“Thank God. Please call me once she’s with you. Let me talk to her.”
“If there’s time,” he said. There was a beep in his ear telling him another call was coming through. “I have to go.”
He disconnected Tasha, then looked at the display before answering the other call. Orlando.
“Where’s Nate?” he said once he activated the call.
“Not coming,” she said.
“What?”
“I left him at the apartment.”
“You left...Wait. Are you here?”
“I’m outside,” she said. “Across the street from Water Gate.”
The thought of her nearby ready to help was more than just comforting. “I’m inside, sitting at—”
“I know where you are,” she said.
Of course she did, Quinn thought. That’s why he liked to work with her. She was almost as good as he was. She, of course, would probably say she was better.
“Any sign of Jenny?” he asked.
“No. At least I don’t think so,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the picture you showed me wasn’t exactly in the best of conditions, was it?”
They fell into several seconds of silence. Quinn scanned everyone in view while acting like he was listening to something interesting. He checked the time again: 8:29.
“We’ve got company,” Orlando said.
“She’s here?”
“No. It’s one of your Texas friends.”
Quinn tensed. “Alone?”
Silence. Then, “I count six.”
Jenny was walking right into a trap. It didn’t matter at the moment how the others had figured out where she was going to be, it just mattered that unless Quinn did something quick, Jenny’s freedom was about to be ripped away.
He pushed himself up from his chair and threw some money on the table. “What are they doing?” he said into the phone.
“They got out of two taxis a half block down from the gate. One of them seems to be in charge. He’s signaling two men to go to the left to a mall entrance down the street. Three others are walking toward the gate.”
Quinn was on the move now, heading toward the gate from the inside. “And the one calling the shots?”
“He’s also heading toward the gate, but is hanging back behind his men.”
“Abort and distract,” Quinn said.
“Got it.”
The line went dead.
There was a group of people just inside the gate. They were all Caucasian and looked to be traveling together. Some type of tour group, Quinn guessed. A couple dozen strong.
He swung the leather bag around and slipped his hand inside. He had yet to attach suppressors to any of the pistols, but that was fine for what he needed to do now. He grabbed the first gun his hand touched, then slipped his other hand into the bag, checking to make sure there was a cartridge in the chamber.
Once satisfied, he moved the end of the barrel so that it was just peeking out from under the top flap, and aimed it low at one of the planters along the walkway. He took a calming breath, then pulled the trigger.
The sound of the shot was magnified by the enclosed space of the mall, rolling over all other noise like a sudden avalanche.
For two seconds, the whole world stopped. Silence, no movement. Everyone frozen in place. Everyone but Quinn.
As soon as he pulled the trigger, he began running toward the gate.
“Gun!” he yelled, pointing back the way he’d come.
His voice seemed to break the collective trance. People began screaming, some running with Quinn, some running in the opposite direction.
“Gun!” he yelled again as he neared the group at the gate. Behind him, he heard others taking up the call.
The group of tourists seemed to move en masse, rushing past the pillars of water and through the wooden arch like a stampede. They were joined by more of the terrified shoppers, all wanting nothing more than to get away.
Quinn blended into the back of the group, his head moving side to side, taking in everything and everyone. There were three men, large and dressed in suits, pushing against the tide as they tried to get into the mall. But
