Not seeing anyone, she took a tentative step forward.
No reaction anywhere.
She took another step, and then another, and was soon heading down the blacktop. It was as she neared the second house on the right that she saw something at the very edge of her peripheral vision, something moving downward behind a group of trash bins. Within a second it was gone.
She kept going, her pace unchanged, until the bins fell out of sight. Moving even more quietly than she had been, she veered over to the building and returned to the corner around from where she’d seen the movement, and listened.
For a moment, she thought it had been her imagination, but then she heard someone creeping along the side of the building. Whoever it was stopped on the other side of the corner. She had to assume the person was trouble.
As soon as a man’s face peeked around the edge, she kicked it. The guy flew backward and hit the ground hard.
Dehler was over him in a flash, prepared to kick again, but it was unnecessary. He was already semiconscious, his face covered in blood from what looked to be a broken nose. Even in the half light, she could tell he had darker skin. Latin maybe, or Asian. Hard to tell. She didn’t recognize him, though, so maybe he was a random civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time.
No time to figure it out.
She left him moaning on the ground and ran down the alley. Her bad leg ached a bit, but was much improved from how it had felt, and added only a slight hitch to her step.
When she burst out from the end of Smallbrook Mews, she tensed, expecting to hear someone fall in behind her.
But hers were the only steps she heard.
NATE HAD BEEN all the way down Gloucester Terrace near Sussex Gardens when Kiet had radioed. He ran back down the street and reached the entrance to Smallbrook Mews in just under a minute.
He turned on his mic. “Kiet?”
Nothing.
“Kiet, what’s going on?”
More silence.
He hesitated at the road’s entrance, unsure if he should go down or not. When he called to Kiet a third time with no response, he realized he had no choice.
Avoiding pools of light, he moved along the road, alert for any movement. About halfway down, he heard a moan.
Quickening his pace, he covered the remaining distance in seconds, and found Kiet sprawled on a concrete walkway, his nose bleeding. Nate propped up his friend in a sitting position, with his head leaning forward so that blood couldn’t drain down his throat.
Kiet was only half conscious.
“Kiet,” Nate said. “You’re okay now. I’m here.”
Kiet blinked. “Nate?”
“Good, good. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Dehler…must have seen me. She…kicked me as I—” He suddenly became more alert and looked around. “Where is she? Did you get her?”
“I didn’t see her.”
“Go! She is getting away. I will be all right.”
Kiet clearly wasn’t going to die from his wound, but Nate was hesitant to leave. “Let me get you some help first.”
“No. Go. Go. I’ll be fine! She is wearing a red wig. And-and, um, a black shirt, I think.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go!”
Nate hesitated a second longer, and then raced back down the alley, switching his comm to the main channel. “We have a problem.”
“What problem?” Quinn asked.
Nate told them what had happened, and then said, “Jar, find her on a camera. Kiet says she’s in a red wig and a dark, probably black, shirt. And then get Kiet some help.” He reached the end of Smallbrook Mews and stopped, unsure which way to go.
“Copy,” Jar said.
“Rosario, are you there?” Orlando piped in.
“Go for Rosario.”
“Check Ananke’s status. If she and her team are free, get them after Dehler, too.”
“Copy,” Rosario said.
“Not just Ananke,” Quinn said. “Send everyone who’s free.”
“No, don’t,” Orlando countered. “You can send the east team, but have the west team go to the Park Plaza to help Steve make sure Kassab doesn’t leave.”
“Copy,” Rosario said. “Sending east team to assist with Dehler. West team to Park Plaza.”
“Find her,” Quinn said.
“Copy,” Nate replied, knowing Quinn’s words had been meant for him.
“The Dehler operations will be on channel two,” Jar informed everyone. “Kassab remains on channel three.”
Nate gratefully switched to two. “Jar?”
“Go for Jar.”
“Any sign of her yet?”
“Nothing. She must still be in the blackout zone.”
Nate looked in all directions. The most logical route for Dehler to have taken was to the right, toward Paddington station. It would be the quickest way out of the area. But if that was her destination, Jar would have seen her by now. And if Dehler had gone left, Nate would have spotted her as he came up Gloucester Terrace.
He cursed under his breath and muttered, “Where the hell are you?”
DEHLER’S FIRST INSTINCT was to head to the train station. If her timing was good, she could be on board a regional line and out of the city in no time. But the station was also a good place to be seen, and the rush job she’d done on her disguise made her leery of being under all the lights.
Instead, she turned down a side street that kept her within Esa’s area of dysfunctional cameras, and searched for a suitable vehicle to steal.
THE AUTOMATED SOFTWARE analyzed each camera feed surrounding the blackout zone, comparing every face that passed through with Dehler’s stored information. Jar had even thrown together an alternate profile based on the description Kiet had given Nate, and added it to the mix.
While she waited, she checked in on Kiet, who’d been able to make it out of the alley on his own and meet up with the discreet, private medical service she’d sent to collect him. She was told his nose had been reset, that he was resting and would be fine.
From the other side of the table, Rosario said, “Ananke is five minutes away.”
“Give her to me,” Jar said.
Into her mic, Rosario said, “Switch to channel two.”
A few seconds later, Ananke said in Jar’s ear, “We’re approaching the area. Where do you want us?”
“We have not located her yet. Hold near Paddington station until you hear from me.”
“Copy.”
Jar was randomly checking cameras herself when an alarm beeped. She switched to the monitoring software.
The hit was from a camera at the north end of the blackout zone. The software put the potential match at sixty-three percent. Not high, but also not surprising since the person it had singled out was behind the wheel of a car, photographed through the windshield.
Jar enhanced the image and magnified it as much as she could before it lost too much definition.
The driver was a female with red hair. Even with the less than high quality of the image, Jar recognized Dehler’s eyes.
Jar flipped on her mic. “I found her.”
THE RELIEF NATE felt at Jar’s announcement quickly soured when she said, “You need a vehicle. She’s in a car heading north.
“Copy.” He scanned the street for something he could grab.
“Nate? It’s Ananke. Where are you?”
“On Craven Road. About three blocks west of Paddington station.”
“We’re half a minute away. We’ll pick you up.”
Nate stood at the edge of the road, looking for Ananke’s vehicle. When a taxi pulled to the curb, he started to wave it off, but the front passenger door opened.
“Come on, get in,” the driver said in an Irish accent.
Ananke yelled from the backseat, “Nate, hurry up!”
He jumped in and pulled the door shut. Like most London cabs, this one had no front passenger seat, but it had a shelf that folded down to hold luggage. That woul
d do in a pinch.
The driver pulled them back into traffic and held his hand out. “Dylan.”
Nate shook it. “Nate.”
“Pleasure,” Dylan said. “Jar, can you give me a hint on where to go?”
“Why would I give you only a hint?” Jar asked over the comm. “I can tell you exactly where.”
“It was only a—”
Nate held up his hand. “Best to just drop it.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Where exactly should I be going?”
As Jar gave him directions, Nate looked toward the backseat.
Ananke leaned forward. “It’s good to see you. I wish it was for a different reason. I’m really sorry for your loss.” Her smile disappeared. “God, that seems inadequate, doesn’t it?”
“It’s fine. Thank you. And thanks for the ride.”
“We couldn’t leave you stranded.” She turned to the Eurasian woman sitting next to her. “This is Liesel.”
Nate reached over to shake hands. “Nice to meet you.”
“The same for me,” she said, her accent Germanic.
“Seems like you’re having a hard time catching this woman,” Ananke said.
“I get enough of that from Quinn. Don’t you start in on me, too.”
“I wasn’t criticizing. Just noting that she’s pretty good at running and hiding.”
Nate nodded, but didn’t say anything.
The taxi’s horn blared, pulling Nate’s attention up front to see Dylan whip around a pair of slower vehicles and dodge back into the left lane a moment before a car coming the other way would have hit them.
Over the comm, Jar’s neutral voice told Dylan he should turn left at the next street, followed by a right.
“How far behind her are we?” Nate asked.
“Less than a kilometer,” Jar said. “She appears to be heading toward the A40.”
The A40 was a major cross-city road that, in certain areas, was more freeway than street. It made sense for Dehler to use it, as it could connect her with multiple options for getting out of the city. And when she reached the countryside, she could grab the M1, the M4, the M11, or any of the other expressways that could whisk her away from the capital.
“Turn right at the next road,” Jar said.
Dylan grimaced. Instead of turning at the corner, he blew through the intersection.
“I said turn right.”
“I know you did, sweetheart, but which of us knows this city better?”
“I have no idea.”
“The answer is me. I do. What did you think I meant?” He took a breath. “You say she’s going to the A40, then so are we.”
Dylan made a series of turns, sometimes taking them down alleys and narrow one-lane streets.
“She is turning onto the A40 now,” Jar eventually said. “Westbound.”
Dylan let out a triumphant ha!
Two more turns, a quick trip through an empty parking lot, a zip up a side street, and they were on the A40 heading west.
“You are in front of her,” Jar said. Though her voice was usually devoid of emotion, Nate thought he detected surprise.
“Well, how about that? Who would have known?” Dylan said. “Oh, that’s right. I knew.”
“How far ahead of her are we?” Nate asked.
“Three hundred meters.”
“That’s too far,” Nate said to Dylan.
“Working on it.”
Over the next few minutes, Dylan slowed and allowed many of the cars behind them to get by.
Finally Jar said, “You should be able to see her now. She’s five cars behind you in the other lane.”
Nate counted sets of headlights until he reached the magic number. “Got her.”
“Want me to stay in front or get behind?” Dylan asked.
“Behind, but make it look natural.”
“Now you’re insulting me.”
Nate glanced at Ananke. “Where did you get this guy?”
“He was part of a package deal,” she said.
“Lucky you.”
“He’s not so bad after a while.”
“You mean he eventually shuts up?”
“No,” Ananke said. “He keeps talking. It just turns into background noise.”
“Did I miss the announcement?” Dylan asked. “Is it International Dump on Dylan Day?”
“Is that not every day?” Liesel said.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, Nate chuckled. When he realized it, he choked it off. He didn’t want to laugh. He didn’t want to be happy. He never wanted to be happy again.
“This woman we’re following—does she know what you look like?” Dylan asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you might want to duck down.”
Nate glanced at the side-view mirror. Dehler’s car was only three back. He scooted down until he was out of view.
A dozen seconds passed before Ananke said, “Here she comes.”
There was too much noise around them for Nate to pick out Dehler’s vehicle, so the only way he knew they were in the clear was when Dylan said, “You’re good now.”
As Nate sat back up, Ananke asked, “What’s the plan?”
“We wait for her to make a mistake,” Nate said.
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then we force her into one.”
EVERYTHING’S GOING TO be fine. I got away as clean as I could. No one knows where I am.
Dehler’s gaze flicked to her rearview mirror again. A few sedans, a couple of cargo vans, several taxis. Every one of them had either been on the road already when she turned onto it, or had been passed by her along the way. Nothing to worry about.
Now that she was making decent time, she started to think about where she should go. Somewhere with an airport, probably. After that? Bulgaria sounded like a good idea. She knew about a cabin there she could anonymously arrange to rent. That would be good for a few days, perhaps even a week. No more long-term stays for a while, though. Not until she was sure she’d shaken Quinn. Short of bringing his sister back from the dead, she had no idea yet how she was going to do that.
You can figure that out later, she told herself. For now, she needed to concentrate on staying free.
She checked the car’s nav system and grimaced. The M40 seemed like it was still a million miles away.
You’re going to make it. It’s only a matter of time.
Everything’s going to be fine.
Chapter Thirty
AS MUCH AS Quinn wanted to abandon what they were doing and go help capture Dehler, he needed to finish the task at hand. To Liz, this would have been the more important job, and if he aborted now, it would be like failing her. For now, he had to leave Dehler’s fate in Nate’s and Ananke’s hands.
Orlando kept giving him sideways looks as they made their way to Daeng’s position.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s get this done, okay?”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure,” he lied.
He knew she didn’t believe him.
They rendezvoused with Daeng a block from where Tahir was hiding.
“Any change?” Quinn asked.
Daeng shook his head. “Still at the same spot.”
Orlando turned on her mic. “Rosario, has the east team made it to the Park Plaza yet?”
“Three minutes away.”
“Any signs of Kassab?”
“He just used his room phone to call down for some food, and has not shown up on any hotel cameras since, so unless he is scaling the outside of the building, he is still inside.”
“Does the team have any of their listening bugs left?”
“Checking.” The channel went silent for a few seconds before Rosario came back on. “They have two.”
“Have them get one on the door and boost the signal to you. If Kassab even touches the knob, you let me know.”
“Copy.”
Orlando looked at Quinn and Daeng. “Are we going t
o just sit here or what?”
Daeng led them to the spot from where he’d been watching Tahir. The terrorist was switching back and forth from looking at the building he’d seen Quinn and Orlando enter, and down the street in the opposite direction.
It was Quinn who spotted the moving shadows first. He tapped his two friends and nodded toward the figures. Tahir didn’t notice until Bilal and the three men with him moved into the glow from one of the streetlights. He rose partway from his crouch and waved them over.
“Park Plaza team, where are you?” Quinn asked.
“Thirty meters behind the subjects,” Jules Keener said. She was a freelance courier who could have done pretty much anything she liked in the business, but liked the travel aspect of her current position.
“Hold there in case we have any problems.”
“Copy.”
Quinn, Orlando, and Daeng extracted their tranq guns and crept in as close as they could get. The brothers were whispering to each other, while the others stood behind them, looking down toward the house.
At Quinn’s signal, he, Orlando, and Daeng pulled their triggers. Each dart hit home, removing the three hired guns from the equation. By the time the Halabi brothers turned to see what was going on, Quinn, Orlando, and Daeng were three meters behind them, guns up and ready.
Tahir demonstrated he was the smarter of the pair by raising his hands in acknowledgment that they were in a no-win situation. Bilal, however, was reaching for what could only be a gun tucked into the back of his pants.
Quinn sent a dart sailing past him, into the tire of the van the brothers had been hiding behind. As air hissed out, Bilal raised his hands, too.
“I understand you were looking for us,” Quinn said.
“Who told you that?” Bilal said. “I don’t even know you.”
Quinn sneered, and said to Tahir, “Your brother needs to work on his lying. What about you, Tahir?”
The man’s eyes widened at the sound of his own name. “We are not looking for you specifically. Only the colleague you were with.”
“The woman with red hair?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.” Quinn activated his mic. “Monica, do you mind joining us?”
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