The Deceived (39 page)

“Did you know what it meant?”

“No. But I figure it important.”

“That’s why you sent me the whole crate,” Quinn said.

A slight smile touched Ne Win’s lips. “Many times Markoff say how much he trust you. You his good friend.”

“Yes, he was.”

“When you and I work together, I see what he mean. You good at

what you do. You reliable, and you trust but with eyes open.” “I try,” Quinn said. “Whatever Markoff was doing he didn’t tell me, okay? I know

nothing about the Quayside. I know nothing about anything. I could

do only what he ask me to do. So I send him to you.” “Great. Thanks,” Quinn said. “It worked, yes?” Ne Win said. “You find Jenny. You save her.

Now you get her out.”

Quinn smiled weakly. Jenny’s words came back to him.
We’re his only chance. We have to save him.
Getting her away didn’t look quite as simple as it had a few hours earlier.

“I may need your help,” he said. “Sure. I can get you out of country.” Quinn shook his head. “No. That’s not what I mean.” The look in Ne Win’s eyes became guarded. “I give lot of help al

ready.” “You have,” Quinn agreed. “But I may need more.” He told the old man about what he’d found in the fourth-floor

apartment at the Quayside Villas. “Not possible,” Ne Win said. “Anyone running weapons here I know about. No one in Quayside. You’re wrong. It’s something else.”

“I agree. It is something else. It’s only supposed to look like it belongs to an arms dealer. What will the Singapore police think when they go in there? Or even the FBI or CIA?”

Ne Win tilted his head back as he sucked in a breath through his

nose. “They will believe what they want to believe.” “Right,” Quinn said. “Depending on how and why they find it.” The old man seemed to think about Quinn’s words for a moment.

“Yes. Depending on how and why. So you think it’s fake.”

“You said it yourself. Anyone running weapons in Singapore you’d know about, and you didn’t know about this. So, yes. I think someone has set it up to be found. Under the right conditions.”

“And what are those conditions?” Ne Win asked. “That’s where I might need your help.” “You want me to find out?” Ne Win asked, his tone doubtful.

“I want you to keep your ears open, sure,” Quinn said. “But no. I’ll try to find out what’s up. It’s what we do about it after where you might come in.”

Ne Win looked at Quinn for several seconds, neither of them

moving nor saying a word. Finally the old man nodded once. “Okay.” Dr. Han and Orlando appeared at the end of the hallway a few

minutes later.

“I think it was a temporary dislocation when she fell. Without an X-ray, I can’t tell for sure. It hasn’t really swollen up yet, but it should soon.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Quinn said. He stood up and started walking

toward the hallway. “Hold on,” the doctor said. “You can’t talk to her right now.” “Why not?” Quinn asked. “I gave her something for the pain. Knocked her out a few min

utes ago. Sleep is what she really needs anyway.”

“Wonderful,” Quinn said. He was anxious to talk to her, but he also knew the doctor was right. Sleep was what she needed. Sleep was what they all needed.

“I should probably come back in the morning,” Dr. Han said. “We’ll call you first,” Quinn said. He wanted to stay flexible. “Whatever you’d like.” As the doctor headed for the door, Ne Win stood and started to

follow. “Call me as soon as you know,” Ne Win said to Quinn as he stood in the open door. “This is my island. I don’t like surprises like this.” As soon as Ne Win and Dr. Han had left, Orlando said, “What

was that all about?” “He’s going to help us.” “Help us what?” she asked. Quinn told her about his conversation with Ne Win. “So Markoff meant for you to be involved all along,” she said. “Looks that way.” “If he was alive right now, I’d kill him,” Orlando said. “Why?” Quinn asked. “He’s only been trying to help Jenny.”

She let out a soft, derisive snort. “Have you stopped to take a look at yourself lately? Have you seen what this has done to you? His death has consumed you.”

“Then why did you come with me?” he asked.

Anger flashed in her eyes, and she opened her mouth but stopped herself before any word escaped. After a moment, she said, “You know why. You’re just not letting yourself see it.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then, as if he was unsure if the words had actually escaped his lips, he said again, “I’m sorry.”

He felt her fingertips on his arm, moving slowly up and down, their very presence calming him. Then she moved to him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head against his shoulder.

“I go anywhere you need me. It doesn’t matter why,” she said.

He placed his hands on her back and held her. For the first time he could remember, he was no longer alone.

They stood like that for several minutes, then finally Orlando leaned back.

“You should get some sleep,” she said.

“We both should,” he said.

She picked up the canvas bag with the data cassette player inside and carried it over to her computer on the table. “I need to get the tape going first. Make sure everything is running correctly.”

Once everything was connected, she turned on the computer, typed her password, then accessed a software application. Quinn wasn’t familiar with it, but it was easy to see it had something to do with audio.

“Since the tape is so damaged, I want to make sure we get it the first time. This will take a little longer than normal,” Orlando said. “But it’ll interpolate the damaged audio, then filter out any extraneous noise.”

“How long?” Quinn asked.

“No way to tell for sure. I don’t know how much is on this tape. But no more than ten hours. Should be done in the morning.” She yawned.

“Sleep time, I think,” Quinn said. “Which room do you want?” “Quinn,” she said. The look on her face wasn’t a happy one. “What?” “What the hell’s wrong with you?” She grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the hallway.

CHAPTER

THE SUN WAS SHINING BRIGHTLY BEYOND THE WIN

dows of the bedroom when Quinn opened his eyes. His back ached, but that wasn’t surprising. He’d spent the night sleeping on the floor of the master bedroom so that he would be close if Jenny needed anything.

Orlando was beside him, tucked against his side, her head on his chest. It was nearly the identical position they’d been in when they’d fallen asleep hours before. They had been too exhausted to do anything more than hold each other.

He could hear Jenny breathing evenly on the bed. She had stirred only once during the night, but had not come fully awake—a bad dream, no doubt, probably heightened by Dr. Han’s pain medication.

Quinn tried to slip his arm out from under Orlando without waking her, but she stirred, then suddenly stretched. Her eyes opened just enough to look at him through her intertwined lashes.

“What time is it?” she whispered.

He looked at his watch. “Ten-forty,” he said, surprised. It was the longest night of sleep he’d had since Markoff had turned up dead.

He pushed himself up, then pulled on his jeans and a black polo shirt. “I’ll make coffee.”

The pot was almost done when he heard Orlando come down the hall. He waited until the coffee was finished, then filled two cups and carried them into the living room.

Orlando had changed clothes and had pulled her hair back into a ponytail. It looked like she’d run some water over her face, too. She looked refreshed and ready to go.

She was sitting at the table with her laptop open again. Quinn set one of the cups down beside the computer.

“Did it finish processing?” he said.

“Looks like it.”

“And?”

“Hold on,” she said.

The folder on the screen displayed a single file. She opened it.

“Is that coffee?”

They both looked up. Nate walked into the living room looking only half awake.

“In the kitchen,” Quinn said.

With a grunt of thanks, Nate shuffled across the room and out of sight.

“Let’s hear it,” Quinn said to Orlando.

She hit the Play button, but no sound came out of the speakers.

Orlando stopped the playback, then moved the cursor to the middle of the file timeline and started it again. Again there was nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.

“Hold on.”

She tried a couple different spots on the timeline with the same result.

“What’s going on?” Nate asked as he emerged from the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

“Not now,” Quinn said.

Orlando had opened the conversion software she’d been using and was examining the log. After a moment, she shook her head and closed the program.

“What is it?” Quinn asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It should play. The log says it converted fine.”

She tried the file again. Dead air.

She leaned back and stared at the screen.

“There was something on the tape,” Quinn said. “Right?”

“Yes, there was something on the tape,” she snapped. “Please, just...give me a few minutes to figure this out.”

“Sure,” Quinn said. He touched her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she said, glaring up at him. “There should be something here. We should be hearing it.”

Quinn went into the kitchen to refresh his coffee and to give Orlando a little space. When he returned, her mood seemed to have gotten worse.

“It should be there,” she said. “There’s no reason why it’s not.”

“Then run it again,” he said.

“That’ll take another day.”

“Okay, so it takes another day. We’ve got nothing now.”

“Another day will be too late,” Jenny said. She was standing near the entrance to the hall, her good shoulder propping her up against the wall. “Can I get some water?”

Quinn shot Nate a look, then nodded toward the kitchen.

“I’ll get it,” Nate said.

Quinn walked over to Jenny. He put an arm around her waist and guided her into the living room.

“Sit down,” he said when they reached the couch.

She didn’t need to be told twice.

“How’s the shoulder?” he asked.

“Not too bad if I don’t move it.”

Nate came back in carrying a glass of water. He handed it to Jenny, and they all watched while she took a drink.

“What did you mean?” Quinn asked after she set the glass down. “Why too late?”

“It was on the tape,” she said. “If you’d been able to listen to it, you’d have understood.”

“We don’t have that option right now,” Quinn told her. “You’re going to have to tell us what was there.”

She looked down at the glass in her hand and sighed. “They’re going to kill him,” she said. “Today.”

“Kill who?” Orlando asked. She’d turned in her chair so she was facing everyone.

“Guerrero?” Quinn asked.

“Yes,” Jenny said.

“Who’s going to kill him?” Quinn said.

“I don’t know exactly who. Someone was hired to do it. That was what was on the tape. A conversation between the killer and...”

“And who?” Orlando asked.

Jenny didn’t look up. “The congressman’s wife.”

“What?” Quinn said.

“I know. I didn’t believe it at first either. But then Gerry gave me the tape. He worked with the congressman’s wife. He was Ms. Goodman’s personal assistant.”

“Was?”
Orlando said.

“He’s dead,” Jenny told them. “A day after he gave this to me, they killed him. That’s why I had to run. I didn’t want to die, too. But once I heard what was on there, I knew I couldn’t ignore it. I tried getting in touch with the congressman, but others were keeping me from him. I came here because I knew this would be the only chance I had.”

“Hold on,” Quinn said. “The congressman’s men have been after you.”

“Not the congressman’s men, his wife’s.” She paused. “When his campaign started getting serious this past summer, she told him she would hire a security team for him. She comes from money, you know that, right? Very politically active. He didn’t think it was necessary, but she insisted. But I think the people she hired really work for the person who’s going to kill her husband. She sent them after me because she knows I have this tape. That I can ruin all of her plans.”

Jenny took another drink of the water.

“But why kill her husband?” Orlando asked.

Jenny looked briefly at Orlando and then Quinn before glancing away, saying nothing.

“Jenny, why?” Quinn asked.

“At...at first I thought it had something to do with their marriage. Maybe she caught him cheating on her and wanted to avoid any potential embarrassment. I don’t know. Could have been a million reasons. Spouses kill spouses all the time.”

“You said ‘at first,’ ” Quinn reminded her after she’d fallen silent for several seconds. “You don’t think that now.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

Again she looked away, seeming reluctant to elaborate.

Quinn knelt down directly in front of her. “What is it?” he asked. “Why would she want to kill him?”

“Steven figured it out,” she finally said.

“Markoff?”

She nodded. “I’m sure that’s why he’s dead.”