Quinn and Nate drove within three miles of both the McCrillis facility southeast of DC and the one just outside College Station, Maryland. Neither location emitted a signal from the tracker on the woman’s car.
“They could have found it,” Nate said as they drove away from the second location. “Or maybe they changed cars.”
Both possibilities had been playing through Quinn’s mind, but with no other clear option at the moment, they headed toward the third location, some fifty miles south of the capital in the city of Springfield, Virginia. They talked for a while, speculating on exactly what Orlando and Abraham might find in Florida, but it wasn’t long before their conversation was replaced by a quiet tension.
A year ago, neither Quinn nor Nate had known Daeng, and yet now he was one of their closest friends and an integral part of their team. Quinn knew it was possible Daeng was already dead, but he kept the thought shoved in a corner, not willing to give it any credence until he saw a body. If that did happen, Boyer wouldn’t be the only casualty at McCrillis International.
About seven miles out from Springfield, Nate sat up in his seat. He’d been holding Quinn’s phone and was now staring at the screen.
“I’ve got something,” he said, and then frowned. “Well, I had something.”
As they drove on, he kept his gaze glued to the cell.
After another mile, he said, “There it is again.”
The signal grew stronger as Quinn entered the town and made his way to the last address Orlando had given him. It turned out to be located in a business park consisting of long buildings subdivided into separate workspaces.
Instead of driving into the park, Quinn cruised the road that ran alongside it and parked a few blocks down, in front of a church.
“The car’s there, at least,” Nate said, handing Quinn his phone.
Quinn looked at the display and nodded, then brought up a wider map of the area. There were main entrances off the road to the south and to the west. The east side butted up against a housing tract, while a wall bordered the northern end, separating the park from a similar but smaller one.
“Here,” Quinn said, pointing at the wall between the business zones. “We can get over in the east corner.”
Nate nodded. “Perfect.”
They grabbed their gear and headed down the street.
The smaller business park appeared to be deserted as they hurried between the buildings to the back corner. There they looked at Quinn’s phone again. The car was pinging from a point on the other side of the north wall, about ten yards from where Quinn and Nate were standing.
“Give me a boost,” Quinn whispered. “Just high enough to take a look.”
Nate laced his fingers together and Quinn stepped into the cradle.
“Here we go,” Nate said as he pushed up.
As soon as Quinn could see the other side, he tapped the wall and Nate stopped lifting.
There were five rows of buildings, the McCrillis facility in the one straight in front of him but at the other end. Along the wall starting right below him were lines denoting parking spaces. At this time of night, only five were filled. Three were identical vehicles. Company cars, no doubt. Another was a pickup truck parked way down near the west end. The last was the sedan Gloria Clark and her men had been using.
He scanned the area for any signs of life, and was about to tell Nate to push him over when he heard a pair of low voices. Though the words were lost to him, he was pretty sure they were coming from somewhere between the building in front of him and the next one to the west. After a few seconds, the voices were replaced by the sound of someone walking on asphalt. The sounds of the steps started out almost as low as the conversation had been, but they steadily increased in volume as the walker headed in Quinn’s direction.
Quinn signaled Nate to lower him until only his eyes and the top of his head were above the wall, but the background he was up against was dark enough that he was confident he wouldn’t be noticed.
Several moments later the walker appeared from between the buildings. Quinn had just enough light to confirm the guy was one of the men who’d been in the car with Gloria Clark, and though Quinn couldn’t see a gun, he was sure the guy had one. He continued to watch as the man paused long enough at the end of the building to check both directions before walking over to the sedan.
When the guy reached the car, he didn’t get in, nor did he open the trunk to retrieve anything. What he did do was considerably more curious. He first stood a few feet behind the trunk and scanned the vehicle. Then he knelt down and began running a hand behind the bumper.
Son of a bitch, Quinn thought. He was checking for a bug.
Quinn motioned for Nate to lower him. When he was back on the ground, they moved along the wall until they were at the spot directly opposite the sedan. Quinn could hear the guy moving along it.
Quinn set his backpack on the ground and mouthed to Nate, “Up.”
Nate pushed Quinn high enough so that Quinn could look all the way over the edge. The man was nearing the front fender, right below him. If the guy kept to form, he would move around the front end and be only inches from the tracker.
Quinn didn’t care so much if the bug was discovered. The real problem was the alarm that would be raised when the man found it.
With extreme care, Quinn climbed onto the top of the wall, stretching out prone as he monitored the man’s progress. Slowly, the guy felt along the inside bottom of the car, up the wheel well, along the top, and down the other side. When he moved toward the front corner, Quinn sat up and tucked his knees against his chest.
The man rose a few inches as he came around the corner, which was exactly what Quinn had been waiting for. He shoved himself off the wall and slammed his shoes into the side of the man’s head. The guy rocked backward and landed in a heap on the ground. Before the man hit the asphalt, Quinn dropped beside him, ready to follow up his initial blow. But the man was unconscious.
Worried that whoever the guy had been talking to might be near, Quinn whipped around and scanned down the alley between the buildings. All was clear, so he used the hood of the sedan to give him enough height to lean back over the top of the wall.
He took both packs from Nate and then helped his partner up and over.
They relieved the unconscious man of his radio and weapon, then zip-tied his hands and ankles and used the guy’s own shirt to gag him.
“There’s at least one more walking around somewhere,” Quinn whispered.
After pulling out their night vision goggles, they donned their packs and moved over to the alleyway between the last two buildings. Quinn carefully scanned the building to either side, in case someone was leaning in a doorway, but no one was there. He was about to suggest they move a couple alleys over to be farther from the McCrillis facility and less likely to be spotted, when a man walked across the opening at the far end, heading toward the east wall, and then disappeared again. The distance had been too far for them to recognize any facial features, but the gun in his hand had been plain as day.
They went to the alley between buildings two and three, and then down to the other end. Once there, Quinn slipped the lens portion of his phone far enough past the corner for them to see the other side. There was no sign of the other man.
Was he heading down the far side of the last building? If so, he might discover his tied-up buddy. Quinn motioned for Nate to head back the other way for a look.
As soon as Nate was gone, Quinn used his phone to check around the side again.
“What the hell?”
The alarmed voice had come from less than ten feet away. Quinn dropped the phone and whipped off his goggles as he rushed around the corner. He miscalculated the man’s position by half a foot, so instead of hitting him center mass, he rammed the man shoulder to shoulder.