[Quinn 02] - The Deceived

The left side of Peter’s mouth raised slightly in annoyance. “I’m not your supplier.”

“Do you have it or not?”

“You promise not to do anything stupid with it?”

Now it was Quinn’s turn to be annoyed. “Just give it to me.”

Peter stared at Quinn a moment longer, then looked over his shoulder. “Ida,” he said.

The woman picked up her pace and rejoined them.

“Give it to him,” Peter said.

She slipped her purse around so she had easy access, then zipped it open. From inside, she removed a three- inch-thick gray plastic box. Like the bag the phone had been in, it had the feel of an upscale present. Quinn guessed it was about nine inches by twelve, and seemed to have taken up almost all the room inside the purse.

“For you,” Ida said, handing Quinn the box.

“Thanks.”

Inside Quinn knew he’d find a SIG Sauer P226, a few mags, extra ammo, and a suppressor. In Houston, he’d hadn’t had time to get a gun, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake in D.C.

Without even being told, Ida fell back again, giving the two men privacy.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Peter said. “You looking for work?”

“Would you give it to me if I asked?”

Peter looked over, his squint more pronounced than usual. “Of course I would. Nobody else I hire is as good as you. You know that.”

Quinn smiled. “I’m not looking for work right now. But I’ll let you know.”

Peter snorted, but said nothing.

“I need something,” Quinn said.

“I already gave you something,” Peter replied, motioning to the bag.

“Information. I’m trying to find someone, and I think you can help.”

Peter stopped and turned to Quinn. “Hold on. Are you asking me to do some work for you?”

“Just a quick check. That’s all. You have resources you can get to quicker than I can at the moment.”

“I don’t know, Quinn. I’m not sure how to handle this.” Peter was obviously relishing the moment.

“It’s a favor. That’s all. Don’t get all worked up.”

“Aren’t you the one who once told me you didn’t do favors?” Peter said. “So what would motivate me to do one for you?”

“I seem to recall I did the favor anyway. I also seem to remember saving your ass in Berlin. If I hadn’t been there, you would have taken the fall for that one.” It was true to a point. But in reality, if Quinn hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have mattered who took the fall.

“I’ll tell you what,” Peter said. “I’ll do your favor. But next time I need you for a job, you say yes.”

“That’s not a favor, Peter. That’s a trade.”

“Whatever. That’s my deal.”

“I’m not even on your active list anymore.”

“Actually,” Peter said, “I never took you off.”

Why doesn’t that surprise me? Quinn thought.

He looked over Peter’s shoulder toward the Smithsonian Castle across the Mall. It wasn’t like Peter was asking a lot. Quinn’s plan had never been to stop working for the Office entirely. But suggesting a tit-for-tat bothered Quinn. It was almost enough for Quinn to just walk away.

Almost.

“Fine,” Quinn said.

Peter smiled. “What can I do for you?”

Back at the Marriott, Quinn connected his new phone to his computer. Before uploading his address book and other vital information, he used a program Orlando had created to erase all unnecessary information from the phone’s memory, then replace it with his personal settings and thumbprint identification. It was a safety precaution in case Peter had installed any hidden tracking or monitoring software. Next he programmed the phone with his number, then transferred the backup of his contact list. Once done, he called Nate.

“I’m up and running again,” he said.

“What the hell’s going on?” Nate asked. “I assume it has something to do with that house fire in Houston.”

“Been doing a little checking, have you?”

“Just the Internet. Since it’s the same address as the one you wanted me to check out, I took a wild guess. One of the news reports says it was a gas leak.”

“Is that what they think?”