“Everywhere,” Jake replied.
“You have to pick just one. You made me pick one.”
He thought for a moment, then said, “Pangaea.”
It was a name he’d read in a geography book. The name of the continent formed when all the continents were still together.
“Pangaea?” Her face crinkled in thought. “Where’s that?”
“I’ll let you figure it out.”
“When you go there,” she said, suddenly serious, “you’ll always come home, right?”
Home to Liz meant Warroad, and the farm, and the way of life that was already crushing him. But home to Jake was going to be somewhere else entirely. Chicago, perhaps, or Miami. Or even New York or Los Angeles. Places that had possibilities. Places that could act as hubs from which to explore the rest of the world.
“Yes,” he said to her. Not lying, not really.
Beyond the window of the train, the farmland was slowly being replaced by city. Soon he’d arrive in London.
He closed his eyes for a moment. So many lies he’d ended up telling. And what had they got him? His sister in peril. His mother hosting a man who was trained to kill in her guest room. Everything he’d worked to hide, exposed.
He blinked, then looked out the window again.
He’d made a promise long ago to always protect his family from harm. And no matter what it took, that was one promise he could never allow himself to break.
Like many places in London, Belgrave Road had once been a residential street that had, at some point in the past, been converted for business use. In this case, what had previously been five-story homes sitting side by side had been turned into a dozen or more small hotels.
Quinn chose one of the larger establishments, a place called the Silvain Hotel. He liked the fact that it was located on a corner, and since it was four homes wide, there would be plenty of exits if he found himself in need of a quick escape.
“May I help you?” The man at the front desk was of Indian descent, but his accent was pure British. His colleague, a blonde woman with fair skin and an almost model-like angularity to her face, came off as either Nordic or Eastern European. She glanced up from her terminal, gave Quinn a quick smile, then returned to her work.
“I’m wondering if you have any rooms available?” Quinn asked.
“How long would you like to stay with us?”
“At least a week.”
The clerk smiled. Long-term guests were always good for business. “Let me check.”
While he did, Quinn scanned the lobby. There was a comfortable seating area, and beyond it a small bar with a lounge that disappeared around the corner.
“We have two rooms to choose from,” the desk clerk said to Quinn.
“Excellent.”
“May I please have your name, sir?”
“Of course. James Shelby.”
“And you’ll be with us for a week?”
“We’ll start with that.”
His room was two floors up. It had a double bed that took up over half the available floor space, and a small but serviceable bathroom. Along the back wall a single window looked across a narrow alley hemmed in on the other side by a brick apartment building. Quinn raised the window, then stuck his head out into the cold night air and looked down.
Not as bad as he thought. A three-floor drop might have been doable in a pinch, but there would have been too much chance of injury. Fortunately, the ground floor stuck out into the alley two stories below, making the drop more manageable.
He looked at his watch. It was late, almost eleven. He could pack it in for the night, but he still needed to figure out what he should do next. He needed to find out why MI6 would send someone to check out his sister’s apartment. But how to do that?
The more he thought about it, the more his mind kept coming back to the same solution. David Wills. Wills had mentioned his connection with the British intelligence agency. He could be a way in. Quinn pulled out his phone and dialed.
“Hello?” Wills’s voice was groggy.
“David, it’s Quinn.”
There was a pause. “What time is it?”
“Eleven,” Quinn said. “Thought you’d still be up.”
“Hold on.” Movement on the other end, then, “Okay. Is something wrong?”
“No. I’m in London,” Quinn said.
“I thought none of your team would be here until tomorrow.”
“I made a few schedule adjustments.”
“So you’ll get started right away?”
“Already have,” Quinn said. A happy Wills would be more willing to help Quinn with his problem.
“Fantastic. I appreciate that.”
“Any luck IDing the man in that photo I gave you?”
“None,” Wills said, far too quickly.
Quinn’s internal radar perked up, but now was not the time to pursue it. “That’s too bad. Listen, I was hoping you can help with something.”
“Any equipment or vehicles you want, just let me know.”
“Thanks. I will,” he said. “But that’s not the kind of help I’m talking about.”
“What is it, then?”
Again Quinn hesitated. Over the phone might not be the best way to do this. “I’d like to meet.”
“Now?”
“If possible.”
Wills paused. “It’s not.”
“Because you’re busy sleeping?”
“Do you want my help or not?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Then I’m sure whatever you need can wait until tomorrow.”
Though tomorrow seemed like a year away, Quinn reined in his impatience. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “In the morning.”
Silence on the other end.
“David?” Quinn said.
“I’m thinking.”
For several more seconds dead air filled the line.
“Nine a.m.,” Wills said. “There’s a park just north of Embankment Station. Sit on one of the benches and I’ll find you.”
The line went dead.
At least the call with David had set things in motion. What it hadn’t done was ease any of Quinn’s concerns. Orlando could do that, but she was already in the air on the way to him, so was unreachable. Nate? Not a good idea. If Liz was around, it would be hard to explain why her guest was getting phone calls from her brother.
But he needed to talk to somebody.
“Oui?” Julien’s deep voice resonated through Quinn’s phone.
“It’s Quinn. Just checking in.”
“Good trip?”
“Uneventful. How are things there?”
“Uneventful.”
“You’re watching the building?”
Quinn could hear Julien moving around on the other end. “For another thirty minutes. Then I have a friend who will take over for me.”
“A friend? Someone you trust?”
“Of course it is someone I trust. Don’t worry. He is just looking for people who don’t belong. I have told him nothing else.”
Quinn didn’t like it, but Julien couldn’t keep watch twenty-four hours a day. “Okay.”
“I get a little sleep and come back before our friends upstairs even wake up.”
“Any contact from your client?”
“No. I’ll call them in the morning with an update. It’s fun making up stories, you know. Easy money.”
“Just be careful,” Quinn said.
“If I was careful, I would have become a demolition expert like my brother.” Julien laughed.
“Might still be worth considering,” Quinn said. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
Quinn hung up satisfied that the situation in Paris was under control, but no closer to falling sleep. He pulled his jacket on and headed back outside. He’d been hired for a job, so he might as well earn some of the money Wills was paying him.
According to the information Wills had given Quinn in New York, the body was located in the Alexander Grant Building in the financial district, not too far from the Lloyd’s of London and the Swiss Re buildings, both modern landmarks of the city.