Her jaw tensed. She reversed the footage a bit and let the whole thing play out again at normal speed. Though she couldn’t see exactly where Daeng had been hit, from the way he’d fallen and how he looked as he was pushed into the vehicle, she was pretty sure the bullet had struck him in the leg.
She checked the other three cameras but none provided a better view. She made her way back to the traffic camera and watched as the SUV began moving again. Once it reached its closest position to the camera, she froze the playback and enlarged the image so she could get a look at the license plate. The magnification distorted the picture but the number on the plate was readable. A quick run through the DC motor vehicles database returned the same result she’d received with the Maserati.
McCrillis International.
Next, she tried to trace the Caravan’s path, jumping from traffic cam to traffic cam, but there were holes in the system and some cameras weren’t working properly so it wasn’t long before she lost the trail.
She didn’t even check for any satellites that might have been overhead. The sky had been cloudy since they’d arrived and any overhead shots would be useless.
For the moment, she was out of options for tracking the Caravan, so she uploaded into the facial recognition system the images of the woman and the man who had met with Ethan Boyer.
She was setting the final parameters when Quinn called back.
“We’re out front,” he said.
Surprised, she looked at the clock on her computer and saw that forty minutes had passed since they’d last spoken.
“We’ll be right there,” she told him.
She input the final data, started the search process, and closed her computer.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Abraham asked as she stuffed her laptop into her bag.
“I’m fine.”
“You seem—”
“I’m fine,” she repeated and stood up. “Let’s go.”
Misty Blake opened the townhouse door before Quinn had even finished knocking. Her smile was one of relief. Without a word, she stepped across the threshold and threw her arms around him. When she finally pulled back, she had water in her eyes.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she said.
“Can we come in?” Quinn asked.
“Of course. Please.” She stepped out of the way and gestured for them to enter.
When the door was closed again, she gave Nate and Orlando hugs, too, then stopped when she came to Abraham. “I don’t believe we know each other.” She held out her hand. “Misty Blake.”
“Abraham Delger,” he said as they shook. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“We appreciate you letting us use this place,” Quinn said.
“It was just sitting here empty,” she told him. “No big deal.”
The townhouse was one that had been owned by Peter. He had controlled several hideaways throughout the DC area. After his death, the government had taken over all those listed as being owned by the Office, but a few had been completely in Peter’s name. Per his will, Misty, his former assistant and right hand, had inherited them all.
Quinn knew he and his friends needed someplace anonymous and needed it fast, so he had called Misty while he and Nate were on the way to pick up the others. As he’d hoped, she had immediately offered him one of her places.
“I, um, put some food in the refrigerator,” Misty said. “It’s not a lot. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be here. If you need more, just let me know.”
“I doubt we’ll be here very long at all, so I’m sure it’s plenty,” Quinn told her.
“There are clean sheets on the beds, towels in the bathrooms. Soap, shampoo — it’s all there.” She looked around as if searching for something else she needed to tell them.
“It’s perfect. Thank you. You’ve done more than enough.”
“Okay. Well, then, I, um, I guess I should…go.”
“Thanks again,” Orlando said.
Quinn knew Misty wanted to stay, but he wasn’t about to bring anyone else into this until he knew exactly what it was they were dealing with. He put an arm on her shoulder and walked her to the door. “You have a spare key, correct?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then we’ll slip ours through the mailbox when we leave.” He paused before asking, “Do you have the other item?”
She stared at him for a second before her eyes widened. “Oh, right. Sorry.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a small square object no bigger than a dime. As she handed it to Quinn, she said, “Spare bedroom closet, left side.”
“Thank you.”
“If you need anything else,” she said, “seriously, let me know.”
“We will.”
Reluctantly, she opened the door. “It is good to see you.”
“You, too, Misty.”
The moment she was gone, Orlando set both hers and Eli’s laptop on the dining table and showed the others the footage of Daeng’s kidnapping.
“Boyer must have realized he was being tailed,” Quinn said.
The computer dinged as a small window opened in the top corner.
“We’ve got a hit,” Orlando said.
She clicked the alarm and the security footage was replaced by an information sheet. On it was a picture of the woman from the car, but not the picture Quinn had taken.
“This is interesting,” Orlando said, reading the screen. “She’s used at least eight different names, one for each time she’s been arrested.”
“On what charges?” Quinn asked.
“Breaking and entering. Reckless driving. Assault. Oh, and attempted murder.”
“Any convictions?”
Orlando shook her head. “Charges dropped every time. Never even went before a judge. Her professional name is Gloria Clark.” She read some more and then looked at Quinn. “She’s a fixer.”
“A fixer?” Fixers were the people you called to take care of a problem that required some creative thinking. “I’ve never heard of her.”
“Me, neither, but she works directly for McCrillis, which makes her corp-intel, so we’ve likely never crossed paths.”
Quinn turned to Abraham. “I don’t get it. Why is corporate intelligence involved in this?”
“I honestly don’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me, either.”
“What was the name of the guy who hired you to transport the girl again?”
“Gavin Carter.”
“Who was he working for?”
“I’ve been under the impression that the CIA was at least partly involved. Could have been in conjunction with someone else, though. I just don’t know.”
“Did he do any corp-intel work?”
“I wish I could tell you, Johnny, but I have no idea.”
“Do you at least know where he is now?”
“No. Last time I talked to him was right before I dropped off Tessa. I did halfheartedly try to track him down once, but no luck. Since I didn’t really think he’d tell me anything, I didn’t try again.”
“I’ll find him,” Orlando said, turning back to her computer.
Quinn touched the nape of her neck. “Before you do that, I’d like you to locate Ethan Boyer. I mean exactly where he is right now. You can hunt down Carter after.”
She looked at him the way she did when she knew what he had in mind. “It won’t be easy.”
“When is it ever?” He turned to Nate. “Need your help.”
They went upstairs into the spare bedroom. There were two beds, made and ready, and a nightstand between them on which Misty had placed a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses.