“No, but-”
“Of course I’m not. Now, go, please. I need to get to work.”
Reluctantly, they left.
“I should move the car,” Daeng said.
“Good idea.”
While Daeng did that, Nate found the doctor’s wife-an unsmiling woman about the same age as her husband-behind a desk in a room near the front of the office. Once she was on her way, he went into the small waiting room, and made the call he’d been dreading.
“Nate?” Orlando said. Her momentary surprise switched instantly to concern. “What’s going on?”
“First off, he’s alive.”
“What happened?”
“He’s been shot, but it’s not life threatening,” he said, then described where the bullet hit. “I’ve already brought him to Dr. Pelligrini. He’s prepping him for surgery now.”
“How the hell did he get shot?”
“Ambush. I can give you the details later, but right now I’ve got to take care of a few things.”
“What are you talking about? You’re staying there!”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” It was more accusation than question.
“Mila,” he said. “Someone took her.”
“I don’t give a damn about Mila.”
“Do you think Quinn would want me to stay here? He came here because of her. If he wasn’t hurt, he’d be doing everything he could to find her. But since he can’t, I’m sure he’d want me to do it.”
“You can’t leave him alone.”
“What choice do I have?”
“What about the other guy?”
“Daeng? I’m going to need his help.”
“For God’s sake, you have to stay until he’s at least out of surgery! Mila Voss can wait that long.”
“I don’t know if that’s true.”
“I. Don’t. Care.”
He closed his eyes. “Okay, okay. We’ll stay until the doctor’s done, but the second he is, we’re leaving.”
“Fine. But you keep tabs on him even then. You understand me?”
“Yes.”
“And if anything changes, I want to hear about it.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll call you.”
“Mrs. Vu! Mrs. Vu!” Orlando called out as she rushed out of her office on the second floor of her home in San Francisco.
“Yes?” the Vietnamese woman called up from downstairs. She and her husband helped Orlando around the house, and took care of her son Garrett when Orlando was on one of her frequent business trips.
Orlando stopped in the doorway to her bedroom. “I have to go on a trip. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”
“When will you be leaving?”
“As soon as I’m packed,” she said. It would take her only a few minutes since she always kept bags at the ready. “Please ask your husband if he could drive me to the airport.”
“He’ll be waiting.”
Orlando retrieved the bag she wanted, threw in a couple of extra items she thought she might need, grabbed her laptop out of her office, and headed downstairs. True to his wife’s word, Mr. Vu was waiting by the front door, keys in hand.
“Another trip,” he said as he helped carry her bags out to the car. “Will you be gone long?”
Whether it was really there or not, she sensed a quiet rebuke in his voice. She knew he thought she traveled too much, and was away from Garrett more than she should be. Or maybe that was something she was just putting on him, her own concerns reflected in his innocent questions.
She pushed the thought from her mind. There was no way she could stay home today. While Garrett was her everything, Quinn was her everything else. And Garrett was doing okay, school going fine, no particular attitude issues. Quinn, on the other hand, was lying on an operating table, a gunshot wound just inches from his heart and his head.
There was really no question where she needed to be.
The next call came much sooner than Peter had expected, no more than six or seven minutes after the first.
“We got her,” Michaels said.
Peter could feel Olsen’s expectant gaze on him, but he kept his expression blank. “Yes,” he said into the phone. “Finding her is our top priority, so any reasonable expenditure is approved.”
Michaels got the message loud and clear. “I’ll call back in five.”
“Even twice that amount would be acceptable.”
“Ten, then,” the operative said and hung up.
“All right. I’ll expect an update soon,” Peter said into the dead air, then hung up.
“What was that about?” Olsen asked.
“I thought you were listening. Should have been pretty clear.”
Olsen stewed for a second. “They need to spend some cash.”
“You were listening.”
“What are they going to spend it on?”
“That wasn’t specified. They just needed to know what they were authorized to do.”
Olsen frowned as he looked back at his computer. “That kind of thing should have been set up ahead of time. You don’t really run the tightest of ships, do you?”
Peter rose from his chair. “I’m not running a ship at all. I’m running a real-world-adapt-when-necessary operation. If you don’t like it, you’re more than welcome to take over.”
He picked up his pack of cigarettes and headed for the door.
By the time Michaels called back, he was once again locked in the bathroom of the bar around the corner.
“You have her now?” he asked.
“Yes. I arranged for the use of a safe house south of the city.” He then told Peter what had happened. When he finished, he paused before saying, “The guy with her was definitely Quinn.”
“The one you shot?”
“Yes. My order was for a warning shot, but…”
“But what?”
“My guy’s adrenaline was running a little high. He pulled it, and the bullet hit Quinn somewhere near his throat.”
Peter was stunned. “Is he dead?”
“We didn’t stay to find out.”
“Well, find out now!”
“I’ll get right on it. What do you want us to do with the girl?”
What, indeed? That question had been swirling around Peter’s head since Michaels first called. Knowing now that Quinn was definitely involved didn’t make coming up with an answer any easier.
The problem was that what he owed clients like Mygatt and Green was nothing compared to what he owed people like Quinn.
He swore to himself. What he needed was more time and information so he could figure this mess out and decide how to handle things.
“Keep her wrapped up there for now,” he told Michaels. “And contact me as soon as you know more about
