The Enraged (A Jonathan Quinn Novel) (6 page)

The shot was a candid, the woman no more than thirty-five years old. Her face was three-quarter profile to the lens, her gaze focused on something in the distance. She had brown, curly hair that drooped down onto her shoulders, and was wearing a mischievous grin that hinted she was aware her picture was being taken.

“Miranda,” Misty said from behind him.

“How long were they married?” Quinn asked.

“Six years.”

“Children?”

She shook her head. “No children.”

“How did she die?”

Misty took a few seconds before answering. “Car crash.”

Quinn could see the promise in Miranda’s face, the possibilities of the future that Peter surely saw, too. But the promise and possibilities went unfulfilled, leaving only an empty reality Peter had had to live with after she was gone.

“We should…” Daeng said, letting the thought hang in the air.

“Right.” Quinn set the picture on the bed. They didn’t have time to waste. He thought it unlikely those who had searched the place would come back, but there was always a chance.

Misty took them to two more hidey-holes, one in the bathroom, and one in the second bedroom. Both were empty.

“There’s one more,” she said. “His safe.”

“Where’s that?” Quinn asked.

“Down here.”

__________

T
HE O & O TEAM
arrived in two cars, and parked in the first available spots they could find. The two men in the second car—each, like their colleagues, outfitted in black business suits—exited their vehicle and climbed into the backseat of the first.

Roberts, the team leader, gave them each a nod before grabbing the mic for the encrypted radio. “Terminal Eight, this is Team Three.”

“Go, Team Three,” Terminal Eight replied.

“We’ve just arrived on scene. Any further update?”

“Hold, Team Three.” The pause lasted several seconds, after which Terminal Eight said, “We’ve accessed a security feed from an adjacent building, and have identified three individuals entering the target structure four minutes prior to the alarm. Two men and a woman. Both men are between five-ten and six feet. One black hair, shoulder length. Darker skin. The other, shorter hair, brown. Caucasian. Woman is approximately five foot three. Long hair, light brown or dark blonde. Unfortunately the distance and angle were wrong for getting facial shots. We put the probability that these are the intruders at ninety-two percent.”

“Copy that, Terminal Eight. How do you want us to proceed?”

“The order is to apprehend, but if they pose a danger to you and your team, you are cleared for takedown.”

“Copy that, Terminal Eight. Team Three out.”

“Team three out. Copy.”

Roberts returned the radio to its slot under the dash and looked at the others. “You heard her. Grab ’em or drop ’em. Whatever’s easiest.”

__________

T
HE SAFE TURNED
out to be in the linen closet at the end of the hall. Piled along the wall nearby were the sheets, towels, and other supplies that had apparently been inside. As Misty pulled the door toward her, Quinn prepared himself for the fact that they’d find the safe as empty as the hidey-holes. What he saw first, though, were empty white shelves.

“Where it is?” he asked.

Misty reached around the doorway, and ran her fingers up the inside molding that covered the jamb until a distinct click echoed through the frame. She pulled her hand back, and removed the middle shelf. Reaching into the closet, she pushed on the wall right where the shelf had been.

Another click, followed by the wall swinging open, revealing the safe.

“It’s still closed,” she said, surprised.

“I assume you know the combination,” Quinn said.

She nodded.

The safe had a double lock—part old-fashioned dial, part digital keypad. Misty navigated through the combination and turned the handle. Inside was a stack of file folders about two inches thick, a Beretta 9mm, and a box of ammo. There was no computer.

Leaving the gun where it was, Misty pulled the files out and opened the first one.

“We don’t have time for that right now,” Quinn said, trying to contain his frustration at not finding anything useful.

“What?” Misty looked at him, confused, before realizing what he was talking about. “Oh, right.”

She moved the files under one arm and reached in to close the safe.

“Wait a second,” Quinn said.

“I’m not leaving these here,” she told him, pulling the files close. “Peter wouldn’t have wanted anyone to find them.”

“That’s not what I meant. May I?”

After she took a step back, Quinn reached in and retrieved the Beretta and ammo. Since they couldn’t bring weapons with them on the flight north, they had arrived in DC unarmed. Up until the moment they’d entered Peter’s apartment, Quinn hadn’t thought it was necessary. But the fact that someone had searched the place changed things.

He shut the safe, closed the wall over it, and put the shelf back into place. When he was done, he looked at Misty and said, “Anything else we should check?”

“Not here,” she said.

“Okay, then let’s head over to the townhouse. How far away is it?” He tried to sound positive, but he knew whoever had searched the apartment had likely done the same there.

“Close,” Misty told him. “Under a mile.”

They locked up the apartment and made their way to the elevator.

As they were heading down, Misty said, “Do you think it was there before? Whatever it is Peter wanted us to find?”

“Let’s not worry about that until we’ve checked everywhere,” Quinn said.

A ding signaled the approach of the ground floor. As soon as the doors parted, Quinn started to lead the others out, but abruptly stopped.

While the building’s lobby
was empty, standing right outside the glass front door were four hard-looking men in dark suits. That alone would have been enough to register on Quinn’s internal radar. The visible lumps of concealed weapons under their arms amplified the alarm.

He backpedaled into the car, nearly knocking Misty over in the process.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Instead of answering, he jabbed the button for the top floor and peeked back into the lobby. When he’d first seen the men outside, they’d been conferring with each other, and hadn’t appeared to notice that the elevator had arrived. But now, as the doors began to shut, one of them was peering through the window.

“What is it?” Daeng asked.

Quinn looked at Misty. “You’re sure Peter didn’t have any kind of arrangement with a security firm to watch his place?”

 “Positive,” she said.

A gentle jolt rocked them as the car began its slow ascent.

“I’m not talking about your standard rent-a-cop place,” Quinn said, thinking about what the men outside had looked like. “Top tier.”

“Not unless something changed he didn’t tell me about. What’s going on?”

“We’ve got company.”

“How many?” Daeng asked.

“I saw four,” Quinn said. “There might be more.”

Misty stared at Quinn. “What do they want?”

“My guess would be us.”

__________

“I
THINK THAT’S
them,” Moss said, pointing through the window of the building.

Roberts turned and looked, but all he caught was the elevator door closing.

“What did you see?” he asked.

“Three people. Two men and a woman. I think they were starting to get off, but I swear they stopped when they saw us.”

“They match the description?” Girardi, one of the other team members, asked.

“I only had a really good look of the man in front. He did have short brown hair. The other guy looked like he might have been darker, but he was in the shadows.”

That was more than enough for Roberts. “Open the door,” he ordered.

__________

A
S THEY NEARED
the top floor, Quinn said to Misty, “I want you to press up against the front corner. When the door opens, I’ll do a check. If it’s clear, I’ll let you know and you can get off.”

She nodded.

To Daeng he said, “Emergency stop button. I don’t want this going back down.”

Daeng’s nod was followed by the sound of the elevator’s bell heralding their imminent arrival.

While his two friends jammed against the side of the car, Quinn positioned himself in the middle, the Beretta pointed at the doors, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble.

The car crept to a stop and the doors started to part. The hallway appeared empty, but he remained tense and ready, knowing that someone could easily be hiding off to one side or the other. As soon as the doors were open all the way, he launched himself into the corridor, and twisted around so he could catch anyone who might be hiding.

No one was there.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Misty came first. Daeng delayed his departure only long enough to pull the emergency stop button before joining the other two in the hallway. The elevator panel buzzed annoyingly, but not so loudly as to attract the attention of the residents on the floor.

Quinn touched Misty on the back. “Do you know this building at all?”

“I’ve only been to Peter’s apartment.”

“All right. No problem.”

He scanned the hallway, looking for the entrance to the stairwell he knew had to be nearby, and finally spotted it off to the left, where the corridor they were in T-boned with another.

“This way.”

He ran over, carefully opened the door a few inches, and listened. Footsteps, more than one set, pounding up the stairs toward them. That option was off the table.

He spun around, scanning the hallway. There was really only one thing they could do.

“Stay close,” he said.

He sprinted to the left and began pressing doorbells. After pushing the final one, he moved into the middle of the hallway so he could react to whichever door opened.

“Yes?” A tired male voice came from behind the very last door.

Quinn hurried over. The door’s peephole was black, so he donned a friendly smile, knowing the man inside was probably looking at him. “There’s a water leak in the apartment below yours,” he said. “We need to check the plumbing in your bathroom and kitchen.”

“You’re not with the building,” the man said.

“Plumber.”

“You don’t look like a plumber.”

“Thanks, I think. Look, this will only take a minute.”

“I should call down and check.”

“All right. Call. I’ll wait.”

As he heard the man walking away, Quinn pulled out his wallet and removed a credit card-sized, carbon-fiber, lock-pick set. Within seconds, he had the door open.

They found the man in the kitchen, picking up a cell phone from the counter. He was probably in his fifties, and was wearing a robe over a faded green Yoda T-shirt. He also had the runny nose and watery eyes of someone with a cold.

“I’ll take that,” Quinn said.

The man jumped in surprise. “How did you…what are you…You can’t be in here! This is my home!”

Quinn lifted his gun, not exactly pointing it at the man, but close enough. “Give me your phone.”

Shaking and wide-eyed, the man held out the cell.

Once Quinn took possession of it, he said, “Why don’t you have a seat in the living room. The couch will be perfect.”

“Okay. Sure. Please, don’t hurt me.”

“No one’s going to hurt you.”

Despite his apparent illness, the man moved quickly to the bright white couch and dropped in the middle.

Quinn followed and squatted down so that he was at the man’s eye level. “I appreciate someone who knows how to cooperate. Thank you. Now, a simple question. Fire escape?”

“What?”

“I assume you have one.”

Quinn had seen a metal fire escape on the outside near the front of the building, but didn’t know where it would be for this back apartment.

“Oh, um, through the bedroom,” the man said. “Uh, first door down the hall.”

Daeng left the room and returned a few seconds later. “It’s there,” he said.

“Outside?” Quinn asked.

“All clear for the moment.”

“Okay. You two get going.”

Daeng put a hand on Misty’s back and led her out of the room.

The fear gripping the man on the couch seemed to grow tenfold. “What are you going to do? You’re going to kill me, aren’t you? I won’t say anything to anyone! I promise I won’t!”

“What’s your name?”

The man hesitated. “Philip.”

“Well, Philip, I think you watch way too much TV. No one’s going to kill you. What I am going to do is tie you up.”

“Sure, sure. No problem.”

“Do you live here alone, Philip?”

“No. My wife—” He stopped as if realizing he’d said more than he should have.

“Good. Then you’ll only have to stay tied up until she gets home.”

Philip looked relieved. “Right. Only until she gets home.”

Using some extension cords that Philip kindly directed him to, Quinn secured the guy to a dining room chair he repositioned next to the couch.

“If anyone rings your doorbell, don’t yell,” Quinn told him. “Those guys out there are a hell of a lot nastier than I am. Trust me.”

“I won’t say a word. I promise.”

Quinn rose to his feet. “I’m just telling you for your own sake.”

As if to underscore his words, a doorbell belonging to one of Philip’s neighbors chimed. Philip tensed again.

“It’ll be all right,” Quinn whispered. “Just remember, stay quiet.”

Not waiting for a response, Quinn entered the room with the fire escape and climbed outside.

__________

R
OBERTS LEFT GIRARDI
in the lobby to both cut it off as a potential escape route, and to monitor the elevator’s progress so he could report what floor it stopped on. Roberts, Moss, and Cruz, the fourth member of the team, then bolted up the stairs.

They were passing the second floor when Girardi radioed that the car had gone all the way to the top.

As far from the lobby as possible
, Roberts thought. If this wasn’t the trio he and his men were after, he’d be surprised. When they passed the floor where the broken-into apartment was located, he ordered Cruz to check it out while he and Moss continued up.