“And therefore MI6,” Quinn said.
“That would be the assumption.”
Quinn reached for the folder he’d taken from Annabel so he could show Wills the picture of the third man, but stopped as Steve approached the table and started to put a menu in front of Quinn’s client.
Wills waved him off and pointed at Nate’s plate. “I’ll just have what he’s having.”
“You got it.”
After they were alone again, Quinn pulled the picture out. “Do you know who this is?”
“No. Should I?” the Englishman asked. The look on his face seemed to back up his words.
“It was in Ms. Taplin’s briefcase along with pictures of you and me. She was told he might be joining us for our meeting.”
Wills’s brow furrowed. “Joining us? I have no idea who he is. Do you?”
“No.”
“Give it to me. I’ll check it out.”
Quinn handed him the printed photo. “Do you at least know why MI6 would be interested in our meeting?”
Wills hesitated a moment before answering. “I’m dealing with that. Don’t concern yourself.”
“I wouldn’t be concerning myself if I hadn’t had to get involved,” Quinn said.
“It was a miscommunication. They won’t be bothering us anymore.”
“A miscommunication?”
Wills frowned. “I won’t go into it more than that.”
“All right. Fine,” Quinn said, sitting back.
“Tell me again about Maine,” Wills said.
Quinn gave him the same story he had on the phone. He paused for a moment when he was done, then said, “Anything new about the shooter from your end?”
“Nothing.”
A possibility had been floating around Quinn’s mind since the drive to New York. “Any chance it might have been a member of the ops team?”
“The team was cleared personally by me.”
“I did see Mercer there toward the end, though. He was out of position.”
Wills looked uncomfortable, but said, “Mercer’s clean, too. He’s working for me directly.”
“Directly?”
“My eyes on the ground. He did the same in Los Angeles.”
“I never saw him there,” Quinn said. Of course, he hadn’t seen anyone on the L.A. ops team.
“The Russian woman,” Wills said, changing the subject, “you’re sure she was in both L.A. and Maine?”
“One hundred percent.”
The look in Wills’s eyes became guarded.
Quinn asked, “She’s been seen before, hasn’t she?”
Wills reluctantly nodded. “In the vicinity of liquidations in Hong Kong and Bangkok.”
“All part of this same project?”
“Yes.”
“Damn,” Nate said. “How long is your list?”
Quinn looked at his apprentice, surprised. He’d been thinking the same thing, but knew to keep his mouth shut. Still …
“I’m sorry,” Nate said. “None of our business.”
“That’s right,” Wills said. “It’s not.”
The silence lasted only a second before Quinn decided it was time to push. “I’m not so sure it’s not becoming our business,” he said. He could feel the other two look at him. “You obviously came here for a reason. We could have just talked on the phone.”
Wills looked toward the kitchen as if wondering where his food was. When he looked back, he said, “I wanted to speak with you about Maine because you were an independent observer last night. I wanted to be sure the story Donovan told me was completely accurate. You blow a mission, you really want to play that down. And then there’s L.A. You were there for both. So I felt a face-to-face would be best.”
“And?” Quinn said, knowing there was more.
Wills looked around the restaurant. “You’re sure this place is clean?”
“I haven’t done a sweep,” Quinn said. “But I never knew it existed until I spotted it less than an hour ago, and I know we weren’t followed. If someone’s listening in, it’s because they followed you.”
Wills looked around the dining room again, then glanced at Nate.
“What?” Nate asked.
“Don’t insult us,” Quinn said to Wills, knowing full well what the man was thinking.
Before the Englishman could respond, Steve arrived with his meal.
“Here you go,” he said as he set the plate in front of Wills. “Roasted chicken crêpe with mango red pepper sauce.”
“Thank you,” Wills said.
“Anything else, gentlemen?”
Quinn shook his head. “Think we’re all good. Thanks.”
“Just give me a yell if you want anything.” He headed back to the counter.
“So what’s it going to be?” Quinn asked. “You going to trust us? Or do we walk?”
Wills looked at his plate and said nothing.
“Let’s go,” Quinn said to Nate. They both started to rise.
“Wait,” Wills said. “I trust you. It’s not that. It’s … it’s the terms of the job.”
Quinn scowled. “Fine. Nate, find another table.”
Nate paused, a fork full of crêpe halfway to his mouth. “Sure,” he said. He picked up his plate and headed toward a table near the front of the restaurant.
“Better?” Quinn said.
Wills relaxed. “Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry I had to do that, but … well, you understand.”
After several seconds of awkward silence, Wills went on, “The project I hired you for came through a small group at MI6.”
“Wait,” Quinn said. “If you were working for MI6, why would they send someone to spy on our meeting?”
“First, like I said before, it was a miscommunication. My people in London have already straightened it out. Second, the job’s not for MI6. Occasionally there are projects that come to them from someone outside the organization that would be problematic if they got involved. When that happens, one of the people they like to call is me. MI6 makes the introduction, then steps back into the shadows.”
Quinn nodded. It was a standard tactic. “Then, who’s your client?”
Wills paused for a half second, then said, “They’re not a big player in our world. Actually, I’ve never had dealings with them before, so as far as I’m concerned, they are not a player at all.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Remember, though they would deny it, this is MI6 approved.”
“So who is this client?” Quinn asked, knowing he was crossing way over the line with the question.
“A corporation, actually. My understanding is that they help out MI6 every now and again.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the best you’re going to get.”
Quinn shrugged. It had been worth a try. “What exactly is the gig, then?”
“This corporation deals with several classified technologies that the government deems necessary to keep both secret and under British control. I’ve been told a lot of money has been spent to ensure this. Unfortunately, two months ago, someone with access downloaded some extremely sensitive blueprints and technical specs to several flash memory cards. By the time alarms went off, the person had disappeared.”
“What kind of information?” Quinn asked.
“The kind of information North Korea would want to buy.”
What North Korea needed was food and help for its people. But what it wanted was weapons and power to annoy the West.
“Nuclear,” Quinn said. It was the only real answer.
Wills nodded. “It was the design for a bomb. Portable. Lightweight. Easy to produce even with Pyongyang’s limited resources. They would have paid millions for the information.”
“Would have?” Nate said. “They didn’t get the cards?”
“No. That’s what we’ve been doing.” Wills checked again to make sure no one was near. On the table in front of him, his untouched crêpe was growing cold. “The head of security—”