made it the perfect place for this year’s G8 summit meeting—a meeting of the heads of state from all the “Group of Eight” nations.
The meetings had begun in the mid-seventies with only six participating nations. They grew from the need for a more global stance to the oil shortages and recession of the time, then continued to grow and expand in the following decades until it had become arguably the most important international meeting of the year.
Every year the meeting would rotate to another of the member nations: Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Russia, the United Kingdom, and the United States. It was designed to provide an opportunity for the leaders of some of the world’s most powerful nations to discuss whatever issues were deemed important at the time. And this year, it was the U.S.’s turn to host.
“Impossible,” Peter said. “The government’s got the whole area sealed off. Highway 1 is closed just north of Cambria and south of Gorda. No way anyone can get close even by air. And bringing a bunch of kids with them? Not a chance.”
“Check the schedule.”
“Hold on.” The line went silent for several seconds. “Nothing. There are meetings all day for the next two days. There
“Entertainment?” Quinn asked.
Peter paused again. “Yes. But nothing matching your group of children. Yo-Yo Ma tonight and Harry Connick, Jr., tomorrow.”
Quinn frowned. “It doesn’t matter. We know basically where they’re going. You should be able to pick them up on radar, and if not, you get a large enough force out there, you’ll find them before dawn.”
Peter said nothing.
“What is it?” Quinn asked.
“I can’t get ahold of my client at the Agency.”
“What?”
“He’s dropped out of sight. Not answering his phone.”
“Then call somebody else.”
“I’ve been
“What the hell are you talking about, Peter? You’ve got a ton of people you can reach.”
“The Office has been shut out,” Peter said. “The word has gone out not to deal with us.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“Because the goddamn Assistant Director of the NSA told me right before he hung up.”
“You’ve got to keep trying,” Quinn said. “My team and I can’t do this alone.”
“I realize that.”
“Then stop talking to me and do something about it.” Quinn ended the call.
He looked out the window. Where the black mass of the mountains didn’t block out the sky, he saw stars. He stared at them, his mind going blank.
“You should try to get a little sleep,” Orlando said. “You’ve been going almost twenty-four hours. Even thirty minutes will help.”
“You’ve been going as long as I have.”
“Took a nap at the hotel when I thought you were just on a little scouting mission.”
It was hard to miss the sarcasm in her voice, and it wasn’t the funny kind, either.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “The opportunity to get in came up, so I had to take it.”
The left side of her mouth turned up in a smirk.
“All in all,” he said, “it looks like it was a good decision.”
He knew she couldn’t argue that. Still, she looked like she wanted to put up a fight.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Sleep. Don’t sleep. I don’t care.”
She got up and walked to the other end of the passenger hold.
Quinn wanted to go after her, but he thought maybe it was best not to. Despite her nap, she had to be as tired as he was. She just needed a little space, he thought.
He slumped in his chair and stared at the floor. At what point his own eyes closed and he fell asleep, he had no idea.
“We’re here.” It was Nate’s voice, very close to Quinn’s ear.
Quinn opened his eyes. The cabin was dim, but he could see Marion Dupuis stretched out on the other side of the cabin.
The roar of the engine was unchanged, and from the way everything was still moving up and down, side to side, Quinn knew they were still in the air.
He sat up. “The pilot,” he said.
“Orlando’s watching him.”
