Now the only aboveground signs of the facility were four air vents, and a structure that hid the main entrance. There was an additional way in, an emergency entrance. But it was hidden in a rock crevice wide enough for only one person to pass through at a time.
This didn’t shed any light on what the current inhabitants might be up to, but it did give Quinn their location.
“This looks like it’s going to be fun,” Nate said, his earlier defensive tone gone.
“Loads,” Quinn agreed.
He rolled his shoulders back, trying to loosen the muscles in his back that hadn’t expected to spend the night sitting in a chair outside. He took a closer look at the second page. It was the lower level of the complex, designated R2.
“I think this is some kind of laboratory,” he said.
“Maybe seventy years ago,” Nate said. “Who knows what they’re using it for now?”
“True. They could be just using the main level.”
“The main level of what?” The voice had come from behind them.
Quinn and Nate turned.
Orlando was standing at the edge of the kitchen. She was dressed and, except for the large white bandage covering her wound, looked almost normal.
Quinn pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, then took a few steps toward her.
“You shouldn’t be walking around,” he said.
“It’s not my leg that got hurt,” she said, then looked at Nate. “No offense.”
“Hey, I get it,” he said. “No worries.”
She walked over to the table and looked down at the blueprints. “What are those?”
“Blueprints,” Quinn said.
“No kidding,” she said, all but calling him an idiot. “Of what?”
“Yellowhammer,” Nate said.
“So this is where they are,” she said.
“So it would seem,” Quinn said.
They were all silent for several moments.
“What are we waiting for?” Orlando asked.
“Nate and I were just leaving,” Quinn said.
“We were?” Nate asked.
Quinn ignored him and looked at Orlando. “You, though, are staying here.”
“The hell I am.”
“You need rest, not a four-hour ride in the car.”
“I’m going,” she said.
“We can do this without you.”
“If I were anyone else, you’d expect me to continue on the project.”
Her eyes narrowed, daring him to contradict her. But Quinn couldn’t.
“Put me in the back seat,” she said, her tone softening a notch. “Nate, grab me a pillow.”
Nate pushed himself out of the chair. “Thick or thin?”
“Thin, please.”
“Hold on,” Quinn said.
“What?” Orlando asked. “It’s all settled.”
“Nothing’s settled,” Quinn told her.
“It’s settled.”
Quinn started to open his mouth, but stopped. Why the hell was everyone arguing with him this morning? He felt like going back to bed and forgetting the whole thing. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.
And as far as Orlando going along, like she said, it was settled.
CHAPTER
25
BEFORE LEAVING THE CITY, THEY FILLED THE TRUNK of Quinn’s BMW with gear they thought they might need. Ropes, clamps, gloves, and carabiners they picked up at a mountaineering store on Pico Boulevard. Crowbars, listening gear, explosive charges, and other specialized items they got out of Quinn’s storage facility near Venice Beach.
