The Silenced

“It is.” She frowned. “Give it to me.”

He handed her the phone. Without punching the Accept button, she accessed the virtual keypad and began typing. When the vibrating ceased, she looked up. “The program should have been able to figure it out.”

“Maybe you need to start thinking about writing an update.”

“Go to hell,” she said, but Quinn knew as soon as she had a little free time, updating was exactly what she’d do.

As Orlando handed the phone back to him, it buzzed again, indicating a voice message. Quinn pushed the button to play the message, and switched it to speaker so they could both hear.

Nothing at first, then a voice: male, older, with an accent that seemed almost English, but not quite. “I will call you back in ten minutes. Please do answer your phone.”

Quinn played the message again.

“Do you recognize him?” Orlando asked.

“No.”

She then held out her hand. “Give it to me again.”

As she began scrolling through different displays, Quinn asked, “What are you doing?”

She frowned at him. “The software I installed, which you’ve already pointed out needs an update, includes the ability to record both sides of a conversation. I just haven’t activated it yet.”

“And why not?”

“We talk a lot. The last thing I need is for you to record one of our conversations, then throw something I say back in my face.” She tapped the screen one more time, then sat back. “Okay, it’s ready.”

“Does your phone have this capability?”

“Of course.”

“And it’s active, I assume.” She smiled.

He took the phone from her. “I want you to keep this function active on my phone.”

“We’ll see.”

Precisely ten minutes after the first call, Quinn’s phone began to vibrate again.

“Do I need to do anything?” Quinn asked.

“Just hit Accept. It records automatically.”

Quinn did as she instructed, then raised the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Is this Mr. Quinn?” It was the same voice from the message.

“Who is this?”

“What are your plans in regards to the project you are doing for David Wills?”

Quinn paused. “I don’t know any David Wills.”

Orlando looked at him, the brow over her left eye arched.

“We both know that’s not true,” the caller said. “You have five seconds to tell me who you are, or I’m hanging up.”

Nothing for three seconds, then, “Have you read A Burnt-Out Case lately?”

Quinn said nothing. He also didn’t hang up.

Some organizations created code phrases for when the legitimacy of a third party needed to be established. A Burnt-Out Case was the one given to Quinn by Wills when they first started working together.

“Do I have your attention now?” the man asked.

“Who are you?” Quinn said.

“You can call me Mr. Smith. The job you are doing for David Wills is actually for me. I’m his client.”

“Hang on for a moment,” Quinn said. He punched the Hold key and looked at Orlando. “It’s the client. The one with the body in the wall.”

“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.”

Chapter 29

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