The pilot didn’t even hesitate to take the bills and slip them into his pocket. “I’m sure I can make that happen.”
CHAPTER 17
The playroom was part of a private, unregistered club with a very discreet membership. Whips and racks and ropes were all in their places awaiting the next party. For the moment, though, the club was closed, the entire building bought out by The Wolf for entertaining her special guest.
She had Helen Cho tied to a suspended X, arms and legs stretched in different directions. She was still using electricity — small zaps never in the same place twice — to break her prisoner.
A knock on the door.
“Oui?” she called out.
Braun stuck his head in. “I have the hunter on the line.”
The Wolf patted Helen on the thigh. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as she entered the hallway, Braun handed her a phone.
“Hello, Bianca,” The Wolf said.
“My apologies, Madame Deschamps, for not answering when you called. I was…occupied.”
“Understandable. And?”
“Three players out of the game now.”
“Already? I’m impressed.”
Bianca gave her a quick report.
“Where are you now?” The Wolf asked.
“I’m heading east, tracking two other hunters. I believe they may be following the target.”
“Even better news. Well, I don’t want to slow you down. Keep me posted.”
“Of course.”
Perhaps The Wolf wasn’t going to need Helen after all. Still, no reason to stop the interrogation until she knew for sure.
She gave the phone back to Braun and returned to the playroom.
CHAPTER 18
Quinn watched the sky behind them as they joined the I-82 and headed south.
A minute passed, then two. Just when he thought they were in the clear, he tensed. “We still have a follower.”
“The smaller one,” Nate guessed.
“Yeah.”
Quinn kept an eye on the helicopter, fully expecting it to be joined by its larger companion, but it remained alone. Then, after only a few miles, its speed increased as it shot off to the west, away from the freeway.
Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe those inside the chopper weren’t interested in them at all. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were closing in on them.
“We need a new ride,” he said.
Nate looked over. “Not a lot of choices out here.”
They had entered an area of scrub-covered hills with no buildings or turnoffs for as far as the eye could see.
Quinn consulted the map. The next bit of civilization didn’t crop up until they neared Yakima, about another twenty minutes away. He checked in with Orlando, telling her about the helicopters, and then spent the rest of the time scanning the skies for trouble, but neither of the aircraft reappeared.
They took the first exit after crossing the Naches River, entered the city under a sign proclaiming YAKIMA WELCOMES YOU, and then stopped in a lot next to a gas station.
Quinn looked back at Danielle. “If you stay quiet, we’ll leave the plastic off. Yes or no?”
She nodded.
He reached for his door handle. “I’ll get us a car,” he said to Nate. “You’re on plates.”
From the back of the SUV, Quinn grabbed the tools he would need and put them and his gun into his backpack before heading to the street.
They had passed several motels on the drive in, all prime targets. A stranger getting into a car in one of their lots would likely not be looked at twice.
The first motel he passed had security cameras focused on its parking lot. He’d grabbed a signal jammer that would disrupt any broadcast device within a hundred feet but thought it better to check the other places first.
No cameras at the next two motels, but not much of a vehicle selection, either. Motel number four proved to be the best. No cameras and nearly twenty cars in its lot, including a year-old Audi A4—performance and comfort, the combination he preferred.
He called Nate. “Audi A4,” he said.
“Can’t you find something a little more common?” Nate asked.
“Blue.”
“Oh, sure,” Nate said. “A blue Audi A4. I’m sure there are dozens of them here.”
“Last year’s model.”
Nate started to say something else but Quinn hung up.
He cut into the lot and headed straight for the Audi like it was his. As far as he could tell, no one noticed him.
He loved the age of the electronic locks. It meant he seldom had to use the hard-to-disguise slim jim to open a door. Instead, he pulled out a small, matchbook-sized box and placed it near the handle, where the box’s magnet held it in place. He opened the app that Orlando had named Picker.
After it synched with the box, it worked out the code to open the door. Starting the engine utilized the same gear but took an additional ten seconds. When the motor fired up, he looked back toward the motel to make sure no one was running in his direction, and then drove on to First Street, nice and casual.
He headed to the other side of town, parked behind a fast-food place, and fired off a text to Nate telling him where he was. While he waited, he removed the existing plates and tossed them in the restaurant’s Dumpster.
Nate drove up a few minutes later and backed the Jeep into the spot beside the Audi.
He climbed out and said, “Here,” as he tossed Quinn a set of plates.
“Audi?” Quinn asked.
“Of course.”
“A4?”
“Naturally.”
“Blue?”
“Yeah, blue.”
“One year old?”
Nate frowned. “Two. But, hey, you’re lucky I even found that.”
Quinn attached the plates. Now if the state patrol began looking for a stolen Audi and ran the license number of their car, there would be no red flags. It was the little details that kept one free.
Using the doors of the opposite facing vehicles to create a kind of tunnel between them, they moved Danielle into their new ride.
She said something once they had her situated.
Quinn asked, “What?”
She repeated herself, slowly this time, allowing him to make out, “I need to pee.”
“We’ll find someplace to stop as soon as possible. But you’ll have to hold it for now.”
She pleaded with her eyes.
“I’m sorry. It won’t be long. I promise.” He shut the door, feeling like an asshole for about the millionth time since they’d found her.
Nate transferred the duffels into the trunk, then wiped down the interior of the SUV.
“I’ll drive,” Quinn said.
He started to open the door, and stopped.
The sound was low, distant, but oh so familiar. He glanced at Nate and saw that his partner heard it, too.
The rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a helicopter.
While the helicopter was refueling, Orbits purchased an energy drink from a vending machine in the lobby of the operations building in charge of the helipad in Yakima. As he headed out to the aircraft, his cell rang.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“I got ’em,” Donnie said excitedly.
“Spill.”
“They left Seattle in a khaki green Jeep Grand Cherokee.”
“You sure?”
“Hell, yeah. Found a shot on one of the I-90 traffic cams twenty miles east of Bellevue, clear as day. Quinn’s partner was driving and Quinn was in the passenger seat.”
“So they’re definitely headed this way.”