“I’ll pay you.”
“Whoa. I’m not going down that road.”
“Then do it as a favor.”
Witten looked unsure.
“It’s clear someone wants me and my colleagues dead,” Quinn said. “I’d really like to know who that is.”
Witten frowned, but said, “I’ll think about.”
“That’s all I ask.”
After Quinn gave Witten an e-mail address he could use to contact him, he held out his hand. Witten hesitated, then allowed Quinn to pull him to his feet.
“To be clear, even if I do find out, I’m not saying I will let you know,” Witten said.
“Fair enough.”
“Good luck,” the man said, and headed out the door.
After five minutes, Quinn said, “Stay here,” then left the room and went all the way up to the second floor. From there he checked through windows on all four sides. The yard surrounding the house appeared to be deserted. He returned to the first floor, and carefully let himself out the back door. Holding his empty hands up beside his head, he moved slowly into the yard. No one charging out of the bushes. No shouts to get on the ground.
After doing the same in the side yards and the front, he went back inside, satisfied that Witten had done as promised. He, Daeng, and Misty then spent the next ten minutes removing as much evidence of their presence in the house as possible — wiping down all surfaces they may have touched, and vacuuming for loose hairs and dead skin. In the bedrooms, they removed the sheets and blankets Misty and Quinn had used, and replaced them with clean sets that they then messed up to look used. It wasn’t perfect, but it should be enough to cover their tracks.
They left the house with three trash bags stuffed with the sheets and blankets, the towels they’d wiped things down with, and the bag from the vacuum. These they’d dump later in several different locations.
As they headed down the sidewalk, Quinn pulled out his phone and called Howard.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Four blocks from the house,” Howard said.
“Come and get us.”
CHAPTER 11
They spent the remainder of the night in a motel next to the interstate near Tyson’s Corner. Howard arranged the rooms so the night staff would know only his face in case anyone came looking for the others.
Since Daeng had already put in his time on watch back at the house, Quinn and Howard split the rest of the night, with Quinn taking the final shift. Every minute he was up, he wanted to call Liz to find out what was happening with Orlando, but he forced himself to wait until the sun peeked over the horizon before finally sneaking outside with his phone.
The call was answered after three rings.
“Hey, Quinn.” Definitely not Liz’s voice.
“Nate?”
“Uh-huh. Hold on a sec.” Movement and a few grunts. When the younger cleaner spoke again, his voice no longer sounded quite as sleepy. “Sorry. Liz forgot her phone when she left last night.”
Quinn tensed. “Left?”
“Down the hall,” Nate said quickly. “I’m assuming you want to talk to her.”
“I just want to check on Orlando.”
“Oh, well, I can do that.” A pause. “She looks fine.”
“You’re in her room?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What does Dr. Montero say?”
“Haven’t seen him. I think a nurse comes in a few times an hour, but, well, I’ve kind of been sleeping, you know?”
“Then you have no idea how she is.”
Nate took a moment before he answered. “I know she seems to be resting peacefully. I know none of the machines she’s hooked up to are making funny noises. I know there hasn’t been any sudden rush of doctors into the room responding to some kind of crisis. I’d say she’s doing exactly what she’s supposed to be doing. Resting and getting better.”
Quinn forced himself to take a calming breath. It was as early there in Isla de Cervantes as it was in Virginia, after all. Dr. Montero probably wasn’t even at the hospital yet. And Nate was right. If she was resting comfortably, that was a good sign.
“How, um, how are you doing?” he asked.
“Peachy. My back still hurts, but if I keep it stretched, I do okay.”
“That’s good. What about Lanier, Berkeley, and Curson?”
“They’re a bit worse off, but on the mend.”
“Best that we can expect, I guess.”
“Quinn, Liz said you were trying to find who gave Romero the list,” Nate said. “How’s that going?”
Quinn felt a slight tinge of guilt for not having told Nate himself. “It’s been…interesting.”
“Interesting how?”
“I’ll tell you when we come back.”
“When will that be?”
“I’m hoping tonight. If not, then tomorrow.”
Nate was quiet for several seconds. “I don’t want to be cut out. Whatever you’re doing, I want to be a part of it.”
“I know. You will be. It’s just—”
“I’m fine,” Nate said. “It’s not the first time I’ve been injured. I can do what needs to be done.”
“I promise I’ll brief you when I get back.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
A big rig rattled down the interstate, its engine bellowing as the driver downshifted. “If anything changes with Orlando, call me right away.”
“Don’t worry so much,” Nate said. “I’ll keep an eye on things here and call if there’s anything you need to know.”
It was another hour before the others were up and dressed. They grabbed a quick breakfast at the café next to their motel before heading back into DC.
Even with traffic, they arrived at the John Adams building of the Library of Congress fifteen minutes before its 8:30 opening.
“You two cover the outside,” Quinn said to Daeng and Howard. “I don’t want trouble showing up without us knowing about it.”
Both men nodded.
“You’re coming with me, though, right?” Misty asked Quinn.
“I’ll be right next to you the whole time.”
At 8:30 on the dot, they exited the car. While Daeng and Howard went to find lookout spots, Quinn accompanied Misty inside to one of the available public computer workstations.
“You’re the driver,” he said, motioning for her to take the seat.
Once she was situated, he leaned in behind her so he could have a better view of the monitor. She pulled the keyboard forward and extended her fingers above it, but they remained there, hovering, unmoving.
“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.
“I shouldn’t be showing you this. Peter was very clear that no one but he and I could know.”
Her loyalty to Peter was as annoying as it was admirable. “He’s not here anymore.”
“I don’t care. I promised him. Please.”
“Fine,” he said, rising back up. “Wave me back once you’re in.”
Looking relieved, she said, “Thank you.”
Quinn wandered several terminals away, and used the opportunity to scan the room in case someone had been able to bypass Daeng and Howard, but none of the library’s patrons triggered his alarm.
When his gaze returned to Misty, she motioned that it was okay for him to return. He resumed his position behind her, and saw that the Library of Congress screen had been replaced by some sort of index.
“This is it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“How do you search?”
“Here.” She clicked on a small circle near the top. Instantly, a text box opened, ready for input. “Should I try it?”
“That’s what we’re here for.”
Quinn, having taken possession of the card from Peter before they’d left the motel, pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her.
Misty looked around, as if what she was about to do was a crime. On the surface, it probably was. The Library certainly wouldn’t be happy to learn its servers secretly housed the archives of a former intelligence agency.