located the requested spot. Then the blank screen was replaced by an image of one of the rooms in the basement, the room without the refrigeration unit.
There were four men present. On the tables were several air tanks. As Quinn and Orlando watched, one of the men started up a portable air compressor that was on the floor.
'There.' She pointed at the monitor. To one side of the room, standing alone but watching the others, was a man.
Borko.
The Serb looked nearly unchanged from when Quinn had first seen him in Toronto. The only difference now was that gray hair had started to invade his dark brown mane.
'Hold on,' Orlando said.
She pushed another button, and the action on the monitor began to accelerate. Quinn watched as the men moved from tank to tank, filling those that needed it. Once the operation was complete, they set the tanks on the floor in a row next to one of the cabinets.
'Here,' Orlando said. She punched a button, slowing the picture back to normal speed.
Just as the men were leaving, a phone rang. Borko motioned for the others to continue on, then pulled a black cell phone from his jacket pocket. He looked at the display, then answered the call.
'Borko,' he said into the phone.
He paused, listening to the person on the other end, then started speaking again. But not in Serbian or even German. In English.
'Yes. Yes,' Borko said. 'On schedule. The rest will be here tonight.' He stopped to listen. 'Don't worry. We have forty-eight hours, right? It will be tight, but we will make it.' Another pause. 'No, you don't have to come out. I will come back this evening. Make sure everything has arrived. Tomorrow we put it all together. It will be fine.'
Borko smiled. 'No sign of him or the woman,' the Serbian continued. 'But we have our insurance cards. You sent the files?' A grin. 'That should keep them in check. If they don't give us any more trouble, we can get rid of our guests after the delivery has been made.'
Orlando pressed Pause. 'There's nothing else important,' she said. 'Who do you think he was talking to? Dahl?'
Quinn nodded. 'That would be my guess.'
Quinn glanced down at the frozen image on the screen. Borko was caught in the middle of moving the phone away from his ear. In the background, the door to the room had opened and a man was in the process of stepping inside.
'Press Play,' Quinn said.
Orlando looked at the screen for a moment, her brow furrowed. After a moment, she pressed a button.
Borko slipped his phone into the pocket of his jacket, turning to look at the new arrival as he did so.
'Pause it there,' Quinn said.
The man had walked up and stopped next to Borko. He had sandy brown hair, cut short on the sides, and was a couple inches over six feet tall.
'You know him?' Orlando asked.
Quinn nodded. 'It's Leo Tucker.'
Orlando's eyes widened in surprise. She looked back at the monitor.
'Are you sure?'
'Yes.'
Silence.
'So Piper's group didn't just pass on the infor
mation about us,' Orlando said. 'They're actually involved.' But Quinn didn't answer right away. He almost
kept his thoughts to himself, but he knew he couldn't. 'What if Piper
Orlando started to speak, then stopped herself. He could see the realization dawning on her face as she put the pieces together.
'Of course,' she said, more to herself than to him. She looked up. 'That's it, isn't it? Piper is Dahl.'
'It was more than just bad blood between Piper and Durrie, wasn't it?' Quinn said as he tried to remember the exact circumstances of the split.
'Durrie just thought he was a fool,' Orlando said. 'But for Piper, yeah, there might have been more. Durrie kicked him off a high-profile job for something petty. Durrie said Piper missed an important planning meeting. Durrie said it made them look like amateurs. He badmouthed Piper for months after. It damaged Piper's credibility. Took him years to recover.'
'Right,' Quinn said. 'Only the way he used to tell the story, I think Durrie was just looking for an excuse to break up the partnership. So now that Piper's back in the game, he's in a position to exact a little revenge. Only Durrie's no longer around, so he turns on the only viable targets. The girlfriend and the apprentice. You and me.'
'And Garrett.'
'No,' Quinn said. 'Garrett's a bonus. He may not have even known about Garrett until I led him to you.' Quinn paused, his face hardening. 'Dammit. He made it out like he'd been in Ho Chi Minh City for a long time. But he
