Brett Battles - The Silenced

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.”