The Discarded

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The Discarded Page 24

by Brett Battles


  “May I call you Nadine?” Abraham said to the woman as he stepped around Quinn.

  “You may not,” she shot back.

  “All right. Madame Chastain, then. My name is Abraham Delger, and my friends here are Orlando, Quinn, Nate, and Daeng. I assure you we mean you no harm at all. Nor do we mean any harm to your daughter, or…the girl.” Abraham’s reassuring tone seemed to have a calming effect on the woman. “Would it be okay if we sat down?”

  Nadine hesitated before nodding.

  Quinn motioned for Nate and Daeng to hold back to not overwhelm her, and then he moved over to the seating area with the others. He and Nadine took chairs on opposite ends of the coffee table, and Orlando and Abraham shared the couch.

  “You’re concerned, of course,” Abraham said, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. “You think we want to hurt Desirae.”

  “My daughter’s dead,” she said, sounding now like she was reading from a book.

  “I worked with her, you know,” he told her. “On my last job before I retired. I’m starting to think it might have been your daughter’s last, too. Maybe one she’s still working.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You would have never allowed her to build secure living quarters under your house if you didn’t have some idea,” he gently countered.

  Nadine made no comment.

  “The truth is, Madame Chastain, it’s not your daughter that we are most concerned about. It’s Tessa.”

  She stared at him for a moment, and then in a near whisper said, “I’ve never heard that name.”

  “I’m the one who delivered Tessa to your daughter,” he said. “I’m the one who brought the girl halfway around the world. I don’t want to harm Tessa. I would never do that.” He glanced back at Orlando and Quinn. “None of us would.”

  While he spoke, the woman’s expression changed from one of disbelief to dawning realization.

  “What is it?” Orlando asked her

  Nadine’s gaze remained on Orlando’s old teacher. “Abe,” she said softly. “You’re Abe.”

  The room went quiet.

  Nadine finally blinked and seemed to get control of herself. “Or maybe you’re just using that name to try to trick me.”

  “Not a trick.”

  “Then prove it.”

  “So you do know about the girl,” Orlando said. “Do you know where she is?”

  Nadine shot her a quick look. “I never said that. I never said anything about a girl.” She turned back to Abraham. “Prove it.”

  “I could show you my driver’s license,” Abraham said. “But you’ll just think it’s fake.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Tessa?” he asked.

  She said nothing.

  Abraham frowned. “I was only with her a few days when she was four years old. I can tell you she liked noodles then but wasn’t crazy about rice. I can tell you she used to have three freckles that formed an arc right here.” He touched his collarbone where it met his neck and traced the pattern. “I can tell you she liked her hair in a single ponytail, not two.”

  “What else?” she asked, as if looking for something specific.

  “Well, checkers, of course,” he said. “I taught her to play. I even gave Desirae the set we used.”

  Almost in a daze, Nadine said, “She still has it.”

  It was as if time froze. No one moved. No one breathed. No one said anything.

  Orlando finally broke the spell. “Tessa’s with Desirae, isn’t she?”

  Nadine glanced at her and then away, her lip trembling.

  “It’s okay,” Abraham said. “I told you. We’re not here to harm them.”

  “Terri,” Nadine said. “Her name’s Terri now.”

  “How did she end up with your daughter?”

  “I don’t know. Really. One day Desirae showed up with her. Within a few days there were these people in my basement building the apartment.”

  “How long did they live there?” Quinn asked.

  “A couple of years. Until Desirae thought it was safe enough to leave.”

  “Where did they go?” Orlando asked.

  Nadine said nothing.

  “Tell me about Terri,” Abraham said.

  A hint of a smile graced Nadine’s face. “What can I say? She’s my granddaughter. She’s the best girl on earth.”

  “Does she still ask about her mother?”

  “Her mother?” she asked, confused.

  “Before Desirae,” Abraham said.

  “I don’t know anything about her…first mother. If she talks about her, it’s not with me.”

  “She is healthy, though, right?”

  The smile was back. “She broke an arm once when she was out—” She stopped herself. “Look, I’ve already said way more than I should.”

  “Could you at least tell us if you have a way of getting ahold of Desirae?” Quinn asked.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “We need to warn her,” Abraham said. “Someone’s looking for her and…Terri. Someone whose intentions are not good.”

  “Who?”

  “If we told you a name, would it even matter?” Quinn asked.

  “Try me.”

  “McCrillis International.”

  The woman thought about it and then shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

  “We need to warn your daughter. Is there a way to contact her?” Quinn said.

  “Sorry. There isn’t,” she said, a tad too quick.

  “Your daughter and your granddaughter are in serious trouble. We can help them.”

  She crossed her arms, her face tense. “Or maybe you’re trying to trick me.”

  “No one is trying to trick you,” Abraham said. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t your understand? I should have gone with Tessa last time. I should have made sure she was safe.”

  Orlando put a hand on his shoulder. “Abraham, she was safe. We know that now. Desirae took care her. She’s okay. Maybe it’s time to give it up.”

  “Give it up?” he said, pushing her hand off. “You know what? All of you can just leave. Thank you for your help, but you can go on to your next job now. I have to help Tessa. I will not make the same mistake I did before.”

  Quinn had been keeping an eye on Nadine throughout the exchange, and could see she was affected by his response.

  “Madame Chastain,” he said. They all looked at him. “Could you tell us about the tikis?”

  Her face dropped. “How did you—”

  “Which island are they on?”

  CHAPTER 30

  ABOVE THE PACIFIC OCEAN

  GLORIA RECEIVED THE information in Los Angeles right before boarding the second leg of her flight to Hawaii. She took her seat and patiently waited for the announcement allowing the use of electronic devices. When it came, she fired up her laptop and opened the waiting file.

  Her researchers had been able to locate four operatives who had used Quinn as either a first name or surname. One was a woman so she was out, as were two others who were long retired. The last was a man who called himself Jonathan Quinn, with a presumed age range in the late thirties to early forties, right in the ballpark of the Quinn she’d encountered. There were some conflicting reports that mentioned him being at least a decade younger, but those were in the minority. The only picture was a police sketch from a few years earlier. It was not the best drawing, but she was certain this was her guy.

  He was a cleaner who worked exclusively in the intelligence world. So why had he crossed over into corporate?

  The lack of other information about him despite the fact he displayed the skill level of someone with years in the business at least shed light on how he’d been able to outmaneuver her men and infiltrate the Virginia facility.

  She knew Mr. McCrillis would want this information. She had no doubt that Quinn was responsible for not only freeing his friend Daeng but also killing Bo
yer.

  But Gloria wasn’t above a little revenge of her own. When she finally finished her business with the girl, she would go after Quinn and make him pay for getting in her way. If she could use his termination as a means to advance her career at McCrillis, that was just a bonus.

  Everyone would be happy in the end.

  Well, except for Quinn.

  __________

  AFTER QUINN TOLD Nadine about Eli Becker and their encounters with the people from McCrillis International, she finally agreed to tell them what she knew.

  Yes, Desirae was on one of the Hawaiian islands. Oahu. But where on the island, Nadine did not know.

  “How do you contact her?” Quinn asked.

  “I don’t.”

  “No phone number? No e-mail?”

  She shook her head. “We agreed that Terri needed to be her priority. And it would be safer if I didn’t have a number someone could…torture out of me, I guess. She checks in with me every few months.”

  “You must have some way to get ahold of her in an emergency.”

  Nadine went quiet for a moment before saying, “There is one.”

  The method involved an in-person visit to a gift shop on Oahu, and the name of a woman who worked there and could get a message to Desirae.

  As Daeng drove them to the airport, Quinn said, “I want you to stay here and keep an eye on Madame Chastain. I don’t think anyone will show up, but just in case.”

  “In other words, you don’t want my crutches in your way,” Daeng said with a knowing smile.

  “Fifty-five percent what I said, forty-five you.”

  Daeng laughed. “It will be my pleasure.”

  They were too late to catch a flight to anywhere useful, but since they’d have to connect through one of the major hubs anyway, it made more sense to rent a sedan and drive the seven and a half hours to Toronto so they could catch one of the first flights the next day to the West Coast. By the time they deplaned in Honolulu and rented a car, it was a quarter to three in the afternoon.

  The gift shop was located in the Windward Mall in Kaneohe on the other side of Oahu from the capital. After they parked, Orlando pulled comm gear out of her bag and handed a set to Quinn and Nate.

  “What about me?” Abraham asked.

  Reluctantly she gave him one, too. “But you stay with Nate, understand?”

  “Yeah, I know. Stay in the car. It’s becoming my mantra.”

  “Tell me about it,” Nate said.

  As Quinn put his receiver in his ear, he said, “Letter?”

  Orlando pulled the sealed, white envelope out of her bag. The last thing they’d had Nadine do before they left Quebec was write Desirae a note and print the name of the contact on the envelope. Since none of them looked like they could be Desirae’s mother, it was the best plan they could come up with at the time.

  “All right,” Quinn said. “Let’s give it a whirl.”

  The mall was doing all-right business for a weekday afternoon. The mix seemed to be almost fifty-fifty local and tourist. Two things kept the place from looking like it could be anywhere in the United States. The first was the abundance of men wearing Hawaiian shirts, so many that Quinn felt like he stuck out. The second was the number of stores with Aloha in the title. Among these was the Aloha Kaneohe gift shop.

  The store was brightly lit, with tables and displays of pretty much any type of souvenir a visitor might want. Quinn and Orlando entered separately. While Quinn browsed through the displays, Orlando headed to the checkout counter. On her way, she paused in front of a glass cabinet with locked doors.

  “Well, looky here,” she said over the radio.

  “What is it?” Quinn asked.

  “A couple of very familiar-looking tikis.”

  Orlando grabbed a hoodie off one of the shelves and a hat off another before entering the checkout line. By the time she reached the cashier, Quinn had moved over to the postcard rack not too far away.

  “Aloha,” the cashier said. “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

  “All set,” Orlando replied. “Thank you.”

  The woman rang her up and Orlando paid with cash. As the bag containing her purchases was handed to her, Orlando said, “Oh my gosh, I almost forgot why I came in here in the first place. Does…”—she looked at the envelope—“Sandra Wiley still work here?”

  “Ms. Wiley? Sure, she’s the manager.”

  “Is she here right now?”

  “Should be. Would you like me to check?”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  The cashier picked up a phone from the counter behind her. After she finished her call, she said, “You can wait by that door over there. She’ll be right out.”

  As Orlando headed over, Quinn repositioned himself again to stay close and pulled out his phone. The moment the door opened and a thirtysomething woman stepped out, he activated the app on his screen.

  “Hi, were you the one looking for me?” the woman asked.

  Immediately a large circle appeared on Quinn’s display. It was filled with red dots, each representing a cell phone in range that it had just pinged. There was only one blue dot, Orlando’s phone. Right next to it, corresponding to where the woman was standing, was a red dot. Quinn tapped the dot and all the others disappeared as the app began tracking the woman’s phone.

  “Are you Sandra Wiley?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So nice to meet you,” Orlando said, holding out her hand. “We have a friend in common.”

  “We do?” the woman said, shaking Orlando’s hand. “Who?”

  “Nadine Chastain.”

  The woman looked at first confused, then surprised.

  “I was in Montreal for a conference last weekend,” Orlando said as if she hadn’t noticed the woman’s reaction. “Nadine came down to meet me for lunch. So great seeing her again. When I told her I had meetings in Oahu this week, she insisted I stop by here and say hello. Oh!” Orlando reached into her pocket and pulled out the envelope. “She also wanted me to give you this.”

  “What is it?” the woman asked, not taking it.

  Orlando shrugged. “Just a note, I think.” She laughed uncomfortably. “I didn’t watch her write it.”

  Wiley hesitated a moment longer before her full smile returned. “Of course,” she said, taking the envelope. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. So…um…nice shop. Have you been here long?”

  “A while. I’m sorry. I do apologize, but I need to get back to work. I hope you understand.”

  “Of course. Have a great day.”

  “You, too.”

  The woman disappeared back the way she’d come.

  The moment the door was closed, Orlando whispered, “I don’t think her good-bye was sincere.”

  Quinn huffed but added nothing as he watched the screen.

  The red dot representing Sandra Wiley’s cell phone had moved twenty feet beyond the door and stopped. Her office? That seemed logical. The dot flashed yellow, indicating the woman had sent a text. No way to know what it said or who it was sent to, but given the timing, Quinn had little doubt it had gone to Desirae.

  As the dot moved again, he said, “She’s on the go.”

  Instead of heading back into the shop, though, Wiley went in the opposite direction and made a sharp left turn.

  “Service corridor heading north,” he said. He hurried out of the store to where Orlando had repositioned.

  So that he didn’t have to focus on the phone, he handed it to her and began walking quickly through the mall, parallel to the path the woman was taking. Keeping his eyes on the shops, he searched for an unmarked entrance to the employees-only area.

  Before he found one, Orlando said, “She’s descending.”

  He spotted the nearest escalator and took it down to the ground floor.

  “Which way?” he whispered, as he reached the central area where the three wings of the mall met.

  “North…no, no, changing t
o northwest.”

  Quinn looked toward the wing that jetted off to the right, just in time to see Wiley pass through another doorway to a service corridor.

  “Nate,” Quinn said. “Wherever she’s going, it should be off the northwest wing somewhere.”

  “Got it,” Nate said.

  Quinn angled over to the access door Wiley had used and found it unlocked. As soon as he passed inside, he could see her in the distance. When she looked back at him, he kept his pace normal and acted as if he were another mall employee on some random errand. Given that she didn’t race away, he figured his ruse had worked.

  About three quarters of the way to the end of the wing, she exited through a doorway on the right.

  “Think she just went outside,” he said. “The northeast-facing wall.”

  “Pulling into that area right now,” Nate replied.

  As Quinn neared the door, he said, “Update.”

  “She’s stationary,” Orlando replied. “Hasn’t moved for the last fifteen seconds.”

  Quinn could think of only one reason for that. “She’s in a car. Nate, did you get that? She’s—”

  “I see her,” Nate said. “A green MINI Cooper.”

  “On the move again,” Orlando said.

  “That’s because she’s pulling out,” Nate told them. “Am I go with follow?”

  “Yes,” Quinn said. “Go!”

  __________

  THROUGH HER BINOCULARS, Gloria surveyed the narrow strip of land Martinez’s techs had narrowed the search area down to.

  The mountain valley sat on the windward side of Oahu, northwest of the town of Kaneohe. According to official records, a total of eleven homes were scattered along it, each sitting on multiple-acre lots. Research in DC had run the names of all the owners and known residents, but only a few traffic tickets and one police response to a domestic dispute were kicked back.

  By all appearances, just a quiet, if spread out, neighborhood.

  She walked back to the sedan where her team was waiting.

  “I’ve double-checked the maps,” King said. “The road peters out about a half mile above the valley so there’s only one way in or out.”

  “Good,” she said. “We start at the bottom and work our way up. Everyone in.”

 

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