had been saved instead of the one who had done the saving rang truer.
And ever since that night in the Finnish countryside, Quinn owed his life to Markoff. It was something he knew he’d never stop trying to pay off. Even now, after his friend had turned up dead.
Once he was showered and dressed, Quinn pulled his laptop out of his bag and set it up on the desk. Using his wireless connection, he hacked into the hotel Wi-Fi system, bypassing the pay-by-the-day page.
First he did a quick web search, verifying the address of Congressman Guerrero’s office. In his gut, he knew there were answers there. But the only way to be sure was to go in person. The website not only confirmed the congressman’s location, it also confirmed Guerrero’s grander goal. Across the top of the site was a banner ad:
AMERICA FIRST GUERRERO FOR PRESIDENT
Quinn smiled to himself as a way into the congressman’s office formu
lated in his mind.
He closed the browser and opened his e-mail.
There were several messages. He ignored all but the two from Nate. As Quinn had taught him, the subject line was just the day’s date—year first, then month, then day. Easy for sorting and no hint of the contents.
Quinn clicked open the first one sent.
Was working late and figured you might be asleep. I can give you more details on the phone in the morning if you want.
I ran a check on Tasha Laver. So far I’ve found only 3 people with that name in the entire country. It’s not a common combination apparently. Unfortunately, two are in their seventies, and the other one’s dead.
I’d say it’s a pretty good guess none of them are your 30-year-old woman.
I’ll continue to check, but doubtful about any relevant hits.
Have you called Orlando yet?
N.
No luck on Tasha.
The second e-mail was sent a few hours after the first. Quinn opened it.
The pictures you took in Houston just finished processing through the system. Nothing.
I’ve started them through some of the secondary sources, and should have more info in the morning. I was thinking maybe they’re not from here, so I’m also trying some of the foreign databases, but those are going to take longer to get any results from.
Do you think they might be ghosts?
Ghosts were those who eluded the system, often actively searching and removing any information about themselves that might be floating around. There was a damn good chance Nate was right. After all, Quinn was a ghost, and he was in the process of turning Nate into one, too.
Quinn clicked on Reply.
Let me know as soon as you get anything new.
On Tasha Laver, leave it for now. Name is probably a dead end.
Good job.
Q
He hit Send.
The House Majority Whip’s office was in the Longworth Office Building on Independence Avenue. It was the second, and smallest, of three buildings specifically designed and constructed for the members of the House of Representatives. It was the same building where the Majority Leader had his office, so it was convenient for party matters. The minority party leaders were next door in the Rayburn Building, a massive structure that housed the bulk of the congressmen.
Each of the three buildings—Rayburn, Longworth, and Cannon— sat in a row just to the south of the Capitol building.
Quinn had never had a reason to enter any of them. In fact, he had never been inside the Capitol either. Though he’d made many trips to D.C., they’d all been on business, and usually involved meetings in generic-looking buildings far from the tourist areas.
One time, he had spent fifteen minutes at the Lincoln Memorial, then had walked over and taken in the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Both had been more powerful than he’d expected. He had finally pulled himself away from the black granite wall when he found himself staring at names he didn’t know, but realized could have belonged to his father or his uncles or any of a thousand men he’d met over the years if luck had broken differently.
After he had finished with his e-mail that morning, he’d called Congressman Guerrero’s office, pretending to be a reporter doing a feature piece on the congressman. It had been easy. Part of Quinn’s play-acting past. He could quickly fall into most any role. It was the one talent Durrie had admired in Quinn from the beginning.
His old mentor hated role-playing, and came more and more to rely on Quinn’s abilities as the need arose. “You’re a natural liar,” Durrie had said. “Keep it up and you’ll do all right.”
Quinn wasn’t sure he liked the compliment, but he couldn’t deny that putting on the identity of someone else was almost as simple for him as getting out of bed.
The person at Guerrero’s office had told him he’d be happy to set up a meeting with someone from the press office.
“I actually met one of your staffers when I was in town several months ago, and wonder if she might be available,” Quinn had said.
“I can check. Who was it?”
“Her name is...” Quinn paused like he was reading his notes. “Jennifer Fuentes.”
