The Silenced jqt-4 Read online

  Quinn put his hand around his cup, but didn’t raise it. “If that’s the case, would you be interested in telling me what you were supposed to be doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Julien said. “Backing out of the job is already not going to help my reputation, but you want me to sell out my employer? What is so important?”

  “The girl’s an innocent. Her only crime is being related to someone in our world. She doesn’t deserve to be put in danger, and I’m here to make sure she isn’t.”

  Julien smiled. “You are clever, my friend.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a four-by-six photograph, then laid it on the table so Quinn could see it. “She has your eyes, you know. And your chin, too.”

  Quinn had seen the same picture mounted in a frame on the piano at his mother’s house. A happy Liz, smiling, and just about to board a plane to France.

  “Part of my instructions was to find a photograph of the woman who lived there. This was in her bedroom.” Julien smiled. “Your sister?”

  Quinn looked up, his gaze boring into the Frenchman.

  “D’accord,” Julien said, holding a hand up. “I don’t need to know.” He clapped Nate on the back. “You have a very good boss here. He trusted me when it could have got him killed. I’ve always remembered that. That kind of trust is rare in our business, know what I mean?”

  “I’d love to hear what happened,” Nate said.

  Julien laughed again. “I am not so easily fooled. That job was long ago, but even then we should never tell stories.”

  Quinn barely heard any of this, his mind still trying to come to grips with the fact that the secret life he had created was on the verge of coming completely apart.

  “Why were you in her apartment?” he asked.

  Julien placed his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Last night I got a phone call for a job. I was told it was a simple check-and-report. I was given a woman’s name and an address. Nothing else. It’s not the kind of work I usually take, but business for me has been slow lately. Perhaps you heard about my trouble in Bern?”

  Quinn nodded. Julien had been caught during an exchange operation in the Swiss capital. Though he didn’t know details, Quinn had heard secondhand that Julien had threatened to expose his employer if they didn’t get him out. A threat like that would tend to put a hold on any future employment opportunities.

  Julien seemed to deduce what Quinn was thinking. “Don’t believe all rumors.”

  “I never do.”

  “I didn’t ask for anything,” Julien said. “The people I worked for started that rumor to cover their own mistakes. It was their fault I was detained. But what could I do?”

  Quinn was inclined to give Julien the benefit of the doubt. Making those kind of threats was not something he had an easy time seeing the big man doing.

  “Last night,” Quinn said, trying to get Julien back on track, “who called you?”

  The Frenchman took another sip of coffee. “A broker who has used me in the past.”

  “A name, Julien.”

  Julien shrugged. “Charles Butler.”

  “It sounds made up,” Nate said.

  “It’s the name he’s always used. False? Probably. But the payment was sitting in my account this morning, so I didn’t care.”

  “American?”

  “American. English. Sometimes it’s hard for me to tell the difference.”

  “What was the assignment?”

  “They told me the name of the woman was Elizabeth Oliver. I was to check her apartment when she was out. They wanted a photograph and a list of contacts.” He picked up his coffee. “That’s not so easy these days. Everyone keeps their contacts on their phones and computers. I could find neither in the apartment.”

  He lifted the cup to his mouth and finished it off.

  “So you’re saying you didn’t find anything,” Quinn said.

  “Just that,” Julien said, motioning toward the photo. “I was about to leave when you shoved the door into my back. Really, Quinn. While I was taking a piss?”

  “Can you think of a better time?”

  Julien let out a deep, hearty laugh. “Of course not. It was perfect. But how did you know I was inside?”

  “You need to brush up on your lock-picking skills.”

  “The scratch,” Julien said, nodding. “I thought I heard someone coming out of one of the other apartments and my pick slipped. It was sloppy.”

  “Almost got you killed,” Quinn said.

  Julien smiled broadly. “How would you have gotten my body out?”

  “I’d have found a way.”

  “I believe that,” Julien said, laughing. “Nate, did Quinn ever tell you about the removal I helped him with in Madrid?”

  “I can’t say that he has,” Nate said.

  “Julien,” Quinn said, a warning in his voice.

  “What? Who is going to care?” He turned to Nate. “This is one I can tell. It was, what, eight years ago? The man who hired us is dead now. And besides, that conflict is over.”

  “Hey, it’s okay by me,” Nate said.

  “This body, it got shoved in a basement storage cabinet at this restaurant near the Reina Sofia. Our job was to get it out. Only by the time we arrived, the staff was already there, getting ready for the day.”

  “Enough,” Quinn said.

  “Quinn knows we have very little time before someone discovers the body, so he says to me, ‘How is your Spanish?’ I tell him that my Spanish is fine. He then says, ‘Good. You distract them while I carry the body out.’ Distract them? How am I going to distract them? ‘You’ll think of something,’ he says.

  “So I give him five minutes. He sneaks in through the back. How? I don’t know. Don’t ask me. When the time is up, I pound on the front door. A waiter opens it, and tells me they’re closed. Of course they are closed. ‘Why else would I be knocking,’ I say to him. I tell him I left my phone there the night before, and I needed it right away for a business call. So he lets me in and goes to check.

  “When he comes back, of course, he has no phone. I am ready for this, and I start to talk very loud. I accuse the man of stealing my phone, then say if it was not him, it must have been one of his coworkers. He assures me that no one would have done that, but I only get louder, then demand to talk to everyone who is there.”

  “And that worked?” Nate asked.

  “Of course it worked. Look at me. You think they’d want to make me mad?” Julien held his arms out and smiled. “So when I have them all in the dining room, I begin yelling at everyone. Quinn hears this and knows it is time. He begins carrying the body up the stairs. Of course, this is the time my phone decides to ring in my pocket. Old girlfriend. We didn’t last much longer after that. Now everyone is accusing me of lying. We all yell at one another.

  “Quinn hears all this and realizes the cover is falling apart. He races the rest of the way up the stairs. As for me, I am desperately trying to keep everyone in the room. But the cook has had enough and heads back for the kitchen. I yell after him, trying to stop him, but no. So I run as fast as I can and reach the door just before he does. ‘So you’re the one who took my phone,’ I say. He calls me a fool and a liar. ‘Your phone is in your pocket. We all heard it,’ he says. ‘Now get out of my way!’ Then he tries to push past me. But I am not so easy to push, I think. His friends, they come over and everyone is tugging and pushing. Finally someone comes in the front door and shouts, ‘Hey, what’s going on?’ ” Julien laughs. “It’s Quinn, of course. He looks at me and says, ‘Come on. We’ve got to go.’ Like he’s my friend and has been looking for me. Well, I guess that was true, huh?” Julien clapped Quinn on the back. “Thank God it was a clean kill. Broken neck, no blood. Otherwise it would have been messy, no?”

  Quinn started to shake his head in resignation when he noticed a woman cross the street and approach the entrance to the apartment building.

  “There she is,” he said.

  Both Nate and
Julien turned to look.

  “Come on. Do either of you have any training at all?” Quinn asked.

  But Liz hadn’t noticed the attention. Her eyes were on her purse as she dug around inside. Draped over her other shoulder was a computer bag.

  Once she disappeared inside, Julien let out an appreciative breath. “How does someone like you get a good-looking sister like that?”

  “I never said she was my sister,” Quinn said.

  “True.”

  “Look,” Quinn said. “Seems to me you have a decision to make.”

  Julien looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Your client is expecting you to report back.”

  “Ah,” Julien said. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell them I found nothing. Basically that’s true.”

  “They’re going to ask you if you were at least able to confirm that she lives here, and were able to get a photo.”

  “What would you like me to say?”

  “You’d lie?”

  “For you, yes. I don’t spy on my … friend’s friend’s families. That’s not right.”

  Quinn couldn’t help but smile. Thirty minutes ago he was punching the man in the face, and now Julien was offering to lie for him. “You’re a good man.”

  “I am only good to people who are good to me.”

  Quinn was silent for a moment. “All right. Tell them that as far as you can tell, it’s her apartment, but it appears like she might be out of town.”

  “And the photo?”

  “Tell them there wasn’t any.”

  “D’accord,” Julien said.

  “They’re going to ask you to keep an eye on the building,” Quinn said.

  “And I’ll tell them I’m not available.”

  “No,” Quinn said. “Tell them you’ll do it.”

  Julien raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Think of it as free money.”

  “I like the sound of free money.”

  “Then you’ll like the sound of double pay even more,” Quinn said.

  Julien smiled. “What do you have in mind?”

  “While they will think you’re working for them, in reality, you’ll be working for me.”

  * * *

  They left Julien at the café and checked in to a small hotel near the Seine River. They took only one room. If things didn’t go well at Liz’s, they could get a second one later.

  They each took a shower, and changed their clothes before returning to the café. Julien was sitting at the same table. He had a newspaper now, and there was a plate with the remains of a sandwich in front of him.

  “I could go for something to eat,” Nate said.

  “Later,” Quinn told him. To Julien, he said, “Status?”

  “Unless she snuck out the back, she’s still inside,” the Frenchman told him.

  Quinn shook his head. “No reason for her to do that. And no reason for us to waste any more time. Julien, check in with your client. Nate, you’re with me.”

  “That will take me only a few minutes,” Julien said. “What after that?”

  Quinn gave him the once-over. “Get a haircut and a shave.”

  Julien grinned. “Now you ask the impossible.”

  “Then maybe you can get us some hardware,” Quinn said. “You know what I like. Nate’ll take yours. So you’ll need to replace that.”

  “Why don’t I bring you both nice new pieces? Nate will be happier.”

  “My plan is better.”

  Julien frowned. “You want me to just pass it across the table?”

  Nate picked up his backpack and handed it to him. Julien gave Nate a smirk, then unzipped the top. Once the gun was safely inside, he returned it to Nate.

  “Yours I should have in an hour,” he said to Quinn.

  “Good. You can take two. Is Shywawa still in business?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll meet.”

  Julien pushed himself up from the table and thumped Nate on the back.

  “Make sure you don’t shoot Quinn’s relative.” With a laugh, he took off down the street.

  As Nate started to rise, Quinn reached out and touched his arm, stopping him.

  “I can’t have you screwing this up,” Quinn said.

  “I’m not going to screw this up.”

  Quinn closed his eyes for a second to focus his thoughts. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

  “Look. I get it. This isn’t about a job. This is your family. This is about as personal as it can get. But I’m part of your team, Quinn. So that means it’s just as personal for me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Shall we do this?”

  Quinn tried to think if there was anything else he needed to tell his apprentice beyond what he’d already filled him in on while they were at the hotel. “Liz’s anger toward me is deserved,” Quinn said. “Don’t judge her by that.”

  “Judge her? Hell, if anything, I’m going to be sympathetic.”

  “Let’s go over your legend again,” Quinn said, ignoring Nate’s attempt at humor.

  With a sigh, Nate said, “I’m a son of a colleague. Traveling around Europe for a few months before starting grad school in January.”

  “What school?”

  “UCLA.”

  “In?”

  “History. Just like my undergrad degree.”

  “Go on.”

  “Since you were in Paris on business, your colleague asked you to check on me. I arrived in town today, so I decided to hang with you for a few hours, secretly hoping for a free meal. Since we were close to your sister’s apartment, you thought we should stop by. How’s that?”

  “How much do you know about me?”

  “Very little. You’ve done business with my father. He works at Bank of America. I don’t know which bank you work for, and I don’t even know what you do. I hate the banking business, so don’t pay much attention.”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Anything else you want to know?” Nate asked.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Nate.”

  Quinn’s eyes opened wide.

  “Relax,” Nate said, holding his hands up. “My name’s Andrew Cain. My father’s Andrew also, so that would make me Junior, but I never use the Junior. My friends sometimes call me Andy. My really close friends call me A.”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow. “A?”

  “Makes me sound cool.”

  “Makes you sound stupid.”

  “Matter of opinion.”

  Quinn stood up. “All right. Then let’s go, A.”

  “I said my close friends.”

  Chapter 21

  Four minutes later Nate and Quinn stood at the door to Liz’s apartment. From inside they could hear music.

  Jazz? Quinn wondered.

  He listened a moment longer.

  Miles Davis. “How Deep Is the Ocean.” One of Quinn’s favorites.

  “You all right?” Nate whispered.

  As way of answer, Quinn raised his hand to knock on the door. But he hesitated, wondering again if this might be a mistake. Maybe a perimeter stakeout would be best. Liz could go on as she always did, completely unaware of his presence.

  Or maybe I’m just making excuses.

  He let his hand rap against the door three times, then took a step back.

  There was no indication from inside that someone had heard him.

  Quinn knocked again.

  “Une minute, s’il vous plaît.” Liz’s voice, distant.

  “You ready?” Quinn whispered.

  “I am. Are you?” Nate asked.

  From beyond the door, he could hear the soft thud of feet on carpet, then the knob turned, and with little fanfare the door opened. Liz stood just inside, wearing the same clothes he’d seen her arrive home in. The friendly smile she initially greeted them with faltered.

  “Jake?” she said, confused.

  “Hi, Liz.”

  She stared at him as if she wasn�
��t sure he was there.

  “Can we come in?”

  For the first time she seemed to realize Quinn wasn’t alone. She looked at Nate, then back at Quinn. Finally, she stepped aside so they could enter.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’m in town on business,” Quinn said. “Thought I’d come by for a visit.”

  Several silent seconds passed, then she said, “Okay, you’ve visited. You can tell Mom you stopped by, saw my place, saw that I wasn’t living in a shack. You can even tell her we had a nice talk if you want.”

  She reached for the door.

  “Liz, please,” Quinn said.

  She stopped.

  “Can’t we just talk for a bit?” He smiled. “That way I don’t have to lie to Mom.”

  Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath, then she straightened up and ran a hand through her hair. She led them into the living room and nodded at the couch.

  “Please sit,” she said. “I’ve got some lemonade and some water.”

  A good hostess even in adversity. That she had learned from their mother.

  “Thank you,” Quinn said. “Water would be nice.”

  “It’s sparkling,” she told him.

  “That’s fine.”

  “What about your friend?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Quinn said. “I should have introduced you. This is Andrew Cain. He’s the son of someone I do work with. Andrew, this is my sister Liz.”

  Nate stuck out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Liz barely touched his palm before she let go again. “Water or lemonade?”

  “Water too. Please,” he said.

  Without another word, she headed into the kitchen. Quinn motioned for Nate to sit down. Liz came back and stopped short. Nate was sitting on the couch, and Quinn was on the chair.

  After Liz handed out the waters, she moved to the window. She had opted for no drink and standing.

  “Liz, sit down,” Quinn said. “Join us.”

  Again there was the deep breath. “I’m fine here.”

  “Liz.”

  When she turned to her brother, the look on her face was not quite hatred, but close. She stood where she was for a second, then walked over and sat down on the couch as far from Nate as possible. She stared at the coffee table, while Quinn licked his lips and rubbed the fingers of one hand against the palm of another, neither saying anything.