The Discarded

THE

DISCARDED

Book Description

He thought his final assignment would be simple: Transport a package from Japan to Amsterdam. But for Orlando's mentor, Abraham, the job was not at all like he expected and ended up haunting him.

Seven years later, Quinn and Orlando know something is up when Abraham asks for a favor. At his age, he should be sitting on a beach, enjoying his retirement, not working. After he tells them of his search for the last package he ever delivered, they help him unravel the truth, but soon realize they can’t simply look for answers. They must also protect the package, no matter the cost.

They just need to find it first
.

PRAISE FOR THE JONATHAN QUINN SERIES

“Brilliant and heart pounding”—
Jeffery Deaver
,
New York Times
bestselling author

“Addictive.”—
James Rollins
,
New York Times
bestselling author

“Unputdownable.”—
Tess Gerritsen
,
New York Times
bestselling author

“The best elements of Lee Child, John le Carré, and Robert Ludlum.”—
Sheldon Siegel
,
New York Times
bestselling author

“Quinn is one part James Bond, one part Jason Bourne.”—
Nashville Book Worm

“Welcome addition to the political thriller game.”—
Publishers Weekly

THE

DISCARDED

Brett Battles

A Jonathan Quinn Novel

THE DISCARDED Copyright © 2014 by Brett Battles

Cover art copyright © 2014 by Robert Browne

Cover Images: © snaptitude–Fotolia.com

All rights reserved.

THE DISCARDED is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For more information about the author, please visit
www.brettbattles.com
.

This is for my wonderful editor Elyse

For making me sound better than I could ever hope

CHAPTER
1

SEVEN YEARS AGO

OSAKA, JAPAN

A
BRAHAM DELGER WONDERED
once more if it might be time to get out of the game.

His latest assignment, like most of those he’d been forced to take in the last year or so, had nothing to do with his communications and tech expertise. He could see the reason every time he looked in a mirror. His sixtieth birthday was five weeks behind him. In a world that favored the young, he was an anomaly. When it came to tech work, most clients refused to believe someone his age would even be aware of the latest breakthroughs, let alone understand how to utilize them.

So, in the past twenty-six months, he’d served as a decoy driver, a lookout, a contact point, and a consultant who ended up sitting in a back room throughout a whole operation, the only questions thrown his way having to do with directions to the bathroom and did he know where the op lead was.

And now this.

“I need someone I can trust implicitly,” Gavin Carter had told him. The man had flown out to San Diego to meet with Abraham in person. Nobody did that anymore. “I need someone to do the task and not ask any questions. Now or later. Someone I can keep off the books. A link breaker. You’re the only person I trust to do this for me.”

It was unfair, really. Abraham had no doubt there were others who could’ve handled the job. The reality was, Carter was leaning heavily on a debt owed by Abraham that could never be fully repaid, so the older man had had no choice but to say yes.

And that yes had brought him to an abandoned doorway, not far from Osaka Bay, that only partially sheltered him from the rain while he waited to take possession of the package he was to transport—no questions asked.

A damn courier.

About as far down the food chain as an op could get.

The roar of the downpour made it nearly impossible for him to hear anything else. The rain had been falling like this since well before the sun went down, the kind of rain Abraham only expected to see in the tropics, when the remnants of a typhoon temporarily laid claim to the air and the land. The difference was, a tropical storm was warm. This one, not so much. Another few degrees colder and he was sure it’d turn to sleet.

He scanned the road but there were still no signs of vehicles in either direction, only the halos of light from the scattered streetlamps. This was not a neighborhood someone would just drive into, especially during a storm.

He checked his watch. Only a few minutes before eleven now, smack dab in the middle of the twenty-minute window when the drop was supposed to occur. He knew the weather wasn’t helping, but it didn’t matter. If the deadline passed without the package arriving, he would be gone. That was the way it was in the espionage business. Sticking around could mean capture or death, and Abraham had already put in too many years to risk either option.

The minutes continued to tick by, inching ever closer to time to go.

He adjusted his coat, his mind already preparing for his exit. A dash around to the back of the building, jump in his appropriated car, and good-bye, Osaka.

The rumble almost sounded like distant thunder, but this wasn’t that kind of storm. He looked down the road. The darkness held for another few minutes before twin headlight beams lit up one of the buildings several blocks down. A moment later, a delivery truck turned onto the road.

As the vehicle neared, he could make out writing on the side below a cartoon image of a smiling woman with stars streaming out of her mouth. While Abraham could speak Japanese enough to get by in a pinch, his ability to read the language was limited to the words for
toilet
and
exit
and
tickets
, so he had no idea what the truck was advertising.

Right on cue, the vehicle slowed and blinked its headlights once. Abraham made no immediate move to approach it, content to stay in the semi-protection of the alcove until the last possible moment.

With a hiss of air brakes, the truck stopped at the curb. Abraham waited for its occupants to make the first move, but the doors of the cabin remained closed.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

He popped open his compact umbrella and walked around to the driver’s door. The man behind the wheel stared at him through the rain-dappled window and then pointed at the cargo area.

Because of Carter’s no-questions mandate, Abraham had no idea how large a package he was picking up. He’d assumed it would be small enough to carry, so the fact that it was in the back instead of the cab troubled him.

A rod-and-latch system held the rear doors in place. Abraham boosted himself up onto the bumper, grabbed the handle, and opened one of the doors.

“Whoa,” he said, raising the hand that held the umbrella.

Three men were inside, two aiming rifles at Abraham. Abraham’s first thought was that the mission had been a lie, that its real purpose had been his elimination. It happened now and then, an operative needing to be taken out for any number of reasons. And though he couldn’t immediately come up with anything he’d done or witnessed that would necessitate his termination, he thought his time had come.

For a moment he considered jumping down and running, but then the unarmed man in the middle said, “You a sci-fi fan?”

The authentication code
, Abraham realized. “I’ve been known to dabble,” he recited his line.

“James White—ever heard of him?”

“One of my favorites.
All Judgment Fled
is a forgotten classic.”

“Stand down,” the man said.

The armed men lowered their weapons to their sides.

So maybe this wasn’t Abraham’s last day on earth after all.

He started to pull himself inside but the main guy said, “Stay there.”

“It’s a little wet,” Abraham said.

“You won’t be here long enough to dry off.”

The man walked to the far end of the enclosed space and knelt down. Abraham tried to see what he was doing but the interior light was too dim. When the guy headed back, he was carrying something in his arms. It was about three feet long, maybe six or seven inches thick, and wrapped in some kind of material. To Abraham, it looked like a gigantic loaf of bread.

As the man transferred the package to him, he said, “Good luck.”

The first thing Abraham noticed was that it was warm. And the second—

“What the hell?” he said as the package moved in his arms.

“The sedative will keep her out for another four or five hours at least,” the man said. “Now get the hell out of here.”

He grabbed the door and started to pull it closed. When Abraham didn’t immediately jump out of the way, the man said, “Do your job.”

A million questions raced through Abraham’s mind, but he knew the man would give him no answers.

I need someone to do the task and not ask any questions.

“Dammit,” Abraham muttered as he stepped off the bumper.

The door shut with a slam, and before Abraham could snap out of his shock, the truck pulled away.

As he blinked, his gaze strayed down to the package. The material was a blanket, he realized. A suddenly very wet blanket. That was enough to get him hurrying over to the building and down the narrow alley to the back. Not sure how fast a getaway he’d need to make, he’d left the driver’s door unlocked. Unfortunately, he hadn’t done the same with those in back. He awkwardly worked the front door open and then punched the button unlocking the rest.

As quickly as he could, he maneuvered the bundle onto the backseat. He then started to climb back out but stopped himself. He touched the end of the blanket closest to him and felt legs and feet, so he leaned in and pulled the other side open, exposing a small, slack face.

A girl, maybe three or four or maybe even five. He wasn’t good with the ages of kids that small.

Her skin was pale, but that could have been partly due to the cold, so it wasn’t a clear indication of her background. She could have been Caucasian or Asian or Latin or Arab. If he could see her eyes, that might help, but closed like they were, they looked…well, like a kid’s eyes. A few loose strands of hair peeked out from under the stocking cap she was wearing, but it was too dark to tell their color—some shade of brown or maybe black.

You’re wasting time
, he told himself.

He worked the wet blanket off of her and dumped it in the footwell. Since he didn’t have another to replace it, he pulled off his jacket and draped it over her. As soon as he was behind the wheel and had the engine going, he flipped the heater to high.

The plan was to head west to Kurashiki, where he was to take a boat to Saijo on Shikoku Island. Carter had made the arrangements for this initial leg, so Abraham assumed the boat crew was aware there’d be two passengers, not one.

Driving out of town, his gaze constantly flicked back and forth between the road and his rearview mirror. At any moment, he expected to see flashing lights racing up behind him. It was irrational, he knew. There was no way anyone would suspect he had the girl, whoever the hell she was. But that didn’t stop him from feeling like he was on the verge of being caught.

As he neared Himeji, he finally began to feel like he was no longer in imminent danger and allowed himself to retrieve his phone.

The line rang four times before Carter picked up. “You are
not
supposed to be calling me,” Abraham’s employer said. “I know I made that clear.”

“What have you gotten me into?” Abraham asked.

“Is there something wrong? You received the package, didn’t you?”

“You mean the
kid
? Yeah, I got her.”

A pause. “Is she all right?”

Despite his anger, Abraham shot a quick look into the backseat. “She’s asleep, so as far as I know, she’s fine.”

“Okay. Good, good,” Carter said, relieved. “Abraham, I know you’re pissed, but I’m sure you understand I had to do it this way. You wouldn’t have taken the job if I’d told you.”

“Damn right, I wouldn’t have!” His voice rose higher than he wanted it to. Worried he might have woken the child, he glanced back again but the girl hadn’t moved.