So their work in the basement had been unnecessary. That was fine. The energy he’d expended had worked off any rough edges he felt. What was left now was focus.
Clear, lethal focus.
TEN MINUTES HAD PASSED SINCE THEY’D LEFT the financial district when Quinn’s phone rang. The caller ID read BLOCKED.
“Here we go,” he said.
He pushed Accept.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Quinn?”
“Who is this?” Quinn asked.
“My name is Fedor.”
“Sorry, I’m talking to only your boss.”
Quinn could hear Fedor start to say something, but he disconnected the call before he could hear what it was.
It took only ten seconds for the phone to ring again.
“Mr. Quinn,” Fedor said, “I’m calling to give you instructions for—”
“I talk to your boss or I talk to no one.”
“Wait!”
“Tell him if he wants Trevor Robb’s body,” Quinn said, “he’d better be the one on the other end when my phone rings again.” He hung up again.
No one said anything for several moments.
Finally, Orlando looked over at Petra. “You never told us what he did to you.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The Ghost. You said he hurt all of you in one way or another. What did he do to you?”
Petra looked uneasy.
“If it’s too personal,” Orlando said, “you don’t have to answer.”
“No,” Petra said. “It’s just hard to talk about.” A wan smile crossed her lips. “His name was Andrei. I was twenty-three, and he was twenty-five. We’d been married a year and a half when the Ghost’s men came for him. He did nothing wrong, other than want a better future for our children.”
“How many did you have?” she asked.
She shook her head. “None. We were going to have two. A boy and a girl. That’s what we talked about. But the Ghost took them from me before they could even be conceived. Someone in our building overheard Andrei saying something they took to be subversive and turned him in. What, I never knew.”
Once more, silence descended on the car.
After nearly a minute, Quinn said, “I think we’ve waited long enough.”
He called the number Annabel had given him, and almost immediately Fedor answered.
“Is he ready to talk to me now?” Quinn asked.
“How did you get this number?” Fedor stammered.
“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about? Do you know what I do for a living? Put your boss on.”
The line went silent for half a minute, then Palavin came on. “Mr. Quinn?”
“Yes.”
“You have a problem talking to my assistant?”
“I don’t have a problem talking to him,” Quinn said. “I just don’t have any reason to. This business is between you and me.”
“You have something for me?”
“If you mean do I have the body you sent me after, yeah, I have Trevor Robb right here.”
Palavin’s response was quick and casual. “Robb? Is that supposed to mean something to me? Because, Mr. Quinn, it doesn’t.”
“That’s interesting,” Quinn said. “It’s the name I found on the ID tucked under the sole of his shoe.”
“His shoe?”
“Yes. Looks like he put it there in case something happened to him. Guess it’s a good thing he did.”
Neither of them said a thing for several seconds.
“What is it you want?” Palavin said.
