The Discarded

by Brett Battles

  “Restart the cameras,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She headed back to the interrogation room.

  As she opened the door, Daeng lifted his head but kept his focus on the back wall.

  “Hello again,” she said. “Where were we?”

  __________

  THE INTERIOR OF the Neyer-Holt Engineering unit consisted of a large open space with what looked like a small, walled-off office in the front corner, and another self-contained space in the back with a sign on the door that read: SUPPLIES.

  Along the walls were shelves and workbenches filled with lathes and drills and presses and testing equipment—all the items needed to sell the engineering front to the casual observer.

  But this was no engineering firm.

  Quinn waved his gun once at the supply-room door. Nate moved over and put his ear against it. When he pulled away, he shook his head.

  Quinn ran the alarm detector around the door but it was clean, so he turned the knob and slowly pushed it open.

  Instead of the supply room, they found a stairwell.

  This, he was sure, was not a standard option the business park had offered tenants. The concrete steps led down approximately twenty feet, creating a nice soundproof barrier between the subterranean facility and those above ground.

  Quinn went first, and as he neared the bottom he heard the distinct rumble of voices. A doorless opening led into a corridor about twice as wide as a household hallway. He paused at the threshold.

  The noise was now intermittent, a single voice coming from the left.

  A woman’s voice.

  He edged into the corridor and shot a quick look in both directions. There were several doors in both directions. The only one open was to the left, where the noise was coming from.

  Keeping next to the wall, he and Nate made their way down to the room, stopping right outside it.

  “…in your best interest. Now answer the question. Yes or no?” Definitely a woman’s voice, though it had an amplified quality, telling Quinn it was coming from a speaker.

  “Sure…yes. Is that what you want?” It was Daeng. A bit weak, though surprisingly strong.

  “Then why did he follow me?” the woman asked.

  “To find out where you were going.”

  This was followed by the sound of a loud slap.

  “Give me a better answer than that,” the woman said.

  “Ask me a better question.”

  Quinn pulled out his cell phone, crouched down, and used the camera to peek inside the room. The space was longer than it was wide, maybe twelve feet by six. A built-in desk stretched along the length of one wall, and on it were several monitors and computers. At the moment, only the center monitor was on. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see what it was displaying. It just looked like motion and light.

  Seated in front of the screen was the third man Quinn had seen in the sedan. No one else was around.

  Quinn looked over his shoulder at Nate and whispered, “Dart.”

  Nate retrieved his dart gun from his pack and handed it over. Quinn checked his phone’s screen again, noting the man’s exact location and distance from the door. Standing, he raised the gun, and then inched out until the muzzle was pointed at this target.

  At the last second, the man seemed to sense something, but as he turned to look, the dart was already flying through the air. It hit him in the upper right portion of his chest.

  “Son of a bitch!” he yelled as he pushed himself out of his chair and reached for the dart.

  Before he could get it out, Quinn shot again, hitting him in the thigh.

  The guy started to say something else, but his words came out in a slur as he began to sway. Quinn got there just in time to catch him before he fell. Quinn laid the man on the concrete and retrieved the darts.

  “It’s Daeng, all right,” Nate said, looking at the computer monitor.

  The image was of an almost barren room, the only pieces of furniture a wheeled cart and a chair in the center. On the chair was Daeng. His pant leg had been cut off along the thigh where he was shot, but that was about the extent of his exterior damage. It was clear, though, from the odd bobbing of his head that he’d been drugged.

  Standing in front of him was Gloria Clark.

  “Why are your people interested in the girl?” she asked.

  “Already answered.”

  “Is she alive?”

  “Come on,” Quinn said.

  Back in the hallway, he raced to the closest door and listened. All quiet inside.

  He moved to the next. Same.

  Door number three. Same.

  He switched to the other side. That’s when he heard her.

  “What about Eli Becker? Do you work together?” she asked.

  Daeng said, “Becker…poor, poor Becker…”

  “Down here,” Quinn whispered to Nate.

  __________

  GLORIA WAS NOT satisfied in the least. She had no doubt Daeng knew more than he was sharing, but even with the drug he was able to hang on to his secrets.

  “Why are your people interested in the girl?” she asked yet again.

  “Already answered.”

  The response he’d given—“Because we want to know”—was little more than babble.

  “Is she alive?”

  “No clue. Is she?”

  At least he was consistent in answering that question. Which meant he and whoever this Quinn was weren’t any better off than she and her team. But who exactly were they? And why would they be interested in the girl? That’s what didn’t make sense.

  She had been working under the belief there were only two interested parties—one, the group who had used the .xuki virus to expunge all information about Operation Overtake from CIA computers, and the other, McCrillis’s client.

  When a CIA contact leaked to McCrillis what the virus had really done, Boyer, with the client’s approval, reactivated the long dormant job and put Gloria in charge of the investigation team. In the first months after the .xuki attack, as Gloria sifted through the history of the job, she began to think the client was simply paranoid, her concern about this girl—who was dead, by all accounts—bordering on the maniacal. But the more Gloria dug, the more things didn’t quite add up, and then, just a few days ago, Eli Becker had shown up on her radar, forcing her to seriously reconsider her opinion.

  And now there were Daeng and his boss Quinn, pushing the thought of client paranoia further and further from Gloria’s mind.

  The problem was, the way the prisoner had been answering questions led her to believe his group had not been responsible for the virus. That would make him and his boss a third interested party.

  “Do you know where she is?” she asked.

  He grunted what might have been a laugh.

  “She’s alive, isn’t she?”

  “Did you…hear me say that? I didn’t.”

  She decided to come at it from a different direction. “What about Eli Becker? Do you work together?”

  Daeng said, “Becker…poor, poor Becker. Were you the one…who killed him?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Did you work together?”

  __________

  QUINN GRABBED THE door handle. “Ready?”

  Nate nodded.

  “One. Two.” On three, he threw the door open and rushed inside, his gun pointed at the woman. “One step backward,” he ordered. “Then freeze.”

  “Who the hell are you?” she demanded.

  Daeng peeked over his shoulder and smiled. “Quinn. Been waiting.”

  “Sorry we couldn’t get here sooner.” Quinn glared at the woman. “Take that step back now.”

  She remained where she was a moment longer, her jaw set, but then did as he ordered.

  “Check him,” Quinn said to Nate.

  Nate moved over to Daeng and began undoing the restraints. “You all right?”

  “Been better…been worse,” Daeng said.

  “We’ll
get you out of here and fixed up.”

  Daeng swayed a few inches to the side before righting himself. “That works for me.”

  Quinn studied the woman. “Hands.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Let me see them.”

  Hesitantly, she brought them forward. Her right was empty, but in her left she held a syringe.

  “Drop it,” he said.

  “Or what? You’ll shoot me?”

  “Yes.”

  __________

  BY THE MATTER-OF-FACT way he said it, Gloria knew he would have no problem putting a bullet in her, so she let the syringe fall to the floor.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Now you and I talk,” he said.

  “Do I get to ask questions, or…?”

  “One, and you just used it.”

  This Quinn guy was a pro for sure, but why had she never heard of him?

  She shoved the thought away. That was something she could worry about later. Right now she needed to concentrate on getting out of this alive.

  Keeping her gaze aimed at the man, she checked the door behind him. No shadows moving around out in the hall, so did that mean it was just Quinn and his partner?

  “My people were concerned when we realized your friend was following us. Naturally, we’d want to find out who he was and why he was interested. You’d have done the same.”

  Quinn said nothing.

  “I suggest we all back off and be on our way. How does that sound?” she said.

  “Like another question,” he said. “But I’ll answer it with this—do you really think your bosses back at McCrillis will be happy you let us walk away?”

  She’d guessed he already knew the name of her employer since he’d found the facility, but it still bothered her, especially since she didn’t know anything about his organization.

  “I heard some of the questions you were asking my friend,” Quinn went on. “I would actually be interested in your response to a few of them. Why are your employers interested in the girl?”

  She laughed. “Very good. But I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to discuss confidential matters.”

  Off to her side, Quinn’s partner helped Daeng out of the chair.

  “Get him out of here,” Quinn said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  The two men left the room at a slow shuffle and turned toward the stairs.

  As their footsteps faded, Quinn said, “You’re the one who killed Eli, aren’t you?”

  “Becker’s dead?” she asked.

  He smirked. “You’re not as good an actress as you think.”

  “Really, I had no idea he was—”

  Without warning, she juked to the right then dove left, ramming her forearm into his hands and sending them flying upward just as he pulled the trigger.

  “And you’re not nearly as badass as you think!” she yelled as she landed a left jab to his gut and raced out the door.

  Knowing she wouldn’t be able to make it all the way to the stairs before he could gun her down, she ran toward the observation room. King had most likely been taken out, but hopefully his weapon was still there.

  She was a step away from the room when she heard Quinn burst into the corridor. He took another shot as she turned through the doorway. His bullet grazed her waist before she could get all the way inside.

  Ignoring the burning pain, she grabbed the door and shoved it closed, and then jammed a chair under the knob.

  __________

  GIVEN THAT THE woman seemed to be his friend’s principal interrogator, Quinn couldn’t help but ask, “You’re the one who killed Eli, aren’t you?”

  All innocent and shocked, she said, “Becker’s dead?”

  “You’re not as good an actress as you think.”

  He should have seen it, should have known it was coming. But he had let his emotions get the better of him and found himself momentarily focused on what she’d done instead of what she might do.

  “Really, I had no idea he was—”

  By the time he got off a shot, her arm was already shoving the gun away. She yelled something as she slugged him but he didn’t hear it. He followed her into the hallway just as she was turning into the room where the computers were. He shot again. He thought his bullet might have nicked her but it certainly didn’t stop her.

  He reached the door seconds after she’d closed it. He yanked the handle and it turned but the door wouldn’t budge.

  He took a step back. He’d seen no other exit from that room when he checked it earlier, so at some point she would have to come out. But wasting even one second waiting for her while Daeng was in need of help was not an option.

  He turned and headed for the stairs.

  CHAPTER 24

  TAMPA, FLORIDA

  THE CHARTER LANDED right after eleven p.m., and the Audi A6 Orlando had arranged for during the flight was waiting for them at the private terminal.

  As soon as she climbed behind the wheel, she called Quinn.

  “You there yet?” he asked.

  “Just arrived,” she told him. “Did you find Daeng?”

  “We did.”

  “And?” she asked, concerned.

  “He’s a little drugged up and has two holes in his leg that are getting stitched right now. Probably won’t be running anytime soon, but otherwise he’s all right.”

  “Thank God. And you and Nate?”

  “We’re fine.”

  “No one got hurt?”

  “Not on our side.” He gave her the highlights of what had happened, ending with their trip to a discreet DC-area doctor Misty had arranged for them. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Did you get any sleep on the flight?”

  “Some, yeah.” Twenty minutes, but she wasn’t going to elaborate.

  “Get more tonight.”

  “You my doctor now?”

  “If I need to be.”

  She and Abraham then headed into the city, arriving at DeeDee’s Comics twenty minutes before midnight. While the sign in the window said CLOSED, lights were still on in the back of the store. As they walked up to the glass front doors, they could hear music blaring from inside. Orlando rapped on the glass.

  “I don’t think anyone can hear you,” Abraham said after a few minutes.

  Orlando waited until a lull between songs and then knocked again.

  The head of a woman with long dark hair popped up from behind a high counter near the back. When Orlando waved, the woman disappeared. After a few seconds, the volume of the music dropped to a more conversation-friendly level, and the woman reappeared, moving between the stacks. As she drew near they could see tattoos covering one arm and peeking out under the collar of her shirt.

  “We’re closed,” she said when she reached the door.

  “Are you Vanessa?” Orlando asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I talked to you earlier this evening,” Abraham said.

  She studied him for a moment. “So you’re the guy, huh?”

  “I am the guy, yes.”

  “Hold on.”

  Vanessa grabbed the lanyard hanging around her neck. She picked out one of the keys attached to it, unlocked the door, and let them in.

  “We appreciate you staying late for us,” Abraham said.

  “For the couple hundred bucks your friend gave me, I figure I should do a little something to earn it.” She looked at Orlando. “And who are you?”

  “I’m Orlando. Abraham’s friend.”

  As they shook, Vanessa said, “Please tell me you don’t live in Florida with a name like that.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Good, ’cause I don’t even want to think about the crap some people might give you.”

  “You have what my friend left for me?” Abraham said.

  “This way.” Vanessa led them through the store to an office in the back. “I have to be honest. I’ve been a little annoyed with myself for agreeing to hold on to this. I
mean, your friend swore there was nothing illegal about it, but two hundred bucks to hold on to an envelope with just a piece of paper and a memory card inside for a few days? Seemed over the top, you know what I mean?”

  “You looked in the envelope?” Abraham asked.

  “I made him show me,” she said. “He wouldn’t show me what was on the card, but at least I could see there weren’t any drugs or something like that. Police find that crap, they shut this place down.”

  “So why did you take it?” Orlando asked.

  Vanessa shrugged. “He seemed sincere, you know? And a little bit desperate. I’m a sucker for desperate.” She opened a large door on a cabinet behind the desk, revealing a safe. “Didn’t know where else to keep it.”

  As she input the combination, Orlando asked, “Did our friend say anything else when he was here?”

  “Just gave me a description of him,” she said, nodding at Abraham. “Pretty accurate, too. Then he told me if you called to ask you the question about the girl.”

  She finished with the last number and opened the door. The space inside was crammed with papers, files, a cash box, and a few other items. She moved some of the files and pulled out a 9x12-inch manila envelope from behind them.

  After shutting the safe again, she held out the envelope. “Here you go.”

  Abraham’s name was scrawled on the front in thick, black pen.

  Looking wistful, he said, “Eli’s handwriting.”

  He turned the envelope so he could open it, but Orlando put her hand over his. “I’m sure Vanessa would like to go home. We can look somewhere else.”

  “Of course,” Abraham said. He smiled at Vanessa. “Thank you so much for holding on to this for me.”

  “Like I said, it was really nothing.”

  “No,” he said. “It was much more than that.”

  Orlando pulled five twenties out of her bag and put them on the desk.

  “Your friend already paid me enough,” Vanessa said.

  “Take it,” Orlando said. “Consider it part of your fee. All we ask is that if anyone else comes around asking about this, act like you don’t know what they’re talking about. I don’t think anyone will, but just in case.”