numbers that was always prepared before the start of a job, and began making calls. It was for appearance’s sake only. He already knew what he was going to tell Jergins, but it was important to create a history in case someone checked later.
Exactly nine and a half minutes later, Quinn called Jergins back.
“Anything?” Jergins asked. “She’s not here yet.”
“She’s not going to show, either.”
A pause. “What did you find?”
“At about ten to eight, a nine-one-one operator received a call from a limo driver saying he had a passenger who suddenly became unconscious. A woman he’d picked up at the airport named Reese.”
“Son of a bitch.”
There were two ways Quinn could go at this point. He decided on the riskier move, because, if it worked, it would be the better choice in the long run. “My first thought was that she’d found out what we had planned, and was trying to cover her tracks while she got away.”
Though Jergins said nothing, Quinn was sure he’d been thinking along similar lines.
“I called the hospital where the driver would have probably taken her,” Quinn went on. “I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be there, but I was wrong.”
“She is there?”
“In a way.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Mila’s dead.”
A second of thick silence. “I don’t believe it.”
It wasn’t the response Quinn hoped for, but the one he expected. “I’m not convinced, either. I’m going over there to see for myself as soon as I hang up.”
“Good. Call me the moment you’re standing next to her body, if it’s really there. Maybe Kovacs should go with you in case she’s alive and in the vicinity.”
“If she is, I doubt she’ll be anywhere near the hospital. It’ll also be easier for me to find out anything if I’m alone.”
“Fine. Call as soon as you know anything.”
CHAPTER 33
LAZIO REGION, ITALY
Given what Nate could see with the light of his cell phone, the emergency escape tunnel was not in great shape.
Roots pushed through the space between the boards that lined the ceiling and walls, boards that, because of obvious water damage, looked liked they were lucky to still be intact. If the builders had really wanted this to be permanent, they should have enclosed the tunnel in walls of concrete or stone.
“Thick one up here,” Orlando called from the front of the line. She pointed at a substantial-looking root sticking down a few inches.
One by one they ducked under the root.
“Door!” Orlando called out after another sixty feet.
They crowded together, one after another. The door was in the ceiling. Another hatch. Where it led, there was no way to know.
“I’ll go first,” Nate said.
He could see that Orlando had a different idea, but he gave her a look meant to remind her he was in charge, and she kept her thoughts to herself.
The tunnel went on for an additional five feet beyond the hatch. Orlando, Mila, and Daeng squeezed into the space so that Nate could get underneath the exit. There was a chain mounted to the bottom that ran halfway across the hatch. At the end was a metal handle.
Nate grabbed it and pulled until the rod holding the door in place moved free. He then put his hands on the bottom of the door and pushed it open enough so he could look out.
What he saw was unexpected.
“Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?” Peter asked.
“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” Quinn said.
“I heard you’d been shot.”
“Oh, you did, did you?”
“I assume you’re all right.”
The three men approaching from the house were getting closer. Within seconds they’d notice the two lying on the ground in front of the car.
“Fine enough. Can you hold for a moment?”
“What? I-”
Quinn touched the hold button with his thumb. “Tell your men to join their friends on the ground,” he told Michaels.
Instead of relaying the order, Michaels said, “Why? You’re not going to shoot me.”
Though the other man couldn’t see his face, Quinn smirked. “You’re probably right, but are you absolutely sure? Your people shot me, after all.”
“You were somewhere you weren’t supposed to be.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. Tell your men to get on the ground.”
With reluctance, Michaels repeated the instructions to his team.
The men took a moment, but all complied. Though most of Michaels’s team was now lying in the grass, Quinn noticed a couple were missing. “Where are the others?”
“What others?”
Quinn jabbed the gun into the operative’s head. “There were five by the house. Only three came back.”
“Go ahead and pull the trigger.”
Instead of taking Michaels up on the suggestion, Quinn took the call off hold. “Let me ask you, Peter. Any thoughts on who might have shot me?”
“I’m not going to bullshit you, Quinn. The team who shot you is working for me.”
“So, in effect, you shot me.”
“If I’d known you were going to be there,” Peter said with controlled anger, “I would have told them not to shoot. What the hell were you doing there in the first place?”
Fair question. “Looking for the girl.”
“You knew she was alive before all this started, didn’t you?”
Another fair question, but one Quinn wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet. “I’m actually in the middle of a situation here that you’re in a perfect position to handle.”
“What are you talking about?”
Quinn tapped the gun against Michaels’s ear. “Say hi.”
Michaels remained silent.
Quinn tapped again. “Do it.”
“Peter, it’s Michaels.”
Silence from the other end of the line. When Peter finally spoke, his voice was guarded. “What exactly is going on there?”
“At the moment, not much of anything,” Quinn said. “I’ve got a gun to the back of your man’s head here, and most of his people spread out on the ground around us.”
“Dead?”
“No,” Quinn scoffed. “Who do you think I am?”
“I’m beginning to wonder. So why are you pointing a gun at Michaels?”
