Brett Battles - The Destroyed

Peter walked clear through to the back, and entered the bathroom. It was a single-occupant setup, so he locked the door, pulled out his phone, and called Michaels.

“Are you still with Hagen?” he asked.

“We’re just emphasizing a few points,” Michaels replied. “Should be done soon.”

“Wrap it up. There’s somewhere else you need to be,” Peter said, then gave Michaels his new instructions.

ROME, ITALY

The flight from Bangkok took about eleven hours, touching down at Fiumicino Airport outside Rome just before ten p.m. local time.

A cab took them to a hotel Quinn knew about, not far from the reason they had come to the city. So far, neither Daeng nor Nate had asked him, why Rome? Daeng because that just seemed to be the way he was, and Nate because he had worked with Quinn long enough to know when to ask questions and when not to. That was why Quinn’s earlier confrontation with his former apprentice had been so surprising. Sure, Nate had stood up to him once or twice in the past, but Quinn had always won. Nate was obviously not content to let that happen anymore.

Though it hadn’t been part of Quinn’s plan-what little plan he’d had when he’d gone into his self-imposed exile-his absence had apparently provided the final push Nate needed to move beyond his training phase. Quinn had called him an equal before, but their relationship had still been largely defined by their teacher-student past.

Clearly that was over.

The St. Apollina Hotel was in a quiet part of the city filled with old apartment buildings and shops that closed early every evening. The hotel was a small, family-run business with a dozen or so rooms. A call before leaving the airport guaranteed that a room with two beds and a couch would be held for them.

“Don’t get comfortable,” Quinn said once they were in the room. “There’s a place near here we need to check. Wash up, do whatever you need.” He glanced at his watch. “Let’s say ten minutes, okay?”

It only took six before they were heading out again.

They walked up the hill for several minutes, over three streets, then up again for another two and a half blocks.

“There,” Quinn whispered, nodding at a building just down the street and on the other side.

It was a four-story stone building that looked to be at least a hundred years old. While obviously maintained, it looked tired, like it just wanted to take a nap. There was a central, unlit entrance at street level, and six windows each on the floors above it. Light shone from a window on the third floor, but the others were all dark, their occupants either asleep or not home.

“The apartment we’re interested in is on the second floor in the back,” Quinn told them.

“Anyone inside we need to worry about?” Nate asked.

Quinn shook his head.

“What’s the play?”

Quinn looked up and down the street. It was quiet, no one else out. “Daeng, find someplace to hide where you can keep an eye on things. If anyone is even just walking by, let us know.”

“Got it,” Daeng said.

Quinn looked at Nate. “You and I are going to take a look around.”

Nate followed Quinn across the street to the old wooden door that served as the building’s entrance. Instead of a keyhole they could pick, there was a numbered security pad for residents to punch in a code. It seemed out of character for the building, but not for the times.

With the right equipment, they could bypass the pad and release the lock, but equipment was something they were currently lacking. Nate was about to suggest they look for an alternate way in when Quinn simply punched in five numbers on the pad.

As the door lock released, Quinn said, “You going to open it?”

Shaking off his surprise, Nate grabbed the handle and pulled it open. “You want to tell me how you knew that?”

Quinn’s only response was to squeeze by Nate into the building.

They found themselves in a rectangular-shaped central lobby that seemed to go all the way to the rear of the building. Nate counted four doors, two on either side. Beside each was a doorbell button and a small nameplate. In the center of the room was a staircase that rose to the next floor. As far as he could tell, there was no elevator.

Quinn had said the apartment was on the second floor, so Nate headed for the stairs. But Quinn walked past them toward the back. Feeling like he was becoming a semipermanent resident in the world of confusion, Nate adjusted his path and followed.

At the rear, a doorless entryway led to a smaller room with a closed metal door mounted in the outside wall. As Quinn pulled it open, warm night air rushed in.

“Don’t let it shut or we’re locked out,” Quinn said.

As soon as Nate had control of the door, Quinn headed out into a small exterior space that was surrounded on the other three sides by the neighboring buildings. Walking slowly, he gazed at the stone-covered ground. There seemed to be no apparent pattern to his wanderings, but then he suddenly stopped and crouched down. Gently, he touched one of the stones, then looked at the wall of the closest building. Rising, he walked over to it, tapped a couple of the bricks, and pulled one out.

It was too dark for Nate to see what his mentor was doing with the brick, but within seconds it was back in place, and Quinn was heading toward him.

“What was that all about?” Nate asked.

“Come on,” Quinn said as he moved past him into the building.

Quietly, they made their way up to the apartment on the second floor. Nate glanced at the nameplate. It was blank.

“My lock picks are still in L.A.,” he said.

“Don’t need them.” Quinn opened his palm and showed Nate three keys.

So that’s what had been hidden in the brick, Nate realized.

Quinn used them to unlock the two deadbolts and the handle lock on the door, then pushed it open. Once it was wide enough, he whispered, “Don’t touch anything. We’re just making sure no one’s been here already.”

“You mean Mila?”

“Yeah.”

Nate nodded, and they stepped inside.

As he started to move further into the room, Quinn held out a hand, stopping him. There was an alarm panel on the wall near the door. On it, a dull white light glowed bright then dim, bright then dim. Quinn opened a panel, and again punched in a number without any hesitation. The light faded off.

He took a moment to scan the room. “Okay. This way.”

Being at the back of the building meant little light filtered into the apartment from outside, making it hard for Nate to get a sense of the place. He could see the shadows of chairs and tables, and could even make out a bookcase running along one of the walls, but the details were lost in the darkness.

Quinn led him through the main living area, a dining room, and past a large kitchen. When they reached the back hallway, he stopped. With no windows, it was even darker than the rest of the place.

He signaled for Nate to stay there, then headed toward the rear of the apartment alone. Though Nate wasn’t particularly fond of being left behind, it was sound strategy. If someone was in the back, Nate would be the safety valve in case Quinn couldn’t deal with him.

A little over a minute passed before Quinn called out, “We’re clear.”

When his mentor rejoined him, Nate said, “Whose place is this?”

Quinn looked like he didn’t want to answer for a moment, but then he said, “Julien’s,” and started walking toward the front door.

The name caught Nate off guard. He stood there for a second, then hurried to catch up. “ French Julien?”

“Do you know any others?”

“No. But…my God, this place has been empty since…”