The Destroyed (16 page)

“Don’t press your luck,” Quinn said as he climbed into the car.

__________

U
SING PAPERS THAT
identified her as a German elementary school teacher, Mila crossed the English Channel on a ferry, then took a train from Belgium across France and finally to Milan, Italy. For a brief time, she considered taking the train all the way to Rome, but when she read in the
International Herald
that a Mr. Johnston, a book dealer outside London, had been discovered murdered in his office, she decided that a less public entrance to the Italian capital would be prudent.

She knew the police would not be after her. There was no way they would ever figure out that the former spy’s death had come at her hands, but those she was actually tracking down might be able to figure it out. Best to do everything she could to avoid detection. So she appropriated a car and drove south to the Italian capital.

Of course, going to Rome was in itself a risk, but not going had never been a choice.

She knew Julien was dead. The fact that he’d stopped checking in with her every few weeks had been the first indication something was wrong. Even in the assumed life she had been living in Canada, she had secure ways of checking in on her old world. That’s how she learned that he’d been murdered on the streets of Paris. It had almost been enough to push her out of exile and go in pursuit of his killers, but the more she looked into things, the more she’d realized that there was a very good chance his killers had already been dealt with. That was enough for her to crawl back into her hole and pretend to be someone she’d never wanted to be.

It was a story in a magazine that made her realize her time in exile was at an end. She knew if the Lion was indeed behind the incidents in 2006—something now confirmed by the late John Evans—she had to do something.

Once Evans had given her the answer she’d been looking for, she knew it was time to go to Rome and retrieve what was waiting for her in Julien’s apartment. Another part of her also saw the Rome trip as a too-long delayed pilgrimage, a chance for her own private memorial service for the man who had loved her unconditionally, despite the fact that as a couple they could never make it work.

Thinking about him again—his big meaty hands, his always-smiling face, and that mane of hair she kept trying to get him to cut—made her catch her breath, and see the road through tear-filtered eyes.

Damn you. Damn you for dying
, she thought.

She reached Rome midmorning, and fought traffic across town to the neighborhood where Julien had lived. As much as she wanted to drive down his street, she resisted. Best if she came at it quietly and on foot, so she could observe things before getting too close.

She parked the car seven blocks from the apartment, within sight of a Metro station. If the wrong people found the vehicle and knew she’d been in it—something she was sure was next to impossible—they would hopefully assume she’d jumped on the subway.

From the bag that held her few remaining possessions, she pulled out a scarf and sunglasses and donned them as she headed in the opposite direction of the station.

__________

“Y
OU SEE THAT
guy?” Daeng asked over the radio.

“Which one?” Quinn said.

He and Nate were hiding in the maintenance room in the basement below Julien’s apartment, watching a video feed from one of Giacona’s cameras that Nate had set up to monitor the street. Daeng was positioned on the roof of the building across from Julien’s, so he didn’t need the camera.

“The one who just walked by your friend’s place,” Daeng said.

“I see him.”

“That’s his third pass since seven a.m.”

Quinn watched the man disappear from frame. “Probably just lives in the neighborhood.”

“Perhaps. But he was wearing a suit earlier. Now he looks like a tourist. Is it possible this woman is working with someone?”

“Anything’s possible,” Quinn said.

“We don’t both need to wait here,” Nate suggested. “I could follow him.”

“If he comes by again, maybe.”

Over the next several minutes, only a handful of people walked by, then Daeng said, “New contact.”

Quinn studied the screen, but saw no one. “Where?”

“Coming from the north on foot. A woman. She’s wearing a scarf, so I can’t see her hair. Also wearing big sunglasses.”

“How tall?”

“One hundred and sixty centimeters.”

Around five foot three, Quinn thought. The right height.

“You should be able to see her in just a second,” Daeng said.

True to his prediction, the woman soon appeared on screen. She was wearing pants and a loose-fitting shirt that made it difficult to judge her shape. She also had a small canvas backpack slung over her shoulder.

As she neared Julien’s building, her head swiveled slightly side to side, and her pace slowed. Then, with a surprising suddenness, she cut to her left, moving quickly to the door. There was no hesitation as she punched a code into the security pad.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Nate asked as they watched her enter the building.

“It’s got to be,” Quinn said. “Daeng, stay where you are in case we’re wrong.”

“Got it,” Daeng said.

They headed out, Nate carrying the bag they’d received at Giacona’s. Inside were a few of the items they thought they might need. At the top of the basement stairs was a door. Quinn and Nate moved up to it, but didn’t open it. On the other side was the back room with the door that led out to the rear patio where Julien’s keys were hidden. If the woman
was
Mila, that would be her first stop.

Quinn turned his head and listened, but could only hear the distant whine of a motor scooter on the street out front.

Ten seconds passed, twenty, then thirty. He was starting to think that maybe they’d been wrong, when all of a sudden there was the sound of someone in the hall beyond the door. Only the person wasn’t exiting the building into the courtyard, but coming back in from it. Quinn realized she must have made her way through the lobby and gone outside before they’d even reached the top of the stairs.

Beyond the door, the steps receded toward the front of the building, then faded away.

“Anyone just leave the building?” he asked Daeng.

“No one.”

The person had gone upstairs.

Quinn waited an additional fifteen seconds, then eased the door open. Silently, he and Nate moved down the hall to the stairs. Pausing at the bottom, he listened again, but could hear nothing from above. He did a quick time estimate in his head. If it was Mila, she would have gone one floor up, down the hall to Julien’s door, listened for anyone inside, then used the keys to enter. He guessed it would have taken her forty-five seconds at most.

He counted off a full minute in his head, then nodded at Nate.

Into his mic, he whispered, “We’re going up.”

“Copy,” Daeng replied.

They stayed at the edge of the stairs to keep any noise to a minimum, and made their way to the top. The common hallway on Julien’s floor was empty. Staying in the lead, Quinn approached Julien’s door.

From somewhere deep inside the apartment, a floorboard creaked.

Quinn glanced at Nate and pointed at the door, indicating she was there.

He put his hand on the knob and tested it. Locked, but only the handle. She hadn’t engaged the deadbolts, probably because she didn’t want them to trip her up if she had to get out of the flat in a hurry.

He moved out of the way and let Nate set to work on the lock with the new set of picks. Twenty seconds later, Nate opened the door, peeked inside, and nodded. Silently, they both entered the apartment.

Quinn glanced at the alarm panel, noted it had been disarmed, then scanned the room. The living and dining areas were both empty, as was the kitchen. He walked slowly toward the hallway with Nate following a few steps behind.

“Our walking friend is back,” Daeng said just as they reached the kitchen. “He’s not alone, either.”

Quinn paused.

“Three men. They’re walking fast, coming from the north.” There were a few seconds of dead air before Daeng added, “They’re heading into the building. No question.”

Stealth was no longer an issue.

Quinn looked at Nate. “Door.” He ran toward the hallway and called out, “Mila!”

Behind him, he could hear Nate engage the deadbolts and start to pull something across the floor toward the door.

 “Mila, it’s Quinn. We’ve got to get out of here!”

He stepped into the hallway.

“Stop right there. I’m armed.”

It was Mila, all right. Though he hadn’t heard her voice since that night in Las Vegas, it was the same.

“There’s a team headed into the building right now, and I’m guessing they’re here to get you.”

“How do I know that’s not why
you’re
here?”

“It’s me! Quinn! I’m here because I want to help.”

He took another step forward.

“Stop!” she yelled. “Maybe you’re Quinn. Maybe you’re not.”

“Just let me turn on the light, okay? So you can see it’s me.”

“Don’t! Even if you are, I don’t know whose side you’re on now.”

From behind Quinn, Nate whispered urgently, “I hear them in the corridor.”

“Who’s that?” Mila asked.

“He’s with me. My partner. I came here to warn you that people know you’re alive and are looking for you. But it sounds like they just found you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

He could hear her move again, but couldn’t see her. He took another step deeper into the hallway. “Mila? Please.”

Nate rushed up to him. “They’re trying the door. They’ll be inside in seconds.”

“Mila?”

Nothing.

“Mila?”

The only answer he received was the sound of the front door shattering.

CHAPTER 17

“I
DON’T NEED
your help!” Mila yelled at the guy claiming to be Quinn. She shut the bedroom door and shoved a chair under the handle.

There were two windows in the room. One was narrow and too small for even her to fit through. The other was Julien’s emergency escape exit. Anyone else who looked at it would see a window in a frame that had been painted over so much it wouldn’t open. But a switch would release the frame and allow the whole thing to be shoved out or pulled in. The problem was, Julien had only shown her the switch once, and she couldn’t remember where it was.

The man called out her name again. She ignored him and searched along the wall for something that would trigger her memory.

A sudden, muffled crash caused her to whip around. It could have only been someone breaking through the
front
door. Maybe he’d been telling her the truth. Maybe there
were
others.

It didn’t matter. Others or not, she had to get out of there now.

Where the hell is that damn switch?

As she desperately tried to find the window release, she heard the spit of a sound-suppressed gun, followed quickly by several more shots.

Where are you? Where are you? Where—

Hold on. What was that?

She moved her gaze back a few feet. She’d been looking at a bookcase, then the top of the dresser. There’d been something, something that had seemed familiar.

There!

She rushed over to the dresser. On the wall just above it were several framed photographs. They were all shots Julien had taken around Rome. It was a specific one that had drawn her attention—an image of a fountain in a small plaza where two kids were jumping in the water.

“See,” Julien had said. “To play like this is an escape to a different world. Simple, huh?”

She lifted the picture off its hook. Behind it, recessed into the wall, was a plastic switch that looked like it might turn on a light.

As she started to reach for it, there was a second crash. Not the front door this time.

The door to her room.

__________

Q
UINN TWISTED AROUND
in time to see the front door fly inward on its hinges.

Both he and Nate pulled out their guns at the same time, and aimed them toward the still-unoccupied opening. Quinn didn’t like this one bit. Based on the conversation he’d had with Peter, it was clear the former head of the Office had been charged with finding Mila, so it didn’t take a genius to figure out that whoever had just busted down the door was probably working for him. Mila was a loose end on a termination Peter had ultimately been responsible for. That meant it was a mess he’d want to clean up before anyone else found out.

“We can’t let them see us,” Quinn whispered. “I don’t want anyone knowing we’re here.”

“Do we take them out?”

“Not if we can help it.” That would cause even more problems.

“I’m heading your way,” Daeng said over the comm.

“No,” Quinn said. “We don’t know where they all are, so someone might be watching the entrance. You’re no use to us dead.”

“Neither are you.”

Someone moved a few inches into the doorway and tried to look in. Quinn let off a warning shot, hoping that would delay them long enough so that he could figure something out. Instead, it elicited a round of blind fire into the room.

Not wanting the strike team to just rush in, Quinn and Nate shot back.

“We need to get in the bedroom,” Quinn whispered.

“You hold them. I’ll get us in.”

As Nate ran back to the closed bedroom door, Quinn let off a couple more shots. How much longer they could keep the others out of the apartment, he didn’t know, nor did he have any idea what he’d do if they came in.

Behind him, there was a loud crash, followed quickly by a second one.

“Come on,” Nate whispered.

Quinn sent three more rounds through the apartment then sprinted to the back end of the hall.

The door to the bedroom had been cracked nearly in half. Nate pushed it and the chair that had been jammed under the knob out of the way.

“Stop,” Mila said as Quinn and Nate rushed in.