“I suggest you keep quiet and do exactly what we say,” Quinn told her. “Understood?”
Annabel started to speak, but Quinn shook his head and raised his finger back to his mouth. So she stopped, then nodded.
“Good,” he said. “My associate is going to stay right next to you like she’s your best friend. Okay?”
Another nod.
“See? Not so bad.”
As the train pulled in to Holborn, Annabel tensed.
“Hold tight,” Orlando said. “You won’t be getting off here today.”
“What do you want? I don’t know—” Annabel grimaced as Orlando jabbed her abdomen again.
Quinn leaned close, his mouth an inch from her ear. “Don’t test me.”
“Sorry,” she whispered.
They rode in silence all the way to Green Park. There, with Orlando tight to Annabel’s side, they navigated the warrens of the station until they reached the southbound platform for the Victoria Line.
“I could make a scene right now. There are cameras everywhere. You’d never be able to get away.”
“Perhaps,” Quinn said. “But you’d be on the ground bleeding out, so you’d never know if we did or we didn’t, would you?”
She bit her lower lip. “You’re not going to hurt me.”
“Who said anything about hurt?”
Orlando snickered. “Give me your phone.”
Annabel hesitated, then pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of her overcoat and handed it to Orlando. Unlike the cell she’d been carrying in New York, this was a sophisticated model that must have cost someone a bundle. Orlando turned it off and dropped it into the trash.
When the train arrived, Annabel boarded without protest. This time they rode only two stops, exiting at Pimlico, then rode the escalators up from deep below the city. As they did, Quinn’s phone vibrated, indicating a voicemail. He pulled it out, but had to wait until they reached the top before the signal strength was strong enough to check it.
“Quinn, it’s Nate. First, Liz is fine. Second, we’ll be in London at nine-thirty. I know you told me to use a less direct route, but something happened this morning and I felt the sooner we got there, the better. We’re on the Eurostar and have already passed through the Chunnel. And before you ask, yes, I got the papers Orlando arranged, so no one knows we’re on the train.” He paused. “Quinn, Julien’s dead. I’ll give you the details later. What I need to know now is what you want me to do once we arrive.”
The message ended.
“What’s wrong?” Orlando asked.
Quinn had stopped near the entrance to the station.
“Quinn?” she asked.
He glanced at Annabel, then turned to Orlando. “There’s been … a complication.”
Orlando looked concerned. “Did something happen to …?”
“They’re both fine.”
“Then, what?”
“Julien.”
She raised an eyebrow in question.
He knew he didn’t have to say anything. His expression was answer enough.
“Where are they?” she asked.
Quinn looked at his watch. It was just after nine. “They’ll be here in thirty. We’ll need to split up.”
She nodded. “Don’t worry. I can take care of our friend here.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Wait. You might want to show me where I’m supposed to take her first,” Orlando said.
“Right.” God, where was his head? “It’s not far.” He led them out of the station and down Lupus Street to the corner of Belgrave Road. “There. Two blocks up on the left. The Silvain Hotel.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the plastic keycard he’d been carrying for two days now, and handed it to her.
Quinn locked eyes with Annabel. “You’re going to go with my friend. Despite her size, she’s a hell of a lot meaner than I am. If you’re even thinking you might be able to make a break, you should reconsider. She’ll kill you without hesitating. Understand?”
“Yes.” Annabel’s voice was a dry croak.
“Good. She’s going to ask you some questions. Do yourself a favor and answer them. If you don’t, you’re going to have to deal with me.”
Annabel nodded.
“I won’t be long,” he told Orlando, then he ran back toward the Underground station.
