can tell, they're all dead.'
'Damn,' Nate muttered.
Quinn couldn't help sharing Nate's surprise. Orlando had just named the six top ops agents at the Office.
'Those were the only names I could confirm, but they weren't the only ones.'
'Durrie once said that no matter how you got into the business,' Quinn said, 'there are only a couple ways out. Death is just the most likely.'
He frowned. It was worse than he'd thought. 'What about the disruption?' he finally asked. 'Any claims of responsibility?'
'Not yet.' Orlando looked at him, then added, 'Maybe you should just let it go. You can stay here for a couple of weeks. By then it should be okay to go home.'
'Someone wants me dead,' he said. He took in a deep breath, then blew it out. 'I need to find out who.'
Orlando nodded slightly. He knew it was the same thing she would have done.
No one said anything for several seconds.
'What exactly does that mean?' Nate asked quietly. 'The truth?' Quinn said as he raised his bottle again.
'Yes.'
Quinn took a drink, then set the beer back down. He turned so he was looking directly at Nate. 'It means you have a choice to make. One, you stay here. Hide out like Orlando said. In two or three weeks, you go home. I'll give you whatever cash you need. But when you get there, you're going to have to find a new job. This life you started by working for me will be done.'
'And my other choice is to stay with you,' Nate said.
Quinn shook his head. 'It's more than that. It's doing everything I say. It's not questioning anything. Even then you might be dead before the end of the week.'
A tense silence descended over the table. Orlando looked as if she were about to say something, but Quinn shook his head.
'So?' Quinn asked, once he sensed he'd given Nate enough time.
'I'll stay with you,' Nate replied.
Quinn waited for more, but none was forthcoming. 'You're sure?'
'I'm sure.'
'Impressive,' Orlando said after Nate had excused himself to use the bathroom. 'He probably made the wrong choice,' Quinn said.
'I'll bet he's throwing up in the toilet right now.'
Quinn chuckled, but quickly grew somber. 'Peter contacted me,' he told her. 'Really?' There was a look of both surprise and caution on her face.
'Not directly.' He told her about the e-mail from Duke. 'But I haven't been able to get through to Peter to confirm.'
'What do you think?'
He shook his head. 'I'm not sure.'
She poked at her food for a moment, then said, 'Did Duke say what the job is?' 'No.' 'Did he at least say where?' Quinn shook his head. 'Since I couldn't get ahold
of Peter, I e-mailed Duke for more information. No replies yet.'
Orlando's face scrunched, the worry line above the bridge of her nose in full display. 'Does he still work out of Berlin?'
'As far as I know.' Even as he answered her, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck begin to stand on end. 'Germany,' he said. 'The symbols on the bracelet.'
'Probably means nothing. You said you didn't tell Peter about it.'
'Right. Makes it a little more interesting, though.' He hesitated for a moment, almost deciding to say nothing, but instead he went ahead and threw it out. 'Are you up to doing a little more research for me?'
The air grew heavy between them. Several seconds passed without a word. When Quinn did finally speak, his voice was low, almost like a whisper. 'There was a point right before Durrie and I left the hotel for the op when I could have told him to stay. Ortega and I could have done it without him.'
Orlando stared at the table, immobile, like she wasn't even listening. 'I remember thinking at the time,' Quinn said,
'for maybe a split second, that he wasn't ready. But I didn't say anything. He was my mentor. He was Durrie.'
'He wouldn't have listened to you even if you had said something.' Orlando's voice was a barely audible whisper.
Quinn remained silent, waiting.
'He just couldn't keep it together anymore. There would be weeks when everything was fine. He was the old Durrie. The one I'd fallen in love with. Then suddenly he'd pull back, a depression overtaking him. He'd lock himself in his office for days. Sometimes he'd disappear completely. For a week, maybe two. You remember that job in Mexico City, right?'
