Brett Battles - The Silenced

“Please sit,” she said. “I’ve got some lemonade and some water.”

A good hostess even in adversity. That she had learned from their mother.

“Thank you,” Quinn said. “Water would be nice.”

“It’s sparkling,” she told him.

“That’s fine.”

“What about your friend?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said. “I should have introduced you. This is Andrew Cain. He’s the son of someone I do work with. Andrew, this is my sister Liz.”

Nate stuck out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Liz barely touched his palm before she let go again. “Water or lemonade?”

“Water too. Please,” he said.

Without another word, she headed into the kitchen. Quinn motioned for Nate to sit down. Liz came back and stopped short. Nate was sitting on the couch, and Quinn was on the chair.

After Liz handed out the waters, she moved to the window. She had opted for no drink and standing.

“Liz, sit down,” Quinn said. “Join us.”

Again there was the deep breath. “I’m fine here.”

“Liz.”

When she turned to her brother, the look on her face was not quite hatred, but close. She stood where she was for a second, then walked over and sat down on the couch as far from Nate as possible. She stared at the coffee table, while Quinn licked his lips and rubbed the fingers of one hand against the palm of another, neither saying anything.

Nate looked back and forth between them, then finally said, “This is a great place. You been here long?”

Liz looked at him. “Almost two years.”

“Swanky.”

“It’s paid for by a scholarship,” she said, defensive.

“Nice.” Nate looked around. “What are you studying?”

“I’m sorry. Who exactly are you?”

Quinn jumped in. “I told you, he’s the son of a colleague.”

“And why is he with you?”

“Hey,” Nate said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. This really is a nice place. And the way you’ve set it up, it’s, you know, comfortable. I’m sorry. People tell me I sometimes come off a little abrasive.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Sometimes they’re right.”

Liz seemed to relax. “It’s fine. And… thanks. People tell me I sometimes get a little defensive.”

Nate laughed. “We’re the perfect combination, then.”

That brought the hint of a smile to her lips. “How long are you in town?” she asked her brother.

“A few days,” Quinn said.

“And then home?”

“Unless something else comes up.”

She nodded without feeling, but said nothing more.

“School,” Quinn said. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.”

“How much longer until you graduate?”

“Two more years.”

“Have you been able to-”

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled it out.

WILLS

“Everything all right?” Nate asked. His tone was light.

“Yes. Sorry,” Quinn said. He accessed the log on his phone. “Just a second.”

He could hear Liz let out a faint sigh, and imagined her rolling her eyes as he scrolled through his recent calls list.

There had been three additional calls to the one he’d just received. All had come from Wills. Checking the times, he was able to figure out the first had come during the initial encounter with Julien, while the other two sometime between then and when he’d returned to Liz’s apartment. Missing one, okay. But more than that?

He knew the reason, of course. He’d been so focused on seeing his sister everything else had become background noise. I’m losing focus. Not good. Not good at all.

Just as he was about to slip the phone back into his pocket, it began to vibrate again, the same name on the display as before.

“I need to take this.”

“Sure,” Liz said, as if she’d expected as much.

He flipped the phone open, and said to Wills, “Hold on.” He looked at his sister. “Is there someplace private? It’s a business call.”

“There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall,” she said.

There’s a bedroom down there, too, he thought. But she hadn’t offered that up. It would have been too personal.

“Thanks,” he said, standing. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“You were supposed to be here this morning. Where the hell are you?” Wills asked.

“I had a personal matter to take care of,” Quinn said.

“You’ve already used up your personal matter allocation. I’m paying you to be here. Have you even left the States yet?”

“David, I know this is important. And I know you want it done right away. But this couldn’t be helped. The body isn’t going anywhere. A day or two delay shouldn’t matter.”

“What are you talking about, delay? My client wants this done immediately. He’s expecting me to tell him the removal is already in process.”

“Then tell him that. I’d need at least a day to scout the location before I could do the removal anyway,” Quinn said. “One of my team members will be there by tomorrow morning to start the process. Okay?”

Whom that would be Quinn had no idea. Maybe he could get Orlando to reroute to London instead of coming to Paris. Or maybe he could hire someone local he’d worked with before. Whatever the case, he knew he could make it happen.

Wills was silent for a moment. Quinn could almost feel his client’s anger emanating through the phone.

“This is not what I expected out of you,” Wills said. “I’m paying you a lot of money, and right now you’re making me think I made a mistake.”

“You want your money back? Fine. I’ll transfer a third back and we’ll call it even. You can hire someone else.”

“A refund? I don’t want a refund. I want you to get my goddamn job done!”

Quinn said nothing for a moment. “I always get the job done. Always.”

“I need your assurance you will take care of this,” Wills said, his voice calmer.

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Wills remained silent.

“Okay, David. I assure you that this will be taken care of as quickly as possible. Tell your client your team is on it.”

“All right,” Wills said. “But you had better not let me down.”

“I won’t.”

For a second, Quinn thought Wills had hung up. Then the Englishman said, “Sorry. I know you won’t.” He paused. “There’s one bit of good news. Moody’s body was found. Looks like he was killed when they were trying to drive away from the house.”

“What about the Russians?”

“No sign of them,” he said. “Quinn, get here as soon as you can.”

“I will.”

Quinn hung up, then looked in the mirror and ran his hands across his face.

Professionally, he was in the wrong, and he knew it. He should have been in London by now, already having done at least one scout of the building where the body was located.

He should have, but instead he was in Paris, two hundred miles away.

A job had been offered, and Quinn had agreed to do it. In his world, commitment, reliability, and trust were the true currencies. Without them, you quickly fell out of favor, and soon found yourself doing little check-and-reports like Julien just to stay afloat, or futilely scratching from the outside to get back in, or lying in an unmarked grave with a bullet in your skull because your unreliability came at a cost too high for your employer to ignore.

He eased the bathroom door open and stepped across the threshold, but then stopped. From down the hall, he could hear Liz and Nate. They were talking. Pleasantly.

In fact, they seemed almost friendly.

The minute Quinn stepped out of the living room, Nate said, “About earlier, I apologize.”

Liz shook her head. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” She was more relaxed now that her brother was gone.