“Jenny’s not with me.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“She was with you. Where is she?”
“Goddamn it, I know she was with me. But the only way I could have kept her here is if I’d shot her in the leg. I didn’t think you wanted me to do that.”
“Wait there,” Quinn said.
He hung up and flagged down a passing taxi. The ride was short, but it saved him a few minutes.
He saw Orlando as he got out of the cab. She was on the opposite corner, standing away from the street, just out of the light. He waited for a break in traffic, then jogged across the road to join her.
“Please don’t yell at me,” she said. “It’s not my fault.”
Of course her nerves were as much on edge as his were. He should have known that. He took a moment to refocus, allowing the calm that usually guided him to reassert itself.
“I believe you,” he said. “How did they know she was going to be there?” she asked. “I don’t know,” he said. “That was really screwed up.” “If you hadn’t seen them, who knows what would have gone
down.” “Nice work with the gunshot,” she said. “It certainly confused things. That was you, right?” “Yeah.” He gave her a knowing smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone use a durian in a fight before.”
“If you’d have just shot him, I wouldn’t have had to throw it.” She looked down at the palm of her right hand. There was a red spot near the base of her index finger. “The damn thing pricked me.”
“Orlando, where’s Jenny? What happened?” She continued to rub her palm as her mouth tensed. “I’m sorry.” “Did they get her?” Quinn asked. She shook her head. Thank God, he thought. “Then where is she?” Orlando hesitated, then said, “As soon as we got off the hill, we
caught a taxi. I was going to take her back to the apartment, but she didn’t want to go.” A breath, then, “She suddenly told the cab driver to pull over. As soon as he did, she jumped out. I followed her as quickly as I could. When I reached her, I grabbed her arm and stopped her. I told her we were there to help.”
“What did she say?”
“That nobody could help her. People died when they tried to help her. I told her we could get her out of the country and take her someplace safe. But she didn’t want that, either. Said she had to stop them.”
“Stop who?”
“I asked, but that’s all she said.”
Quinn felt exhausted, the combination of the adrenaline wearing off and Jenny’s rejection.
It must have shown in his face, because Orlando said, “I did get one thing out of her.”
“What?”
“She’ll talk to you one more time. I told her she owed you that much.”
“When?” he asked.
She looked at her watch. “In one hour.”
He tried to smile, but failed. “That’s something. Thanks. Let’s go back to the apartment. I can call her from there.”
“No,” Orlando said. “Not on the phone. In person.”
At 11 p.m., Quinn stood at the corner of Upper Pickering Street and South Bridge Road. He was there less than ninety seconds before a taxi pulled up. Quinn leaned down expecting to see Jenny in the back seat, but the only one inside was the driver.
“You called for taxi?” the driver said.
Quinn cocked his head, then smiled businesslike and said, “You know where I need to go?”
“I know where it is. No problem.”
“Then let’s go,” Quinn said as he opened the back door.
A sliver of a moon had risen in the east, hanging low on the Singaporean sky as the cabby drove Quinn back across the river. There were a few stars out, but most weren’t visible through the glow of the city lights.
At first, Quinn thought they might be going somewhere on Orchard Road. There were plenty of clubs, late-night restaurants, and hotels where Jenny could be hiding. But the driver turned before they got there.
To their right were the lights and activity of the city, but to the left was a dark mass of wilderness, a wooded hill rising in the middle of civilization. It took Quinn a moment before he realized what he was looking at. It was Fort Canning Park.
The fort was where the British had built their defenses to watch over the Singapore River in the distant colonial past. Quinn knew many of the buildings were still in place high on the hill, behind the trees and brush, but from his vantage point everything looked black and uninhabited.
The cab first slowed, then pulled to a stop along the left shoulder. The driver turned and looked at Quinn. “All right?”
Quinn stared out the window for a moment, thinking perhaps Jenny would be joining him in the cab, but no one approached the car.
“This is fine,” Quinn said. He pulled out some cash and held it out.
The driver smiled at the healthy tip. “The steps are back there,” he said, pointing off to Quinn’s left. “Hard to see in the dark.”
“Thanks,” Quinn said, then got out.
After the cab pulled away, Quinn walked in the direction the driver had indicated. At this time of night, the park was technically closed, so there would be few, if any, people about.
Behind him, he could hear the sounds of the cars on the street, but ahead there was nothing. Silence. Not even the rustle of leaves in the trees. The lack of noise made his feet sound like sledgehammers slamming against the ground with every step.
The stairs were a bit to the right of where the cabby had pointed, but Quinn found them with little extra effort. They were concrete and led up a steep hill. No one seemed to be waiting for him at the base, so he assumed Jenny must be somewhere near the top. Before starting his ascent, he pulled his pistol out of his bag. After what had happened at the Far East Square, he wasn’t about to take any chances.
He started up the stairs, keeping his pace steady and tuning out everything but what was immediately surrounding him. He heard something in the distance as he neared the halfway point, something falling from a tree. A branch, perhaps, but too far away to be anything significant.
He continued upward, following the stairs as they curved to the right. Suddenly a bird took flight from a tree beside the path. Quinn paused, wondering if it had been his arrival or the presence of someone else that had set the bird into motion. After thirty seconds of nothing, he returned to the climb.
He could see the top of the stairs now. Though still several dozen steps away, he would reach it soon. He adjusted the strap of the bag, then quickened his pace.
“Quinn?”
He stopped. The voice had come from his left, off the path and behind a group of bushes.
“Jenny?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes,” he said, though she must have been watching his approach and already knew that.
His eyes scanned darkness, looking for her. At first, there was only the brush and trees, then she moved out from her hiding place, no more than a shadow among other shadows.
“Over here,” she said.
Quinn stepped off the stairs and onto the grass that surrounded the concrete steps. As he did, Jenny disappeared back into the brush. He crossed to the point he’d last seen her, and found a narrow slot through the bushes. He slipped between the branches, then followed the only path he could make out.
He was about to call out to her when he suddenly emerged into a small clearing. It was no more than fifteen feet square, like a room carved out of the faux wilderness.
Jenny was standing at the far edge, her posture rigid. Even in the darkness, Quinn could see there was a look of determination on her face. But there was also exhaustion, like it had been weeks since she had actually slept through the night.
He took a few steps into the clearing, stopping several feet away from her. “I’m glad to see you’re okay,” he said.
“I’m not coming with you,” she said, the words rushing from her mouth. “Understand?”
“Okay.”
He shrugged, but didn’t answer. “You’re not going to try to convince me?” “Would that work?” he said. She shook her head. “I didn’t think it would,” he said. “You should leave then.” “Perhaps. But I think we’ll stay.” She held her defiant stance for a second longer, then lowered her
head in exhaustion. “He’s really dead?” she asked. Quinn could only answer with silence. Jenny’s lip trembled. “How?” “You don’t want to know this.” “I need to know,” she said. “When Steven didn’t come back, I kept
hoping... but I knew. Tell me what they did to him. Tell me how you found out.” It was odd hearing Markoff called by his first name. “I don’t know
if that’s a good—” “What happened?” she demanded. As much as he wanted to keep the facts from her, he knew he
couldn’t. “I got a call about a week ago,” he said, then told her what he knew. When he finished, more than her lip was trembling. He took a few steps forward, ready in case she collapsed. But she remained standing.
“At least you were the one who buried him,” she said. She looked Quinn in the eyes. “When this is over, I want you to show me where he is.”
Quinn hesitated, then nodded, knowing that was one promise he
didn’t want to keep. “Jenny, I—” “But what are you doing here?” she asked, cutting him off. “I told you, I’m here to help you.” “I mean Singapore. You said something about Steven leading you
here. What did you mean?” “Markoff left a message. It led us to the island.” “What do you mean? Where on the island?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“What if it does?” she said. “Where on the island? Do you have an address?”
The last thing he wanted was for her to go off on her own and try to find out what was in the apartments at the Quayside Villas. “The signal was gone by the time we got here,” he lied. “So we have no idea where exactly he was pointing us.”
She sighed and put a hand to her forehead. “It could have been the help I needed. It could have proved everything.”
“Proved what?” he asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Jenny,” he said. “I know you feel like you need to finish what you set out to do. And that you won’t be safe until then. But maybe I can help you.”
“This isn’t about me,” she said, her brow furrowed. “I don’t care about me. Especially now.”
“It’s the congressman, isn’t it?”
“You know?”
“Not everything,” he said. “But enough to—”
“Tell me, is he here yet?”
“What?”
“Is he here?” she asked, her voice suddenly anxious. “Did he come?”
“He was supposed to arrive tonight,” Quinn told her. “He should be here now.”
“Do you know where?”
Again it was a question Quinn didn’t want to answer. “Does he have something to do with an organization called LP?”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“LP. That was part of the message Markoff left. But I’m not sure what it means. Only that it’s a group or organization, and that it scares the hell out of a lot of people.”
“I...I don’t know... what that is.” She looked around nervously as if she was seeing the small clearing for the first time. “I have to go. I have to find him. I have to warn him.”
Quinn reached out and grabbed her arm as she was turning away.
“Hold on,” he said. “What do you mean ‘warn him’? What’s going on?” “You’ll die just like Steven did. I can’t be responsible for that.” She tried to pull herself free, but Quinn wouldn’t let her go. “I don’t care what you think,” he said. “I’m not leaving. I’ll find
out what’s going on with or without your help.” He almost asked her about LP again. She knew something, but like Blackmoore and Peter, the letters had scared her. That wasn’t what he wanted to do. Not to Jenny. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you from getting hurt.”
“Please, Quinn. Don’t.” “Let me help you.” The look on her face was pained and pleading. But he continued
to look at her, unwavering. After a moment, she looked down and she pulled a small rectangular box out of her pants pocket.
She held the item up. Even in the low light, Quinn could see it was a micro audiocassette, something that was used less and less in a world of digital recorders.
“I need you to hold on to this,” she said. “You can help me that
way.” “What is it?” he asked. She handed it to him. “The only thing keeping me alive,” she said. She pulled away again, and this time he let his fingers fall from her
arm. “I’ll contact you,” she said. He knew he couldn’t stop her, so he said, “I’m not going any
where.” She gave him a half smile, then disappeared into the brush.
CHAPTER
THE APARTMENT NE WIN HAD SET THEM UP IN WASN’T
quite as luxurious as the ones at the Quayside Villas, but it was clean and it was furnished. There were two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room/dining room combination, and a walk-through kitchen.
When Quinn arrived, he found Orlando standing near the back window. She’d been looking outside, but had turned toward him as he entered.
“Our little outing at the Far East Square made the news tonight,” she said. She glanced over at the TV. It was on, but the volume was low.
“Are they shutting the city down?” he asked.
Gunfire in Singapore was not a usual occurrence. The authorities’ response to even one shot would be something other countries might consider an overreaction.
“They’re calling it a prank.”
“Really?”
“They say it was a particularly loud firecracker,” she said. “I believe that was the newscaster’s exact phrasing.”
“What about the body?” Quinn asked. “The guy I shot up on Club Street?”
“Nothing.”
Quinn thought about it for a moment. A sudden heightened sense of security would probably have forced Guerrero and his fellow congressman to head out of town, thus lessening the threat against Jenny. So it might have actually been preferable. At least this way, though, he could still move around the city without causing any suspicion.
But what he didn’t want was to drag things out any longer than
necessary. “Where’s Nate?” he asked. “Sleeping.” Quinn walked down the hallway, looking first in the master bed
room, then the smaller room, where he found his apprentice stretched
out on the bed, snoring. Quinn walked over and gave Nate a shake. “Get up,” he said. Nate’s eyes shot open. “What? What is it?” “Get up.” “It can’t be morning already.” “It’s not,” Quinn said as he turned for the door. “Get dressed and
come out. I need your help.” “Ah... okay,” Nate said, sleep still heavy in his voice. “Can you
give me a minute?” “I’ll give you two.” Back in the living room, Quinn quickly filled Orlando in on his
meeting with Jenny. “You’re going back, aren’t you?” Orlando said when he was finished. He pulled the cassette Jenny had given him out of his pocket and
held it out to Orlando. “Here,” he said. “You’re changing the subject.” “Yeah. I am.” She scowled, then took the cassette from him. She twirled it
around. “This is an AIT tape.” “Data tape?” he said. “Yeah. Sony’s version. Similar to an eight-millimeter cassette.” “She said it was a recording.” “Could have a sound file on it. Usually we’d just need to de-
archive it. But the container looks damaged.”
“I have faith in you.” “I don’t even have anything I can play this on,” she said, obviously annoyed. “Call Ne Win,” Quinn said. “I’m sure he can get something sent
over.” “He’s not going to have something like this just lying around.”
“He’ll find one.” “Then you call him,” she said. Quinn thought about it for a moment. “Fine,” he said. There was
something he needed to ask the old man to do anyway. From down the hallway, they could hear Nate shuffle out of his
room. “You taking the Boy Wonder with you?” Orlando asked. “Thought I might.” “Maybe I should go with you this time.” “We really need you to figure out what’s on that tape.” “If I can figure it out.” “If anyone can do it, you can.” “Gee, thanks, Dad.” Her face turned serious. “Be careful.” “Be careful?” Nate said as he entered the living room. “Be careful
of what?”
They walked from their apartment to the Quayside Villas. Earlier in the day, Quinn had all but decided to forget about Markoff ’s message. Whatever was at the Quayside Villas wasn’t as important as getting Jenny off the island. But that plan hadn’t worked out. In fact, Jenny’s feeling that whatever Markoff had found might have helped her had only refocused Quinn’s attention on the building. So a return trip seemed the logical thing to do.
On the way, Quinn called Ne Win. He wasn’t surprised to find the old man still up. After Quinn told him what he needed, Ne Win said, “I’m not convenience store.” “I never thought you were,” Quinn said.
There was a sigh on the other end. “Data tape player might take a little while. I’ll call when you can pick it up.”
“We need it as soon as you can get it. So instead of calling, have one of your men bring it to the apartment.”
“You are big trouble, you know that?” Ne Win said.
“You should have thought about that before you sent me the container with Markoff ’s body in it.”
“I never said I sent you container.”
“So you’ll get the recorder over to the apartment?” Quinn asked, getting back to business.
“Yes, yes. I take care of it.”
“And the power? You can take care of that, too?”
There was a long pause. “Take care of that, too. My man call you when they are ready. His name Lok.”
“Okay. We’ll be in position in...” Quinn looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes. It would be great if it could happen right around then.”
“You are big trouble.”
The Deceived Page 25