The Buried Read online

  THE

  BURIED

  Book Description

  Everything on the job is going as expected. The target has been dealt with, and all that’s left is to execute the well-planned removal of the body.

  But a surprise is waiting for Quinn and Nate, one that completely changes their mission. Then when the client who gave them their new orders disappears, they find themselves on their own, with a human asset holding a dark secret that several parties are interested in obtaining, by force if necessary.

  To keep the asset alive, the two cleaners must stay on the run, but even that doesn’t guarantee success.

  Because no matter how closely a secret is guarded, if enough people want it, it won’t stay buried forever.

  PRAISE FOR THE JONATHAN QUINN SERIES

  “Brilliant and heart pounding”—Jeffery Deaver, New York Times bestselling author

  “Addictive.”—James Rollins, New York Times bestselling author

  “Unputdownable.”—Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author

  “The best elements of Lee Child, John le Carré, and Robert Ludlum.”—Sheldon Siegel, New York Times bestselling author

  “Quinn is one part James Bond, one part Jason Bourne.”—Nashville Book Worm

  “Welcome addition to the political thriller game.”—Publishers Weekly

  THE

  BURIED

  Brett Battles

  A Jonathan Quinn Novel

  THE BURIED Copyright © 2015 by Brett Battles

  Cover art copyright © 2015 by Robert Browne

  Cover Images: © snaptitude–Fotolia.com

  All rights reserved.

  THE BURIED is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For more information about the author, please visit www.brettbattles.com.

  To the memory of my friend and former colleague

  Danielle Velarde

  A talented artist, a voracious reader, and an enthusiastic supporter

  You are truly missed

  CHAPTER 1

  JUNE 24

  A STINGING SLAP ripped Dani from unconsciousness.

  “Wake up.” The words were calm but demanding.

  She lolled her head back, groaning softly.

  “I said wake up.”

  A second slap sent her face flying in the other direction. She squinted, straining against the bright light. She was in a chair, nude but for the straps restraining her arms and legs. A short, balding man stood in front of her, and behind him a much larger, hairier one. Laurel and Hardy, she thought, if Hardy had spent more time in a gym.

  “What’s so funny?” the short one asked.

  She must have grinned without realizing it. She opened her eyes the rest of the way but left his question unanswered.

  The talker leaned forward and examined her. “I believe you have some information my client is interested in. If you’re smart, you’ll give it to me now so I can pass it along.”

  She gave him nothing.

  The man chuckled through a toothy sneer as he stood up. “You will call me Mr. Black. My friend here”—he motioned to his partner—“is Mr. Red. You’ll do everything we ask of you. Do you understand?”

  When Dani didn’t answer, he smacked her again.

  “Understand?” he repeated.

  She locked eyes with him, licked a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth, and shrugged.

  He stepped away. “Mr. Red, if you will?”

  The big guy circled her and disappeared from sight. She braced herself but was still startled when he grabbed her head—one of his hands squeezing her chin, the other pinching the base of her skull at her neck. She tried to wrench herself out of his grasp but to no avail.

  Mr. Black walked over to a nearby table and picked up something. When he returned, he was wearing a sick smile.

  “Maybe you have the information hidden somewhere,” he said. “Shall we have a look?”

  She heard a mechanical click, then a low, vibrating hum. With his empty hand, Mr. Black touched a strand of her dark auburn hair, fingering it for a moment before letting it go.

  “Pity,” he said. “Such nice volume. But then again, you have excellent genes.”

  The vibrating device in his other hand turned out to be a pair of electric clippers. He raised them to her hairline, and in quick but steady movements he sheared her entire head.

  “You can release her now,” Mr. Black told Mr. Red as he returned the clippers to the table.

  Mr. Red gave her a squeeze and let go. Once he was out of the way, Mr. Black examined every inch of her skull. Of course, what he was seeking was not there.

  He stepped in front of her again. “Is it inside your skull?” he asked, tapping her temple. “Is that where you’re keeping it? There are ways to get it out of there, too, you know. You may think you can hold on to it, but you can’t.” He scanned her up and down. “Or perhaps it’s somewhere else.”

  Without warning, he grabbed one of Dani’s eyelids and turned it out so he could look underneath, then did the same with the other. The ordeal was more uncomfortable than painful, and though she wanted to blink, she resisted.

  Mr. Black grabbed the stool that had been sitting near the table and set it in front of her. After taking a seat, he pulled on a pair of thin rubber gloves.

  “This shouldn’t hurt much.” He placed his thumbs on either side of her mouth. “Open.”

  It took all her willpower not to let her composure crack.

  “Come on, let’s go. Show me that smile.”

  She parted her lips but left her teeth clenched.

  As he examined them, he said, “Very nice. Did you have braces growing up?” He pulled a penlight out of his pocket. “I know this goes without saying but don’t try anything. You won’t enjoy the consequences.”

  He peeled back her upper lip and shined the light on the underside. He repeated the process with the lower lip. Next, he pinched the corners of her mouth and pulled outward so he could look at the inside of her cheeks.

  “You obviously floss. Good for you. So many people avoid that these days.” He tapped the light against her teeth. “All the way now.”

  She wanted to keep her teeth locked together, but then she heard Marianne’s voice, reassuring her like it always did when Dani was scared.

  Don’t worry. He won’t find it.

  Dani lowered her jaw.

  “Good,” Mr. Black said.

  He swept the light through her mouth and then leaned back.

  “Mr. Red, I seem to have forgotten the mirror. Could you get it for me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Mr. Red lumbered over to the table, returned with a dentist-style, rod-mounted mirror, and gave it to the smaller man.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Black said.

  He slipped the rod into her mouth and shined the light in again.

  After several seconds, he said, “Lift your tongue, please.”

  There it was. The request she prayed would never come.

  It’ll be all right.

  Dani curled her tongue down and pulled it as far back as she could, hoping that would satisfy him. Initially, it appeared to do the trick. He stuck the mirror in again and checked her lower gums. When he pulled the instrument out, he handed it to his colleague and then grabbed her tongue with a thumb and finger.

  She came within a millisecond of chomping down, but again, her sister’s voice stopped her. Calm down. He won’t find it. No way.

  Mr. Black’s gloved thumb rubbed against the scar on the underside of her tongue.

  There is no
scar, Marianne reminded her. It’s been gone for years.

  But Dani knew the skin there felt different.

  Mr. Black lifted her tongue high, his gloved thumb remaining over the spot. Finally, after what felt like hours, he removed his hand from her mouth.

  “This may be hard to understand, but I’m trying to do you a favor here,” he said. “It’ll go a lot easier for you if the information you have is passed on through us instead of letting my client get it out of you herself. The Wolf won’t waste time waiting until you feel ready to talk.”

  Dani closed her mouth and stared at him. Inside she was a mix of elation and dread. The former because Mr. Black hadn’t found it, even though his thumb had been right on what he was looking for. The latter because he had said he was working for The Wolf.

  Mr. Black returned the mirror to the table and pulled off the rubber gloves one finger at a time. When he was done, he said, “Yours isn’t the only business I have to attend to today. I think maybe we’ll talk again tomorrow. No reason The Wolf needs to know we’ve found you just yet. Mr. Red, would you see our guest to her room?”

  “With pleasure,” Mr. Red replied.

  There was a lustiness in the bigger man’s voice that Dani didn’t like at all.

  Mr. Black must have heard it, too, because he said, “Not this one. Special case.”

  “I know,” Mr. Red shot back, irritated.

  “I mean it.”

  “I said I know.” The big man opened a switchblade and cut the restraints holding Dani to the chair. “That way.” He pointed at one of the two exits. “And feel free to try something. I’d be more than happy to carry you.”

  Dani denied him that pleasure.

  CHAPTER 2

  THREE DAYS LATER

  COLUMBIA CITY, WASHINGTON

  THE BEDROOM, LIKE the house, was surprisingly modest for the amount of money Samuel Edmondson had likely made over the years.

  Nice things, sure. The furniture top of the line, but nothing garish, every piece understated. Ananke didn’t for a second believe the décor was some kind of aesthetic choice. Edmondson had picked out furnishings that made him look like nothing more than what the world thought he was—a typical, upper-middle-class drone. Perhaps he had a few more things than others in similar positions, but his single, no-kids status would have explained that away.

  No, this had to be a cover home, she decided. His real oasis was probably located someplace else. But since the intel provided by her employer indicated this was where Edmondson would be, it was the only location included in her briefing.

  So be it. Even if she was a bit curious, it was always better not to know all the details.

  A low groan broke the steady rhythm of the man’s breaths. In a predictable pattern, his eyes creaked open and then confusion set in as he wondered why he’d gone to sleep without turning off the light.

  He hadn’t.

  More puzzlement came when he tried to sit up and found nothing below his neck would move.

  There it is, she thought from her chair against the wall as he started to pant. The panic.

  He tried again to will his body to follow directions, but only succeeded in straining the muscles in his face.

  In a kind, gentle voice, Ananke said, “It won’t work.”

  Edmondson whipped his head around, his eyes widening at the sight of her. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?”

  “Good evening to you, too, Mr. Edmondson.”

  His surprised look turned angry. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you obviously don’t realize the size of the mistake you’ve made. I am not someone you want to mess with. I will come after you, and I will find you.”

  A smile. “I’d like to see you try.”

  He scanned the room, obviously looking for something he could use to free himself, but even if a gun lay next to his palm, he would be unable to grab it.

  Here it comes, she thought as he started to turn back to her.

  The blood had drained from his face and all of his bravado was gone. In a halting whisper, he asked, “Who sent you?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, goddammit, it matters. I can make a deal,” he explained. “I know things.”

  “Let me stop you before you embarrass yourself anymore. There won’t be any deal.”

  Voice rising, he said, “There’s always time for a deal. Just take me to whoever you’re working for. Let me show them what I can do for them.”

  She looked at him with pity. “My client was very specific about what I was to collect. And I never disappoint my clients.”

  “Collect? Collect what?” He scanned the room for a few seconds, then froze. “You found it, didn’t you? You went down there. Oh, God.”

  “Mr. Edmondson, please. Use your head. You know what I’ve taken.” Denial always played a big part in these events, but she was tiring of his refusal to connect the dots. There was a schedule to keep, after all, and more to be done this night.

  She could see the exact second he finally let the truth in. “No. No, you’re lying. I’m a valuable asset.”

  “My orders would seem to contradict that.”

  “I’ve got money,” he blurted out. “A lot! T-ten million. It’s all yours if you let me go. You can say I wasn’t here, or, or…or tell them you killed me and tossed my body in the ocean. I’ll disappear. No one will ever know.”

  She said nothing.

  “Fifteen million,” he said. “It’s all I have. We can transfer it right now.”

  She arched her eyebrow again but remained silent.

  Nervously licking his lips, he said, “Okay, thirty million. That’s everything. Just let me go. I swear you’ll be the only one who knows.”

  She rose from the chair and glided to his bed. “You misunderstand the situation,” she said, patting his unmoving arm with her gloved hand. “You’re already dead.”

  “What?”

  “Two shots while you were sleeping. The first paralyzed you, and the second has been working its away into your brain for the last ten minutes. Soon…” She looked at her watch. “Wow, time really does fly, doesn’t it?” She smiled. “In less than five minutes, your brain will stop sending the signals that instructs your diaphragm to expand and contract and your heart to beat.”

  “Please, no! Y-y-you must have an antidote, right? Give it to me and the money’s yours! Don’t you understand? Thirty million dollars!”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Even if an antidote does exist, do you really think my client would have allowed me to bring it along? My apologies you weren’t given more of a warning, but who really gets that anyway?” She turned toward the door. “I’m sure you’d rather spend your last couple minutes alone.”

  As she walked out, he called, “No! Please! Don’t leave me! There’s got to be something you can do! There’s got to be—”

  She shut the door.

  She hadn’t been exactly straight with Edmondson. Yes, he was going to die, and though it could be in the next five minutes, it could also take ten, or, if he was a particularly rare case, he might even last another fifteen. So she had a bit of time to kill before she could verify his termination.

  She set the timer on her phone for a quarter hour and headed down to the kitchen to see if there was something to eat. As she descended the stairs, she couldn’t help but recall his words as he was trying to figure out what she’d taken. “You found it, didn’t you? You went down there.”

  That sure sounded like Edmonson was hiding something. His money, perhaps? Now that might be interesting. While ethically she couldn’t allow him to bribe her, if she happened to stumble upon some cash lying around, that was a different story.

  A quick tour of the place won’t hurt.

  She took a stroll through the first floor, assuming that’s what he meant when he said “down there.” Kitchen, living room, family room, pantry, laundry, and bathroom, but nothing in any of them shouted “hidden trea
sure.” Then again, he probably wouldn’t leave the key to his stolen fortune lying around for all to see. She checked closets and cabinets, looking for signs of false panels and concealed doorways, but came up empty. The only place left to look was the attached garage off the kitchen.

  She checked her watch. She still had over five minutes. More than enough time for a quick peek.

  As she opened the door, a hint of warm air drifted into the kitchen, the remnants of the earlier hot day. The space was dark, so she felt around until she found the light switch and flicked it on.

  Edmondson’s Volvo S80 sedan was parked on the side closest to the door. On the other side of it, she could see part of a motorcycle.

  When she circled the Volvo, her eyes lit up. Not just any motorcycle, but a vintage BMW with attached sidecar. Her estimation of Edmondson’s character ticked up a notch. She owned several bikes herself, two of which were at least as old as this one. None with sidecars, though. She preferred the freedom of racing down the road on her own but she could appreciate the beauty of Edmondson’s combo.

  As she moved in closer, the small amount of regard she’d begun to feel for Edmondson faded. If he’d really cared about the bike, it wouldn’t be covered in a layer of dust. She knelt beside it for a closer look. While the bike appeared mechanically sound, it definitely needed maintenance. Yep, Edmondson was an asshole, all right. Hopefully, its next owner would treat the bike with respect.

  She stood up, thinking maybe she should take possession of it herself. That’s when she noticed the handlebar grips. There was dust on the ends, but the parts where hands would go were clean. The seat, however, was as dusty as the rest of the bike.

  So Edmondson had…what? Just put his hands on the bike recently for kicks?

  She looked down at the tires and noted they were sitting on a large sheet of cardboard. Crushed into the sheet and leading off from the tires was a pair of well-worn tracks. The bike and sidecar had apparently been rolled off and on several times. Given the size of the garage, Edmondson could have done so without opening the larger door to the outside.