“Down,” Quinn whispered to Daeng.
Keeping the jacket tight around the man’s face, Daeng shoved him to the floor.
Quinn knelt in front of the intruder. “You cooperate, and we won’t have a problem. Nod if you understand.”
Nothing for a moment, only rapid blinking as the man adjusted to the darkness. Then a nod.
“Good,” Quinn said. He rose, intending to put the radio in his ear, and shout in a garbled voice that he heard someone running through the first floor toward the stairs, followed by a quick order for everyone to converge. That’s when they’d make their escape. But the radio was not in his hand anymore.
As he started to look around, the captive spoke through his gag. Not a yell, but a single word.
Daeng looked at Quinn. “Did he say what I think he said?”
The man repeated the word.
“Loosen the jacket,” Quinn said. “Just a little.”
Once more the man spoke.
“Quinn? You are Quinn, aren’t you?”
Quinn knelt back down and studied the man’s face. There was something familiar about him. Quinn ran through names in his head, trying to match one to the face. Finally, he stopped. “Clyde…Witten.”
“Yeah. Right,” the man said, his voice still muffled, but clearer.
They had worked at least three jobs together that Quinn could remember. Not on the same team. Witten had been ops, and had never helped Quinn on body disposal. Most of their interaction had been brief, but Quinn had felt that Witten was a through-and-through professional. It had been at least four years since the last time their paths crossed.
“You promise not to yell?” Quinn asked.
“You promise not to kill me?” Witten countered.
Quinn looked at Daeng. “Take it off, but if he reneges, knock him out.”
Daeng removed the jacket from Witten’s face.
“Thanks,” Witten said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” Quinn replied.
After a brief hesitation, Witten said, “We’ve never had problems, have we?”
“Not that I can recall.”
“No reason why we should start now, right?”
Quinn waited.
“You want to know why we’re here?” Witten asked.
Quinn gave him a look like that was the most obvious question ever.
“We were sent to capture or eliminate whoever is staying in this house.” There was no anger or threat in the voice, only a statement of fact.
“So, us.”
Witten twisted his face, uncomfortable. “Why would you be on a kill list?”
“That’s a good question. Why don’t you tell me exactly whose kill list we’re on?”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I guess that puts us a bit at odds, doesn’t it?”
“Was that you yesterday afternoon in Georgetown? Shot off a couple fingers?”
“The guy’s lucky I didn’t kill him,” Quinn said. “Friend of yours?”
“I don’t know him.”
“Same organization?”
Witten didn’t answer.
“Quinn?” Misty whispered.
All three men looked over, Witten clearly surprised by Misty’s presence.
Misty pointed at the ground a few feet away from her. Sitting there was the comm gear Quinn had stripped from Witten. He must have dropped it in the fight.
“I hear voices,” she said.
“Watch him,” Quinn said to Daeng. He walked over and picked up the earpiece and mic. Someone was definitely transmitting. He returned to Witten. “I want you to talk to them. Tell them everything’s all right. If you deviate at all I will—”
“What? You’ll kill me?”
“I only eliminate those in my way. Are you going to be in my way?”
“Give me the radio.”
After a brief hesitation, Quinn tossed him the gear.
Witten put the earpiece in. “I’m here, I’m here. Sorry. Radio problem…It’s okay now…yeah, I’m sure. It’s clear down here. The house is empty. Assemble out front. I’ll be there in a minute. There’s something here I’m checking…no, I got it. Just meet me out front.” He listened for a moment longer before he clicked the button that turned off the mic. Looking up, he said, “Satisfied?”
Quinn stepped outside the room and listened. He could hear footsteps moving away from the basement door toward the front of the house. A moment later, the main door opened and all fell silent.
When he returned to the room, he said, “Who are you working for?”
“Ask as many times as you want,” Witten said, “but it’s not going to change the fact that I can’t tell you.”
“You can, and you—”
Witten held up a hand, stopping him. “It doesn’t matter who I work for anyway. We’re a clearinghouse. We pick up jobs from all over the place, but we don’t generate them ourselves.”
Quinn cocked his head. “So whoever wanted to take us out hired your organization?”
“In essence, yes, but you’re a little off.”
“How so?”
“I can tell you for a fact that your name or—” he took a quick glance at Daeng and Misty— “your associates’ names aren’t on our lists. We were only told there would be two men and a woman. The accompanying descriptions were very vague.”
“Then why did you come after us?” Daeng asked.
“The intervention order applies to anyone entering the apartment you were in earlier today.”
“And the order is to terminate?”
“The order is to capture and isolate,” Witten said. “But if we encounter any resistance, we have the option to eliminate the target.” He paused. “The mission parameters also came with a clear indication of the type of people we would be dealing with.”
“And that would be…?”
“Foreign operatives with ties to terrorist organizations. The backstory I was given is that the owner of the Georgetown apartment had information in his possession that these operatives might try to obtain.”
“We’re the only people who would’ve ever shown up at that apartment,” Quinn said. “But the last I checked, I’m not a foreign operative in this country. And I definitely never work with terrorists.”
He could see in Witten’s eyes that the man knew this, too.
“Your agency is being used,” Quinn told him.
“Possibly.” There was a trace of anger in Witten’s voice. Before he could continue, his gaze became unfocused, and he touched his earpiece. “Yes…still here, but on my way out…will be right there.” He tapped on the comm again and looked at Quinn. “I need to go. If I don’t, my team will come after me.”
“How do we know you’re not going to just sit out there and shoot us as we come outside?”
“I give you my word we’ll move out immediately. Give it ten minutes to be sure, then leave.” He paused. “It’s up to you whether you want to believe me or not.”
Quinn stared at the man for several seconds. All his instincts told him that Witten was telling the truth. “What are you going to tell your bosses?”
Witten shrugged. “That someone was here, but the house was empty when we arrived. They’ll probably send out a few investigators to see if they can pick up any clues as to who’d been here — so you might want to make sure there aren’t any — but basically our job will be done unless another alarm is triggered.”
“I’m going to choose to trust you,” Quinn said. He popped the mag out of Witten’s pistol, removed the bullet from the chamber, and handed it back.
“Apparently only so far,” Witten said.
“There is one thing you can tell me.”
Witten eyed Quinn warily. “What?”
“Who the client is.”
Witten shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way. I don’t have that information.”
“But you could find out.”
“Not necessarily. There are a lot of layers involved.”