As they shed themselves of their winter cover, Quinn noticed a bruise near Orlando’s ear, high on her cheek.
“Ashtray,” she said after he pointed it out.
“You fell on it, or it fell on you?”
“The guy who threw it was aiming for the back of my head, but I turned at the last moment.”
Quinn stared at her, waiting for more.
Orlando sat down on the couch. “They must have keyed into our signal somehow. They knew where you were. From that they must have got a fix on me. Probably surprised the hell out of them I was right next door to where you were staying.”
“Then why didn’t they get you?” Quinn asked.
“When you were in the sphere and our signal got jammed, I knew I only had a few seconds,” she said. “I grabbed my gun, got behind the couch, and aimed for the door. I think their timing must have been a little off. They probably wanted to cut our communication and break in at the same moment.” She shrugged. “It’s how I would have planned it.”
Quinn nodded in agreement. It’s how he would have planned it, too.
“There were three of them,” she went on. “I got the first one as he came in. The second as he ran toward the bedroom. It was the last who gave me the most problems.”
“He was the one with the ashtray?”
She nodded. “But he won’t be throwing anything else soon. After that, I didn’t want to wait to see if anyone else was coming, so I grabbed what I could and got out of there.” She nodded at him. “Your turn.”
Quinn told her about his escape from the sphere, his conversation with Duke, and his subsequent return to the sphere the previous night.
“So are you intentionally trying to make me look like a slacker?” she asked.
“I wasn’t exactly going to point it out.”
“Your sensitivity is touching,” she said. “What about Nate?”
Quinn’s mouth tensed. “He should have checked in by now.”
“He’s not going to.”
“I know.”
Orlando looked at him for a moment. “We’ll find him,” she said.
Quinn nodded, but said nothing. He only hoped his apprentice was still alive when they did.
He thought for a moment, then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I think it’s time I had a real talk with Peter.”
“Yeah. Have fun with that.” She got up and walked into the bedroom.
As Quinn turned on his phone and dialed Peter’s number, he could hear the shower being turned on in the other room.
A moment later, Misty answered. “It’s Quinn,” he said.
Silence on the other end.
“Misty?” he asked.
“Sorry,” she said, sounding shaken. “It’s just…we heard you were dead.”
“When was this supposed to have happened?”
“Two nights ago,” she said. “In Berlin.”
“I don’t feel dead.”
“Thank God for that. I assume you want to speak to Peter.”
“Please.”
Within seconds Peter was on the line. “Holy Christ, Quinn. What the hell’s going on?”
“You tell me.”
“Borko’s bragging that he took you and your whole team out. He seems to know you were working for me.”
“Really? Tell me, who are you working for, Peter?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The job with Duke was a setup,” Quinn said. “Turns out he was in deep with Borko. I know. Shocking, isn’t it?” he said, his voice flat. “But you want to hear something even more interesting? He told me Borko was responsible for the disruption. And that he’d had inside help. You’re the one who really wanted me to work with Duke. You begged me. Now it turns out Duke was working for Borko. And Borko was the one who took out the Office. See where I’m going with this?”
“Fuck you. Fuck you for even thinking what you’re thinking,” Peter said. “You’re saying I was in on something that killed several close friends of mine? You think I would have done that?” He paused. “Fuck you.”
“You’re the one who wanted me here.”
“I had nothing to do with what happened. As far as I knew, Duke was just helping us out. How was I supposed to know otherwise? I can’t even leave my goddamn office. And I’ve got no one out there but you.”
Quinn paused. As much as it looked like Peter was involved, it just didn’t seem right. He’d known Peter for a long time, and despite the man’s faults, the head of the Office had never turned on one of his assets. So Quinn was inclined to believe him. But that didn’t mean he’d make it easy for Peter. “If it wasn’t you, then who was it? Maybe you need to take a hard look at your employee situation. How’s morale?”
“Go to hell,” Peter said. “Everyone’s clean here.”
“How can you know that?”
“I just do. All right?”
“If you say so.”
“What’s your situation?” Peter asked.
Quinn took a breath. “Nate’s missing.”
“You think he’s dead?”
Quinn hesitated, then said, “No. I think they’ve got him.”
“Using him as insurance?”
“That would be my guess.”
“They get anyone else?” Peter asked.
“No.”
“Who else are you working with?”
“That is not something you need to know.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“Really?” Quinn said. “That’s good to hear, because I need some information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Anything relevant. Taggert. Jills.” Quinn paused. “The Office’s involvement. You’ve got to tell me everything.”
“What’s that have to do with anything?”
“The disruption and the job in Colorado are tied together,” Quinn said. “Come on. You’ve got to realize that.”
“I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Peter. I’ve heard too many I-don’t-knows lately. Tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Peter said.
Quinn clenched his teeth. “You’re not doing a lot to win my trust.”
“Do you know for sure Borko was behind the disruption?”
“I’m sure enough,” Quinn said. “His operation here leads me to believe he’s tied into Taggert, too. Peter, we’re wasting time.”
“I can’t tell you.”
Quinn took a deep breath. “Let me throw another name at you,” Quinn said. “Dahl.”
“Dahl?” Peter was obviously surprised. “Where did you hear that? Did Gibson say something to you?”
Quinn paused. “Why would Gibson have said anything?”
It was Peter’s turn to go silent. When he finally did speak, his voice was laced with barely controlled anger. “At each…incident of the disruption, there was a message. We didn’t realize there was a pattern until yesterday. Each message was the same. A white business card stuffed into the victim’s throat, far enough back so they couldn’t be found without an autopsy.”
“You did autopsies?” Quinn asked. That wouldn’t have been procedure. The cause of death would have been pretty obvious.
“We didn’t,” Peter replied. “But the local authorities got to one of our casualties before we could. Their M.E. found the card. Once we knew about it, we went back and checked the others.”
“What was the message?”
“It was only a single word. ‘Dahl.’ The son of a bitch wanted us to know who did it.”
“Gibson didn’t have a card,” Quinn said.
“Maybe he got rid of it before you got him.”
“Not a chance.” It bothered Quinn that the attack on him deviated from the others in this way. Duke’s words came back to him: You were a special request. “Is he somebody you crossed before?”
“I…don’t know.” Peter sounded truly stumped. “He’s been around awhile, but as far as I can determine, we’ve never worked with him.” A pause. “But I want him now. Find him and I’ll give you triple bonus.”