The old man hesitated several seconds, then walked back over and grabbed the note. Quinn watched as Blackmoore stared down at the characters.
“Some sort of code perhaps?” Blackmoore said without taking his eyes off the paper.
“You don’t recognize it?” Quinn asked.
“No. But that doesn’t mean anything.” Blackmoore moved the paper slightly closer to his face. “What are these two characters? Are they part of the string?”
He was looking at the “lp.”
“I’m not sure. He repeated the sequence twice, but these two were
only after the second go-round. And they were set off by themselves.” “What is that? A one?” “Either a one or an
clouded over. “You need to get out of here now.” “Why? What is it?” Blackmoore began pulling on Quinn’s arm. “Jesus, I hope it’s not
too late,” Blackmoore mumbled to himself. “Get the hell out of my
house!” He was rushing Quinn down the hall toward the front door. “What is it?” Quinn asked. “LP? Is that it? What’s it mean?” “No. I’m too old for this shit.” As they neared the door, Quinn put on the brakes. “I’m not leav
ing without my gun.” The old man dropped his hand from Quinn’s arm and hurried
into the living room. A moment later, he returned with Quinn’s SIG. “Here,” he said, thrusting it at Quinn. “Take it.” Quinn took the gun, then said, “And I’m not leaving until you tell
me what LP means.” Blackmoore raised his own gun and pointed it at Quinn. “Get out. Now.”
Quinn returned to the car, his head spinning from the encounter with Blackmoore. Something had scared the old spy, something to do with the letters
He wanted to run the entire conversation through his mind again, see if there was something he’d missed. Unfortunately, Tasha had a different plan.
“Thank God,” Tasha said. “Thank God.” She seemed agitated, almost hysterical. “What is it?” he asked as he slipped his gun under his seat. She held her cell phone in her hand and was staring down at it.
“My...my brother called. From Houston. Someone broke into my apartment. Went through everything I have.” She put a shaking hand to her brow. “The place is a disaster, he said.” She looked at Quinn. “They know where I live. I can’t even go home now. What am I going to do?”
He got her calmed down, then drove her back to the Marriott in Crystal City.
Once inside his room, he pointed toward the bathroom. “If you want to get freshened up.”
She raised a hand to her face self-consciously, then, without a word, she turned and walked to the bathroom.
Quinn wasted no time collecting his bag and setting it on the bed. He did two passes through the room, making sure he had everything, then a third pass wiping down any surface he may have touched.
Tasha reemerged from the bathroom a couple moments after he’d finished. “Are you leaving?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What about me?”
Quinn hesitated before answering. The best thing for her would be to go someplace where she knew no one. A big city, far away from the East Coast, where she could become one of the anonymous. St. Louis, Minneapolis, Detroit, any of those would work. He was tempted to give her the keys to the rental and say, “Drive west.” And, “Good luck.” But he couldn’t do that. He still wasn’t ready to trust her completely, but she might very well hold the key to contacting Jenny. So keeping her near seemed a more secure option than letting her fend for herself.
“I’m going back to Los Angeles,” Quinn said. “You’ll come with me. It’ll be safer there.”
He could see her relief as her whole body seemed to relax. “Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
Traveling under her own name, though, was out of the question. He would have to dummy up an ID for her, but he had the gear to do that with him. Nothing too fancy but it would work in the short run. And they’d have to get her some other clothes. Again not impossible either, even at the late hour.
He excused himself and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. After he splashed some warm water on his face, he put the top down on the toilet and took a seat. From his pocket, he pulled out his phone and called Nate.
“I’m heading home,” Quinn said. “Things have gotten a little complicated here. I’m also bringing someone with me. I’ll call you back when I know our arrival time so you can pick us up.”
“Quinn, wait,” Nate said. “What?” “I talked to Orlando.” There was something in Nate’s voice that made Quinn pause.
“When?” “About an hour ago.” “I’ve left her a couple messages, but she hasn’t called back.” “She’s... not herself. I think she thought she was calling your cell.” “What’s going on?” There was a long silence. “Her aunt died.” Whatever strength Quinn had left drained away. “No.” “It happened when you were in Houston.” Quinn put an elbow on his knee and rested his forehead in his
open palm. “What was it?” “Cancer. I guess she was diagnosed a couple of months ago, but only told Orlando last week.” No wonder he hadn’t received a call back. “How did Orlando sound?” “Dazed. Like she couldn’t believe it.” Nate paused. “The funeral’s
tomorrow afternoon.” Quinn sat up. “Are you kidding?” “No.” Quinn stared at the tile near his feet, his mind thousands of miles
