“I need another favor,” he said once Peter answered.
“Of course,” Peter said. There was an underlying sense of greed in his voice. Just one more thing he would use in future job negotiations, Quinn knew.
“There’s someone I need to talk to, but I don’t want him to realize that.”
“An accidental meeting?”
Quinn paused. For a brief second, he’d had the sensation someone was watching him. He stopped and casually looked back the way he had come. “Yes,” he said into the phone. “The more public, the better.”
Several people were walking up and down the sidewalks on either side of Independence Avenue. But no one seemed to be paying him any attention. He began walking again.
“Tell me one more time. You’re not involved in something stupid, right? Like a hit?” Peter said.
“A hit?” Quinn asked, surprised.
“Look, we haven’t worked together for over six months, so God knows what you’re into now. And I can’t be connected with anything like that. Not here.”
“That’s not my thing, Peter. Nothing’s changed,” Quinn said. “I just want to talk with him.”
“I have your word on that?”
“I’ve never lied to you.”
“But you have withheld information.”
“You’re right,” Quinn said. “I have.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Okay. I’ll see what I can find out,” Peter said. “Who is it?”
“Congressman James Guerrero of Texas.”
“The presidential candidate?”
“You know him, then.”
“I know who he is.” A pause, then Peter said, “Let me see what I can find out.”
Quinn thought if he could get the congressman out of his office, someplace Guerrero couldn’t make a quick escape, maybe he’d be able to see if the wannabe President truly knew more than he was letting on.
“Thanks,” Quinn said.
Next, he tried Orlando again. He was surprised she hadn’t returned his call. After all, she’d attempted to get ahold of him first. But it had been over twenty-four hours since he’d called her back. At the very least, she should have sent him a text message. It wasn’t like her.
Four rings, then “Please leave a message after the tone.” It was the same generic, prerecorded voice as before.
“Orlando, it’s me,” Quinn said. “What’s going on? Where are you? Call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”
Once he hung up, he held the phone in his hand for a few moments, staring at the display. He was thinking— hoping—she’d just been slow to answer and was already in the process of calling him back.
But the phone remained silent.
As he was slipping it back in his pocket, the feeling he was being watched returned. He looked around again. There seemed to be more people on the sidewalks now as some of the government employees got an early start to their evening.
Quinn slowly scanned both sides of the street, taking in every face.
Even then he almost missed her. She was standing on the other side of the road, tucked up against one of the trees in front of the Hirshhorn Museum. Not exactly hiding, but close enough.
As Quinn stepped onto the street and began walking toward her, he expected her to run. But she held steady, her eyes never leaving him.
“Hello, Tasha,” he said as he reached her.
“You
Quinn stepped in close, a smile on his face. “Who are you?” His voice was calm and low, but the stare he gave her was anything but friendly.
“I...I already—”
“You’re not Tasha Laver. I checked.”
“How? I mean—”
“Who are you?” he repeated.
She hesitated. “My name really is Tasha,” she said “But...but Douglas, not Laver. I... panicked in Houston. I didn’t know who you were.”
“You don’t know who I am now.”
Her eyes looked into his for a moment. “Are you looking for Jenny? Please tell me that’s what you’re doing. Tell me that you’re trying to help her.”
