He picked his time and spot with care: three and a half months later; Colombia, South America. The assignment: a drug lord assassination. While waiting for the target to appear, Kovacs and his spotter-a guy whose name turned out to be Conner Adams-were captured and subsequently tortured. According to a news report Quinn was able to get into several of the Bogota newspapers, the chopped-up remains of two unidentified Caucasian bodies had been discovered in the jungle. From there it was a fairly simple job of connecting the dots behind the scenes so those in Quinn’s world would know whose bodies they were.
It was a lot of work, and caused him more than a few anxious moments along the way, but it had succeeded. Once it was done, and Kovacs and Adams were official dead, Quinn was able to think about Vegas less and less. Finally, there came a point when it was like none of it had ever happened.
Mila’s unexpected resurrection put a stop to that delusion.
“The Lion,” Quinn said. “How did you figure out it was him?”
The Lion was a label used by some people in the industry when referring to Christopher Mygatt. His mane of blond-now almost white-hair was no doubt in large part responsible for that.
“I went over those last words the assassin said again and again until it was driving me crazy. Because of the Portugal flight, it was a safe assumption that the person behind everything worked in the government. It was Julien who finally figured it out after I told him the whole story. Over the next several months, he did some checking and found the connection.” She paused. “We couldn’t be sure, but what did it matter? It wasn’t like I’d be able to walk up to him and confront him. But then he started popping up in the news. And the rumors about his future started. And then that article.”
She shook her head as if she still couldn’t believe it. “If he was the guy who wanted me dead, the guy who’d been behind the kidnapping of an American citizen, I couldn’t just stand by and let him gain power again.” She drifted off for a moment, then said, “My mother came to the US as a teenager. She and my grandparents escaped from Poland. When she became an American citizen, she was so proud. That’s why I went into the work I did, my own little way of giving back to the country that welcomed my family, I guess. What Mygatt did…that’s not the country my mother believed in. I knew I had no choice, have no choice. I have to stop him.
“The first thing I had to do was make sure I wasn’t blaming the wrong guy. It took me a while, but I was able to identify one of the men who’d been watching the prisoner on the flight. I was hoping he would confirm the Lion’s identity, or at least point me in the direction of someone who could. I was supposed to meet him in Dar es Salaam. He showed up at the hotel, but he didn’t make it to the rendezvous point. I got nervous, so I bugged out, then…”
“We’ve seen the footage,” Quinn said.
“Footage?”
“Hotel security camera. Lawrence Rosen crashing into the sidewalk, you running up to him. That’s how they found out you were still alive.”
She closed her eyes. “Camera. Right. I knew it was there, but I didn’t think I’d be noticed.” She opened her eyes again. “After that, I was desperate. The only names I had were Rosen and another guy named Olsen. I found out Olsen is pretty entrenched in DC, so getting to him would be a last-resort option only. I needed another name, someone I could talk to.” She told them about Stockholm, and finding out about an agent named Evans who’d had a part in both the prisoner flight and her attempted termination. “I saw it on his face, and knew that the Lion and Mygatt were the same, but he tried to kill me before I could make him talk. I had to shoot back.” Her jaw clenched in anger, and she looked at Quinn. “You found out for sure, though. Now I know.”
Quinn looked out the window, lost in thought.
He understood that those fighting terrorism would, at times, need to employ extreme measures. Sometimes he agreed with the method, sometimes he didn’t. But abducting a US citizen and sending him to a secret foreign prison to die?
What Mygatt had done was unimaginable. He had violated Gorman’s fundamental rights as a US citizen, in a way worthy of a place like North Korea. Furthermore, he had covered it up so thoroughly no one suspected the truth. There was no doubt in Quinn’s mind that the senator would use all his resources to find Mila and eliminate her. Permanently. And if he succeeded in becoming director of the CIA, those resources would be unstoppable.
He had told Peter he needed to get her someplace safe, but the only way Mila would ever be safe was if they accomplished what she’d set out to do.
By the time they reached Marco Polo Airport, Quinn had come up with a very loose framework for a plan. At his suggestion, they purchased tickets for Geneva and made their way to the gate.
Once there, Quinn pulled Orlando to the side and sketched out his idea. Once he finished, she stared at him, her face stone. If he didn’t know her so well, it would look like she thought he was crazy. But that wasn’t it at all. Her mind was spinning, playing out all the possible scenarios, considering details he hadn’t even thought of yet.
A full thirty seconds passed before she moved again. When she did, all she said was, “I need to get to work.” She then pulled her computer out of her bag, and found an empty seat near their gate.
Nate was next.
“Whoa,” he said, once Quinn had finished. “That’s a bit…risky, don’t you think?”
“Beyond risky,” Quinn said. “If you don’t feel comfortable with it, you can walk away. No judgment.”
“Not an issue. I’m not going anywhere. I was just pointing it out.”
“It might be our last job.”
“Well, something has to be. But, just to go on the record, I’d prefer that it’s not.” Nate seemed to lose focus for a moment, then pulled out his phone. “I should…I should call Liz.”
Quinn was momentarily caught off guard by the mention of his sister’s name. “Don’t tell her.”
“Seriously? You think I’m that stupid?”
“No. Sorry.”
“I just want to see how she’s doing.” Nate paused. “Maybe have a little phone sex.”
“What?”
“Kidding! All right? Kidding.” He started to walk away, then looked back. “Half-kidding, anyway.”
When Quinn pulled Daeng aside, instead of telling him the plan, he said, “When we get to Geneva, we’ll put you on a flight back to Bangkok. You’ve been a huge help, and I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated it.”
“Is that a good idea?” Daeng asked. “It seems to me you’re not through here.” He looked over at Nate on the phone, then at Orlando huddled over her computer.
“It’s going to get dangerous,” Quinn said. “I can’t ask you to risk your life. People back in Thailand are counting on you.”
“You mean risk my life again.”
“Yeah.”
“Out of the four of you, only two are at full strength. You’re far from it, and the girl is, well, under a lot of stress. So you’re telling me you can’t use a third, healthy person?”
“I can’t ask for your help again.”
“Perhaps this isn’t just your decision. Nate?”
Nate looked up, his phone still held to his ear.
“May I ask a quick question?” Daeng said.
“Hold on,” Nate said into the cell, then put his hand over it. “What’s up?”
“Have I proven useful?”
“Definitely.”
“And could you use my help moving forward, or would you rather I return home now?”
“That’s up to you, but we could absolutely use your help.”
“I agree,” Orlando called out, her gaze not leaving her computer screen.
“I guess I’ll be staying,” Daeng told Quinn. “Now, what is it you have in mind?”
The last person Quinn pulled aside was Mila.
“Don’t even attempt to talk me out of it,” she said.
“I’m not,” he said.
She looked surprised. “Oh…okay. Just so we’re clear.”
“We are.”
