Quinn opened the baseboard, and input the master code.
He pulled Nate’s computer out of the safe. “Got it.”
Orlando looked up, surprised. “Don’t just sit there. Bring it here.”
As he carried it over, he made a mental note to discuss with Nate how he had managed to find the other two hidey-holes and gain access to all three without rendering them useless. His protege was getting good, maybe too good.
Orlando set to work on Nate’s laptop. It took her nearly fifteen minutes to get through the security, which, by the frown on her face, was obviously longer than she’d thought it would have taken.
Quinn watched from behind as she looked through a list of recent files, then opened his email.
After several minutes, she said, “There.”
Quinn scanned the message on the screen. A job confirmation for a cleaner named Quinn. He knew Nate had been using his name, but it still felt…odd.
“It says the project should have finished yesterday morning.”
“No location,” Orlando pointed out. “But it couldn’t have been too far away if Nate was going to be back in time to meet Liz today. If I know him, I’m sure he planned on returning last night so he wouldn’t chance being late picking her up.”
Quinn nodded, knowing she was right.
The message was signed P, and the sender’s email address was just a string of letters and numbers.
“P,” Quinn said to himself. “Are their any other emails?”
Orlando sorted the messages by sender. There were three more. Two were also signed P, but one, the very first message Nate had received, had a name.
Pullman.
“That doesn’t sound familiar,” Quinn said.
“I think I’ve heard it before,” Orlando told him.
“You have?”
“Give me a second.”
She switched back to her own computer, her fingers flying over her keyboard. After about forty-five seconds, she said, “Yeah. This has got to be him.” She typed for a few more seconds, then smiled smugly. “And I’m right. Again. That email address traces right back to his location.” Another keystroke and a picture appeared on the screen.
Quinn leaned forward to get a better look. The image was of a man around forty with receding brown hair and pale skin.
“Who is he?” Quinn asked.
“Mr. Timothy Pullman is a broker who works out of Chicago.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. Mid-level jobs usually, with the occasional stretch to something a little more ambitious.”
“You have a number?”
She smiled. “I do.”
They decided Orlando would make the call. Quinn was conferenced in on his phone, his mic on mute.
“Mr. Pullman?” Orlando said.
“Who’s calling?”
“My name’s Newsome. I was given your number by a mutual acquaintance. That is, if you
“And which acquaintance would that be?”
She let a few seconds of dead air fill the line. “Are you or are you not Mr. Pullman? I’d rather not waste my time.”
This time Pullman paused. “Fine. I’m Pullman. So who’s this person who’s giving out my number? And what do you want?”
“Good. So I’m talking to the right person. I was given your number by a cleaner named Quinn. He’s actually why I’m calling. I hired him for a job that he was supposed to show up for two hours ago. He’s not here, and I haven’t heard from him, so I’m calling- ”
“I don’t know anyone named Quinn.”
Orlando and Quinn exchanged a glance.
“This was the number he gave me as a backup in case I needed to get ahold of him.”
“Sorry. Don’t know why he would have done that. I can’t help you.”
“Maybe he’s using a different name. Have you hired a cleaner recently?”
“Lady, I don’t talk business with people I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this much. I haven’t run an op in over two weeks. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to go.”
He hung up.
Orlando immediately jumped on her computer, and a few minutes later, she and Quinn were booked on a flight to Chicago.
CHAPTER 10
Nate’s head bounced against the wall, jolting him awake.
His eyes flew open, but once more, the only thing he could see was the black cloth bag over his head. He braced himself, thinking someone was going to shove him into the wall again, but instead, he realized he was rocking back and forth, the room he was in moving.
He tried to concentrate to figure out what was going on, but his thoughts would only hold for a moment before wandering off again.
As the swaying slowed, he could feel his consciousness beginning to slip away. He fought to hold on. He knew it was important. He knew he had to-
The black nothing engulfed him again, but not before he registered one last detail-the sound of a large engine winding down.
CHAPTER 11
Chicago, Illinois
The plane landed at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport at five fifteen a.m. Within thirty minutes, Quinn and Orlando were heading into the city in the car they’d arranged for ahead of time from a local contact. Waiting for them in the backseat was a bag of items they couldn’t bring with them on the plane-two SIG SAUER P226 pistols, extra preloaded magazines, lock picks, duct tape, and a syringe filled with liquid sleep.
Using the GPS on her phone, Orlando directed Quinn to a quiet industrial street on the southeast side of the city.
“That’s it,” she said, pointing at a two-story brick building a quarter of the way down the block.
Quinn drove past, made a U-turn, and parked at the curb.
The building in question was dark. From the research Orlando had done while they waited for their flight, they knew the lower half was used by a company that made novelty buttons and bumper stickers. It was the top floor, though, that Quinn and Orlando were interested in.
That was where Pullman lived.
His place had large loft windows across the front that were covered by heavy, dark curtains. Too bad, Quinn thought. It would have been nice to get a look inside.
