used as mission headquarters and safe houses. The structure without the windows was particularly telling. He’d seen a similar type of building three or four times in the past, and knew without even walking through the front door that there would be holding cells and interrogation rooms inside.
He picked out the guards, then swept the binoculars around, scanning for other signs of life. The three men seemed to be it. He was about to ask Nate if there was a backup spot where Daeng might have repositioned himself, when Nate suddenly cocked his head, his eyes losing focus.
“Daeng?” he said.
He fell silent again.
“Is that him?” Quinn asked, realizing Nate was listening to the comm line.
“I’m not sure. The signal’s not strong.”
“Do you have another set?”
“The spares are in my backpack,” Nate told him, then said, “Daeng, is that you?”
Quinn moved around Nate and zipped open the pack. He found the pouch by feel, pulled out two comm sets, tossed one to Orlando, then donned the other.
“…ate…can…me?” The words were weak and broken by digital noise, but Quinn was sure it was Daeng’s voice.
“Daeng, it’s Quinn.”
“…uinn…how are…”
“Where are you?” Nate asked.
This time the words came back completely garbled.
“We’re not going to hear him until we get closer to wherever he is,” Orlando said.
Nate nodded. “You two go that way, and I’ll go the other. We can meet up in the vineyard on the other side.”
Nate stayed under the cover of the trees as he worked his way west along the hill. Every ten seconds or so, either he or Quinn would say, “Daeng, are you reading me?”
Most of the time Daeng answered, but his responses were still impossible to decipher. When Nate reached a point where Daeng didn’t answer at all, he knew he’d gone too far, so he cut to the north, staying low to the ground as he crossed an open field to the vineyard about a hundred fifty yards away. From there he began working his way back toward the house.
Since the grapes were planted just a stone’s throw from the back of the buildings, he was able to get quite close to them while staying under cover.
“Daeng?” he whispered.
“Nate? I can…ou.”
“Where are you?”
“You…ot…eve it.”
“You’re still breaking up. Start counting. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
“…ne, two,…ee, f…ix, seven, eight…”
Nate came parallel with the farmhouse.
“Nine, ten, elev…twe…irteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.”
“Stop,” Nate said. He paused in the middle of a row. “I think I’ve got you now. Where exactly are you?”
“I’m in the outbuilding.”
Nate turned toward it, as if he might be able to see Daeng. “You’re inside?”
“Yes. In one of the cells.”
“They captured you?”
“No. They don’t know I’m here.”
Nate paused, confused. “Back up. How did this-” He fell silent as he heard something coming down the row. Dropping his voice to the quietest of whispers, he said, “Quinn?”
“Yes.” An equally quiet response.
A few seconds later, Quinn and Orlando emerged from the darkness.
“Daeng, still there?” Nate asked.
“Don’t really have anywhere else to go.”
“So how did you end up in one of the cells?”
“Opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
Daeng explained how he’d taken advantage of the guards moving onto the hills, described what he’d found, including the guard in the basement, and his belief that whoever they were holding was in a cell near him.
“And which cell are you in?” Quinn asked.
“First floor. End of the hall, opposite the stairs.”
Nate took a moment to think, then said, “We’ll position ourselves so we can keep eyes on all sides of the building. When it’s clear, we’ll let you know and you can get out.”
“That’s actually not as easy as you might think.”
“Why not?”
“I seem to have locked myself in.”
CHAPTER 27
FRIDAY, MAY 12 ^ th, 2006 5:43 PM LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
Some jobs had pre-event meetings, some didn’t. Jergins was a believer in them, so two and a half hours prior to the eight p.m. operation time, he had the team gather once more to go over everything.
In Quinn’s mind, meetings like these were a complete waste. If someone on the team didn’t know what they were supposed to do by now, then he or she shouldn’t be in the business.
On this particular occasion, though, he had no intentions of raising any objections. He needed to be perceived as his usual, professional, totally cooperative self. If that meant sitting around and nodding as Jergins once more went over the emergency escape route for scenario 47f, so be it.
The hardest part was not pushing Jergins to talk faster and wrap things up. Quinn had a schedule to keep if his plan was going to work.
When Jergins traced the presumed route Mila would be taking to the room on a map of the hotel, Quinn stole a glance at his watch.
Five minutes. He had to be out of there in five minutes or he was screwed.
No, he corrected himself. Mila will be screwed, permanently.
“…and Kovacs, as soon as you’re done, you’ll give Quinn the signal,” Jergins was saying. He glanced at Quinn. “Then it’s all yours.”
Quinn nodded his understanding.
“Any questions?” Jergins looked around the room, but no one said anything. Of course, why would they? They’d been over this a dozen times too many already. “Okay, good. Setup team, you’re dismissed. Get the hell out of town. In three days call the contact number for debrief. After that you’ll receive your final payment.”
Those involved in getting everything organized said their goodbyes, and within moments Jergins, Kovacs, and Quinn were the only ones left.
“You two are clear, right?” Jergins said.
“Of course,” Kovacs replied.
“Completely,” Quinn said.
“I’ll be monitoring everything from a van just off the Strip, but if things go south you’re on your own.”
“Not going to be a problem,” Kovacs said.
“You’re sure you’re all set?”
Kovacs sneered. “I’ve done this once or twice before, so what do you think?”
Assassins, as a group, tended to be a bit more prima donna than some other operatives in the espionage
