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.