The Deceived (35 page)

1.0000.

They had found the source of Markoff ’s beacon.

In essence, it was a mobile phone, without the ability to receive or transmit sound. It used the digital airways merely to let others who knew its ID code know it was there. And aided by the fact that the device was basically passive, the specialized battery could last for over a month.

There was no question now. This was where Markoff had been leading them.

“Do you think he ever got inside?” Nate asked.

“No idea.”

Quinn put the beacon and the box that had tracked it down into his bag. Neither was needed any longer.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he moved quickly to the door and examined its locks. He aimed the beam of his flashlight directly into each slot. Unlike the keyholes on the door to room 04-21, these were not faked.

Quinn held his hand out, and Nate gave him the monitor back. Returning to the main menu, Quinn ran through the options until he’d selected sec sys—Security System. He moved the detector along the doorjambs, across the top and the bottom. When he was through, he looked at the display screen. sys det—inact.

“There’s something there,” he said. “But it’s not on.” “So we go in?” Nate asked. “Yes.” “Can I do it?” “Fine,” Quinn said. “Just be quick.” From his own backpack, Nate removed a set of lock picks and set

to work first on the deadbolt, then on the lock in the handle of the door. After a moment, he looked up. “Done,” he said. Quinn glanced at the detector. The display still read sec sys—

inact. He gave Nate a nod. His apprentice smiled, then turned the han

dle and pushed on the door until it cleared the jamb. “I’ll go first,” Quinn said. He returned the monitor to his bag, then pulled out a palm-size

flashlight and turned it on. As he entered the room, he swung his

flashlight in a wide arc, looking for any type of booby trap. “Clear,” he said. Nate entered, then shut the door behind him. “Check the bedrooms,” Quinn told his apprentice. “I’ll look out

here.”

Quinn did a quick sweep of the living room, then moved on to the dining area and the kitchen. The couch, the tables, the chairs, the appliances in the kitchen all spoke of someone who liked to live comfortably. Only it was a sham. A fine layer of dust had settled over everything. In the kitchen, the cabinets were all empty. The same went for the refrigerator.

As Quinn reentered the living room, Nate emerged quickly from the hallway. “I think I found something,” Nate said.

It was in the closet of the smaller bedroom. The only thing that indicated there might be something odd was a metal strip that ran up the center of the back wall.

Nate had already flipped up the tan carpet that had covered the closet floor. Underneath, where Quinn would have expected concrete, there was wood. He tapped the flooring and was greeted with a hollow echo.

“It looks like it flips up here,” Nate said.

He slipped his fingers into a groove along the edge closest to them, then began to lift the base of the closet up. It seemed to be hinging along the back wall. As soon as Quinn could get his fingers underneath, he helped Nate to push the floor all the way up.

There was a metal fastener attached to the underside, very near the top. That explained the metal support bar on the back of the closet. Quinn flipped the fastener over the edge of the trapdoor and snapped it into a slot on the bar.

In the void that had been the closet floor, there was a steep metal staircase—almost a ladder—leading down into the darkness.

“Somebody’s spent a lot of time and money on this,” Nate said, then looked at Quinn. “Shall we?”

Quinn moved the flashlight over the makeshift stairwell. It seemed to be exactly what it looked like.

“Keep your eyes open,” he said.

Nate nodded, then stepped onto the staircase and began descending into apartment 04-21. Quinn followed right behind.

As expected, the stairs ended in the closet of another bedroom. But unlike the bedroom upstairs, this one had no furniture inside. Instead, it seemed to be some sort of storage room. There were dozens of cardboard boxes and wooden crates stacked neatly along the wall, filling up nearly half the room.

Quinn ran his flashlight over them, but there were no markings indicating what might be inside. Nate walked over and put a hand on a box at the top of a stack. He pushed, but the box barely moved.

“Heavy,” he said.

Quinn looked at his watch. Only ten minutes had passed. Though plenty of time remained, they still needed to hurry. He wanted to be out of the building and miles away by the time the power came back on.

“Leave them for now,” Quinn said, then pointed toward the main part of the apartment. “Check for heat signatures again.”

Nate moved the phone in a wide arc, taking in the entire apartment beyond.

“Clear,” Nate said.

They stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Quinn motioned for Nate to wait, then moved to his left to check the master bedroom. More boxes. Bigger than those in the other room, but also unmarked.

He retraced his steps and headed toward the main part of the apartment, this time with Nate following. As they neared the end of the hall, they slowed. The flashlight revealed little of the living room beyond, only the side of some bookcases along the wall.

“Check again,” he said to Nate.

Nate scanned the room ahead of them. “Still nothing.”

Quinn took a single step into the living room, then moved his flashlight slowly through the space. As the light revealed more and more of the room’s contents, the skin at the base of his neck began to tingle.

CHAPTER

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” NATE SAID.

“Don’t touch anything,” Quinn ordered.

Despite the fact they were both still wearing their gloves, he didn’t want to do a thing until he’d had a moment to process what they’d discovered.

The bookcases they had seen from the hallway weren’t bookcases at all. They were display cabinets.
Identical
display cabinets. Five feet wide and enclosed by glass doors allowing the contents to be viewed but not touched. They lined the entire room, filling every inch of wall space, even covering the window at the far end and the spot where the front door should have been.

That explained the phony locks, Quinn thought. The door in the public hallway was just for show.

In the middle of the room were several glass-topped tables. More display cases, Quinn guessed. There was an exception, though. The table near the entrance to the kitchen appeared to be a desk. On top, a small lamp and a laptop computer.

Quinn slowly stepped toward the nearest cabinet. They were made of brushed metal, dulled to a silver gray. Stylish, expensive, and sturdy. Quinn aimed his light through the glass door, examining the contents.

Pistols. Each displayed in profile against black cloth that covered the back of the cabinet. Beside each gun was a small plaque with the make, model number, and other vital statistics of the corresponding piece. There were a dozen in this cabinet alone. A couple of Taurus pistols and nearly the whole Glock family.

Quinn moved on to the next cabinet. More pistols. SIGs this time. A few Smith & Wessons and two Walthers.

“Is this a private museum?” Nate asked.

“No,” Quinn said. “A showroom.”

“Showroom? You’re kidding, right?”

Quinn shook his head.

“You mean they’re...”

There was no reason for Quinn to finish Nate’s sentence. It was obvious what this was—a sample room for an arms dealer. But not the typical street-level variety. Whoever this room belonged to had to be filling some major orders.

“Take pictures of everything. Both wide and detailed. But don’t touch,” Quinn said.

“You already told me that.”

“I’m telling you again.”

A little further down the wall, Quinn found cabinets full of rifles: sniper, assault, even a few specialized target weapons. Those short enough were displayed horizontally.

Quinn leaned down to examine the latch on one of the glass doors. It didn’t appear to be locked. That made sense. Any customer that was brought into the room would have been accompanied by several of the dealer’s security team.

Still, Quinn couldn’t help feeling the whole setup felt wrong for some reason. Like it was almost too perfect.

“Check these out,” Nate said.

Quinn turned. His apprentice was standing near one of the display case tables in the center of the room. Quinn walked over.

Knives. Dozens of them, in all shapes and sizes.

“That one’s even more interesting,” Nate said, pointing at a table to his right.

Quinn looked over. Detonators, switches, timing devices. All the gear you would need to make a successful bomb, except for the bomb material itself. That wouldn’t be on the display-room floor. You’d have to ask for it.

“You get all the cases?” Quinn asked.

“Halfway done.”

“Finish up.” Quinn looked at his watch. Nearly twenty minutes had passed while they checked out the room. “We need to get out of here.”

“What about the computer?” Nate asked, nodding toward the laptop.

“I’ll check it.”

Quinn walked over to the makeshift desk. The computer and the lamp were the only items on top. No papers, no pens, nothing else. There were two drawers built into the table just below its lip, both closed.

Quinn moved his backpack around so he’d have access. From inside, he removed a small screwdriver, then carefully slipped the blade end through the handle of one of the drawers and pulled it open.

There was a pad of paper tucked into the corner of the drawer. Several pages had been torn off, leaving about three-quarters of the pad left. The page on top was blank, though he detected several faint indentations. Whoever had written on the pad last had left a trace of what they’d written behind. Quinn leaned down to see if he could get a better look without touching anything.

It looked like numbers. There was definitely a 5 and, if he squeezed his eyes just right, a couple of 8s. Another looked like either a + or a partial 4. A phone number? He had the feeling it wasn’t, but there was really no way to tell.

Quinn stared at the paper for a few more seconds, trying to pull more of the message out, but nothing else came. He frowned. If he took the paper back to the hotel, they would probably be able to figure out what the number was. But would the paper be missed? He wanted this incursion to go undetected. He couldn’t risk it, so reluctantly he closed the drawer and opened the one next to it.

This one contained only a few pens and a box of 9mm ammo. He was just about to close it when the beam of his flashlight caught something partially tucked under the box of ammo.

He leaned in for a better look.

It was a hair, dark brown with a gentle curve. Without lifting the box, it was impossible to tell how long it was. Odd that it would be there like that.

He left it untouched, too, and pushed the drawer closed.

Looking over at Nate, he said, “How much longer?”

“A couple minutes.”

Quinn turned his attention to the laptop computer. Using the handle end of the screwdriver, he unlatched the screen and pushed it up. Suddenly there was a whirring as the hard drive cycled up. A second later, the screen came on, casting a faint blue glow over Quinn and the room behind him. A rectangular box came up in the center of the screen, asking for a password.

“I thought you said not to touch anything,” Nate called out.

Quinn barely heard his apprentice as he did a quick scan of the computer. A power cord was attached to the side, but the machine was obviously running off battery power for the moment.

Why is this on?
he wondered. It seemed a little loose and haphazard, unless the users planned to access it from off-site. Of course, since the computer was shut and in sleep mode, that wasn’t likely.

Unless,
he thought,
someone was using it earlier in the evening and is coming back soon.

They really needed to get out of there, but he couldn’t ignore the potential information on the computer.

“I need the phone,” he said to Nate.

“Hold on. One more.” Nate aimed the phone’s camera lens at one of the cabinets. “That’s it.”

He walked quickly over to Quinn and handed him the phone. Quinn dialed Orlando.

“Please tell me you’re on your way back,” she said.

“We’re still inside.”

Her voice became serious. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. We’re fine.”

“What did you find?”

“I’ll tell you when we get back,” he said. “Except we did find a computer.”

“You have the bug?” she said.

“I do.” Quinn unconsciously touched his free hand to the strap of his backpack. Inside the front pocket was a wireless computer tap that would allow Orlando to attempt to access any computer within its range. The only problem was, because it had to act as both a bug and a transmitter back to a distant home base, it was bigger than the average tap.

“Then set it up and let’s see if I get a signal.”

Quinn handed the phone to Nate, then pulled out the bug. Its shape was similar to that of a saltine cracker, about an inch and a half square. It was all black, and like the signal scrambler he’d used in the hallway upstairs, there was self-stick adhesive on the back side.