remembered him having no sense of style. His apartment looked like it had jumped out of a featured article in Kick-Ass Homes Monthly — metal and leather and wood and granite all blended together by someone who knew what they were doing. It was a guy’s place, though not too “guy,” the kind of apartment someone like Hagen probably thought would surely get him laid. Given his relationship with Eva, it had apparently worked.
Mila did a quick search through all the third-floor rooms, already knowing there was nothing on this level that interested her. What she wanted was in his private office, one floor up. The stairs were tucked out of sight behind a faux wall between the living room and the guest bedroom. The keypad where the final code needed to be entered was located behind a small panel in the hallway closet. Mila punched in the sequence, and went up the stairs.
Apparently, the designer who’d done the living space below had not been allowed to touch the upper floor. The space was one large room that extended the length and width of the building. One wall was covered with metal shelving units filled with computer parts-some small, some whole systems stretching back God only knew how long in computer history. At the front end of the room was a workbench, with all the tools and accessories necessary to build pretty much anything electronic Hagen might need.
Scattered throughout the space were several desks, each with a different type of computer on it. Piles of magazines, files, and manuals were spread across the floor. She counted three trashcans filled to the brim with empty Coke cans and food wrappers. Tucked in the back corner beside the stairs was a low-slung couch and a television monitor hooked up to every type of gaming console imaginable.
A geek’s heaven.
She examined each of the computer stations, then picked the one she was most familiar with and sat down. Before waking it up, she removed a thumb drive from her pocket and stuck it into an open port. Though the monitor remained dark, she could hear the computer come to life, as the program that would hide her presence inserted itself into the machine’s operating system.
Once it had taken charge, the computer dinged and the monitor faded on. She was now connected to the rest of the world in a way few people had ever been.
She navigated through several different restricted networks, finally discovering the picture of someone she remembered. A few minutes later, she had his name. From there, she was able to find a current address, and was surprised it was closer than she’d expected. Even more interesting was the fact he’d been involved in not just one aspect of what had happened to her, but two. As she was about to dive back in and see what else she could dig up, her phone vibrated once. She looked at the screen.
Oh, crap!
Hagen was standing at the outside door, holding a bag in one hand, and punching in the door code with the other. She checked the time. He hadn’t even been gone forty-five minutes. What the hell?
She closed everything, forced the screen to go dark, and headed for the stairs. Her only chance was to reach the living area before he did and find someplace to hide until he went up to his office.
She was halfway across the room when she remembered the thumb drive. It was still in the back of the computer. She raced back, pulled it out, then checked her phone as she ran for the stairs. Hagen was no longer outside. Which meant he was heading up to the third floor at that very second.
She jumped onto the staircase, bypassing the first two steps, and raced toward the bottom. As she ran, she tried to recall if there was anyplace on the floor below where she could hide. She had a vague sense of a couple of locations that might work, but nothing solid.
When she reached the bottom, a part of her screamed for her to stop and listen to find out if Hagen was in the apartment yet, but she ignored it. If he’d come in already, so be it. She’d take him by surprise, then get the hell out of there before he could do anything. If he hadn’t entered, she still had the chance to escape without him ever knowing she was there.
Pushing the door open, she prepared herself to hear Hagen yell in surprise, but there was nothing, no sound at all, just the dead air that had been there when she’d passed through earlier.
She looked left and right for anything she could crawl under or hide behind. There was a dark wooden cabinet in the corner that looked as if it had a little space behind it. But it would be tight- very tight-and if she didn’t fit, she’d be caught in the direct sightline from the door.
Kitchen? No, the bag probably had food, so he might head straight there.
Outside the main door, she heard someone climb the last step and stop.
No!
Whipping around once more, her gaze fell on a door under the staircase to Hagen’s office. It was flush to the wall, designed not to be noticed.
As silently as she could, she hurried over, and pulled on the recessed handle. A closet, stuffed with jackets and a few boxes and bags. She jammed herself between the clothing, and pulled the door closed behind her. Two or three seconds later, she heard the front door open and Hagen’s footsteps.
She’d made it. If she played it right, he’d never even Wait, was he wearing a jacket when he left? she wondered. If he was, would he put it in the closet?
She tried to recall what he’d been wearing as she followed him down the street to the T-Bana, but she couldn’t remember.
Relax, it’s a beautiful day. Plus, he’s a Swede. If he doesn’t have to wear a jacket, he won’t.
She concentrated on the sounds coming from the other side of the door. Hagen seemed to be moving around near the kitchen. Then the noise faded, and for a few minutes she picked up nothing. With each passing second, her tension grew.
What are you doing?
Another half minute passed, then the sound of footsteps returned. Only this time, they were heading her way.
They became so loud, he had to have been passing right outside the closet. A second later a door opened, then steps again, but these rose above her as Hagen ascended the stairs to his office.
The same voice that had urged her earlier to wait did it again, but the part of her that still retained some of her previous training knew that the time to leave was before he got settled. For a minute or so, he would be moving around and less likely to hear any noise she might make.
The latter voice won out.
Just over a minute later, she was on the sidewalk, her pace a leisurely stroll, something that would not draw attention.
Something that took every ounce of her will to maintain.
CHAPTER 5
WAT DOI THONG, THAILAND
As Nate climbed to his feet, Quinn turned and walked away.
“Truce?”
Nate looked back. The monk he’d been fighting was holding out his hand.
“You’re not going to yank me back to the ground, are you?” Nate asked.
“Apparently we’re fools, so no. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Nate shook the man’s hand.
“I’m Daeng.”
“Nate.”
“I’ve heard about you.”
“Can’t say the same.” Nate looked toward the spot where he’d last seen Quinn. “Where did he go?”
“I can show you,” Daeng said.
“So now it’s all right?”
With a shrug, Daeng said, “Apparently,” then started walking down the path.
The main temple was at least three stories high. Through the large open door in front, Nate could see a partial view of a gigantic Buddha at the far end. Instead of going inside, though, Daeng led him around the building toward a much less assuming one set back amongst some trees.
