn’t it be better if he delivered the fixer to Mr. Kassab himself?
Suddenly, Quinn and Orlando escorted Dehler to a ride-share sedan that had pulled to the curb.
Shit!
“Get a taxi, goddammit!” he yelled at Mr. Baker and Mr. Smith.
They both turned to the road and began signaling for a ride. There was another guy up the street also waving for a taxi. Thankfully the first available one passed him by and came to them.
They hurried into the back.
“You see that gray sedan?” Mr. Cooper said to the driver.
“That one there?” the man asked, motioning ahead.
“Yes, that one. We need you to follow it.”
“Follow it? You mean, like in a movie?”
“Sure. Like in a movie.”
“Is this some sort of hidden-camera show?” The driver scanned the watchers as if cameras were sewn into their clothes.
“No, it’s…please, this is important.”
“All right, all right.” The cab merged back onto the road. “The sedan a friend of yours, then?”
“Yes. Please don’t lose him.”
“Don’t you even worry about it.” The driver switched lanes to pass a car in front of them. “You here on business or vacation?”
“What?” Mr. Cooper said. “Um, business.”
“Well, not sure you’ll have the time but, you know, London’s nice and all, but for real beautiful, head over to Ireland. That’s where I’m from. No place like it in the world.”
“If you don’t mind, we’re a little busy.”
“Oh, sorry. You have any questions, you just pipe up.”
ANANKE AND LIESEL found the motorcycle right where Orlando had told them it would be. They were on the road mere seconds after the others had left, Liesel driving and Ananke holding on while keeping a keen eye on their prey.
For the first few minutes the ragtag caravan stayed in the order of departure—Quinn, Orlando, and Daeng in front; Mr. Cooper and his colleagues next; Tahir after that; and finally Ananke and Liesel.
Until Quinn said over the comm, “Okay, Dylan, now,” and the taxi Dylan was driving slowed slightly.
“Tahir just passed Mr. Cooper,” Ananke reported. “All he cares about is you now.”
“Excellent,” Quinn said. “Move to next position. We’ll execute the route.”
“Copy.”
Ananke turned off the road and sped away.
MR. COOPER WAS starting to wish they’d found a different cab. Their driver was a gabber. He’d shut up for a few moments when asked, but he’d always start talking again.
Even worse, he wasn’t doing a great job keeping up with the sedan, and Mr. Cooper was concerned they’d soon lose Dehler. Thankfully, Quinn’s driver didn’t seem to be in that much of a hurry. He slowed at every turn, and even used his signal.
Then the inevitable happened. Ahead, the sedan drove through a yellow light. Another cab was able to race through as the light turned red, but there was no way Mr. Cooper’s taxi would make it.
The driver acknowledged the problem. “Sorry about that, but it’ll be okay. There’s only one way they can go, and I happen to know a shortcut that’ll get us where we need to be.”
Not having any choice in the matter, Mr. Cooper said, “Make it fast.”
The driver veered into the left lane and made the turn. Finally, he seemed to understand the necessity of speed as they flew down the new road. Two more turns, a rolling stop, one more turn, and then—
“Wait!” Mr. Cooper barked as the cabbie slammed on the brakes. “Go back! Go back!”
Ahead was a brick wall and what appeared to be a dead-end alley.
“You’re going to lose them!”
The driver turned toward the side window and fiddled with something. When he turned back around, he was wearing a gas mask.
In a muffled voice, he said, “Sorry, fellas,” and tossed a small smoking cylinder into the back.
Mr. Cooper and Mr. Baker both went for the door handles at the same time, but neither door opened.
Mr. Cooper swiveled back toward the front, thinking he could get over the seats and get out that way, but the driver was pointing a gun at him.
“Just you settle back and relax,” the driver said. “I promise you, that stuff ain’t going to kill you. Though I’m told you’ll probably have a headache later. Apologies for that.”
“You’re going to regret this,” Mr. Cooper croaked. He’d intended to sound menacing, but the gas had done something to his vocal chords.
“Actually, I don’t think so.”
Mr. Cooper tried to grab the front seat, but his hand remained beside him, unmoving. He tried it again, and attempted to shift his legs and then his torso and his head. The only things he seemed to have control over were his lips and eyes.
He glanced sideways at Mr. Smith and Mr. Baker. Both appeared to be in the same state.
“Who the hell are you?” he said to the driver.
Instead of answering, the cabbie raised his hand and rapped on the roof three times. A second later, the passenger door next to Mr. Cooper opened, revealing a tall African woman standing outside, also wearing a mask.
“Good evening, Mr. Cooper,” she said.
Correction, an African-American woman, if her accent was to be believed. And one who knew who he was.
“He wants to know who the hell we are,” the cabbie said.
The woman smiled. “Who we are isn’t important. It’s who we represent that should concern you.”
“Who-who do you rep…resent?” He was having a hard time concentrating.
“Kind of obvious, I would think. The man a
nd woman you’ve been following.”
“Q-Q-Quinn?”
“Good! Glad we’re on the same page. You’re lucky. Quinn’s decided to let you go. Tomorrow, of course, after you wake up. When you do, my advice is to get out of town immediately. You’ll also want to forget everything about this job, and avoid crossing paths with Quinn or any of us associated with him.” She paused. “Now, I know you’re probably worried that your client won’t be happy you fell asleep on the job, but don’t waste your energy. It won’t be an issue. Any questions?”
He had plenty, but it didn’t matter. His lips had stopped obeying his orders.
“None? Okay,” she said. “We’re leaving now, but don’t panic. There’s a gate that closes across this alley. No one will disturb your sleep.” She looked at the driver. “Did you mention the headache?”
“I did, yeah,” the driver said.
“All right, then. I guess we’re done.”
As the cabbie climbed out of the vehicle, the woman leaned in the back, said, “Sweet dreams, gentlemen,” and slammed the door shut.
AFTER QUINN AND the others stranded Dylan’s cab at the light, Daeng turned the sedan toward their next destination—an unoccupied row house undergoing renovation in Belgravia. Quinn would have preferred a warehouse in a less populated part of the city, but they needed a place close enough to the Park Plaza hotel to entice Hammad Kassab and Bilal Halabi to join Tahir, though not so close to seem suspicious. Plus, the location needed to be not far from Dehler’s apartment in Paddington.
With Tahir behind them in visual range, Daeng dropped off Quinn, Orlando, and Monica in front of the house before driving away.
Quinn made a show of looking around as he and Orlando whisked the faux Dehler inside. Once the door was closed, Monica made her way to the roof, while Quinn and Orlando waited by the front door.
“He’s out of his cab,” she reported over the comm after she was in position. “Staying on the other side of the street, about half a block down. Looks like he’s pulling out his phone.”
“Jar, did you get that?” Orlando asked.
“I am monitoring this line,” Rosario said. “Checking the call now…. Confirmed, calling the same number as before…connected. I am waiting for translation…. All right, here we go. He told them you have gone into a house, and he gave them the address.” A pause. “They asked about Mr. Cooper, and he said he does not know. He asked them to send some men. The guy on the other end said he is coming, too. He sounds younger so it must be Bilal.”
“Nothing about Kassab?” Quinn asked.
“Nothing.”
Annoying, but not the end of the world. They had an alternate plan for that possibility.
“Tell the east and west teams it’s time. And let the Park Plaza team know if they can do the same without alerting Bilal, do it, but otherwise just observe.”
“Copy,” Rosario said.
WHEN THE GROUP of Kassab’s men that was stationed in the eastern part of the city came down to the hotel’s underground garage to get their car, Quinn and Orlando’s team was waiting for them.
Though the team members all had pistols in shoulder holsters, they each held a tranquilizer gun. The latter were each equipped with a five-cartridge magazine, each cartridge containing a quick-acting, long-lasting knockout drug.
Kassab’s men walked from the elevator in a loose two-two-one grouping.
When the targets entered the optimum fire zone, the team leader clicked his mic three times.
The first shot took down the man in back. While he was still falling, two more shots disabled the two in the middle. The final two shots were fired by the team leader and the man who’d sent off the very first dart. And just like that, the four-man team eliminated the five.
They transferred the unconscious men into the targets’ own vehicle, and then the team leader selected the universal channel on his comm.
“East zone neutralized and stored for pickup.”
“Copy, east zone,” Jar said. “You are clear to reposition to backup location. We will notify you if you are needed.”
“Copy. East team, moving out.”
THE WEST TEAM had a slightly harder go of it, due to one of its targets turning at the last second, causing the dart to glance off his neck.
The target could manage only one step toward escape, however, before two more darts hit him square in the belly, sending him to the ground with his buddies.
“West zone neutralized and stored for pickup.”
“Copy, west zone. You are clear to reposition to backup location. We will notify you if you are needed.”
“Copy. West team, moving out.”
THE PARK PLAZA team lay in wait, but the opportunity to remove the three men accompanying Bilal did not present itself. There was no sign of the fourth man or Kassab.
A quick consultation with Quinn via Jar resulted in team member Steve Howard remaining at the hotel to keep an eye out for the missing two, while the other two team members followed Bilal and his lackeys.
WHEN THE RESULTS from the three side missions were all in, Quinn placed a call.
“Good evening, Annabel. We’ve left you a couple of gifts.” He gave her the two addresses where Kassab’s men were sleeping.
“What will we find there?” she asked.
“Thugs. Troublemakers. Undoubtedly a few people from one of your wanted lists. But don’t worry. It’s just the appetizer. We’re not finished yet.”
QUINN AND ORLANDO tracked Bilal’s progress via reports from the two team members following him.
When he was five minutes from reaching his brother, Quinn said, “It’ll take too long before they try to come in here. We need to go with option B.”
“Agreed,” Orlando said.
Quinn turned on his mic. “Phase one, switching to option B.”
As soon as all involved parties replied with “Copy,” Quinn and Orlando headed for the rear exit of the building. Their destination was the alleyway near Tahir’s position, where Daeng was keeping watch, but they had only stepped outside when Nate’s voice came over the comm.
“We have a problem.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
KIET WAS POSITIONED next to a darkened house on Smallbrook Mews, behind several rubbish bins. From there, he had a direct line of sight to the rear door of Dehler’s apartment.
Since he’d been in place, there had been zero activity, which was why, even though he was staring right at it, it took a second to register the door had cracked open. He raised his binoculars. Sure enough, a sliver of black now separated the door from the frame.
He switched on his mic and whispered, “Something is happening.”
“What is it?” Nate asked.
Before he could answer, the door swung open, and a shadowy figure stepped into the darkness behind Dehler’s building.
“Kiet! What’s going on?”
Keeping his voice as low as he could and still be heard, Kiet said, “Someone just came out of the basement.”
“Is it her?”
“Cannot tell.”
A step, slow and deliberate, broke the silhouette from the shadows near the doorway. Another step, faster this time, and the next faster still.
While the alleyway was darker than the streets surrounding it, several lights were shining off the back of other buildings, so it was only a matter of moments before the figure stepped into one of the halos.
A woman, with long, red hair. A few more steps and Kiet could make out her face—heavy eyebrows, upturned nose, a soft jawline. None of it matching Dehler, and yet he knew it was her. It was the eyes. Whatever she’d done to change her look, she had left her eyes unaltered.
He clicked his mic four times in rapid succession, signaling an emergency.
“It’s her?” Nate asked in a staccato that indicated he was running.
One click.
“I’m about a minute away.”
Click.
Dehler was almost level with Kiet now. If he wan
ted, he could rush out and tackle her, but his instructions had been clear. If Dehler emerged, he was to only observe and follow.
He shrank down behind the rubbish bin and listened to her nearly silent steps as she walked by. As soon as the house he was hiding next to was between them, he eased out of his nook and moved to the corner.
Not hearing the steps anymore, he peeked around the edge.
IF NOT FOR her years of experience, Dehler would have grabbed her backpack and headed for the door right after she’d hung up with Esa. But she forced herself to take a moment to think things through.
If the others were outside now, then she was already out of luck. But if they were still trying to locate her, she had time. Maybe not a lot, but enough to cut down the risk of being spotted later.
She hurried back into the bedroom where she’d left the suitcase full of disguises. As much as it pained her, she’d planned to leave it behind and keep only one disguise—and her makeup kit, of course. Not wanting to use the disguise she’d already packed away, she pulled out a long red wig, a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt and matching cardigan from the to-be-discarded suitcase.
She dressed and donned the wig, and then sat down at the kitchen table with her portable mirror to work on changing her face. If she was doing things properly, she would take an hour at least to adhere the prosthetics and blend her makeup. But that was more time than she could afford. She gave herself fifteen minutes, after which she examined her work.
Not bad, she thought.
It wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny, but the darkness of night would help. Once she felt safe, she could do a more thorough job of it.
She returned the kit to her backpack, looked around to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything of importance behind, and headed for the back door.
She opened it just enough to listen for anything unusual. Cars from a few streets away, a muffled TV from somewhere down the alley, but that was it. She eased the door open farther and stepped outside.
The Aggrieved Page 26
