The Buried (16 page)

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Authors: Brett Battles

Tags: #Mystery, #spy, #conspiracy, #Suspense, #Espionage, #Thriller

BOOK: The Buried
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You can’t trust anyone
, her sister had often said.
People will tell you anything to get what they want.

She knew she should heed Marianne’s words, but something Quinn had just said replayed in her mind, too.

“With us, she at least has a chance.”

__________

 

W
HEN DANIELLE EXITED
the bathroom, Quinn pointed to the bed by the window.

“You can use that bed. My friend and I are going to take turns sleeping, so try to get some rest and don’t waste your time thinking about making a run for it.”

She mumbled something under her breath as she crossed over to the bed.

“I didn’t catch that,” he said.

She looked back at him. “I said, I won’t run.”

He’d expected her to be angry and uncooperative when she came out of the bathroom, but that wasn’t the case at all.

“Look, Danielle, I know this—”

“Dani,” she said. “Call me Dani.”

“Okay, Dani.” He paused. “I know this hasn’t been easy. I know whatever secret you’re holding you don’t want to share. That’s fine. I get it. But there are other people out there right now trying to find us…trying to find
you
. If there’s anything you can tell us that might give us an idea of what’s going on here, it would help us know what to do. We’re kind of operating in the dark.”

Her gaze turned to the floor and she seemed momentarily lost in thought.  “You should have left me with the other women.”

“That would have made it even easier for these people to find you.”

She shrugged, her eyes still on the carpet.

“Let me ask you something. Have you ever heard of a woman called The Wolf?”

Dani became very still.

“Who is she?” he asked.

She shrugged again.

“Did Mr. Black tell you The Wolf was the one who hired him to grab you?”

She finally looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “He did, but how did you know that?”

“His partner told me.”

“His partner?” she asked. “Mr. Red?”

Quinn gave her a quick description of Platt.

“You talked to him?” she asked.

“I paid him a visit while you were…sleeping.”

“Did you kill him?”

“He was still breathing when I left, but I doubt that lasted very long.”

“Good. He was a son of a bitch.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“He wanted to, but Mr. Black wouldn’t let him. I could hear him with the others, though. Whatever you did to him, he deserved worse.”

“He told me that Mr. Black was trying to get a location out of you.”

Dani tensed.

“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

She stared at him but said nothing.

“How long have you been in hiding?”

For a moment she didn’t move, and then her lips parted. “A long time.”

“Then you know the people looking for you aren’t just going to give up.”

“I know.”

 

NORTHERN OREGON

 

T
HE BOUTS OF
indigestion had started around the time they reached Portland, and had only increased in duration as they headed east. Orlando had taken an antacid but that hadn’t done a thing.

She touched her stomach. “How about shifting a few inches to the right?” she said.

The baby was less than cooperative. Orlando hoped that wasn’t an indication of future behavior.

She grabbed a couple more of the chewable antacid tablets and shoved them in her mouth before returning her attention to her computer.

Since she hadn’t received any facial matches for Danielle, she had been concentrating on learning more about what had happened to Helen Cho. If she could identify the kidnappers, they might lead her to who had hired Ricky Orbits or perhaps another group looking for the girl.

It took her about forty-five minutes of hacking into security systems and spot checking cameras in the neighborhood around Helen’s office, but she finally found a feed from two properties down that had captured the kidnapping.

Because of the distance and angle, the image detail wasn’t the greatest, but the footage was sharp enough to show the gist of what had happened. The jackpot came when the getaway car drove right past the camera, giving Orlando an excellent view of not only the vehicle and its license plate, but also of the two men inside.

She grabbed images of each man, uploaded them to the facial recognition interface, and started the searches. Like with Danielle’s picture, there was no telling how long it would be before she received any results.

Knowing it was a waste of time, she ran a trace on the license plate anyway. It was not a match for the car the men had been driving.

Leaning back, she rubbed her eyes with one hand, and her indigestion spot with the other.

“You work too hard. You need rest.”

Mrs. Vo was twisted around in her chair, looking at Orlando.

“I’m okay,” Orlando said.

“Not okay. Computer all the time not good for baby.” Mrs. Vo pushed off her chair and moved over to the kitchen. “You need sleep. Food, too, I think. What you want to eat?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Not say again. Not fine. You be mother again soon. You need take care.” Nodding, she said, “I heat up pork chop, okay?”

Without waiting for a response, she opened the refrigerator.

Orlando would have told her she didn’t need to do that, but in truth, one of Mrs. Vo’s pork chops sounded great.

“You lie back on seat,” Mrs. Vo said. “I wake you when ready.”

Orlando closed her computer, thinking a little rest wouldn’t be such a bad idea, but as soon as she lay down, her phone rang.

With a sigh, she started to push herself back up, but Mrs. Vo said, “No, no, no. Sleep!” and snatched the phone off the table.

Orlando thought she was only moving it out of reach, but Mrs. Vo said, “This Quinn?….No, cannot talk. She tired…she fine, she fine. Just need sleep. She pregnant….Yes, I know you know, but cannot—”

Orlando had shoved herself up. “Let me talk to him.”

Mrs. Vo waved at her to lie back down and said into the phone, “I have her call you back.”

“Mrs. Vo, give me the phone,” Orlando said.

“I don’t know how long,” Mrs. Vo said to Quinn. “One hour. Two hour. Maybe morning. Okay?”

Struggling to her feet, Orlando said, “Mrs. Vo, please.”

The woman huffed before handing over the cell. “You need sleep. Not talk long,” she said. With another huff, she returned to preparing the food.

“Hey,” Orlando said into the phone.

“What was that all about? Are you feeling all right?” Quinn asked.

“I’m fine. She’s just being overprotective, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“Quinn, relax. Nothing’s wrong.” As if taunting her, her indigestion chose that moment to flare back up. She turned so Mrs. Vo wouldn’t see her wince.

“What?” Quinn asked.

“What what?” she asked back.

“It sounds like you’re in pain.”

She hadn’t realized she’d made any noise. She rubbed a hand across the same spot as before, willing the burning sensation to cease. “You’re hearing things.”

“Maybe you’re in labor.”

“I’m not in labor.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“Of course I can be sure. Don’t you think I’d know if I was in labor or not? This isn’t my first time, remember?”

A second of silence. “You’re sure?”

“I’m about to hang up on you.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.”

She lowered herself back onto the bench seat, a loud exhale escaping as she finished. Before Quinn could react, she said, “Not labor! Just sitting down. I’m fat. It isn’t easy.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were going to.”

His non-response confirmed she was right.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Walla Walla. And you?”

“Somewhere along the Columbia River. If you wait, we can meet up with you in a few hours.”

“Absolutely not. I’m uncomfortable enough with you following us,” he said. “In fact, I was thinking it would be a good idea for you to go back to Portland and wait there.”

“No way. You may need help.”

“And you’re in perfect condition to give that to us, I suppose,” he scoffed.

“I’m better than nothing. And I’ve got Daeng.”

“I don’t like you out on the road. Not right now. Maybe I should call Daeng. He’ll do what I say.”

“Quinn, stop. We’re not turning around.”

Mrs. Vo walked over to the table and set down a plate with two cut-up pork chops, a mound of rice, and some broccoli on it. “I get sauce.”

“Thanks,” Orlando said.

“You talk too long.”

“Just a few more minutes.” When Mrs. Vo left, Orlando asked Quinn, “Any more helicopters?”

“Not for a couple hours,” Quinn said. “I did get our passenger to talk a little, though.”

“You did? And?”

He told her about his conversation. He hadn’t learned a lot but it was more than they’d had before.

“Dani, huh?” Orlando said when he finished.

“Still might not be her real name,” he said. “I take it her ID photo hasn’t brought back any hits.”

“Not yet.”

She became aware that Mrs. Vo was standing a few feet away, holding a bottle of fish sauce and impatiently staring at her.

“The plan still the same?” Orlando asked Quinn.

“I don’t know what else to do,” he said. “We’ll get a few hours’ rest here and then head for Idaho. Have you found someplace for us?”

“I have. Just east of Moscow. I’ll e-mail you the details.”

“Thanks.”

“Food get cold,” Mrs. Vo said.

Orlando glanced at her and said into the phone, “I need to go or I’m going to get grounded.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m pregnant. What do
you
think? I’ll talk to you later.”

Mrs. Vo waited until Orlando put the phone away before handing over the sauce. “You eat, you sleep.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Vo.”

“No more phone.”

“Okay.”

“Also no computer.”

“We’ll see.”

Mrs. Vo scowled.

CHAPTER
21

 

CENTRAL WASHINGTON

 

S
TEVENS AND HIS
team stayed at the interstate junction outside Ellensburg for three hours. During the first two, Stevens had hoped they would spot the girl’s abductors, but by the end of the third hour, he knew the targets hadn’t come their way.

There were only three possibilities for what had happened. One, the targets had circled back and returned to Seattle. Two, they were holed up somewhere between Seattle and the junction. And three, they had turned off I-90 and gone in a new direction.

He could speculate all he wanted on which was the most likely, but what he needed were facts. And though he had hoped he and his team could wrap up this mission without any assistance, he reluctantly admitted that was no longer the case.

He called his bosses in Los Angeles and enlisted the tech department to see if they could track down the car the targets were using. At five p.m., he received word that the vehicle was a khaki green Jeep Grand Cherokee, last sighting two hours and twelve minutes earlier right outside Yakima.

Stevens and his team piled back into the helicopter and made the quick flight due south. It angered Stevens that somehow their targets had made the transition onto the I-82 without his team spotting them, but there would be time later to assess where the error was made.

They touched down at the airport and arranged for three vehicles so they could split into teams and search for the Cherokee more effectively.

It was nearly nine p.m. when the Jeep was located behind an A&W restaurant. One touch of the cold hood told Stevens all he needed to know. The SUV hadn’t moved in hours. The targets were driving something else now.

The techs went back to work to identify the new vehicle. The task was tedious and time consuming, but at 11:14 they had it. A blue Audi A4 sedan. Fourteen minutes later, they’d traced it as far as Walla Walla, and Stevens and his men lifted into the air again.

__________

 

T
HE FLYOVER OF
Yakima had proved useless, so Orbits resorted to an old-fashioned ground search and finally discovered the Grand Cherokee in the A&W lot at 7:50 p.m.

Hoping to find out what vehicle Quinn and his friend were now using, he had Donnie hack into the local police department’s system and search for cars stolen that afternoon. It had turned out to be a slow day crime-wise. Only two vehicles had been reported missing. One was a three-year-old Ford F-150 crew cab truck taken right out of the driveway of the owner’s home. Not the kind of theft an operative would usually undertake. The second stolen vehicle was textbook tradecraft. An hour and a half earlier, a blue Audi A4 had been reported missing from a hotel parking lot not far from the freeway.

Using a time range of two hours prior to the report, Donnie hunted for the Audi. By 8:20, he spotted the car on archival footage, heading southeast on the interstate. He tracked it all the way to Kennewick and then east toward Walla Walla, where the trail once again stopped.

Orbits was already driving his rental car back to the airport when Donnie shared this news. As he pulled in, Orbits was momentarily surprised at the sight of the California team’s helicopter sitting not far from his ride.

Its presence meant the team had identified the Jeep, but since no one seemed to be around, he assumed they were in town looking for it. He briefly considered sabotaging the aircraft, but he could neither risk the time it would take nor the chance of getting caught.

He hurried into the building where he’d left his pilot, only to find that the man wasn’t there.

He looked around until someone pointed him in the direction of Security.

“You Orbits?” the night supervisor asked when he inquired about Sutter.

“Yeah.”

“Operations sent your pilot to a motel to get some sleep. Apparently he was over his hours.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m just telling you what I was told. He can’t go up again until morning.”

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