The Deceived

by Brett Battles

She nodded in agreement.

  Quinn motioned for her to take cover behind the central prep table, then he tucked himself in next to a storage cabinet. From beyond the door, he could hear breathing. Not labored, but deep nonetheless.

  Quinn gripped his gun in both hands, then concentrated all his attention on the people beyond the door.

  A footstep, so light it was almost nothing. Then two steps, simultaneous. Two people.

  The door inched open, its old hinges emitting a low creak.

  Quinn waited, hidden from view by the cabinet. He could hear two people quietly enter the kitchen. The door began to close behind them.

  Quinn took a deep breath.

  “Drop them,” he said as he pushed himself out, gun leveled at the new arrivals. Men, dressed much like their friend had been.

  The man nearest the entrance moved the hand holding a gun quickly toward Quinn, while his partner ran to his left. Quinn fired first, catching the man square in the chest. He then turned his SIG toward the partner. But the man had crouched out of sight behind the far end of the prep table.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Quinn said. “Put down the gun and step out.”

  Quinn caught a glimpse of the barrel of a gun turning toward him. He dove to the floor just as the man’s weapon went off.

  “Throw it down. Now!” the man said.

  He stood up, his gun pointed at Quinn. That was unfortunate for him. He was paying so much attention to Quinn, he didn’t see the heavy skillet in Orlando’s hand rushing toward his head.

  The pan connected solidly against his temple, staggering him.

  As Quinn jumped up, the man tried to raise his gun. This time when the skillet connected with his skull, he dropped to the floor.

  “You could have just shot him,” Quinn whispered to her.

  “You said to be judicious.”

  Quinn smirked. “Check him.”

  While she bent over the man, Quinn moved to the dining area door. The two men in the kitchen and the one on the floor near the front entrance, that was three. If there was a fourth person on the team, he would most likely be in back, watching the alley. But best not to take any chances.

  Quinn eased into the dining room, keeping low. He did a quick sweep, but with the exception of unconscious man number one, the room was still empty. It wouldn’t be for long, though. Quinn could hear the wailing of at least two approaching police cars. They were still several blocks away, but they would be here soon.

  He ran back into the kitchen.

  “We’re going out the back,” he said as he moved quickly through the room to the rear door.

  Orlando was already there, standing next to Nate.

  “What if there’s someone else out there?” Nate said.

  Quinn moved a finger to his mouth, quieting his apprentice. The sirens from the police cars were very near now. Any moment they would be entering the parking lot out front.

  “Cover me,” he said to Orlando.

  She nodded. Quinn counted to five, then pulled the door open.

  Nothing happened.

  Holding his gun in front of him, he walked quickly into the alley and did a 360 sweep. Again, nothing. If there had been another one of the team waiting to stop their escape, the sirens must have scared him off.

  “Let’s go,” Quinn said.

  At the Marriott, Quinn and Orlando kept watch while Nate went up to the room and quickly gathered their things. After that, they went to Aunt Jay’s house. By then, it was almost 11 p.m.

  “There’re two bedrooms upstairs, you guys can take those,” Orlando said as they entered the living room.

  “What about you?” Nate asked.

  “I’ve been using the guest bedroom down here.”

  That was all Nate needed. He grabbed his bag and headed up the stairs.

  “Do you have any of that lemonade left?” Quinn asked.

  “I can do better than that,” she said.

  She led him into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was a six-pack of Kirin beer sitting on the top shelf.

  “Picked it up after everyone left this afternoon,” she said. “Bottle opener’s in the drawer over there.”

  Quinn retrieved it while she pulled out two bottles.

  “Come on,” she said.

  She headed toward the back door, opened it, and stepped outside. Quinn followed.

  The door let out onto a short flight of steps that led down to a tiny backyard, perhaps twenty feet wide by fifteen deep. They descended the steps, and Orlando sat in one of two ratty-looking lawn chairs in the middle of the yard.

  “Are you sure those things won’t break?” Quinn asked as he

  stepped onto the grass. “Not the one I’m in,” she said. He handed Orlando the bottle opener, then carefully lowered his

  weight into the empty chair, ready to jump up if it seemed like it was

  about to collapse. The chair held. Orlando popped off the caps, then handed him one of the bottles. “Skoal,” he said, holding out his bottle. She smiled, then tapped her bottle against his. Without another

  word, they both took deep drinks. “They must have figured out who I was, and followed me out here from D.C.,” Quinn said. “Then what?” Orlando asked. “Tracked you down at the Marriott,

  then followed you to the restaurant?” He shrugged. “How else?” She didn’t look convinced, but it was the only thing that made sense. “If that’s true, they could have followed you here earlier today,” she

  said. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Someone would have been waiting here for us if they had.”

  She took another sip of her beer. “This is the first time they’ve actively come after you, right? Until now, they’ve only been reacting to your presence.”

  She was right. At the house in Houston, at the gallery in D.C., it had been Quinn who’d made the initial contact. “They must think I know something,” he said. “Probably some

  thing to do with whatever it is they’ve been looking for.” “Or maybe they just think you know where Jenny is.” “That could be it, too.” They were silent for a few minutes. “So what now?” she asked. He took another drink, then said, “We call Jenny in the morning.” “And then?” This time his pause was even longer. Finally, instead of saying any

  thing, he merely shrugged his shoulders. And then I’ll do whatever Jenny needs me to do, he thought, but didn’t say.

  They sat in silence for another ten minutes finishing their beers, then Orlando pushed herself up and stepped over to him. Moving in close, she kissed him on the cheek.

  “What’s that for?” he asked. “For you.” He looked at her, not sure what she meant. She smiled, then said, “You’re being a good friend. Markoff would

  appreciate it. You just need to relax a little. Don’t let this one wind you up.” The hand she had set on his shoulder lifted as she turned and

  walked back up to the house. He knew she was right. The whole thing was making him tense. But he also knew what Markoff had told him so many years before

  was right, too. What Quinn did wasn’t relaxing. It was waiting. And

  that was exactly what he was still doing. Waiting. For Jenny. For justice for Markoff. And though he didn’t want to admit it, for Orlando.

  CHAPTER

  QUINN ROSE BEFORE DAWN. HE DRESSED QUIETLY,

  then slipped out of the house and through the backyard. For the next two hours, he checked the streets within a four-block radius of Aunt Jay’s house, making sure that no one was lying in wait. He kept a low profile, staying in the shadows and pausing for long periods just to watch. By seven-thirty, he was as sure as he ever was going to be that the house wasn’t being watched.

  He stopped at the same market he and Orlando had gone to the day before and picked up some coffees and several muffins. When he returned, he found Orlando in the kitchen.

  “Read my mind,” she said as he handed her a cup of coffee. “Aunt Jay only kept instant. I forgot to go out and get anything else.”
<
br />   Quinn set the bag of muffins on the counter. When he turned back, he noticed Orlando’s eyes growing moist.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have never dragged you into this. You’ve got your own things to deal with. Nate and I will get out of here. Let you do what you have to do.”

  She scowled at him. “Like I really want to sit here and sulk with all my aunt’s in-laws. You will not do that to me.”

  “I’m sure you have a lot to take care of.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing? Just sitting around watching her die?”

  Quinn was silent for a moment. “But we’re in your way here.”

  “Are you not hearing me?” she asked. “Just drop it. All right?”

  “Okay,” Quinn said. He held up his hands and smiled. “I get the message.”

  “Good,” she said. She walked over and grabbed a blueberry muffin out of the bag. “Now stay out of my way while I get things ready.”

  Nate strolled in as she was finishing up. Quinn glanced at his watch. It was 8:55.

  “Thanks for joining us,” he said.

  “Is that coffee?” Nate asked.

  “It’s probably a little cold,” Orlando said.

  “No problem. I’m good with cold coffee.” He walked over to the counter. “Oh. Muffins, too. Nice.” He took his coffee and a muffin over to the kitchen table. “It’s all right if I sit here, right?”

  On the table were Quinn’s cell phone, Orlando’s laptop, and a set of Bose speakers.

  Orlando pointed at the chair on the opposite side of the table from the computer. “You can sit there,” she said. “Just don’t spill anything.”

  He gave her a do-I-look-like-an-idiot look, then sat down.

  Jenny’s number was already entered on Quinn’s phone. He only needed to push Send. Once a connection was made, both sides of the conversation would be played through the speakers while it was being recorded on the computer.

  The computer also had another, even more important task. Using a secure, satellite Internet connection, Orlando had accessed a program that could pinpoint the location of any cell phone in the world once the phone was activated.

  The software was a copy of something created by a joint venture between Japan’s Public Security Intelligence Agency and the NSA in America. There were others she could have used, but Quinn knew she considered this one the best. She had hidden it on a server owned by NHK TV in Tokyo.

  Orlando took her place in front of the computer, while Quinn chose to stand.

  “Okay,” he said. “It’s time.”

  He picked up the phone and punched the Send button.

  Through both the phone at his ear and the speakers attached to the computer, he could hear the call begin to ring.

  Orlando and Nate watched him, waiting.

  Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Then a half a minute.

  “That’s a long ring,” Nate said. “Shouldn’t there be voice mail?”

  “Doesn’t sound like it,” Orlando said.

  “Maybe she’s not there,” Nate said.

  Quinn continued to let it ring, giving Jenny as much time to answer as possible.

  Twenty seconds later, he heard a click as someone answered. “Yes?” the voice said.

  “Jenny, it’s Quinn,” he said.

  Silence.

  “Jenny?”

  Still nothing. He looked at the phone to make sure the call hadn’t been disconnected.

  “Are you there? Please. It’s Quinn.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, her voice a near whisper.

  “You got my message. You know it’s me.”

  “You’re just trying to trick me. You’re not Quinn. Quinn has no reason to get ahold of me.”

  Quinn closed his eyes, wishing she were right. “San Diego,” he said. “A year ago. Markoff rented a sailboat. We spent a lot of time at the Del Coronado. I took a picture of you and Markoff on the beach, only it was more of you than of him.”

  He could hear her suck in a breath. “No. Someone told you all that,” she said, not sounding convinced.

  “I helped him pick out a necklace for you,” Quinn said. “It was in La Jolla. A gold disk with the heart cut out of the center. You said you loved it. He said he knew you probably would rather have a diamond, but you told him no, it was perfect.”

  Dead silence, then, “Quinn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wha... why are...”

  “Tell me you’re all right,” Quinn said. “I don’t understand. Why are you trying to find me?” “I know you’re in danger. I want to help.” A pause. “How? How do you know?” “Jenny, I think—” “Steven? Where’s Steven?” He realized he couldn’t hide the truth from her. “He’s...dead.” Her breathing became shallow, ragged. “Forget about me,” she said. Then the phone went dead. Quinn hit Redial, but was greeted with a prerecorded message in

  Thai telling him the subscriber was currently out of range. There was no option to leave a voice message. He tried two more times with the same result, then set the phone back down on the table.

  “Did you get anything?” he asked Orlando. “Give me a minute,” Orlando said. Quinn leaned over and looked at the laptop’s screen. Orlando was scrolling through a list of data. It was all numbers

  and letters, no coherent words. Without warning, she stopped the scroll, and used the cursor to highlight a row of alphanumeric text. She copied it, then minimized the window, making it disappear. Underneath was a second window, all black with the exception of two empty white boxes stacked in the center.

  Orlando clicked on the upper box, activating it. Inside, she pasted the information she’d copied, deleting the last five characters. Those she put in the bottom box, then hit Enter.

  For a moment, the entire screen went full black. “Maybe it didn’t work,” Nate said. He’d come around the table and was leaning in over Quinn’s shoulder.

  After several more seconds, the black screen was replaced by a dark gray background. Superimposed over the background was a series of bright yellow lines depicting Asia from a point south of Indonesia to a point north of Mongolia. East and west, it took in Japan, all of China, and most of India. The only other color on the screen was a tiny blue pinprick in the upper right quadrant.

  Quinn smiled. “You got it.” “Maybe,” Orlando said, not looking happy.

  She worked the keys for a moment, blowing up the area around the blue dot. As the image zoomed in, more lines appeared, denoting country borders, then major roads and cities.

  The dot was in northeast China. “Beijing?” Nate asked. Quinn shook his head. “Farther north.” “It’s in Shenyang,” Orlando told them. “You don’t sound convinced,” Quinn said. She frowned but said nothing. The image on the screen continued

  to zoom in, getting closer and closer to street level. Suddenly the blue

  dot started flashing yellow. “Son of a bitch,” Orlando said. Quinn tensed. “What?” Nate asked. Orlando opened a smaller window on the screen and began rap

  idly scrolling through a list of data. “What is it?” Nate asked again. “False signal,” Quinn said. Jenny’s phone call had been rerouted to

  look like she’d been calling from northern China. “You think you can pin it down?” Quinn asked Orlando. “I’ll get it. Just give me a minute.” Though she sounded annoyed,

  Quinn could tell she actually was enjoying the challenge. “How did she fake her location?” Nate asked. “She’s not a pro.” “Markoff,” Quinn said. “He must have given her one of his

  phones and instructions on how to remain hidden. It’s something he

  would have done.” After two more bogus locations, Orlando said, “Got it.” “Where?” Quinn asked. On the screen was the outline of a peninsula caught between the

  South China Sea and the Strait of Malacca. On the left side of the peninsula, not quite on the coast, was the shape of a city. The blue dot was within the city limits.

  “Kuala Lumpur,” Quinn said. �
�You’re sure this time?” Orlando nodded. “I’m sure.” She continued the zoom, moving in as far as she could. “Somewhere near the towers.” She was referring to the Petronas Towers, at one time the tallest

  buildings in the world, but moving further down the list every few

  years.

  “Is that as close as you can get?” Nate asked.

  Orlando looked up at him, annoyed. “No, not at all. I could go in a lot closer. It’s just a lot more fun if we have to guess exactly where she is.”

  “Right,” Nate said. “That’s as close as you can get. I was just checking.”

  “I’ll put a tracer on the number,” Orlando said to Quinn. “Since we know basically the part of the world she’s in, it’ll be easier. Next time she turns on her phone, we’ll have a record of it.”

  “Real time?” Quinn asked.

  “Close. But not as if we were tracking her on the ground.”

  As Orlando began typing on her keyboard, Quinn’s eyes remained on the screen. They weren’t focused on the current image; instead, they were remembering an earlier screen, the one Orlando had entered the data on. There was something there that felt familiar.

  He stretched his arms back, then rolled his head trying to clear his mind. It wasn’t until he was walking toward the bathroom that it came to him.

  The numbers on the entry screen. He remembered now why they seemed familiar.

  He rushed back to the kitchen. Orlando was the only one there.

  “Where’s Nate?” Quinn asked.

  Orlando looked up. “He went outside.”

  Quinn ran over to the rear door and pulled it open. Nate was sitting on the back steps, holding his cup of cold coffee. He looked up as Quinn stuck his head out.

  “What?” Nate asked.

  Two minutes later, they were gathered in the kitchen again. Nate had retrieved a piece of paper from his bag upstairs and had given it to Quinn. Quinn compared it to the copy he had in his wallet, just to be sure he hadn’t gotten anything wrong.

  Written on each piece was the same line of numbers and letters. It was the sequence that had been on the wall of the shipping container Markoff had died in.

  45KL0908NTY63779V lP

  To Quinn, they looked very much like the line of data Orlando had used to locate Jenny’s cell phone.