Shadow of Betrayal (38 page)

The man’s eyes remained closed.

Quinn slapped him, not too hard, but enough to sting. “Wake up.”

This time Furuta’s eyelids peeled open.

“Stay awake, okay?” Quinn said.

“Losing… it,” Furuta said. His eyes closed, but then opened again. “Other one.”

“What?”

“Other one… tapped.” His hand twitched on the floor. “Tapped … other one.”

He tried to move his head, his eyes turning upward like he was looking at something beyond him.

“Other one,” he repeated.

This time when his eyes closed, they didn’t reopen. Quinn felt for a pulse, but there was none. Too much blood on the floor, and not enough still in the veins. Kevin Furuta was dead.

“Goddammit,” Quinn said.

He’d known this was going to happen. He’d known the moment he’d seen Furuta’s shattered body. But that didn’t make it any easier.

He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Maybe it would be best to get the hell out of there. The main reason they’d entered the facility was lying dead at Quinn’s feet. They’d learned enough already for Peter to mobilize a full-on assault. There was little more Quinn could do without increasing the chance of discovery. Maybe it was time to—

The latch to the main corridor door groaned. Quinn ducked into the corner of cell number one. He could hear someone step into the hallway, then close the door behind them.

“Quinn?” The voice was a whisper.

Quinn stepped around the opening to the cell and found Nate standing a few feet away.

Nate gave him a nod, but showed no other reaction.

“Any problems?” Quinn asked.

“No one. Very quiet.”

Quinn was beginning to think all of Tucker’s people were helping this Mr. Rose he’d heard the Australian talk about and were somewhere else in the facility.

Nate looked past Quinn into the cell. “That him?”

Quinn nodded.

“They really messed him up, didn’t they?”

“He’s dead.”

“He’s … son of bitch. Do we still take him with us?”

Quinn looked back through the door at the body. “No. We can’t ri—”

He stopped himself.

The other.

Glancing to his right, he could see the two other cell doors. Numbers two and three.

The other.

He approached the door to cell number two.

“What are you doing?” Nate asked.

Quinn held up a hand to silence him, then pulled out his gun again. Carefully he released the door’s latch and pushed it open. The only light inside was that which spilled in from the hallway, but it was enough for him to see the room was empty.

He moved over to cell three.

“Pull out your flashlight,” he said to Nate.

He waited until his apprentice had the light on, then he repeated what he had done with the previous door.

Only, unlike cell number two, there was someone there.

MARION BARELY REGISTERED THE HALLWAY DOOR
opening for the third time. She’d moved into the corner farthest from the door, and had curled against herself. If anyone was talking, she didn’t hear. She just rocked back and forth, her mind searching for someplace happy, something to help her forget.

Ice skating with her family as a girl. The school trip she’d taken to New York when she was in high school. Kissing Reynard Moreau in an empty math classroom. He had been more nervous than she. She could remember feeling him shake even as his lips touched hers.

But she couldn’t hold on to any of the memories for long before they slipped into an image of Iris, eyes filling with water, lower lip quavering, her whole body emanating fear and confusion.

Marion rocked harder, trying to force her mind away from any thoughts of the child. But when they did, what replaced them were the faces of her mother and father and her sister, all staring at her with lifeless eyes.

She was jerked into the present by the sound of the latch to her door moving.

They’d come for her. Finally, they’d come.

It was her turn now.

Let the first bullet kill me
, she prayed.
Dear God, please.

She stared at the door as it swung open. She saw the shadow of a man, a gun at his side.

When the beam of a flashlight moved across her face, she started to scream.

“Hey, hey,” a male voice said. “It’s all right. Don’t yell. It’s okay.”

But she knew it wasn’t okay. She’d seen the gun in his hand. And though her eyes were now shut tight, she could feel him approach her.

Her scream turned into a sob, and tears began pouring down her cheeks.

“It’s all right,” he repeated, much closer now.

Why did he keep saying that?

“Nate, move the light out of her eyes.”

The glow on her lids lessened, but didn’t go completely away.

“It’s okay,” the man said. “We’re here to help you. Take a breath. Relax.”

Despite herself, she did what he said. After a moment, she allowed her eyelids to part.

The man was in front of her, a warm smile on his face. She almost smiled, too, then she realized who he was.

It was the man who chased her in Montreal.

The man who had tried to stop her in front of her parents’ house.

He wasn’t here to help her.

He
was
here to kill her.

She started screaming again.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he said.

“You tried to catch me,” she said. “At my parents’. You killed my parents!”

“I never even met your parents,” the man said. “I’m sorry they’re dead, but I had nothing to do with it. I was there to help you. Like I’m here now.”

Easy words. “You killed them. You killed my sister. Now you’re going to kill me, too!”

“Listen to me. I am
not
here to hurt you. I’m here to get you out.”

She stared at him, unable to believe it.

“Your name is Marion Dupuis. You smuggled a child into the States. A little girl from Africa. You were trying to save her.”

“You killed that man in New York,” she said. “I saw your picture on TV.”

The man almost laughed. “The same people who brought you here set things up to look like I murdered someone. We’re the same, in a way. These people aren’t friends to either of us.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I get that. And that’s fine. But think of it this way: If you think you’re going to be killed anyway, what’s it going to hurt coming with us?”

“I think I hear something.” The voice came from the man holding the flashlight. Nate, he’d been called.

“Check,” the other man said.

Nate disappeared into the hall, plunging the room back into semi-darkness.

“Keep quiet,” the man with the gun whispered.

She did as she was told, a part of her wanting to believe the man’s words.

Several seconds passed before Nate returned.

“Two people,” he said. “Passed right by, though.”

“Good,” his partner said. “Now what’s it going to be? You come with us and see if we can get you out of here? Or stay and die for sure?”

“Who are you?” she asked.

The man hesitated, then said, “I’m Quinn. My friend’s Nate. So, what’s it going to be?”

She wanted to go, but…

“Iris,” she said.

“What?”

“The child,” she said.

“Iris,” Quinn repeated.

“I won’t leave without her.”

Quinn went silent as he turned to the side and stared at the empty corner of the room for several seconds before looking back at her. “What if we get you someplace safe, and then I go look for her?”

“I’m not leaving her.”

“The place I mean is still within the facility. But we’ll have a better chance to find her if I go alone.”

She could see Nate glance at his partner, concern on his face. “I told you I don’t trust you,” she said.

“Without us you won’t even have the chance to find her.”

He was right, and she knew it.
Oh, God
, she thought.
What choice do I have?

The simple answer was none.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Can you walk?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

Quinn held out his free hand to help her up, but she avoided it and rose on her own.

“From now until we get you hidden, you have to do exactly as I say, and no talking.”

“Okay.”

He looked at her feet, and she followed his gaze.

“What?” she asked.

“Do you have any shoes?”

“Right… yes.”

She spotted her tennis shoes and started to sit down so she could put them on, but he said, “Not yet. You’ll be quieter in bare feet. But once we get outside, you’ll need them.”

“All right.” She was starting to believe him.

“Just don’t drop them.”

She nodded, then followed him out the door of her cell.

It was weird to be there without the guards pushing her around. It felt almost like she was doing something wrong. As they approached the entrance to the main corridor, she glanced into the open door of the first cell, and jerked to a stop.

There was a man covered in blood lying in the middle of the floor.

“He’s dead?” she asked, surprised she could manage the words.

“Yes,” Quinn said.

“I heard gunshots,” she said.

“I heard them, too.”

“I tried to let him know I was here. That he wasn’t alone.”

“I know,” the man said. “That’s how we found you. He told us.” “He … told you?”

But he didn’t answer. Instead he ushered her toward where Nate stood near the exit.

“Later,” he whispered to her as she passed.

“Back to the tunnel?” Nate said.

“Yes,” Quinn said. He looked at Marion. “Ready?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

He gave her one of his warm smiles again. “That’ll have to do.”

Quinn let Nate take point, and had Marion Dupuis walk between them.

It had been touch and go with her back in the cell. She’d understandably associated him with her kidnappers. Given the circumstances, Quinn would have done the same. But at least they’d gotten her to come along, and even better, she seemed to be starting to trust him.

They had made it almost halfway back when Nate stopped abruptly. His hand flew up, palm toward Quinn and Marion, telling them to freeze. They were about ten feet from where the hallway took a ninety-degree right turn.

Footsteps. Heading their way.

Quinn did a quick scan of the immediate area. No doors, no alcoves, no place to hide. They would never make it back to the previous section without being either heard or seen.

He listened again. It sounded like it was just a single person. Tucker perhaps?

He put his hands on Marion’s shoulders and pushed her against the wall.

“Stay here,” he mouthed.

She nodded, her eyes were wide with fear.

To Nate he mouthed, “Quietly.” Then motioned for him to get as close to the corner as possible.

Once his apprentice was in position, Quinn took two steps out into the center of the corridor, then waited.

The steps were steady but hurried, as if whoever it was had somewhere to be.

Two steps away.

One.

A man—not the Australian—rushed around the corner, his forward momentum taking him within three feet of Quinn before he realized he wasn’t alone. He was wearing fatigue pants and a black T-shirt. The barrel of an M16 peeked above his shoulder.

“Who the hell are—” the man started to say.

Nate smashed the butt of his pistol against the back of the man’s head, forcing him to stumble into Quinn.

Nate hit him again, and the man sagged against Quinn, unconscious.

Blood from a cut caused by the blows trickled down his neck and onto the floor.

Without missing a beat, Quinn tossed the M16 to Nate, then hoisted the man over his shoulder. Nate was already kneeling on the floor, wiping away the blood with a piece of cloth he’d gotten from his backpack.

“Come on,” Quinn whispered, motioning to the woman.

“You’re taking him with us?” she said.

“We can’t leave him here.”

She didn’t seem to like the idea, but she didn’t protest further.

Soon they were back in the unused northern hallway that led to the facility’s neglected emergency exit, no one else interfering with their escape.

“All the way into the tunnel,” Quinn said.

Once they were surrounded by the old concrete again, he set the man on the ground. He patted the prisoner down. In the guy’s pants Quinn found a roll of cash and a cell phone.

“Tie him up. Gag him,” Quinn said to Nate. “Shoot him if you have to.”

“He’s one of the guards,” the woman said. “You weren’t lying to me, were you?”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“You’ll find Iris?”

Quinn hesitated. “I’ll try.”

“Please. She’s only a little girl. I can’t imagine what they’ll do to her, what they’ve already done. Please. Please find her.”

Quinn nodded, wanting to promise but knowing that he couldn’t.

To Nate he said, “Keep all the doors closed in case they come looking for him or for her.”

“Right.”

“I might be gone awhile,” Quinn said. “You’ll be safe here. But if it’s within an hour or so of dawn, get her out of here before it’s too light.”

Nate didn’t appear to be happy about the idea, but he nodded.

“Orlando’s on her way,” Quinn said. “See if you can reach her by phone. She can help you, especially if you need to get out without me.”

“But they’re leaving tonight,” Marion said.

“What?” Quinn asked, surprised.

“I overheard them talking outside my cell. They said they would be out of here before sunup.”

“Son of a bitch,” Quinn said. “You’re sure?”

“I don’t know, but it’s what I heard.”

“Okay,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. He looked at Nate. “Stay with the plan. But chances are I’ll be back before you have to leave.”

“I’m counting on it,” Nate said.

“So am I.”

QUINN WAS PRETTY SURE MOST OF THE ACTIVITY
was taking place on the lower level, the one the map had indicated contained the laboratory. He didn’t even want to think about what that might mean, what the bastards might be doing there.