her future.
“When we arrived in Portugal, I was instructed to remain in my seat until after the others got off. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to know that something wasn’t right.” She took a breath. “I had a concealed camera built into my bag. It was a security thing for me in case anything ever went wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have turned it on before the prisoner left, but I did. I caught him yelling his name again and that he was an American citizen. I also caught him getting shocked again.”
“You recorded it?” Quinn asked, surprised.
“Yeah. That’s why I was at Julien’s. He’d hidden a copy of the footage there for me, in case I ever needed it.”
Daeng pulled an envelope out of his pocket and held it back to her. “This?”
She grabbed it from him. “Yes. Thank you. Did you…”
“No one’s looked at it,” Nate said.
She nodded.
“Julien knew about this, then,” Quinn said.
“I’d hinted to him about it before Vegas, but after, I told him the whole thing.”
“You mean when he met up with you in Guaymas?”
She shook her head. “I mean after that. He visited me when he could. But no one else knew. It was never a problem.”
Only by sheer luck, Quinn thought. If Julien had ever been followed and Mila discovered, the three of them might have already been spending eternity in unmarked graves. He gave himself a second to let his anger pass, and refocused on the problem at hand.
“The prisoner. You said he yelled out his name. Do you remember what it was?”
“I’ve never forgotten. Thomas Gorman.”
It was the same name Peter had told him.
Orlando’s brow furrowed. “ Thomas Gorman? Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Mila said. “I never saw his face, though. Only heard his voice.”
“And?”
Mila shrugged. “It sounded like him.”
“Because it was him,” Quinn said.
“How do you kn-” Orlando stopped herself. “Peter?”
Quinn nodded.
“Do you know what this could mean?”
He nodded again.
“This Gorman person,” Daeng said. “He’s important?”
“Was,” Orlando said. “Several years ago. He was a commentator on Prime Cable News. Had his own show.”
“I remember him,” Nate said. “Isn’t he the one who died in that boating accident in…Virginia, or somewhere like that?”
“Hilton Head Island,” Orlando corrected him. “South Carolina.”
“Right.”
Quinn looked at Mila. “On the same day as the flight to Portugal, right?”
“Seven hours prior to the flight,” she said.
“And Hilton Head would have been less than a five-hour drive from Atlanta,” Orlando added.
“More like four hours to the private airfield,” Mila corrected her.
“You checked?” Quinn asked.
She nodded. “After I finished my assignment and returned to the States, I’d all but convinced myself the prisoner had just thrown out the name because he’d heard it on TV or something. But then I learned about the boating accident. I mean, how could I not? It was all over the news.” She paused. “It was impossible not to make the connection. I knew I had to check. An American citizen who’d just been reported dead, being flown out of the country as a prisoner? Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s not something we do.”
“You’re right,” Quinn said. “It’s not.”
“I looked into the accident first,” she said. “The reports stated Gorman was out sailing with a friend, got a little drunk, and fell overboard. Before his friend could get turned around, Gorman drifted into the path of another vessel, and, well, death by speedboat.”
“Not exactly the way I’d choose to go,” Nate said.
She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “The body was mangled, the face unrecognizable, but there was no autopsy done, also no DNA, no dental check, and no prints. ID was based on Gorman’s friend witnessing the event.”
“But it wasn’t Gorman,” Quinn said.
“No. And I’m sure there was no accident, either. The friend’s name was Ed Zahn. Supposedly, he was a college buddy who worked for a brokerage firm in DC. The day after the funeral he was transferred to an office in Madrid.”
“Did you look into him?”
She nodded. “Both in DC and Madrid. Had to be really quiet about it. I wasn’t sure what might happen if someone found out what I was doing.” She frowned. “Except I guess they did find out.”
“This Zahn guy. I’m betting he doesn’t exist.”
“I don’t know if he does or doesn’t, but no one I contacted at either office had ever heard of him.”
“What I don’t get is why,” Nate said. “I mean, sure, Gorman was probably a pain in the ass sometimes, but-”
“Probably?” Orlando said. “Did you ever watch his show?”
“Once or twice, maybe.”
“He was a nutjob like all those extremist commentators. Both sides have them. Gorman loved digging into what he considered governmental waste and reporting on it whether he had proof or not,” she said. “ And he was not a fan of the former administration.”
“So he pissed them off enough that they faked his death and flew him out of the country? No way.”
“I agree,” Quinn said. “The administration might not have liked the things he was saying, but putting up with assholes is a rite of passage. Actively silencing him was a line they would have never crossed.” He looked at Mila. “But you’re not talking about the administration, are you? Not specifically. Someone within the government who thought it was his duty to take care of what he perceived as a problem?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You know?”
“Who’s she talking about?” Orlando asked.
“At the time, the guy was the deputy secretary of defense. Christopher Mygatt.”
Orlando and Nate looked stunned.
“Is that right?” Nate asked Mila.
“Yes,” she said. “I mean, I’m sure it is. That’s what I’ve been doing-looking for proof.”
“He left the administration a year after the Vegas operation,” Quinn explained. “One of the senators from his home state had died of a heart attack, and Mygatt was appointed by the governor to fill the seat. The year after that, he won the position outright in a special election. Last year, Mygatt left the senate to become his political party’s chairman. He’s been able to manipulate things and help sway the direction the primary elections have gone. He’s tight with the guy who looks like he’ll get the party’s presidential nom, so tight that Mygatt will be filling a very high-ranking position if his guy wins the general election. The rumor is vice president.”
Mila shook her head. “I think it’s something else. There was a magazine article. It broke down the possible appointees each candidate might make. It said, according to a source, Mygatt has been quietly pushing to be made director of the CIA.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Orlando said.
Quinn shook his head. “It’s exactly what Peter said.”
Mila looked down for a moment, then glanced at Quinn. “How sure is Peter?”
“There’s no question.”
“So I was right.” Her words were but a stunned whisper.
