Quinn made sure the body was ready to go, and then moved through the bushes so he could peek down the road. Fifteen seconds later, a large SUV rounded the corner to his right. The glare of the vehicle’s headlights prevented him from seeing the driver, but he had no doubt it was Daeng. A van or small covered truck was always preferable, but certain SUVs were more than adequate for the task.
Quinn was about to go back and help Nate move the body closer to the fence when a second pair of headlights swung around the corner. A sedan, but not the run-of-the-mill family type.
A police car.
“Down,” he whispered back toward Nate as he dropped to the ground.
Daeng had obviously seen the vehicle, too. Instead of slowing when he neared the park, he drove by, his pace steady. Suddenly, Quinn saw flashing red and blue lights on the buildings and heard the police car speed up. Daeng immediately floored the SUV and screeched around the corner just past the park. The police car, siren off but lights still flashing, took up pursuit.
As soon as both vehicles were out of sight, Quinn yanked out his cell and called Daeng.
“Tell me that isn’t you in the SUV,” he said.
“Wish I could,” Daeng said in his usual calm voice.
“I figured as much. All right, be careful, but try to get them as far way from here as possible before you lose them.”
Over the phone, Quinn heard the wail of rubber on asphalt.
“A little update,” Daeng said. “There are two of them now.”
Quinn grimaced. More would likely join them soon. “Scratch what I said. Ditch the vehicle before they can cut you off.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
The line went dead.
Keeping low, Quinn crept back to Nate.
“I’m just going to put this out there,” Nate said. “Feel free to ignore me, but I’m not a big fan of doing jobs we can’t properly plan ahead of time.”
“You and me both.”
“I take it you want me to find us a ride,” Nate said.
Before Quinn could answer, a vehicle turned onto the street. He rose high enough to take a look.
Another police car, this one pulling to a stop in the middle of the road at the far end.
As he watched, two officers climbed out and headed over to the opposite sidewalk. The guy in the lead pulled a flashlight from his belt and turned it on, pointing the beam at the sushi restaurant straight in front of him.
“Dammit,” Quinn muttered to himself.
When the cops reached the door, one of them stood back a few paces while the other tried the handle. Tune had apparently reengaged the lock when he’d left because the door remained closed.
Flashlight cop shined the beam through the window on the door before doing the same at the larger front window. Quinn could hear him say something to his partner, but the words were lost in the night. They checked the doors of the neighboring buildings before heading down the sidewalk toward the park.
Quinn tensed. Someone had definitely seen something and called the police. The question was, had the observer seen Tune escort Quinn and his team all the way to the park and reported that, too?
The officers came within fifty feet of the park before they finally stopped.
Quinn heard one of the men call in to the station, and then say, “Everything’s locked tight. No signs of a break-in.”
A moment later, the flashlight went off and the two cops headed back to their car.
As they drove off, Quinn turned to Nate. “We need to get out of here fast.”
“On it,” Nate said.
Quinn watched him sneak out of the park and disappear down the street.
CHAPTER 3
Nothing was like the silence of being alone with a corpse. Even in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world, where the hum of life never stopped, the quiet was so all encompassing it could overwhelm those unprepared. For Quinn, though, it was a sensation he knew well, an old acquaintance he ran into time and again.
He looked down at the body. Over the years he had become an expert at reading the dead. And though he might not have known them in life, he could easily see who they’d been.
The courier had a kind face. Pretty in that girl-next-door kind of way. She might not have turned every head when she walked into a room, but many would have looked her way. She had probably entered the secret world the way most did — recruited by someone who had seen something in her. It was how Durrie had recruited Quinn, and how Quinn had recruited Nate. The excitement of the job and the chance to see the world had probably appealed to her. Whatever her reasons for saying yes, they had all led to this — death in an undersized park on a late New York night.
“What happened to you?” he asked under his breath, once more unable to quell his curiosity.
A courier’s job was a deceptively dangerous one. Years could go by without a problem, but all it took was that one time when the courier carried something others would do anything to obtain. Tune had said the girl’s bag was missing, so that was probably the case here. But Quinn wondered, as he touched the box in his pocket, if her killer had missed what he or she had come for.
Nate had said the box fell from her sleeve.
Quinn hesitated, knowing he should leave it alone, but he couldn’t stop himself. He pulled out his pocketknife and cut a slit in the plastic wrap just large enough so he could work her hand and wrist out.
Her jacket had a large, folded-back cuff. Perhaps the box had fallen into it when she’d been shot. As he turned it down, he detected a stiff band of plastic inside the cuff. Not something he’d like in a jacket, but he wasn’t exactly up on the latest fashions. The underside of the cuff was covered in a soft fabric a few shades lighter than the rest of the jacket. At first, there didn’t appear to be anything unusual, but as he ran a finger along the seam where the cuff folded, he found several stitches missing.
He slipped his finger into the gap and discovered that the hole wasn’t there because of wear and tear, but it had been purposely created as the opening to a small pocket.
He retrieved the box and moved it through the slit. A perfect fit. He also realized this explained the stiff plastic. When the cuff was folded up, the band would hide the presence of the box from a quick search.
He heard another car enter the street so he quickly put the box back into his pocket and reinserted the woman’s hand through the hole in the plastic. When the vehicle stopped next to the park and popped open its trunk, he knew it was Nate.
As soon as his partner was out of the car, Quinn tossed him the duffel bags, then went back and hoisted the woman over his shoulder. He carried her back to the fence and handed her across.
“Got her,” Nate said after he’d slipped his arms under the woman.
While Nate put her in the trunk, Quinn hopped the fence and climbed into the driver’s seat. Lying in the wheel well on the passenger side were the car’s license plates — Nate having done the job the way Quinn had trained him. If someone spotted them, all the witness would be able to tell the police was that they had left in a dark sedan. And how many of those were in New York City?
The trunk clicked closed, and as soon as Nate jumped into the passenger seat, Quinn shoved the car into DRIVE and sped off.
Both men were silent for the first several blocks, listening for sirens, but the city remained at rest. When Quinn felt they were safe, he pulled into an alley and stopped so that Nate could reattach the license plates. Back on the road, Nate switched his phone to speaker and called Daeng, but the line rang until the voice-mail message came on.
“Call Orlando,” Quinn told him.
Three rings. “Come on!” Orlando answered. “Just because you’re three hours ahead of me doesn’t mean it’s not late out here, too.”