“Any security footage of her?”
“Nothing that I’ve been able to uncover.”
“You think it was her?”
“When I read the report, I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t aware of the connection you just told me about. So there’s a chance.”
“Did anyone see her leaving the building?”
“No one,” she said. “There’s something more.”
“What?”
“I can’t give you an exact number, but just from an initial check, Evans and Rosen had worked together several times in the past.”
Quinn fell silent. Though he didn’t want to believe it, all his instincts were saying that the dark-haired woman was Mila. But why kill this Evans guy? That didn’t sound like her, even if she was desperate.
“Where did this happen?”
“In his shop in a small town northeast of London. I assume you want to go there. If you want, I can arrange your flight.”
A memory played through his mind.
“It’s a lot to ask, I know,” Julien had said four years earlier. “But someday things may change, and I need to make sure it will still be there if they do.”
“No,” Quinn told Orlando. “Rome.”
“Any particular reason?”
“London will put us behind her.”
“And Rome will put you in front?”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” he said.
“All right. Rome. How soon do you want to leave?”
“As soon as we can get out. We’ll head to the airport now,” he said, then added, “Three tickets.”
“Three?”
Quinn got Daeng’s pertinent information and gave it to Orlando. “Thank you,” he told her after he finished, then, “I’m sorry.”
“You said sorry already. What’s this one for?”
“Falling off the face of the earth.”
A quick, spontaneous laugh escaped her lips. Not derisive, just surprised. “You idiot. Don’t you know if you did that, I’d be right behind you?”
It felt like the first time in forever he could breathe again. The weight of her perceived condemnation had been pressing down more heavily on him than he’d realized.
“I’ll text you your flight info,” she said, and hung up.
CHAPTER 13
WASHINGTON, DC
“You’re sure?” Peter asked.
“As sure as I can be,” Lee told him. “The breach originated from Mats Hagen’s townhouse in Stockholm.”
“No chance it was just routed through there to throw us off and incriminate him?”
“If it was, I haven’t been able to pick up any trace beyond there. If you ask me, that’s where it started.”
“Doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense,” Peter said. “Check it again.”
“I’ve already checked it three-”
“Check it again.”
Peter walked out of the room that had been set up for Lee to use in the Georgetown apartment. Lee was the best computer expert available on short notice. Peter had hired the kid before, and knew Lee was more than competent. Still, the person he wished he had sitting in that room was Orlando. If she told him the breach had originated with Hagen, he would have believed it from the first. But she hadn’t even answered his call.
That Hagen might have been the one who hacked into the highly secure military intelligence system wouldn’t have been particularly earth-shattering news. There could have been a dozen or more explanations for it-all, no doubt, tied to a client’s request. Leaving his digital fingerprint was surprising, though, and so was the file he’d looked into. Peter could think of only one person who would have any interest in them.
Mila Voss.
The Georgetown building the townhouse was located in was a throwback to an older time. While larger structures with fifty or more units had sprung up around it, it had survived with only eleven apartments, two on each floor. What the other residents didn’t realize was that the two at the top had been joined together to form a single flat.
There was one highlight of the place that only Peter and Misty knew about. The two top-floor apartments had originally come with trap doors in the hallway ceilings that led up to storage areas. Peter had removed the trap doors, and converted the space into a two-room safe house, complete with an insulated floor to cut out any sound, and a secret entrance that even the best in the business would have a hard time finding. With enough supplies, someone could stay days or even weeks in the room without detection by anyone who might enter the main apartment.
The room had been used four times in the past, but it had been more than three years since its last long- term occupant. There were times when Peter would use it for a few hours to work in peace. It was a great place to think things through and work out strategies. Exactly the kind of place he could very much use at that moment. Unfortunately, that option was not currently open to him.
Right on schedule, Scott Olsen had shown up the evening after Peter’s conversation with Mygatt and Green. Peter had welcomed the saccharine-smiling son of a bitch into the townhouse, and shown him to the office the two of them would be sharing. The safe rooms upstairs, he did not mention.
For two hours he’d had to endure the man’s questions before Olsen left for the night. In the days that followed, there was no telling when Olsen would drop in or how long he might stay. Sometimes it was only an hour in the afternoon, other times it was all day.
When Peter arrived that morning, he’d been hoping that Olsen wouldn’t show up until at least one p.m. That way, he could get a little time upstairs, and try to get a handle on what was quickly becoming a shitstorm. But when he walked in the front door, Misty, who was always the first one in, nodded toward the back and mouthed, “He’s here.”
Peter sat through another hour of questions and ideas. Finally, Olsen’s cell phone rang, giving Peter the break he desperately needed. He got himself a cup of coffee, then checked in with Lee and found out the origin of the computer breach Green had discovered the day before. He then stopped by Misty’s desk, briefed her on what Lee had said, and asked her to find out what was going on with the team that was being pulled together in Europe.
Unable to delay his return any longer, he steeled himself and headed back to the office.
Olsen was still on the phone. “No, no. Of course we wouldn’t do that.”
Peter sat down, and signed back on to his computer. Instantly, a message popped up from Misty.
Michaels says he’s all set. He and his team are on standby in Brussels. Orders?
At the other desk, Olsen said, “Listen, he’s here now. Why don’t I call you back in a bit?…Okay.”
Peter began typing a response.
Tell them we’re a go. Need to get to Olsen hung up his phone and fixed his gaze on Peter. “Have you figured out where it came from yet?”
Peter continued typing.
Hagen’s place immediately.
“Well?” Olsen asked.
Peter hit SEND and looked up. “The breach appears to have originated in Stockholm.”
