From behind Quinn, there was the sound of footsteps approaching. “We’ve got company,” Nate said. The footsteps stopped only a few feet away. But Quinn didn’t
turn. Instead, he kept his focus on the old man. “Tell them everything is okay,” Quinn said, his eyes still on the old man.
Ne Win smiled at Quinn. “Is everything okay?” “Did you kill Markoff?” The old man stared Quinn in the eyes. “No.” “Did you have anything to do with killing him?” “No.” Neither moved nor spoke for several seconds. Finally Quinn said,
“If that’s true, then everything is fine.” “But you not sure you believe me,” Ne Win said. Quinn leaned back a few inches and looked away. “I believe
you.” “Okay, okay,” Ne Win said to whoever was standing behind Quinn. “Old friend. No problem.”
Nothing at first. Then Quinn could hear the others moving away. He chanced a look back. There were three men, tall and muscular. None were smiling, but they had at least backed away several feet.
“New guards,” Quinn said to Ne Win. “Nephews. Too lazy to work in corporation.” Quinn turned back to the old man. “You don’t happen to know
Jorge Albina, do you?” “The name sounds familiar, but I know lots of people.” “Are you the one who sent him Markoff ’s body?”
“You the one who told me he was dead,” Ne Win said. “I see your friend when he here, all right? He was not careful. He looked in wrong places, understand? I tried to tell him to forget, but he didn’t listen. Whatever happened to him, that is his business.”
“So he came to you.” “Everyone come to me if they need something.” “What did he need?” “Like you, a little gear.” “What else?” Ne Win smiled. “Like you,” he repeated, “a little information.” “You knew he was dead.” Ne Win said nothing. “Someone put him in a shipping container to die, then sent the
container to the States.” Ne Win’s face grew red. “You think I kill him? Markoff a client. I don’t kill clients. He bring me other business, too. He introduce you
to me, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” Quinn said.
“So? You trying to disrespect me?”
“I’m just trying to honor him by finding out what happened.”
Ne Win scoffed. “Don’t try bullshit me.”
“Not bullshit,” Quinn said.
Ne Win eyed Quinn, appraising him. “Okay. I believe you. Now you believe me. I had nothing to do with his death.”
“Do you know who did?”
Ne Win was silent for several seconds. He then looked past Quinn at his men and said something in Burmese. One of the men pulled out a piece of paper, wrote something on it, then handed it to the old man.
“Go find lunch,” Ne Win said to Quinn, then handed him the piece of paper. “You and your apprentice go here one hour. You pick up your order then.”
Quinn looked at the paper. On it was written
When Quinn looked up again, Ne Win was already walking away with his bodyguards.
“He had something to do with your friend’s death,” Nate said. He, too, was watching Ne Win walk away.
“Absolutely,” Quinn said.
“He’s the one who sent the container, isn’t he?”
“Most likely.”
“So either he killed Markoff or he knows who did it?”
“He didn’t kill Markoff.”
“You believe him?”
Quinn nodded. “Yes.”
“I don’t know,” Nate said. “I don’t trust him. You should have pressed him more.”
“How?” Quinn asked. “Pulled out a gun and pointed it at his head?”
“I don’t know. Something.”
Ne Win had disappeared into the crowd on Orchard Road.
“You might not trust him,” Quinn said. “But I do.”
CHAPTER
TWO HOURS LATER, QUINN AND NATE WERE IN A CAB
on the way back to the Pan Pacific with a satchel full of gear from Ne Win when Quinn’s phone vibrated. He looked at the display: Orlando.
