The congressman’s wife looked across the room. “I could use another glass of wine.”
“I’ll get it for you,” her husband said, then looked at Quinn. “Mr. Drake, if you’ll excuse us.”
As Guerrero started to turn away, Quinn said, “Actually, since we’re both here, I did have one thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
Guerrero and his wife looked back at Quinn.
“Just a quick follow-up for the article. Shouldn’t take more than a minute or two.”
Guerrero was somehow able to combine a sigh with a welcoming smile. “It would be best if you set up an appointment. Come see me at my office tomorrow.”
“Unfortunately, I have to be in New York tomorrow,” Quinn said.
“Perhaps next week, then.”
“We’ll be out of town next week,” Jody said.
“You’re right. I’d forgotten,” the congressman said, though it was obvious he hadn’t forgotten and was annoyed she had mentioned it.
His wife smiled. “Why don’t I get my own drink, and you two have your little chat.”
“It won’t take that long,” Quinn said.
“Fine,” Guerrero said. “But if it goes more than a few minutes, we’ll have to schedule a follow-up for later. I’m not here to do interviews. I’m here to support Marta and her art.”
“I understand,” Quinn said. “I won’t keep you long.”
By unspoken agreement, Quinn and Guerrero left the center of the room and found a quieter spot near the back. Quinn positioned himself so he could keep an eye on the man at the front door. The security man was watching them, but he didn’t appear to be alarmed.
“So what can I answer for you?” Guerrero asked.
“It’s about Jennifer Fuentes.” Guerrero looked surprised. “Jennifer? What about her?” “I’m trying to find her, and I think you might be able to help me.” At the front door, the bodyguard had turned to talk with two new
arrivals, men who didn’t look like they were here for the art. The con
versation looked more business than casual. Colleagues, perhaps? “She’s on a leave of absence.” “Where did she go?” “That’s none of your business, Mr. Drake.” “Actually, it is,” Quinn said. “I need you to—” He stopped. The two new security men had finished their conversation and
had turned to look across the room. Quinn nearly froze. He had seen these men before. In Houston. Riding in the Volvo that had followed him.
He suddenly missed the feel of his SIG against his side. “You need me to what?” Guerrero asked. “I need you to tell me where she is.” Guerrero raised his chin a couple of inches so that he was almost
looking down at Quinn. “I think we’re done here.” “No. We’re not.” Quinn put a hand on the congressman’s arm, stopping Guerrero
from leaving. He moved to his left so that the congressman hid him from view of the new arrivals.
“You aren’t the least bit worried about her, are you?” Quinn asked. “You know her apartment was destroyed. You also know the same thing happened to her home in Houston, don’t you?”
“Who are you?” Guerrero said. “You’re not a reporter.” “Where is she? What have you done with her?” “I haven’t done anything—” Guerrero stopped himself. “I don’t
like what you’re insinuating. Let go of me, Mr. Drake. Right now!”
Quinn leaned forward and said in a low voice, “I’ll make this very clear. I think you do know where she is. I think you have something to do with her disappearance. And if it turns out I’m right, I’m going to come back here. I promise you, you don’t want that.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No,” Quinn said. “I don’t threaten people.”
This time when the congressman tried to pull his arm from Quinn’s grasp, Quinn didn’t fight him. There was little more Quinn was going to be able to get out of him. But he’d learned enough to know something was definitely wrong, and Guerrero was involved.
As the congressman walked away, his security team started walking toward him. Quinn tried to melt into the crowd and get out of sight, but he wasn’t quick enough. One of the men from Houston got a good look at his face, then said something to his partner.
Instantly they both began pushing their way through the crowd.
Quinn moved toward the rear exit. Just before he disappeared into the hallway, he glanced over his shoulder. His pursuers were closer now, but the crowd was hindering their progress. At best, Quinn figured he had a thirty- second lead.
Before he was even two steps into the passage, he was running.
“Out of my way,” he yelled at two women who were standing near the bathroom entrance.
They moved against the wall just in time.
As Quinn neared the exit, the guy working the metal detector stepped into the opening, blocking the way. Maybe he thought Quinn had stolen something. Maybe he thought this was his chance to be a hero. But whatever he thought was soon forgotten as Quinn smashed into him, knocking him into the metal detector with a loud
