“You’re kidding.”
“He knows Wills’s code phrase.”
“What does he want?”
“Wondering the same thing myself.” Quinn took the call off hold. “Mr. Smith. You may be David’s client, but you’re not mine. He’s the one who hired me, so he’s the one I work for.”
“I see no distinction between the fact that David hired you and I hired him.”
“I do.”
“Please, Mr. Quinn,” the caller said, his tone now conciliatory. “I’m not trying to go around David’s back. You see, certain circumstances have arisen that have made it necessary for me to contact you directly.”
“What circumstances?”
“I’m sorry to say David is dead,” Mr. Smith said.
“Dead?” Quinn said, acting surprised.
“Apparently he was shot.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“By whom?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Quinn. Do you?”
“I have no idea,” Quinn said. Could this guy really have found out about Wills’s death already? It was plausible. Mercer, if he was indeed working for Wills, would have informed Wills’s organization, and then they might have begun notifying clients to assure them that current operations were not compromised. Plausible, but the timeline was tight.
“I thought as much, but it is good to hear. The reason I’m calling you is to make sure you’re planning on completing the job. You’ve already been paid, and nicely, I might add. I only ask that once you have the package in your possession, you consider calling me. I would like to dispose of it myself. But if you are not comfortable with that, I understand. Fair?”
“Yeah, see, that’s not the way it works. First I verify what you’re telling me about Wills is true. If it is, then I immediately remove myself, putting as much distance between me and anyone connected with Wills as possible.
Including you. So if your information’s good, you’ll have to find someone else. I’m done.”
Dead air for a moment, then, “What?”
“Done,” Quinn said. “No longer on the job.”
“You’ve been hired for the task. I expect you to carry it out. Mr. Quinn, maybe we should meet in person. We can discuss this—”
“There’s nothing to discuss. Per my standard agreement, in the case that my client is killed, I can terminate my involvement at my discretion. You can be sure I’ll be exercising that clause.”
“Mr. Quinn, that is not an opt—”
Quinn disconnected the call.
“Are you sure that was such a good idea?” Orlando asked.
Quinn’s phone began to vibrate again. BLOCKED on the display.
He pushed the button rejecting the call.
“We have more important things to worry about than a body in a wall,” Quinn said. “We’re off.”
A VIBRATION.
Without even opening his eyes, Nate reached out and grabbed his bag off the floor. Back in college the vibration of a phone wouldn’t have even caused him to stir in his sleep. But now, no matter how deep he was under, it immediately woke him.
The room was still dark, the only illumination seeping in coming from the streetlights outside. Nate activated his phone, then squinted at the sudden brightness of the screen. Once his pupils adjusted, he could see he’d received a text message from Julien.
All quiet out front. Let me know when you’re up.
Nate looked at the clock at the top corner of the display. 5:07 a.m. He tapped out a reply:
Up now, thanks to you.
Julien texted back:
You’re welcome.
There was no use trying to go back to sleep. Nate knew from experience it wouldn’t come. His mind was already alert. He turned off the no-longer-needed alarm he’d set for 6 a.m., then put his phone down and swung his legs off the couch.
He listened for any other noise in the apartment, but all was quiet. Liz apparently didn’t have friends who
