The Discarded (6 page)

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

He smiled. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

__________

O
NE OF THE
things that had troubled Quinn about a potential working relationship with Helen Cho had been the fact she was based in San Francisco, the same city where Orlando and, for all intents and purposes these days, Quinn lived.

It felt too close, too accessible. His previous main employer—the now defunct Office—had been located in Washington, DC, providing a nice little three-thousand-mile buffer. Quinn had never had to worry about going out for a cup of coffee and running into Peter, the man who had run the organization. While that hadn’t happened yet in San Francisco with Helen, he suspected it was only a matter of time.

On this particular day, though, her proximity was an advantage.

The building Helen’s organization was located in was a five-story structure near the bay. It had but a single street-side entrance—a plain door easily missed by most passersby.

Quinn did the honors of pressing the intercom button.

“Yes,” a male voice answered.

“We’re here to see Helen,” Quinn said.

“I’m sorry. Helen?”

The long flight had sapped much of Quinn’s patience, so it took a good deal of effort not to bite the guy’s head off. “Tell her Quinn and Orlando are here.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but even if a Helen did work here, if you’re not on the schedule, you’re not getting in.”

“I’m going to assume you’re new, or so low ranking you haven’t learned how to get out of your own way, so do yourself a favor—pass the message on to Helen and open the damn door.”

“Sir, I would rather not have to send security out there.”

Quinn stared at the camera, the look on his face deadly serious. “Please, by all means. Send them out.”

There was no immediate response.

After two minutes, Orlando whispered, “I knew I should have stopped to pick up a coffee first.”

“Why aren’t you as angry about this as I am?”

“I am. I’m just cold.”

Another minute.

“We could try shooting out the lock,” she suggested.

“I don’t have my gun.”

“I’m sure there’s something in the trunk that’ll work.”

“We’ll give it another few minutes, then maybe.”

Thirty more seconds.

“We could call the fire department,” she said. “Say we smelled smoke coming from inside. That should get us in.”

Before Quinn could respond, the door opened, and standing on the other side was Helen Cho.

“Quinn. Orlando. So sorry to have kept you waiting. Please come in.”

She moved out of the way so they could enter the building.

“Shall we go up to my office?” she suggested.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Quinn said.

They took the elevator up to the fifth floor and walked to the corner office. A white fabric couch and matching chairs were at one end, while an oversized desk and black executive chair were at the other.

“Would either of you like something to drink?” Helen offered.

“I’m fine,” Quinn said.

“Coffee would be great,” Orlando answered.

Helen turned to her assistant standing in the doorway. “Two coffees, David, if you will.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

David closed the door as he left.

Helen gestured for them to take a seat on the couch, then settled into the chair across the coffee table. “So, how long have you been back?”

“An hour,” Quinn said, his lips barely moving.

Helen raised a defensive hand. “Before you say anything, I get it. You’re upset.”

“Upset? Why would we be upset that you dodge Orlando’s calls and refuse to see us until—when was it—next week?”

“I’ve been in wall-to-wall meetings all week. There is a whole realignment going on and this office is going to be a central player. So I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get back to you right away, but there are other things that take my time.”

“Like assigning us to work with amateurs?”

“Now hold on. I know things didn’t go like clockwork, but—”

“Oh, not even close.”

“We all know not every job goes like we’d hope, so I’m sure we can move past that.”

“Stop right there,” Quinn said. “Do you think this is the first time I’ve ever been in the field? Do you think this is the only job I’ve been on where something’s gone wrong?”

“No. That’s not what I meant.”

“It sure as hell sounded like that was where you were going.”

“I didn’t mean to give you—”

“Helen, your ops team was a joke! We were lucky the only collateral damage was a security guard. It could have easily been me or one of my people.”

“Wait,” Helen said. “What security guard?”

For a second, Quinn was unsure whether to believe her or not, but her confusion appeared genuine. “Winston didn’t tell you, did he?”

“The report I received was that the target had been eliminated and the scene turned over to you.”

“That’s it?” he said.

“That’s it.”

Quinn stared at her in disbelief. “If these are the type of people you hire, clearly our relationship isn’t going to work out.” He put his hand on the couch, intending to stand up, but Orlando stopped him with a touch to his thigh.

“Easy,” she whispered. She turned to Helen. “You had mentioned that this was an op started by another organization before being forced on you. What we need to know is if this will be a normal occurrence or not.”

“Of course not,” Helen said.

There was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Helen said.

 David entered carrying a tray holding the coffee, some sugar, and cream. If he sensed the tension in the room, he showed no sign of it as he set the tray on the table and left.

Orlando dumped a little cream in her cup, and in a calm tone devoid of accusation, said, “You act like we should already know this kind of thing isn’t normal, but this is the first official project we’ve worked on together. So, based on our limited information, we can only assume this happens often.”

Helen looked as if she were going to snap off another quick response, but she stopped herself and leaned back, looking suddenly exhausted. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This was a catastrophe from the beginning.”

Quinn snorted, drawing the immediate response of Orlando’s fingers digging into his leg.

“To answer your question,” Helen went on, “since we’re still a relatively new agency, we occasionally have to take on some, shall we say, less than desirable work. I’m trying to limit that as much as I can. And so far, the Copenhagen project is the only one I haven’t been in the position of fully controlling who was hired.”

In the pause that followed, Quinn was going to say something, but once more Orlando made it clear he should keep his mouth shut.

“Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea bringing you on board for this one, especially since it
was
our first.” She looked right at Quinn. “But I would do it again. And if our roles were reversed, you would have done the same thing.”

Orlando’s thigh-piercing grip eased a bit.

“You could have been a bit more forthcoming,” Quinn said. “Let us know exactly what we were in for.”

“You’re right, but unfortunately I didn’t know.” Helen held up a hand again to hold off a response. “I was assured that Winston and his people were a top ops team. That’s not an excuse. I’m just telling you what happened. I should have had my people dig deeper, but I didn’t. That is my failure. One that I will not repeat.” She grimaced. “I understand your anger and frustration. Throw in some guilt and regret and that’s what I’m feeling right now. If you want to walk out and never work with us again, I completely understand. But I hope that’s not the case.”

While Quinn couldn’t completely let go of his anger yet, most of it had ebbed. He wasn’t sure how to respond and was glad when Orlando did it for them.

“We appreciate that,” she said. “Thank you. I hope you understand that we’re going to have to talk things over before we get back to you.”

Helen nodded. “That’s more than fair.” For the first time, she picked up her coffee. “I do have a favor to ask, though.”

“And what would that be?” Quinn asked.

“I’d like you to tell me exactly what happened.”

__________

“I
’M NOT SURE
I appreciate you shutting me down like that,” Quinn said once he and Orlando were back in the car, heading toward her house.

“Oh, really? So you’re the only one calling the shots now?”

“That’s not what I mean,” he said. “It’s just—”

“It’s just what? You’re pissed off because the job didn’t go the way you thought it should? Helen represents a lot of potential work for us. That means for you and me and Nate and Daeng and anyone else we might need to hire. This was one project. A completely screwed-up one, but only one. She’s helped us in the past so I think we owe her the benefit of the doubt, don’t you?” She paused. “What I was doing in there when I ‘shut you down’ was refocusing the discussion so that we wouldn’t burn any bridges we didn’t need to. Unless you’d prefer to handle everything yourself again.”

“Of course not.” He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. He knew she was right. “Sorry.”

She grunted.

“Is that an I-forgive-you?” he asked. “Or a you’re-an-idiot?”

“Both, but just so I’m clear, more the latter than the former.”

“God help us if we’re not clear.”

They drove on in silence for another several minutes before Orlando said, “If I’m really going to handle the administrative end of things, then it might be best in the future—if you’re not of sound mind—that I go into meetings like this alone.”

“Since when am I not of sound mind?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, boss.”

After all that had gone down on Duran Island—Peter dying, and Orlando nearly so—and the subsequent rooting out of those responsible, some decisions had to be made. The first concerned Quinn’s status. For a while, when he was in Thailand recuperating from injuries received during the Mila Voss incident, he’d considered retirement. Some days he’d leaned heavily toward it, while others found him unsure what to do.

All the crap that had gone down since then, however, made it hard for him to deny he was good at what he did. Very good. And as tempting as sitting on a beach doing nothing was, his taste for the job had been reignited. There was another reason, too, one deep down inside he had no intention of sharing with anyone: the thought that if he didn’t stay in the game, he wouldn’t be able to properly react if someone threatened his friends or family again. He had to stay in the secret world. He had to remain sharp. He had to protect those he cared about.

The next decisions after the Duran Island debacle had been about the business itself. There was Nate, of course. Quinn’s former apprentice had been keeping things going while Quinn was away, even using Quinn’s name to maintain appearances. They could have parted ways like Quinn had done with Durrie not long after he completed his own apprenticeship, but Quinn offered Nate an equal partnership and Nate had accepted.

“For now, anyway,” Nate had said. “We’ll see how things go.”

The partnership Quinn proposed wasn’t just for the two of them. Orlando would make them a trio. Her role in their new configuration was the final decision that needed resolution. Her injuries were still a long way from being completely healed, and while she insisted she would be fine in the field, she had not put up much of an argument when Quinn proposed she take on the role of manager, handling such things as job requests and overall logistics, which she’d always taken care of anyway.

The Copenhagen job was the first under the new structure. Not exactly an auspicious beginning, but their portion of the project had gone off without a hitch.

Orlando found a parking spot almost directly in front of her house. As they climbed out, she pulled her phone from her pocket, checked the screen, and held the device up to her ear. Quinn moved ahead of her and started up the stairs to the front door. When he reached the porch, he looked back, expecting her to be right behind him, but she had stopped on the sidewalk, still listening to the phone.

As she lowered it a few seconds later, she looked surprised and a bit confused.

“What?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at him.

“Orlando.”

She blinked and turned in his direction.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“A voice mail,” she said. “From Abraham.”

CHAPTER
7

TAMPA, FLORIDA

I
T TOOK EVERYTHING
Abraham had to keep the rental car at the pace of the traffic around him. As much as he would have liked to press the accelerator to the floor, he knew that would only draw attention, something he had to avoid at all costs.

God, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this nervous.

“Yes, I have,” Eli had said when he’d called Abraham back.

The admission had so stunned Abraham he was barely able to speak. “What…?”

“I think it’s best if we meet,” Eli said.

Abraham struggled through the shock. “Of course. Um, I can come to you. Should be able to get to DC in—”

“Not DC.”

“You’re not there?”

“I soon won’t be.”

For the first time, Abraham could hear fear in his friend’s voice. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Might be nothing,” Eli said. “I’m probably overreacting.” A short pause. “Look, can you get to Tampa by tomorrow?”

“Florida?”

“Yes.”

“I can probably get there by tonight,” Abraham said. If the San Diego airport didn’t have any direct flights, he could hop up to LAX in Los Angeles, which had one.

“Tomorrow. Eleven a.m. Azure Waves Hotel. Ask for Charles Young.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“Don’t tell
anyone
.”

Abraham had been right about being able to get there that night, but just barely. Because of flight schedules and the time difference with the East Coast, he’d arrived in Tampa not long before midnight. When he got to his hotel, he had tried to sleep, but because he was so wired, he only picked up an hour here and there.