The Silenced

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There had been three additional calls to the one he’d just received. All had come from Wills. Checking the times, he was able to figure out the first had come during the initial encounter with Julien, while the other two sometime between then and when he’d returned to Liz’s apartment. Missing one, okay. But more than that?

He knew the reason, of course. He’d been so focused on seeing his sister everything else had become background noise. I’m losing focus. Not good. Not good at all.

Just as he was about to slip the phone back into his pocket, it began to vibrate again, the same name on the display as before.

“I need to take this.”

“Sure,” Liz said, as if she’d expected as much.

He flipped the phone open, and said to Wills, “Hold on.” He looked at his sister. “Is there someplace private? It’s a business call.”

“There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall,” she said.

There’s a bedroom down there, too, he thought. But she hadn’t offered that up. It would have been too personal.

“Thanks,” he said, standing. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

* * *

“You were supposed to be here this morning. Where the hell are you?” Wills asked.

“I had a personal matter to take care of,” Quinn said.

“You’ve already used up your personal matter allocation. I’m paying you to be here. Have you even left the States yet?”

“David, I know this is important. And I know you want it done right away. But this couldn’t be helped. The body isn’t going anywhere. A day or two delay shouldn’t matter.”

“What are you talking about, delay? My client wants this done immediately. He’s expecting me to tell him the removal is already in process.”

“Then tell him that. I’d need at least a day to scout the location before I could do the removal anyway,” Quinn said. “One of my team members will be there by tomorrow morning to start the process. Okay?”

Whom that would be Quinn had no idea. Maybe he could get Orlando to reroute to London instead of coming to Paris. Or maybe he could hire someone local he’d worked with before. Whatever the case, he knew he could make it happen.

Wills was silent for a moment. Quinn could almost feel his client’s anger emanating through the phone.

“This is not what I expected out of you,” Wills said. “I’m paying you a lot of money, and right now you’re making me think I made a mistake.”

“You want your money back? Fine. I’ll transfer a third back and we’ll call it even. You can hire someone else.”

“A refund? I don’t want a refund. I want you to get my goddamn job done!”

Quinn said nothing for a moment. “I always get the job done. Always.”

“I need your assurance you will take care of this,” Wills said, his voice calmer.

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Wills remained silent.

“Okay, David. I assure you that this will be taken care of as quickly as possible. Tell your client your team is on it.”

“All right,” Wills said. “But you had better not let me down.”

“I won’t.”

For a second, Quinn thought Wills had hung up. Then the Englishman said, “Sorry. I know you won’t.” He paused. “There’s one bit of good news. Moody’s body was found. Looks like he was killed when they were trying to drive away from the house.”

“What about the Russians?”

“No sign of them,” he said. “Quinn, get here as soon as you can.”

“I will.”

Quinn hung up, then looked in the mirror and ran his hands across his face.

Professionally, he was in the wrong, and he knew it. He should have been in London by now, already having done at least one scout of the building where the body was located.

He should have, but instead he was in Paris, two hundred miles away.

A job had been offered, and Quinn had agreed to do it. In his world, commitment, reliability, and trust were the true currencies. Without them, you quickly fell out of favor, and soon found yourself doing little check-and- reports like Julien just to stay afloat, or futilely scratching from the outside to get back in, or lying in an unmarked grave with a bullet in your skull because your unreliability came at a cost too high for your employer to ignore.

He eased the bathroom door open and stepped across the threshold, but then stopped. From down the hall, he could hear Liz and Nate. They were talking. Pleasantly.

In fact, they seemed almost friendly.

* * *

The minute Quinn stepped out of the living room, Nate said, “About earlier, I apologize.”

Liz shook her head. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” She was more relaxed now that her brother was gone.

“So what are you studying? I mean, if you don’t mind talking about it.” He was playing the disarming, interested male. A role he slid into naturally.

“It’s fine to ask,” Liz said. “I’m working on a doctorate from the Archaeology and Art History Department. Specifically, I’m interested in the influence of Flemish painters on French society in the Renaissance period.” She gave him a sideways look. “Did your brain just freeze? It happens to all my friends when I tell them that.”

“It might have. Painters like Jean Clouet, right?”

She stared at him, her surprise evident.

“I have a B.A. in history,” he said, smiling, “and am working on a master’s in European history at UCLA. Well, will be working on it when I go back to school in January.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Okay, so maybe I won’t be going back until next fall. But don’t say anything to your brother. If he tells my dad, I’m screwed.”

From her throat came a sound that was half grunt, half laugh. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

Nate hesitated. “Yeah, I got the impression you guys don’t get along too well.” He paused. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like we were hiding it. What are you doing with him, anyway?”

“My dad again. He found out your brother was in Paris, and he knew I was headed here. So he asked him to check on me. I’m only hanging out with him because he might buy me lunch, and if I play my cards right he might spring for dinner, too.” A sheepish smile. “You know how it is. Student salary and all.”

“Totally get it,” she said. “So you’re traveling around?”

“Yeah. Doing the Europe thing. But wanted to come when it was quieter.”

“Where have you been so far?”

“Copenhagen, Berlin, Amsterdam, Brussels. And now here. Thought I’d hang around a week or so, then maybe head south for Spain.”

“I love Spain.”

“That’s what everyone says,” Nate said. From down the hall, he thought he heard the bathroom door open. “I’m thinking I want to hit Barcelona and Madrid for sure. Then maybe pop over to Portugal. I hear the coast is beautiful.”

“I still need to get there.” Liz’s enthusiasm was genuine. She seemed caught up in the idea of his trip. “When you’re in Spain, you’ve got to check out the Alhambra. You’re planning on that, right?”

“Definitely. I’m visiting as many historic sites as possible.” He leaned toward her and said in a faux whisper, “It’s how I talked my dad into funding the trip. ‘Seeing the actual locations will help me with my studies.’ ”

She laughed. “And he bought that?”

“I don’t know if he did or not, but he pretended to. Funny thing is, it’s kind of turned out to be true.”