[Quinn 04] - The Silenced

“Tell them I’m not in Paris. That way you won’t be lying.”

Julien grinned under his mountain man beard. “And when they ask about your sister?”

“Tell them she didn’t come home all night. Suggest that perhaps she has a boyfriend, and you’d be happy to track him down if they want. If they say yes, raise your rate.”

A deep laugh. “You’re good at this, my friend. Don’t worry. I’ll sell them the story.”

“Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

Julien raised his glass in the air. “To old friends, yes?”

Quinn raised his own. “Yes.”

“And to screwing over those who try to do the same to us.”

Quinn smiled. “I’ll drink to that, too.”

Anton Nova was a surprisingly small man given his reputation. Petra had expected someone closer to six foot three than five-four. And fat, not thin.

His real name was Kirill Nikitov. Once part of the Moscow underworld, he’d been forced to leave the Russian capital seven years earlier due to a problem with someone higher in the organization. Since his exile to England, Nova had developed into the person you went to if you needed something from the ever-growing Russian community. His knowledge of the city, and of both the Russian emigrant population and the native English, was unparalleled. He was the kind of person most people made a point of avoiding unless absolutely necessary.

It had been Dombrovski who had told her that if she found herself in London, Nova could be trusted. There were other contacts in other places, too. They, like Nova, all had the same thing in common. They had all had their lives touched by the Ghost.

When she and Mikhail arrived at the pub in Piccadilly, they were directed to a large, silent man standing near a door at the back of the room. He ran a metal detecting wand over them, then performed a quick physical search. Satisfied, he opened the door and motioned for them to go through.

Inside they found Nova sitting at an otherwise empty round table. The only other person in the room was an unsmiling man standing along the wall by the door.

“Please. Sit,” Nova said, pointing at the two empty chairs at the table.

They did so.

“I had heard we had a couple of interesting visitors in town,” Nova said. “What is it I can do for you?”

“We’re looking for two people,” Petra said. “Englishmen. We were hoping you could help us find them.”

“Have you tried the phone book?”

“These two are special,” she said. “They wouldn’t be in any phone book.”

Nova put a spoon into the bowl of soup that sat in front of him, then looked at Petra. “I can guarantee you one thing. If you don’t tell me their names, I can’t help you.”

“One is named Leon Currie.”

Nova slurped the soup, then asked, “And the other?”

“David Wills.”

Nova dropped the spoon onto the table, dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin, then rested his arms on the edge of the table. “I don’t know if ‘special’ is the right word. ‘Unusual,’ perhaps.”

“Then, you know them?” she asked.

“Why would you be looking for these two men?”

“We have things we need to discuss with them.”

“What things?”

“Private things.”

Nova leaned back. “If you want my help, then nothing is private from me.”

Mikhail touched Petra’s arm. “Tell him,” he whispered.

“Yes, please. Tell me,” Nova said.

Petra hesitated. Dombrovski had said Nova could be trusted. “We need to talk to them because we think they can lead us to someone else,” she said.

Nova let out a little laugh and shook his head. “Rurik, show our new friends out.”

The guard stepped out from the wall.

“The Ghost,” Petra said quickly. “We’re looking for the Ghost.”

Nova stared at her, his relaxed, superior attitude gone. “The Ghost?”

“Yes.”

“Who sent you to me? Dombrovski?”

Petra nodded. “We worked for him.”

“But no longer?”

She paused, then said, “He’s dead.”

“When?” Nova asked, surprised.