“That implies there was a plan, which I doubt.” She frowned, then leaned over and kissed him.
Nate stepped toward the door. “Maybe I’ll go see if I can-”
“Stay right there,” Orlando said, her tone freezing him in place. She looked back and forth between him and Quinn. “Which one of you is going to tell me what happened?”
When it looked like Quinn wasn’t going to answer right away, Nate said, “We were trying to, um, connect with Mila Voss.”
“Connect?”
“Quinn thought there was a good chance she’d show up at Julien’s apartment.”
“Please, do not tell me she’s the one who shot him.”
“No,” Nate said quickly. “She was with us. We were in the apartment when a strike team showed up. We got out, but they surprised us on the street. They’re the ones who shot him.”
“Mila,” Quinn said. “You didn’t…tell me what happened to…her.”
“After you were shot, they grabbed her and left.”
Quinn groaned.
“Who, exactly, are ‘they’?” Orlando asked.
Instead of answering, Nate looked at his mentor, so she turned to Quinn.
“I think they might be working for Peter.”
“Peter?” There was no hiding the surprise in Orlando’s voice.
“He’s trying to find Mila. That’s why he wanted to talk to me.”
“Did you tell him you were going to look for her, too?” she asked. “Because that sure as hell seems like what you’ve been doing.”
“Looking for her, yes, but only told him that as far as I knew, she was dead.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared down at him. “Tell me straight out, was there something between the two of you? Is that why you pretended she was dead?”
“What?”
“You need me to stay it? Was she your girlfriend? Were you sleeping with her?”
Nate had the sudden wish he’d just left earlier without saying anything.
“No,” Quinn said. He pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Never. Not even. She was Julien’s girlfriend. I mean, had been…not important. I left Thailand to help her because Julien can’t. But I failed, and let them get her. God only knows where she is now.”
“Um, actually,” Nate said, “God and me. And Daeng.”
Quinn and Orlando looked at him.
“You know where she is?” Quinn said.
“Well, we think we do.” Nate told them about Giacona, then about visiting the safe house, and finding the outbuilding where Mila was most likely being held.
When he finished, Quinn pushed himself all the way up into a sitting position, and started to swing his legs off the bed. Orlando stiff-armed his thigh, stopping him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she said.
“Leaving.”
“Not in your condition.”
“I’ve worked when I’ve been worse.”
“Name once.”
He said nothing.
“Nate and I can take care of this,” she said.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m not staying here.”
Orlando and Quinn stared at each other in a silent standoff. Finally, she rolled her eyes and tilted her head back.
“God, you’re the worst patient ever.”
“Second worst. You’re not so good at it, either.”
She glared at him, annoyed, then turned to Nate. “Find him some clothes.”
CHAPTER 24
APRIL 12th, 2006 30,000 FEET ABOVE THE ATLANTIC OCEAN
It could have been the chicken dinner, or the turbulence. Most likely it was both. But whatever the reason, Mila’s stomach was twisting and turning in ways it was never designed to do.
Shortly after takeoff, she’d been given a cardboard tray with her less-than-appetizing meal, but she’d been too hungry to set it aside. What a huge mistake that turned out to be. Upon finishing, she put the cardboard container on a seat in the row across the aisle, then stretched out and closed her eyes. Sleeping on planes was not something she had a problem with, so in less than five minutes, she was out.
The first bump invaded her dream, but didn’t pull her back to consciousness. But the second-a drop of what felt like at least a dozen feet-woke her with a start. She sat up, and immediately pulled down the armrest on the open side of her seat.
A speaker in the ceiling crackled to life. “This might last awhile. So everybody just hang on.”
It was a no-nonsense announcement that, if given on a commercial flight, would have probably resulted in the pilot being fired. No one on this plane was complaining, though.
For the next several minutes, it felt like they were bouncing along a dirt road full of potholes and bumps that threatened to shake the plane apart. It was somewhere in the middle of this that she felt her stomach clench.
She breathed deeply and evenly, her fingers gripping the ends of the armrests. The plane suddenly dipped again, and she almost lost her dinner. As soon as she had tentative control of her system, she looked around for a barf bag but there was none.
She began panting, hoping that would settle things down.
The plane jumped up and down, up and down.
Sudden movement at the front of the cabin caught her attention. One of the three men who had questioned her when she arrived at the airport had jumped up from his seat, and was weaving over to the toilet. If she was closer, she was sure she’d hear him retching, a thought that caused her own stomach to flip again.
Oh, God, she thought. It wasn’t going to stay down this time.
Putting one hand over her mouth, she used the other to unfasten her seatbelt, and lurched out into the central aisle. She started to turn toward the front, but remembered the man who’d staggered into the only toilet there.
She whirled around, and headed toward the back, her mind focused solely on finding the closest open receptacle. Her free hand grabbed the top of each seat, steadying her as she moved down the aisle.
In her head stay down, stay down played over and over. She could feel sweat gathering on her brow and above her ears. She wanted to wipe it away but both her hands were occupied.
She was getting close now. She could see two toilets in the back, one on either side. Even better, the indicator next to each handle was green, meaning they were unoccupied.
The plane slid suddenly to the left, nearly throwing her into an empty row. When she straightened herself up again, she saw with surprise that someone had moved into the aisle in front of her. It was one of the suited men with the prisoner, the young guy who’d stared at her as he’d passed her seat. In her distress, she had totally forgotten about her fellow passengers.
“You can’t be back here, miss,” he said. “You need to return to the front of the plane.”
“I can’t,” she eked out through the fingers that covered her lips. She’d never make it that far.
“There are facilities up there.”
“Someone…is using them.”
She could feel her stomach squeeze and everything inside boil in anticipation of its impending exit. She
