“Because he and his men were shooting at my friends.”
“I had no idea that’s who was in there,” Michaels said.
“In where?” Peter asked.
“They have this nifty building full of detention cells,” Quinn told him. “My friends just happened to be taking a look inside.”
“Quinn, what are you and your friends even doing there?”
“I believe I already told you the answer to that.”
“Son of a bitch! This is a disaster. Why couldn’t you have-”
“Drop it!” a voice called out from behind Quinn, drowning out whatever else Peter had to say.
Quinn glanced over his shoulder. The two missing men were standing a couple dozen feet away, their guns trained on him.
“I said, drop it,” the one on the left said.
But they weren’t the only ones back there.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen, gentlemen,” Nate said.
He, Daeng, and Orlando were another ten feet behind the men, also holding guns. A little farther back and off to the side was Mila.
After a brief hesitation, Michaels’s men dropped their guns and raised their hands.
“Five paces to your right, then on the ground like everyone else,” Nate said.
The men walked off the paces, and lay down.
“Everyone all right?” Quinn asked.
“We’re all good,” Nate told him.
“Could have sworn you were supposed to get in and out without, you know, any of these people knowing.”
“Yeah, well, uh…yeah,” Nate said. “We’ll do better next time.”
As Nate and the others walked over, Quinn lowered his gun, turned Michaels around, and motioned for him to lean against the car.
Quinn glanced at Mila. “You okay?”
She nodded.
“They treat you all right?”
Another nod.
“No rough stuff?”
“No.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Peter asked.
“Just gathering everyone together,” Quinn told him. “More cozy that way.”
“By everyone, do you mean…?”
“I mean everyone, Peter.”
“You and I need to talk,” Peter said. “Can you take me off this damn speaker?”
“Tell your friend Michaels and his team to behave, and I might be able to do that.”
“No one shoots anybody,” Peter’s voice boomed. “No knives. No fighting. No sucker punches. No violence at all. That goes for both sides. Am I clear?”
“Clear by me,” Quinn said.
“Of course,” Michaels replied, his tone not nearly as upbeat as Quinn’s.
“Happy now?” Peter asked.
Quinn walked toward the trees at the base of the hill. Once he was out of earshot of the others, he said, “All right, we’re alone.”
“This could not be a bigger mess,” Peter said.
“I beg to differ. So far I’m the only one who’s been shot.”
“I’m not just talking about what’s going on there. I’m talking about everything! Starting way back in Las Vegas in 2006. That assignment should have been a no-brainer. You want to tell me why it wasn’t? And why Mila Voss didn’t end up buried in the desert somewhere?”
“It’s complicated.”
“You can say that again.” There was a long pause, then Peter went on. “I’ve got some pretty powerful players breathing down my neck to close this as quickly and quietly as possible. The only thing they know about your involvement is what you told me initially. That you disposed of a body you thought was hers at the time.”
“I said I disposed of the body I was given.”
“Word games, Quinn. You led me to believe it was Mila.”
Quinn made no reply, well aware of the misdirection he’d perpetrated.
“When you started popping up, I knew there was more to this than what I was told back then. I didn’t want to, but I started digging. My God, what she stumbled into.”
“I don’t know what she stumbled into,” Quinn said. “I never asked.”
“You don’t know? Then why did you help her get away?”
Quinn thought about saying nothing again, knowing that the truth would, rightly or wrongly, bring into question every job he’d ever worked on. But it didn’t seem to matter. His future in the business was cloudy at best anyway. And if they were practicing no bullshit…
“She was a friend,” he said. “I couldn’t be a part of her death.”
“A friend?”
Friendships were few and far between in the business, because of the potential for exactly the kind of conflict of interest Quinn had found himself in with Mila.
When it became obvious Quinn wasn’t going to add anything, Peter said, “Well, your friend unintentionally came across some knowledge she would have been much better off not knowing. Hell, I’m more than a little worried about what I now know.”
Quinn didn’t want to ask, but he had no choice. “What knowledge?”
After Peter told him, Quinn felt numb. “That’s not possible.”
“I thought the same thing, but apparently it is.”
“And you’re sure who’s behind it?”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
Quinn looked up at the sky, his eyes not even registering the stars. Calling this a mess was the very definition of understatement. “They’re not going to stop until they find her.”
“No, they’re not.”
“I need to get her safe.”
“Good luck with that.”
“You’re working with them, Peter. You could provide some misdirection for us.”
Peter snorted. “I could, but it’s not likely to be very effective. I’m sure they’re already close to replacing me as it is. I won’t be able to hide what happened there in Italy for very long. Once they find out, I’ll be lucky if they don’t put a bullet in my head.”
“Then you need to make sure they don’t find out.”
“What I should be doing is sending in a backup team for the job Michaels is apparently incapable of completing.”
“But you won’t. You know this whole thing stinks of rot.”
“Doesn’t matter. Our job’s not about right or wrong. Hell, there is no right or wrong.”
“There’s always right or wrong, Peter, and pretending there isn’t doesn’t change that.”
Peter said nothing.
A dozen possible scenarios spun through Quinn’s mind. Safe. Was that even possible?
“We’re going to need your help,” he said.
“You mean beside covering up what’s happened there?” Peter asked.
“Yes.”
“Peter wants to talk to you,” Quinn said to Michaels as he returned to where everyone was waiting.
