There were a great many variables, but the passport and other documents were genuine, so they, at least, would not trip him up. One-way plane reservations, purchased the same day of travel, triggered more scrutiny than Quinn wanted and would surely provide a red flag to anyone looking for him after the shooting. Miyagi purchased round-trip tickets and had been able to manipulate the system to make it appear as though she’d purchased them a month before.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” Quinn said, taking the documents. “I realize you’re risking your career, and even your freedom. Palmer must be beside himself.”
Miyagi looked at the ground, looking almost girlish.
“He directed me to tell you to call in if I saw you,” she said when she handed over the envelope. “But I would advise against such a thing.”
“Thank you, Miyagi-san,” Quinn said, slipping the documents in his pockets.
“You know my secrets,” she said. “I believe you should call me Emiko. I should also mention something about your contact, my friend, Ayako-chan. She is… how should I say this? Given to the wild side.”
“Wild enough to help a wanted fugitive?”
Miyagi smiled, for the first time since before she’d told him her story. “Wild enough that she will likely try to become intimate with you moments after you meet. But I beg you not to judge her. She has been through much.”
“I’m not one to judge anybody.” Quinn scoffed.
“Thank you,” Miyagi said. “Now, I must warn you. If my daugh… if Ran continued to progress as she was when I left, she will be an incredibly strong adversary.”
“But I have had you as my teacher.” Quinn shrugged off the warning. “She has missed out on that.”
Miyagi held her breath for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “You are extremely good at what you do. But Oda is… very close to perfect in his fighting skill.”
“It’s been a long time.” Quinn shrugged. “He’s older. Maybe he’s slowed down.”
“Perhaps.” Miyagi nodded. “But he was always more skilled than me.” She rolled her lips. “And I am more skilled than you.”
CHAPTER 32
Deputy August Bowen read over what little information he had in the file while Geoff Barker tinkered with Quinn’s phone, which was now attached to his laptop computer.
Seating at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Academy in Glynco was alphabetical, and Barker had sat next to Bowen during Marshals Basic eight years earlier. He was generally quiet, strong as a bull, and had a tiny Superman curl that hung down across his forehead. All smiles and Georgia charm, he was the kind of kid Bowen would have wanted dating his daughter, if he had a daughter.
He was also one of the smartest people Bowen had ever come across. His small office was crammed with telephone lineman gear, maps of cell towers, and stacks of black plastic Pelican cases containing all sorts of sensitive and secret equipment Barker used to do his job. The screen on some kind of oscilloscope blipped on the table behind him, like something out of a science fiction movie.
“This wasn’t a random shooting.” Bowen shut the thin folder and closed his eyes to think out loud. “You gotta wonder why a sniper would go after somebody’s family. Witnesses say they think the shooter in Colorado was an Asian female. According to this OSI agent’s report, Quinn suspects her of being Japanese.”
“Maybe Quinn went after her,” Geoff said without looking up from his computer. A lifelong resident of Atlanta, his drawl could make him appear slow at first blush, but Bowen had never seen anyone who knew their way around phones and electronic surveillance as well as Geoff Barker. Even in Marshals Basic he’d shown a bent in that direction.
“That’s what I would do,” Bowen said. He tipped his head toward the phone. “So, what do you think? You gonna be able to get in?”
“Dude,” Barker said, still not looking up. “This is high-level government encryption.”
Bowen’s heart fell. “So, you can’t get in?”
“Of course I can.” Barker scoffed. “I write high-level government encryption.” He tapped a few more keys, waited a beat, then looked up with a wide grin. “I’m in,” he said.
“Why would an OSI agent need an encrypted phone?” Bowen mused, half to himself.
Barker’s eyes darted back and forth across the computer screen, studying the contents of the phone.
“The most frequently called number comes back to a V. Garcia…” He kept scanning. “Japanese shooter, you say?”
Bowen nodded. “That’s what Quinn thinks, at least.”
“Hmmm,” Barker mused, hitting PRINT so Bowen would have a copy of what he was looking at. “There’s an Emiko Miyagi in here. I’ll go up on her number and see what I can find. Meantime, I got contacts with Japan National Police. Work up a BOLO, and I’ll get it over to them.” BOLO was Be On the Look Out — a locater notice, like a wanted poster but with less need for controlled distribution.
“We should make it wide,” Bowen said. “Plaster his photo all over the news over there.” He got up from his seat with a long groan. This whole thing made him feel tired.
“Where you going first?” Barker asked, still futzing with the computer.
“I came here first,” Bowen said. “But now, I’m going to swing by and take a look at that crime scene, get a feel for it, so to speak. I got no love lost for the guy, but this just doesn’t sound like him.”
“Shitty deal, hunting someone who’s supposed to be one of the good guys,” Barker offered, handing Bowen the paper from his printer tray.
“Jericho Quinn’s not a bad guy,” Bowen said. “But I’m pretty sure good doesn’t describe him, either.”
CHAPTER 33
The Korea Air flight from Dulles to Seoul took fourteen hours. Miyagi had booked Quinn a seat in Business Class so he could lean back and try to get some sleep. He would, she’d reminded him, need all his wits about him if he wanted to locate Oda and her daughter while avoiding capture himself.
The brutal training regimen and long months of Air Force Special Operations training had taught Quinn to grab sleep when the opportunity arose. But being hunted by his own government was new territory, and he tossed and turned for most of the flight. At length, he gave up and found a Japanese channel on the video player at his seat. If he couldn’t sleep, at least he could get his brush-up on the language by watching inane comedy shows with lots of whipped cream and water gags.
An hour before they landed at Incheon International, the flight attendants went on high alert. There was a curt announcement in Korean and English asking everyone to stay in their seats. Quinn watched as one attendant, a slender Korean woman in her forties, hustled up the aisle to answer a call on the bulkhead phone. He couldn’t be certain, but it looked as though her eyes kept darting to him and then away, as if she was trying not to stare.
All the attendants, including the gray-haired Korean purser who had remained unflappable during the agonizingly long flight, bounced around the aircraft as if on ball bearings.
Quinn craned his head around to look behind him, but the aircraft was too big to see much without getting out of his seat. He thought about defying orders and getting up to go to the restroom, but the look on the purser’s animated face said that might get him sent out on the wing at thirty thousand feet.
There was another announcement as the plane squawked onto the tarmac at Incheon, asking… no, ordering, everyone to keep their seats for a few minutes after the plane arrived at the gate.
Whispers of indignation and curiosity spread among the passengers like paper burning. Some worried they would miss connecting flights. Others had to go to the bathroom. Quinn was in a center bank of seats so couldn’t see out the window, but the flashing strobes of approaching emergency vehicles were impossible to miss.