Brett Battles - The Silenced

“She’s still looking at the… hold on… She glanced back at where you were… Okay, she’s looking around. Not hiding the fact, either.”

Quinn had a choice at the end of the hallway: either continue straight and enter the bar, or go left along another hallway directly behind the elevators. Along this new hallway were a set of public restrooms and several shops. Quinn turned left, heading for the men’s room.

“She’s on the move,” Nate said.

“Heading my way?”

“She doesn’t seem quite sure where she wants to go. She started toward reception, then stopped… Walking toward the elevators now.”

Quinn stepped into the bathroom. It was a large facility with several stalls. A quick check revealed he was the only one present.

“If she comes anywhere near you, snap a photo,” Quinn said.

“Already got two, but profile only. If I can get something better, I will.”

“Position?”

“She’s stopped at the bottom of the steps… Interesting. Our friend with the paper is also keeping tabs on her.”

Wills’s man had probably spotted her before Quinn and Nate had arrived. He would no doubt be curious why the woman was interested in the guy his boss was supposed to meet.

“What’s he doing?” Quinn asked.

“Just watching… Okay, the woman’s coming your way… up the steps… and… there… she… goes. I can’t see her anymore.”

“All right. Find a room we can use, then text me the number.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Stow and go,” Quinn said.

Quinn donned a pair of thin, transparent gloves, then silently counted down from twenty. When he hit zero, he stepped out of the restroom.

The woman was ten feet away, heading toward the shops, her back to him. He walked up behind her, not hiding the sound of his steps. When she turned, her eyes went wide.

There was no question now. She’d definitely been looking for him.

“Hi,” he said.

She turned her head and started walking away.

Quinn reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “Hold on.”

“Please, leave me alone,” she said, not even looking back. Her accent was British.

“Sorry. Not an option.”

“I’ll scream.”

“And I’ll kill you where you’re standing.”

He could feel her tense under his palm. “What do you want?” she asked.

He turned her around to face him. “I believe you’re the one looking for me. So what do you want?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I need to-”

She tried to push past him, but he stopped her.

“I wouldn’t do that.” He let his hand hover near the opening of his jacket. Sometimes the threat of a gun was all it took.

For several seconds she didn’t move, then a barely perceptible nod.

“Great. We shouldn’t have any problems.”

Quinn’s phone vibrated in his pocket. With his other hand he retrieved it from his pocket, and glanced at the screen.

2467

Putting a hand on her arm, he said, “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Some place we can have a chat.”

“We can have a chat right here.”

“If we do, it’ll be over very quickly, and you won’t like the results.”

Her eyes moved side to side. “Okay,” she whispered.

Quinn led the woman back to the elevators. While they waited for one to open, he said, “If you cooperate, you’ll be fine.”

“I won’t give you any problems.”

Quinn smiled. “Perfect.”

Over her shoulder, he could see Wills’s man, still sitting in his chair, but now openly looking at him. Quinn gave him a quick nod, and the man returned the gesture.

One of the elevator doors opened, and Quinn ushered the woman inside, then pushed the button for 24.

As soon as the doors closed, he said, “Give me your phone.”

She hesitated, then pulled a phone out of her suit pocket and handed it to him. It was a cheap pay-as-you-go model.

“Thank you,” he said, slipping it into his pocket. “Now the briefcase.”

“I need this for work,” she said.

“Don’t make me ask twice.”

She handed it to him.

“Do you have ID?” he asked.

“It’s in the briefcase.”

“What should I call you?”

Another pause. “Ann.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“Well, Ann, you’re doing fine so far. You keep cooperating and you’ll be okay.”

When they reached the twenty-fourth floor, Quinn led her down the hall and around the corner to room 2467.

“This is it,” he said. He could feel her tense again. “Relax. If you cooperate like you said you would, then I promise I won’t hurt you. And I always keep my promises.”

He rapped twice on the door. A second later Nate opened it and moved to the side so they could enter.

Quinn pointed at the bed. “Why don’t you sit there?” he said.

She walked over to the bed, but didn’t sit down.

“You’ll be more comfortable,” Quinn told her.

“I prefer to stand,” she replied.

He stared at her until she looked away. A moment later she sat.

Quinn placed her briefcase on the desk. It was the kind that had combination locks on each hasp. He pushed the release tabs, but the hinges didn’t move.

“What’s the combo?” he asked.

“You don’t need to open it,” she said. “There’s nothing important inside.”

“What’s the combo?”

Her lips pressed together for a moment, then she said, “Zero-six-one.”

“For both sides?”

“Yes.”

He moved the case onto the bed beside her. “Open it.”

If the briefcase was booby-trapped, she would either disarm it before opening the case or not open the case at all. And if she didn’t know it, she’d soon find out.

She dialed in the combo and pushed on the tabs. With a click each latch popped open.

Quinn put the case back on the desk. “Check it,” he said to Nate.

He then pulled out the cell phone the woman had given him. The call logs were empty. As was the contact list. There were no text messages, sent or received, and no pictures had been taken. Either she’d been deleting things as she was going along, or the phones had yet to be used.

He slipped it back into his pocket.

“Why were you following me?” he asked.

“I wasn’t following you,” she said.

“Can I give you a piece of advice?”

She looked at him.

“Remember what I said about cooperating.” He smiled. “Why were you following me?”

A pause, then, “I made a mistake.”

“What mistake?”

“I should have said no.” The words were whispered, more to herself than to him.

Quinn felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Here,” Nate said, handing him a small booklet with a red cover, one very familiar to Quinn. In fact, he had a couple of them himself. A British passport.

He opened it to the information page. It had been issued a year earlier. The picture inside was of the woman sitting on the bed in front of him. The name listed was Annabel Taplin.

“Annabel or Ann?” he asked.

She looked at him, then away. “Annabel.”

The corner of his mouth turned up as he looked back at the booklet. Her birth date put her age at thirty-two. Her birthplace was listed as Waltham Abbey. He checked for arrival and departure stamps. She’d made two round-trips from London to New York. First in May, and a second in August. Each time she stayed for less than two weeks before returning to the U.K. The final stamp denoted entry into the United States the previous evening.

“You’ll want to see this, too,” Nate said.

He gave Quinn a business card.

WRIGHT BAINS SECURITIES

Annabel Taplin

Consultant

There was an address in London and a phone number.