The Buried (14 page)

She gave the phone back to Braun and returned to the playroom.

CHAPTER
18

CENTRAL WASHINGTON

Q
UINN WATCHED THE
sky behind them as they joined the I-82 and headed south.

A minute passed, then two. Just when he thought they were in the clear, he tensed. “We still have a follower.”

“The smaller one,” Nate guessed.

“Yeah.”

Quinn kept an eye on the helicopter, fully expecting it to be joined by its larger companion, but it remained alone. Then, after only a few miles, its speed increased as it shot off to the west, away from the freeway.

Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe those inside the chopper weren’t interested in them at all. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were closing in on them.

“We need a new ride,” he said.

Nate looked over. “Not a lot of choices out here.”

They had entered an area of scrub-covered hills with no buildings or turnoffs for as far as the eye could see.

Quinn consulted the map. The next bit of civilization didn’t crop up until they neared Yakima, about another twenty minutes away. He checked in with Orlando, telling her about the helicopters, and then spent the rest of the time scanning the skies for trouble, but neither of the aircraft reappeared.

They took the first exit after crossing the Naches River, entered the city under a sign proclaiming
YAKIMA WELCOMES YOU
, and then stopped in a lot next to a gas station.

Quinn looked back at Danielle. “If you stay quiet, we’ll leave the plastic off. Yes or no?”

She nodded.

He reached for his door handle. “I’ll get us a car,” he said to Nate. “You’re on plates.”

From the back of the SUV, Quinn grabbed the tools he would need and put them and his gun into his backpack before heading to the street.

They had passed several motels on the drive in, all prime targets. A stranger getting into a car in one of their lots would likely not be looked at twice.

The first motel he passed had security cameras focused on its parking lot. He’d grabbed a signal jammer that would disrupt any broadcast device within a hundred feet but thought it better to check the other places first.

No cameras at the next two motels, but not much of a vehicle selection, either. Motel number four proved to be the best. No cameras and nearly twenty cars in its lot, including a year-old Audi A4—performance and comfort, the combination he preferred.

He called Nate. “Audi A4,” he said.

“Can’t you find something a little more common?” Nate asked.

“Blue.”

“Oh, sure,” Nate said. “A blue Audi A4. I’m sure there are
dozens
of them here.”

“Last year’s model.”

Nate started to say something else but Quinn hung up.

He cut into the lot and headed straight for the Audi like it was his. As far as he could tell, no one noticed him.

He loved the age of the electronic locks. It meant he seldom had to use the hard-to-disguise slim jim to open a door. Instead, he pulled out a small, matchbook-sized box and placed it near the handle, where the box’s magnet held it in place. He opened the app that Orlando had named Picker.

After it synched with the box, it worked out the code to open the door. Starting the engine utilized the same gear but took an additional ten seconds. When the motor fired up, he looked back toward the motel to make sure no one was running in his direction, and then drove on to First Street, nice and casual.

He headed to the other side of town, parked behind a fast-food place, and fired off a text to Nate telling him where he was. While he waited, he removed the existing plates and tossed them in the restaurant’s Dumpster.

Nate drove up a few minutes later and backed the Jeep into the spot beside the Audi.

He climbed out and said, “Here,” as he tossed Quinn a set of plates.

“Audi?” Quinn asked.

“Of course.”

“A4?”

“Naturally.”

“Blue?”

“Yeah, blue.”

“One year old?”

Nate frowned. “Two. But, hey, you’re lucky I even found that.”

Quinn attached the plates. Now if the state patrol began looking for a stolen Audi and ran the license number of their car, there would be no red flags. It was the little details that kept one free.

Using the doors of the opposite facing vehicles to create a kind of tunnel between them, they moved Danielle into their new ride.

She said something once they had her situated.

Quinn asked, “What?”

She repeated herself, slowly this time, allowing him to make out, “I need to pee.”

“We’ll find someplace to stop as soon as possible. But you’ll have to hold it for now.”

She pleaded with her eyes.

“I’m sorry. It won’t be long. I promise.” He shut the door, feeling like an asshole for about the millionth time since they’d found her.

Nate transferred the duffels into the trunk, then wiped down the interior of the SUV.

“I’ll drive,” Quinn said.

He started to open the door, and stopped.

The sound was low, distant, but oh so familiar. He glanced at Nate and saw that his partner heard it, too.

The rhythmic
thump-thump-thump
of a helicopter.

__________

W
HILE THE HELICOPTER
was refueling, Orbits purchased an energy drink from a vending machine in the lobby of the operations building in charge of the helipad in Yakima. As he headed out to the aircraft, his cell rang.

 “Yeah?” he answered.

“I got ’em,” Donnie said excitedly.

“Spill.”

“They left Seattle in a khaki green Jeep Grand Cherokee.”

“You sure?”

“Hell, yeah. Found a shot on one of the I-90 traffic cams twenty miles east of Bellevue, clear as day. Quinn’s partner was driving and Quinn was in the passenger seat.”

“So they’re definitely headed this way.”

“Well, at least east on the ninety.”

“And the woman?”

A slight pause. “I could only see the two of them.”

That didn’t bother Orbits much. There was plenty of room in a Cherokee for her to hide in. Besides, if Quinn and his partner had ditched the girl, they’d be on a plane headed home instead of driving around the countryside.

No, she was still with them. He could
feel
it.

“Any sightings of them after that?”

“I haven’t had the chance to look yet. I just found them and wanted to let you know.”

“Well, then, look, dammit.”

Donnie said, “That’ll take time.”

“Do I have to tell you how to do your job? Start with the cameras closest to where the ninety and the eighty-two split.”

“Right, yeah. That makes sense.”

“Of course it makes sense! Now get to it.”

Orbits hung up.

He was about to head over to the helicopter when he remembered he hadn’t heard back from Ananke. He dialed her number again, but this time it didn’t even ring before he was sent to voice mail.

He frowned, then left a message similar to his previous one, but couldn’t help thinking she was avoiding him. He was sure she had information that would make his job easier.

This was not a problem without a solution, however. They shared a common friend, a job broker by the name of Marko Lutz.

“Ricky! How’s it going, man?” Marko had one of those always-on personalities. Orbits liked that about him.

“Going well, Marko. How are things with you?”

“Same as always.
Outstanding.
”

“Good to hear,” Orbits said. “Listen, I’m wondering if you can do me a favor.”

“If it’s in my power, I am at your service.”

“Nothing big, just need you to get a message to someone for me.”

“Sounds easy enough. Who to?”

BOULDER, COLORADO

“H
E SAID TO
tell you he needs to discuss Seattle with you,” Marko told Ananke. “Something about a mutual friend. A Mr. Q? That make any sense?”

The only reply she could manage was, “Uh-huh.”

“H
e
also wanted me
to pass along his number in case you lost it.” Marko recited it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, barely moving her lips.

“Anything you want me to tell him?”

“Nope.”

“Cool. Hey, what’s your schedule look like next month? I might have something right up your alley.”

“I’m…pretty booked up.”

“Tell you what, when things firm up, I’ll call you anyway and see how your schedule’s looking. Cool by you?”

“Sure, Marko. That’s fine.”

“Then I guess I’ll talk to—”

Her thumb touched the disconnect button.

She stared out her window at the hills behind her house. Now she understood what was going on. Ricky was a hunter, and if he wanted to know about the job in Seattle then he had to be hunting the girl Quinn and Nate had taken from the basement.

This was not good.

As lame of a lover as Ricky had been, he was a good hunter. During the time she’d spent with him, he had never once failed to track down his prey.

Maybe if she hadn’t gone down in that basement with Quinn, hadn’t seen the women Edmondson had been holding there, hadn’t talked to Danielle, maybe there might have been a miniscule chance she’d tell Ricky what he wanted to know.

But she
had
done all those things and there was no way she would talk to Ricky now.

If she needed to talk to anyone, it was Quinn.

When she called him, she was immediately prompted to leave a message. She hung up before the beep. Who knew how long it would be before he listened to it? He needed to know about Orbits now. Since she didn’t have Nate’s number, she was left with only two other options, only one of which was good. She called Helen.

The first hint that something was wrong was the male voice answering the call. “Yes.”

Helen had always picked up this line herself.

Ananke considered hanging up, but said, “I’m looking for Director Cho.”

“She’s unavailable at the moment, but I’d be happy to have her call you back. May I have your name, please?”

“Magenta twenty-two slash m,” she said, using the emergency code that should immediately put her through to the director.

But the man said, “I apologize, but as I said before, the director is unavailable at the moment. Your name, please.”

Ananke didn’t even bother hanging up. She popped out the phone’s battery, removed the SIM card, and broke it in half. It was the second card she’d destroyed that day—a record. But something was not right in San Francisco.

She retrieved a new card from her safe and reluctantly dialed her final option.

Given that her number would not be recognizable to the person on the other end, she expected to be sent to voice mail and was not disappointed.

She recited her new number, said, “Call me as soon as you get this,” and hung up, knowing there would be no mistaking her voice.

The return call came within twenty seconds.

“What do you want?” Orlando asked.

“Always a pleasure to hear your voice,” Ananke said.

“I don’t have time to chat right now, Ananke. I’m a little tied up. So if you don’t have a point…”

As much as Ananke knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help but push the other woman’s buttons. “Literally tied up? Because that would be interesting.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait, wait, sorry. I, um, I have something you need to know.”

“What?”

“Quinn and Nate are in danger.”

“That’s not exactly news,” Orlando said.

“Why? Did something happen?”

A beat, then, “Is that the extent of your information, or do you have anything useful?”

“I do,” Ananke said. “They need to know that someone’s chasing them.”

“Also not news.”

“Well, do you know
who
it is?”

“Are you saying you do?”

“You know what? Never mind. I’ll just leave Quinn a message.”

“Hold on,” Orlando said. “If you know who it is, tell me.”

Ananke fought the urge to hang up, and said, “A hunter named Ricky Orbits.”

“Orbits? I’ve heard of him. How do you know he’s after my team?”

“How I know isn’t important.”

“Like hell it isn’t. I’m just supposed to believe you?”

Ananke closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, giving herself a second to get her growing anger under control. She had to remind herself that Orlando’s hatred wasn’t really Ananke’s fault but it was still justified. “Look, I know you’re not my biggest fan but I’m doing you a favor here. I’m not lying.” She paused again. “Ricky called me, all right? He wanted to know what happened in Seattle.”

“Why would he call
you
?”

“We used to be…friends, I guess.”

“Oh, I get it. Another one of your side projects.”

“If you don’t want to believe me, then don’t.”

Silence.

“So what did you tell him?” Orlando asked, much of her confrontational tone gone.

“I didn’t tell him anything. He left me a message that he wanted to talk, that’s all. And to answer your next question, I have no intention of calling him back. I’m telling you because Ricky’s…unconventional. He’s not going to follow any set of rules to get what he’s after. You need to tell Quinn.”

“I…I will,” Orlando said. “Thanks.”

It was suddenly as if a whole new level of awkwardness had descended on the conversation.

“Yeah, uh, don’t worry about it. Good luck, huh?”

Ananke was starting to pull the phone away from her ear when Orlando asked, “How many people does he usually work with?”

“What do you mean?”

“How big is his team?”

“Team? He doesn’t work with a team.”

“Not even on a temporary basis?”

“Maybe a specialist or two as needed but…why are you asking?”

Orlando took a breath, and then told her about the two helicopters Quinn had spotted following him, one large enough to carry a whole squad.

“I don’t know,” Ananke said. “I guess he could have hired some freelancers.”