“Quinn?” the man asked.
“SO WHO IS SHE?” JULIEN DE COSTER ASKED.
They were sitting around one of the outside tables at the cafe below Liz’s apartment building. Quinn had situated himself so that he could keep an eye on the entrance, but be shielded by Nate and Julien in case his sister suddenly showed up.
“The relative of a client,” Quinn said. Telling Nate the truth was one thing, broadcasting it to the rest of the world was something else entirely. “He was concerned she might be in danger. Since I was in the area, he asked me to check on her.”
Julien sipped a coffee and narrowed his eyes. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Of course there’s more,” Quinn said. “But you know there are things I can’t tell you.”
“I understand,” Julien said, holding up a hand. “Not my business.”
“Julien, I’ve always trusted you. You know that. But come on, you were
“If I’m on the other side from you, then I am obviously not where I should be.”
Quinn said nothing.
Julien took another sip. “You can consider me off the job. But that doesn’t mean someone won’t come back and take my place.”
“I’m not trying to keep you from working,” Quinn said.
Julien scoffed. “It was a throwaway job, anyway. Don’t worry about it.”
Quinn put his hand around his cup, but didn’t raise it. “If that’s the case, would you be interested in telling me what you were supposed to be doing?”
“I don’t know,” Julien said. “Backing out of the job is already not going to help my reputation, but you want me to sell out my employer? What is so important?”
“The girl’s an innocent. Her only crime is being related to someone in our world. She doesn’t deserve to be put in danger, and I’m here to make sure she isn’t.”
Julien smiled. “You are clever, my friend.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a four-by-six photograph, then laid it on the table so Quinn could see it. “She has your eyes, you know. And your chin, too.”
Quinn had seen the same picture mounted in a frame on the piano at his mother’s house. A happy Liz, smiling, and just about to board a plane to France.
“Part of my instructions was to find a photograph of the woman who lived there. This was in her bedroom.” Julien smiled. “Your sister?”
Quinn looked up, his gaze boring into the Frenchman.
“I’d love to hear what happened,” Nate said.
Julien laughed again. “I am not so easily fooled. That job was long ago, but even then we should never tell stories.”
Quinn barely heard any of this, his mind still trying to come to grips with the fact that the secret life he had created was on the verge of coming completely apart.
“Why were you in her apartment?” he asked.
Julien placed his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Last night I got a phone call for a job. I was told it was a simple check-and-report. I was given a woman’s name and an address. Nothing else. It’s not the kind of work I usually take, but business for me has been slow lately. Perhaps you heard about my trouble in Bern?”
Quinn nodded. Julien had been caught during an exchange operation in the Swiss capital. Though he didn’t know details, Quinn had heard secondhand that Julien had threatened to expose his employer if they didn’t get him out. A threat like that would tend to put a hold on any future employment opportunities.
Julien seemed to deduce what Quinn was thinking. “Don’t believe all rumors.”
“I never do.”
“I didn’t ask for anything,” Julien said. “The people I worked for started that rumor to cover their own mistakes. It was their fault I was detained. But what could I do?”
Quinn was inclined to give Julien the benefit of the doubt. Making those kind of threats was not something he had an easy time seeing the big man doing.
“Last night,” Quinn said, trying to get Julien back on track, “who called you?”
The Frenchman took another sip of coffee. “A broker who has used me in the past.”
“A name, Julien.”
Julien shrugged. “Charles Butler.”
“It sounds made up,” Nate said.
“It’s the name he’s always used. False? Probably. But the payment was sitting in my account this morning, so I didn’t care.”
