“I don’t see anyone,” Nate whispered.
“Me, neither,” Daeng said.
Quinn frowned. He had also not picked up signs of anyone. Where were these contacts of Helen’s?
“Wait here,” he said.
He crossed the street and circled a line of matching blue bicycles parked in gray docks before he turned down the street. He took a quick glance at the Japanese restaurant as he passed, but the interior was too dark for him to see anything. He had just reached the neighboring building and was contemplating his next move when he heard the door to the restaurant creak open behind him.
“Quinn,” a voice whispered.
Turning back, he saw an op named Leonard Tune stepping through the doorway. Quinn had worked with him on another of Helen’s jobs a month earlier.
Tune met Quinn halfway and held out his hand. “Right on time.”
As they shook, Quinn said, “What have you got for us?”
“A courier. Don’t know who did it, but they knew what they were doing.”
Quinn glanced past him at the restaurant. “The body’s in there?”
“No. Down the street.”
“Inside or outside?”
“Out.”
Quinn looked down the road, concerned. “It’s on the street and no one’s found it yet?”
“Not exactly on the street. Let me show you.”
“Hold on.”
Quinn waved Nate and Daeng over, then Tune led them all to a small, triangular park surrounded by streets. The park consisted of an area of bushes and trees encircled by a three-foot-high iron fence and a curved walkway. Along the walkway were several benches lined up end to end under the canopy of trees.
As they neared, Tune said, “Kal? It’s us.”
A shadow uncurled from among the bushes and stood up.
“Still quiet?” Tune asked.
“Nothing since that homeless guy,” Kal said.
“What homeless guy?” Quinn asked.
“Some old guy looking for a place to sleep,” Kal replied. “I made it clear he needed to find somewhere else tonight.”
“Did he see anything?”
“Nah.”
Maybe he didn’t see anything, Quinn thought, but the guy would know something was going on here, and maybe he’d be curious enough to come back at an inopportune time. They’d have to keep an eye out.
“The body?” he asked.
“You’ll have to hop over,” Kal said.
The courier turned out to be a woman. Early twenties by the looks of her, with dark hair and a tan complexion. Hispanic, perhaps, Quinn thought, or possibly Mediterranean. She was about five foot five and had the typical courier body shape — lean with strong arms and legs. She was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a brown leather jacket over what looked like a black T-shirt. The bullet hole in the middle of her forehead spoke to the cause of death. Quinn crouched down, turned her head, and noted there was no corresponding exit wound. A small-caliber gun, then, probably a .22, and, given the very public location, with an attached sound suppressor. Tune had been right. Her killer had known what he was doing.
Quinn took a step back and looked out at the three surrounding streets. Though he and the others were under the cover of the trees, he could still see the windows of apartments in at least half a dozen buildings. It was a damn theater with the park center stage.
“How is it no one saw anything?” he asked.
“It happened around 1:30 a.m.,” Tune said, shrugging. “It’s a weeknight. Most people are already asleep.”
“But not all.”
“True, but if anyone had seen anything, the police would have been here long ago. The press, too, probably. Trust me, no one reported it.”
“Not reporting isn’t the same thing as not having seen anything,” Quinn said.
“Relax. We did two thorough night-vision scans of all the windows on the street and found no one paying any attention to this park. That make you feel better?”
A bit, though Quinn didn’t tell him that. “So, no idea who did this.”
Tune shook his head. “Only that it was someone who wanted her bag.”
“So she was definitely on a run.”
“Uh-huh.”
“For Helen?”
Tune looked confused for a second, then said, “For Ms. Cho, yes. We arrived here to escort the person she was meeting to his final destination.”
“Where’s he?”
“No clue. We just found her.”
Quinn took another look around for signs of an additional struggle that might indicate what had happened to the courier’s contact, but nothing caught his eye. “Are you hanging around?” he asked. “Would be nice to have a few extra pairs of eyes on the street while we work.”
“Sorry. Other places to be. So if that’s it…”
Quinn glanced at Nate and Daeng to see if they had any questions, but both men shook their heads. “I guess you’re free,” he told Tune.
“Enjoy your night,” Tune said as he headed to the fence.
“Don’t work too hard, boys,” Kal said, following his partner.
As soon as the two were gone, Quinn said, “Daeng, you’re on vehicle. Nate, you and I are on prep. I’d like to be out of here in the next five minutes.”
Daeng put down his duffel and left to obtain a ride, while Quinn and Nate began a thorough inspection of the area to make sure no evidence got left behind. The good thing, if you could call it that, was that they didn’t have to search for the bullet since it was still in the woman’s head. But there were other potential problematic items — bits of clothing, a phone that might have been in her hand when she was shot, jewelry. Their search, however, turned up nothing.
Nate pulled the remaining plastic out of one of the duffels and laid it on the ground. They didn’t have enough left for a full body wrap, but they could at least bind the woman’s arms to her sides to make carrying her a little easier.
“What was she doing back in here?” Nate asked. “Hiding?”
“Who knows,” Quinn said.
“Seems kind of weird.”
Quinn shrugged. Maybe she was supposed to meet her contact at the benches and was hiding in the bushes until he arrived. Her killer might have sneaked up on her, and she might have turned at the last moment and seen her assassin right before she was shot. Or maybe the killer approached her directly, acting the part of her contact. Like with so much of their work, it was a question they’d likely never know the answer to.
Carefully, they lifted her to put her on the plastic.
“Got something,” Nate said, twisting so he could look under the body.
“What?” Quinn asked.
“Not sure. Saw something fall…from her jacket sleeve, I think.”
They set the courier on the plastic, and then Nate hunted around until he found the item. Picking it up, he said, “It’s some kind of box.”
“Let me see.”
Nate handed it to Quinn.
The box was made of black plastic and was approximately one inch square and a quarter inch thick. On one corner were three small raised characters. Quinn pulled out his pocket flashlight and shined it on the surface.
E/K
He had no idea what that meant.
He examined the rest of it in the light and found a seam running around three of the narrow sides. Slowly so as not to disturb the contents, he opened it like a clam.
Another square, this one only half the size of the box, sat in a custom-cut indentation on a bed of foam in the bottom section. Quinn didn’t need to pull the square out to know what it was. A computer chip.
He closed the box and shoved it in his pocket. He would worry about its importance after they finished what they’d come to do.
As they secured the plastic with duct tape, Quinn’s phone vibrated twice with an incoming text. He checked it, then whispered, “It’s Daeng. He’s on his way.”