CHAPTER 32
FRIDAY, MAY 12th, 2006 7:48 PM LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
Losing the tail had been easy. Friday night. Vegas. Spring. The town was rapidly filling with what seemed like half the population of California. Everywhere you looked, there were cars with license plates from the Golden State clogging up the Strip.
Quinn had counted on this, and had not been disappointed. All it had taken was one well-timed acceleration through a yellow light, and they were free. Julien confirmed the tail had not seen them turn down the side road, so there was no way the spotter could know they had returned to the Manhattan.
Quinn pulled the car to a stop at the back of the casino’s parking garage.
“Walk through there,” he said, pointing at one of the car exits. He handed her a map he’d drawn himself. “Follow this to the safe room, and stay there until you hear from one of us.”
She had yet to shake the stunned look that had overtaken her when he’d explained what was going on. Not only did she just find out she’d come within less than an hour of dying, Quinn had also explained the extreme measures she would have to undertake to remain alive.
“Be someone else…forever?” she’d said.
“Maybe, maybe not. But whoever you crossed undoubtedly has a long reach.”
“I should have never-”
“Wait,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to know what brought this on. It’s better for you and me if I’m out of the loop. From this point forward, Mila Voss is dead and whatever she knew died with her. Unless you do something stupid, they’ll have no reason to believe you haven’t been removed. Stay away from the business, contact no one you’ve ever known, find yourself a nice, uncomplicated life. That’s the only way you’re going to survive.”
She fell into her thoughts for a few minutes as Quinn drove, then she looked up and said, “Julien and you, too.”
“What about us?” Quinn asked.
“If I show up somewhere alive, they’ll want to know why you said I was dead.”
“Don’t worry about us. My cover is tight, and they don’t even know that Julien’s here. But if it helps you stay hidden, then fine. You’ll be endangering us, too.”
That had been the last they said to each other until he stopped next to the garage.
She studied the map, but he knew she wasn’t really seeing it.
“I don’t mean to rush you,” he said, “but if we’re going to pull this off, I need to be someplace else in five minutes.”
She nodded, but still didn’t move. “Why are you doing this for me?”
“Don’t ask me that,” he said. It was not a question he wanted to even think about. Whatever answer he might have, this had to be a one-time thing.
Until it happens again, a voice in the back of his head countered.
He looked at his watch. “Mila, please.”
“Right, right. Of course. Sorry.” She pointed out the back window toward the trunk. “My bag.”
“No bag.”
“But-”
“No bag. Everything new. Your cell phone, too. Leave it here.”
Looking shattered, she pulled out her phone and handed it to Quinn. He immediately removed the battery, pulled out the SIM card, and snapped it in half.
“God, I can’t believe this. All because of that stupid-” She stopped herself, then opened the door. “Thank you. For…my life, I guess, or whatever life I’m going to have.”
He nodded, but kept his mouth shut. His words would only prolong their parting and cut into valuable time.
As soon as she shut the door, he dropped the car into drive, and sped off. For a few seconds, he could see her through his rearview mirror, standing at the side of the road, watching him drive away, but when he looked up again, she was gone.
Moving to the next item on his itinerary, he pulled out his phone.
“Nine-one-one operator. What’s your emergency?” a female voice asked.
“I have passenger who collapse in seat,” Quinn said, using a flawless Russian accent. “I think she not breathing.”
“What is your location, sir?”
“I driving now. I pick her up at airport, suppose to take to Planet Hollywood. But go for hospital now, yes?”
“Are you close to a hospital?”
“Yes. Think only a few minutes.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know what is called.”
“Valley Hospital, sir?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Okay. No problem. Do you know your passenger’s name?”
“Yes, uh, hold on.” He let a few seconds pass. “Ms. Reese. Is only name I was given.”
“Where exactly are you? I can have an ambulance meet you.”
“No, no. Better if I drive. Faster.”
“Sir, please. Where are you?”
“I drive. I-”
He cut off the connection, and hoped the message would get through.
Quinn’s phone rang seconds after he exited the elevator on the eighth floor of the Planet Hollywood Hotel. He glanced at his watch. Two minutes to eight o’clock. He accepted the call.
“Yes?”
“Something’s definitely wrong,” Jergins said.
Quinn reached the door to his room, but paused outside, not wanting Jergins to overhear the sound of the lock opening. “What’s going on?”
“The target’s disappeared.”
“What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?”
“Kovacs’s spotter was following the car she was in, but he lost her. If she was coming here, she should have arrived by now.”
“It’s just eight now,” Quinn said. “Could be she’s just running a minute or two late. Maybe she stopped to get something to eat.”
“I don’t like when plans don’t go as scheduled.”
Then I’m surprised you’ve lasted in the business as long as you have, Quinn thought. “So should I just sit tight, or what?”
“I need you to do a sweep.”
In a less stressful situation, Quinn might have smiled. While it was the next step Jergins should have taken, there’d been no way to know for sure if the team leader would follow standard protocol.
A sweep, in this sense, meant a rapid check of local emergency services in the event someone didn’t show up where they were supposed to. Accidents happened, not just in the civilian world, but in the spy world, too. It was always best to check every possibility. This particular kind of sweep, though seldom used, was the responsibility of the cleaner.
“Sure,” Quinn said. “Ten minutes, maybe less.”
“Less is better.” Jergins told him, and hung up.
Quinn let himself into his room. On his phone, he brought up the list of law enforcement and medical facility
