[Quinn 02] - The Deceived

“Welcome to the Pan Pacific Hotel,” the man said. “Checking in?”

“Yes,” Quinn said.

Orlando had arranged for them to stay in three adjacent rooms, but unlike the Marriott in San Francisco, there were no doors between each connecting them. Nate had a single room, while Quinn and Orlando had one-bedroom suites.

“Thirty minutes,” Quinn told them. “Then meet back in my room.”

Quinn took a quick shower and pulled on his clothes, finishing ten minutes early. Taking advantage of the time, he removed his computer from his bag, carried it to the desk in the living room, and turned it on.

While it was booting up, he pulled out his cell phone. Though he never turned it off while he was flying, the phone did have a sleep mode that made it look to anyone checking like it had been shut down. He activated the display screen and was immediately greeted with a signal that he had a message.

He accessed his voice mail and found there were actually three messages. An automated voice told him the first had come in ten hours earlier.

“Jonathan, I made it to the house.” It was Tasha. “I thought I should let you know. Please don’t forget to call me...I mean...if you find her. I have to know she’s okay. Please.”

He pushed 7 to erase the call, then went to the next message. It had come in six hours before.

“I really would like to talk to you.” Tasha again. “I really think maybe I should come back. I know I can help you. I’m going to go crazy just sitting here. Can you call me?”

He erased it. The last call had come through only two hours earlier.

He was not surprised to find it was from Tasha again. “Why aren’t you calling me back? I need to talk to you. I know I can help you. Please, call me. Please.”

After he erased the final message, he set the phone on the table, intending to turn his attention to his computer. But he paused, his hand hovering a few inches above the phone. He was going to have to call her back, if nothing else than to at least calm her down.

Wait? Or call?

“Dammit,” he said, then picked up the phone and dialed Tasha’s number.

With the international dateline, it was still the previous night back in California. The phone rang four times, then mercifully went to voice mail.

“Hi.” The voice was Tasha’s. “You’ve reached my cell. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“It’s Jonathan,” Quinn said, relieved he didn’t actually have to talk to her. “Nothing new on this end. But I’m still working on it. I’m glad you made it to the house. You’ll be safe there. I’ll call again within three days. But don’t worry. Just lay low.”

He hung up and turned his attention back to the computer. Within thirty seconds, he was connected to the Internet.

Before they left, Orlando had set the tracking software she was using to keep tabs on Jenny’s phone to run on automatic. It would then send periodic e-mails to both her and Quinn’s accounts detailing any activity. The first two messages were the same:

Data check complete. No activity.

The third, though, was different:

Data check complete. Signal active: Kuala Lumpur, Sector 7. Signal Acquired: 23:59:49. Local. Signal Loss: 00:01:14. Local.

Interesting, he thought. Jenny had turned her phone on the previous evening right at midnight. That corresponded to the same window of time she had had Quinn call her the night before.

He used a bookmark in his web browser to bring up the Sandy Side Yacht Club message board.

He perused the list of recent messages, concentrating on anything sent in the last thirty hours. The group was an active one, so even in that short span there were several hundred posts.

Quinn paid attention only to the ID of each message. Forty-two messages in, he stopped. There was a message from Jenny.

Just got back from Mexico. The Yucatan.

We’d spend all day on the water. At night, one club after another. The music plus the girls—very cool. I’d call it one helluva vacation.

As he started to work out the message, there was a knock at his door. “It’s Orlando,” a muffled voice called from the other side.

Quinn got up and let her in. “Jenny went active again,” he said as he crossed back to his com

puter. Orlando followed him. “Yeah. I got the e-mail, too.” Quinn sat, then turned his computer so she could see the screen.

“You didn’t get this, though.” “What?” Orlando asked. “She sent a message on the group board.” Quinn sat back down in the chair, and Orlando leaned in. Mexico was the key word. Six letters, meaning only every sixth

word after “Mexico” was relevant.

day one plus call.

Then the final piece of the code. Reverse the order. “Call plus one day,” he said. “So that’s why she went active last night,” she said. “Jenny thought