by Sam Sisavath
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth. I mean, there was no reason to lie. Your records were pretty bare, Quinn. We were your second stop, and you were almost a clean slate from the age of ten onward after your accident.” He took another sip from the glass and licked his lips before continuing: “But anyway. It’s not every day you get a visit from the FBI inquiring about one of your kids. Then when I saw that news coverage about you… You’re in a lot of trouble, aren’t you?”
She couldn’t help but smile at that. “I guess you could say that.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“I was hoping to find something about where I came from. I went to the old place…”
“It’s a mess, isn’t it?”
“It’s more than that.”
He sighed. “We had to shut down about eight years ago. The funding dried up. New administrations, new priorities. I tried to keep us afloat with private donations, and that worked for a while, but eventually the finances caught up with us.” He shook his head. “Most of the kids were becoming adults anyway, and we’d stopped taking in new ones. We managed to place the ones that were still underage with other children’s homes, but we lost a few.”
Quinn wondered if one of those lucky few were Rosario, Kicks, and Macy, but she asked instead, “Lost how?”
“They ran away, like you did. I guess they decided to take their chances out there on their own. I still think about them; I pray they’re all right.” He went quiet and stared down at his half-empty glass of water. “I did the best I could.”
“I know you did,” Quinn said. “You were a good man, Doug. You still are.”
He pursed his lips. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“Even coming from a wanted fugitive?”
He chuckled. “Only if you did any of the things they said you did. So did you?”
Not all of it, she thought, but didn’t think there was enough time in the day to explain the answer, so she said instead, “No. I’m being framed.”
“Well, that sucks.”
She managed another smile. “You’re taking this well. Normally the first thing people do when the first name on the FBI’s Most Wanted list shows up at their front doorsteps is freak out.”
“I’m old, Quinn. And I’ve seen a lot of things in my time. Bad things. Some good things, too, but a lot of bad things.” Again, that brief silence, as if he was gathering his thoughts. “Tell me what you’re doing back here, and maybe I can help.”
“My records. Someone told me they were lost in a fire…”
Patterson nodded. “A few years after you left. Some kids were smoking in the records room and accidentally left a lit cigarette behind. We lost your file, and everyone else’s, that was inside at the time. Why?”
“I was hoping to get a look at it. I know you said there’s nothing in there about my parents, about how I came to you.”
“You think Ben might have missed something?”
“Wait, you’re saying Ben saw my records?”
“The first time he visited me, yes; he asked to see them.”
Ben, why didn’t you tell me? What else did you keep from me? What else?
She replayed their last conversation in her head. She remembered every word of it, even the way he looked at her during those last few seconds he was still alive.
“About your past,” he had said.
“Ben, I know all about it,” she had answered.
“No, you don’t. Not all of it. I told myself I did it to protect you, but maybe…I don’t know. Maybe I did it to protect myself a little bit, too.”
“What are you talking about, Ben?”
“Your parents…”
“You never knew my parents. No one did.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
“That’s not entirely true,” he had said, and it had haunted her ever since.
It was one of the reasons she’d left Aaron and Xiao in order to drive halfway across the country to get here, despite all the risks. She had been certain the answers weren’t in Texas but in California. She had been so certain, but there was nothing out there.
Or was there?
“So they’re gone,” she said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice. “The files. All of it. They’re gone…”
“Well, not entirely,” Patterson said.
She leaned forward. “What are you saying?”
“We lost the physical copies,” Patterson said. “But I still have the backup discs.”
Chapter 3
Xiao
Trevor had one hand on the doorknob and the other on the gun behind his back when she knocked. “Did you find him?”
“Not quite,” Xiao said. “Where’s the kid?”
“He’s inside doing…what he does. Why?”
“We gotta go.”
“What happened?”
“Less questions, more running.”
“Running? Did you say running?” Then, as Xiao brushed past him, “Xiao! What are we running from?”
“Which part of we gotta go didn’t you understand?” she said, but didn’t stop walking.
“What happened to your contact?”
A waitress named Francine and a bullet to the head happened to it, Xiao thought as she opened Aaron’s door.
Aaron must have already heard their back and forth, because he was already on his feet when she burst into his room. “Trouble?”
“You could say that. Get your things; we have to go.”
“Joan—”
“Is dead.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah.” She snatched a backpack from the floor and tossed it to him. “Just take what you need and the clothes on your back. We’re on the clock.”
Aaron didn’t so much as catch the pack as it landed in his waiting arms. “What happened?”
“They were waiting for us at the diner.”
“They tracked her? How?”
Xiao pulled open the closet door and jerked the trapdoor loose, then reached in for the duffel bag. “Does it matter? She’s dead, and we gotta go.”
“Jesus, what exactly happened?”
“They were waiting outside the diner. The only reason they didn’t take me out was—”
“The laptop,” Aaron finished for her. “They needed you alive to find the laptop.”
“I think so, yeah.”
“So that means there is something in the data Porter and I stole.”
“Let’s find out later.” She slung the bag over her shoulder, the heavy contents thumping against her back. “They’ve been tracking me since the diner.”
“And you led them straight to us?” Aaron said, staring at her with a mixture of shock and…was that disappointment?
“It was either that or engage them in a running gunfight on the street. I mean, I’m good, but I’m not that good. Besides, following me here is one thing; keeping up with us is something else.”
Trevor appeared at the open door, taking up most of the frame with his large size. He already had a full pack slung over his back and an M4 rifle in his hands. “How many?”
“There were three cars rotating back and forth on the way over here,” Xiao said. “I assume they’re outside right now, waiting for reinforcements.”
“Rhim?”
“What do you think? Even if they’re not, the ones that’ll be kicking down our door will be.” Aaron was busy shoving his ultraportable laptop into his bag when she turned to him. “Ready?”
The teenager shook his head. “Not in a million years.”
“You got everything important?”
“You mean the laptop?”
“I mean the laptop, yeah.”
“Then that’s an affirmative.”
“Good.” Turning to Trevor, “Lead the way.”
Trevor stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him, then rushed across to the same closet Xiao had retrieved her stash. She stepped aside for him, and as Trevor went t
o work dismantling the fake wall at the back of the small room, Xiao walked over to one of the metal shelves nearby and picked up an MP5 from the pile of weapons, along with a handful of magazines.
“What exactly happened at the diner?” Aaron asked as he walked over.
“Francine the waitress shot Joan, then I shot her and her partner.”
“They had a waitress waiting for you guys?”
“Looked that way.”
“What about Porter? Did Joan say anything about where they’re keeping him?”
“She never got the chance.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” She grabbed an extra pistol and two magazines for it. “We’ll find him, Aaron. Sooner or later, we’ll find him.” To Trevor: “Ready?”
“Ladies first,” Trevor said.
“I think he’s talking to you,” Xiao said, grinning at Aaron.
The kid rolled his eyes. “Is that ever going to get old?”
“You’ll be the first one to know when it does.”
“Whatever,” Aaron said, and slipped into the closet, then through the opening that Trevor had revealed by removing a group of loosened concrete blocks that led into a hidden passageway.
Xiao glanced back at the door.
“They’re taking their time,” Trevor said behind her. “Good for us—”
As if on cue, there was a loud boom! as a shotgun fired from across the building, followed by the very clear sounds of a door breaking apart.
“Damn,” Trevor finished. “Oh, well. All this waiting was getting boring anyway.”
“A man after my own heart,” Xiao smiled before turning and slipping into the back of the closet after Aaron.
The tunnel had a slight downward slant that made it tricky to navigate in the beginning, but after a few dozen steps, that problem lessened and soon Xiao was able to move faster. Aaron was well ahead of her, his flashlight leading the way.
The light, along with knowledge of the passageway in the first place, was courtesy of whoever had “donated” the place to Porter. It would be the last safe house available to them for a while without Porter, because she had no idea how to contact his benefactor. Even now, years after she made the fateful decision to throw her lot in with the man, Xiao didn’t know as much as she would have liked.
Should have asked more questions. Should have made him tell you his secrets.
Should have done a lot of things, girl.
Xiao stopped for a moment to glance back at Trevor, coming up behind her with his own flashlight attached to the side of his rifle. The ex-SWAT commando’s broad shoulders scraped against the concrete walls of the narrow corridor as he moved. He was bent over at the waist to keep his head from doing the same against the roof. He looked very uncomfortable but was soldiering on without complaints.
She looked past him. It had been about five minutes since they had slipped inside and closed up the entrance, more than enough time for whoever had followed her to the safe house to enter the building. That shotgun blast she’d heard previously, followed by two more, was them breaching the doors. After that, it would only be a matter of securing the outer room, then the bedrooms, before they located the secret passageway at the back of Aaron’s closet.
So where were they? And why did the silence from behind them make her so nervous?
She refocused on Trevor as he neared her. “You good?”
“Tight squeeze,” he grunted between steps.
“Just another fifty yards.”
“That much?”
“It’s better than a hundred.”
Trevor groaned. “Since you put it that way…”
She turned around and continued following Aaron, who had gone on (too far) ahead of them. He was small and thin enough that he wasn’t slowed down by the constricted nature of the tunnel, but Aaron being Aaron, he probably had no idea it wasn’t as easy for her or Trevor.
“Aaron, slow down,” Xiao called after him.
The teenager stopped and turned, his flashlight raking over her face. “Sorry,” Aaron said, and retrained the light on the blackness in front of him. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Me neither.”
“Is that good or bad?”
I have no idea, she thought, but said, “Let’s go with good for now.”
“Are we being optimistic?”
“Why not?”
“I dunno, after the weeks we’ve had…”
“Hey, we’re still alive, aren’t we? That’s a win in my book.”
“I guess.” Then, “Should I call Quinn?”
“What’s she going to do? Magically teleport back here from LA?”
“I guess not.”
“We’ll touch base with her when we’re out of this rat hole. Now keep moving. Fifty more yards.”
The kid nodded and continued on. She followed, with Trevor bringing up the rear. Xiao could hear the older man’s breathing behind her; it had picked up noticeably, not because Trevor was tired, she was sure, but because of the tight squeeze slowly grinding him down. It wasn’t exactly a cakewalk for her, either; Xiao had the long duffel bag to deal with, never mind that she’d always been taller than most Asian girls, certainly the tallest one in her family by a mile. It was a good thing she wasn’t the claustrophobic type.
Just a small tunnel and lots of blackness. What’s to be afraid of?
She concentrated on moving through the darkness and keeping Aaron within sight at all times. Besides Trevor’s troubled breathing, she listened for hints that their pursuers had located the secret door. There was no doubt they had followed her straight to the safe house, and the only reason she had been willing to take the chance was because of the tunnel.
Always the Boy Scout, right, Porter? Always have an escape handy. At least I learned that much from you.
Porter. Where the hell was he? It had been a week since the action at the Wilshire. A week since she saved him, only to lose him again. How long did it take the spew to do its job? Less than a week. Porter had said so himself.
Which meant what, exactly?
Maybe the hard truth that she had been avoiding, that even Aaron knew but couldn’t bring himself to say out loud, was that even if they did somehow locate Porter again, would he still be the man they remembered?
Damn you, Porter. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work. You were supposed to lead, and I was supposed to shoot. That was the deal, you selfish prick.
Voices, coming from behind her, followed by the sound of loosened cement blocks grinding against concrete. The sounds came from farther back in the tunnel, but they reached her nonetheless.
“Aaron,” Xiao said.
“We’re there,” Aaron said.
The teenager scooted to one side, and Xiao hurried over. She reached down and grabbed the metal trapdoor and pulled it up, then started breathing through her nose.
“Jesus,” Aaron said behind her as he pinched his own nose. “I think I’m gonna barf.”
“Hold it in.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She took out her flashlight and flicked it on, then took a step and dropped through the hole in the floor. She landed in half an inch of still water, the smell down here slamming into her like a truck. A few dozen trucks loaded with manure, to be more specific.
“We good?” Trevor asked from above her.
Xiao unslung her MP5 and held it in one hand, the flashlight in the other. She razed the beam over the large, round sewage tunnel and heard something scurrying nearby, followed by small shadows on the floor vanishing out of her beam of light.
“Xiao?” Trevor called.
Xiao opened her mouth just long enough to say, “We’re good; get down here,” before snapping it closed again.
I’m gonna need a shower after this, she thought as she began moving forward. Make that showers.
Like fifty in a row…
There were dirty overalls draped across a metal shelf stocked with machine parts, brooms, and stacks of squeegees. Xiao almo
st squeezed the trigger but relaxed when her flashlight raced across the empty clothing. A mop toppled when she bumped into the side of the shelf, clacking loudly off the closet walls.
“What was that?” Aaron said behind her.
“A mop,” Xiao said. “It’s time you earn your keep by doing some cleaning.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Aaron emerged out of the five-by-five metal grate behind her, followed closely behind by Trevor. Even in the semidarkness of the room, she thought both their faces looked pale yellow from the long walk through the sewers and could only imagine what she looked like.
“God, let’s never do that again,” Trevor said. He flicked off the flashlight attached to the barrel of his rifle. “What now?”
“Sunlight and fresh air,” Xiao said.
“You think we lost them back there?” Aaron asked. He was using one of the overalls to wipe at stains on his pants and shirt. Xiao didn’t want to tell him that he was probably only spreading the germs (and whatever else he had gotten on him during their trek) everywhere instead of removing them.
“Let’s hope,” Xiao said.
She started forward, then around a puddle of water. The closet was small, and it didn’t take more than a half dozen steps to reach the other side. She pushed the door open and stepped into the basement on the other side.
There was light coming from two windows near the street above, so Xiao shut off her flashlight and pocketed it. She led them through the empty room and toward the base of a stairs, with another door at the top landing.
“I really don’t like this,” Trevor said behind her. “We could have picked a safe house with a better escape route.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Xiao said. “Next time we need a place to hide, you ask Porter’s invisible benefactors for a better location.”
“Do we even know who they are?”
“Porter did,” Aaron said.
“What about you guys?”
“He never told us.”
“Shouldn’t you have asked?”
Xiao sighed, thought, I should have done a lot of things when it comes to Porter, but said, “More walking, less conversation.”