She stopped laughing.
“You know the big, scary guy that was following you tonight?”
She tried to speak, but the words didn’t make it out of her throat. She swallowed and nodded her head slowly, not wanting to hear about the big, scary guy.
“His name is Augustus Quinn,” I said. “He works for me.”
There was a long pause. When she finally spoke, her voice had lost most of its power.
“What’s going to happen now?” she said.
“You’re going to get dressed and then we’re going next door and see if you can identify the two goons on the floor. Then we’re going to have a little chat about the bellman and your boyfriend.”
“What boyfriend?”
“The guy in Denver. Adnan Afaya.”
“Who?”
“Maybe you know him by a different name. But the guy you’re dating in Denver is Adnan Afaya, a known terrorist.”
Alison let out a gasp that sounded much more convincing than the sexual sounds she’d made a few moments earlier. Her face went pale and she seemed about to faint. Either she was the best actress in the world or she was genuinely frightened.
Again it took a little time before she was able to speak.
“Would you be a gentleman and turn your head while I put on my clothes?” she said.
“No.”
She did a double take. “Why not?”
“I turned down enough action tonight to make me eligible for sainthood. This might be the last opportunity I’ll ever have to see you naked.”
“I can guarantee it,” she said.
I gestured toward her open suitcase on the floor.
She stared at me with a blank expression, trying to read me, but that was getting her nowhere. I’ve made a career out of not being predictable. I tilted my head toward her suitcase. “This would be a good time to get moving, Alison.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “Knock yourself out, then.”
She slid out of the bed and began pulling an outfit together: clean underwear, pink tank top, gray sweat suit, socks, jogging shoes. As she stepped into her panties she said, “I knew your name wasn’t Cosmo Burlap.”
“It’s that type of perception that makes you a good job candidate,” I said.
“What type of work do you have in mind,” she said. “Killing people? Because I don’t think I can do that.”
“We can talk about it later. Right now there’s work to do. You ready?”
She laced up her jogging shoes and nodded.
We crossed the floor to the connecting door. I turned the lock and put my hand on the doorknob and paused.
“You need to prepare yourself for what you’re going to see in here,” I said. “Try not to scream.”
“I’ve seen dead bodies before,” she said.
“I’m talking about Quinn,” I said.
Chapter 31
Entering the room, this is what we saw: Quinn, sitting at the table with a Diet Coke, finishing a phone call, two guys laid out peacefully on one of the queen-sized beds. One
