something he had to do.
For Markoff.
There was no choice.
The debt to someone who saved your life can never be repaid in full.
Not a Durrie rule. Durrie would have scoffed at such sentiment. Or, more likely, would have called you an asshole and never taken anything you said seriously again.
It was Orlando’s mentor, Abraham Delger, who had said it to Quinn. Unlike Quinn’s former boss, Delger wasn’t afraid to show a softer side now and then.
An old Chinese proverb said that the one who saved the life was responsible for the one who had been saved. Not a debt, per se, but an acknowledgment that if a person lived when they should have died, all that they did after was due to the actions of the one who stayed death’s hand.
But Quinn could never accept that way of thinking. Delger’s idea that the debt was owed by the person who had been saved instead of the one who had done the saving rang truer.
And ever since that night in the Finnish countryside, Quinn owed his life to Markoff. It was something he knew he’d never stop trying to pay off. Even now, after his friend had turned up dead.
Once he was showered and dressed, Quinn pulled his laptop out of his bag and set it up on the desk. Using his wireless connection, he hacked into the hotel Wi-Fi system, bypassing the pay-by-the-day page.
First he did a quick web search, verifying the address of Congressman Guerrero’s office. In his gut, he knew there were answers there. But the only way to be sure was to go in person. The website not only confirmed the congressman’s location, it also confirmed Guerrero’s grander goal. Across the top of the site was a banner ad:
AMERICA FIRST GUERRERO FOR PRESIDENT
Quinn smiled to himself as a way into the congressman’s office formu
lated in his mind.
He closed the browser and opened his e-mail.
There were several messages. He ignored all but the two from Nate. As Quinn had taught him, the subject line was just the day’s date—year first, then month, then day. Easy for sorting and no hint of the contents.
Quinn clicked open the first one sent.
Was working late and figured you might be asleep. I can give you more details on the phone in the morning if you want.
I ran a check on Tasha Laver. So far I’ve found only 3 people with that name in the entire country. It’s not a common combination apparently. Unfortunately, two are in their seventies, and the other one’s dead.
I’d say it’s a pretty good guess none of them are your 30-year-old woman.
I’ll continue to check, but doubtful about any relevant hits.
Have you called Orlando yet?
N.
No luck on Tasha. Why doesn’t that surprise me? Quinn thought.
The second e-mail was sent a few hours after the first. Quinn opened it.
The pictures you took in Houston just finished processing through the system. Nothing.
I’ve started them through some of the secondary sources, and should have more info in the morning. I was thinking maybe they’re not from here, so I’m also trying some of the foreign databases, but those are going to take longer to get any results from.
Do you think they might be ghosts?
Ghosts were those who eluded the system, often actively searching and removing any information about themselves that might be floating around. There was a damn good chance Nate was right. After all, Quinn was a ghost, and he was in the process of turning Nate into one, too.
Quinn clicked on Reply.
Let me know as soon as you get anything new.
On Tasha Laver, leave it for now. Name is probably a dead end.
Good job.
Q
He hit Send.
The House Majority Whip’s office was in the Longworth Office Building on Independence Avenue. It was the second, and smallest, of three buildings specifically designed and constructed for the members of the House of Representatives. It was the same building where the Majority Leader had his office, so it was convenient for party matters. The minority party leaders were next door in the Rayburn Building, a massive
For Markoff.
There was no choice.
The debt to someone who saved your life can never be repaid in full.
Not a Durrie rule. Durrie would have scoffed at such sentiment. Or, more likely, would have called you an asshole and never taken anything you said seriously again.
It was Orlando’s mentor, Abraham Delger, who had said it to Quinn. Unlike Quinn’s former boss, Delger wasn’t afraid to show a softer side now and then.
An old Chinese proverb said that the one who saved the life was responsible for the one who had been saved. Not a debt, per se, but an acknowledgment that if a person lived when they should have died, all that they did after was due to the actions of the one who stayed death’s hand.
But Quinn could never accept that way of thinking. Delger’s idea that the debt was owed by the person who had been saved instead of the one who had done the saving rang truer.
And ever since that night in the Finnish countryside, Quinn owed his life to Markoff. It was something he knew he’d never stop trying to pay off. Even now, after his friend had turned up dead.
Once he was showered and dressed, Quinn pulled his laptop out of his bag and set it up on the desk. Using his wireless connection, he hacked into the hotel Wi-Fi system, bypassing the pay-by-the-day page.
First he did a quick web search, verifying the address of Congressman Guerrero’s office. In his gut, he knew there were answers there. But the only way to be sure was to go in person. The website not only confirmed the congressman’s location, it also confirmed Guerrero’s grander goal. Across the top of the site was a banner ad:
AMERICA FIRST GUERRERO FOR PRESIDENT
Quinn smiled to himself as a way into the congressman’s office formu
lated in his mind.
He closed the browser and opened his e-mail.
There were several messages. He ignored all but the two from Nate. As Quinn had taught him, the subject line was just the day’s date—year first, then month, then day. Easy for sorting and no hint of the contents.
Quinn clicked open the first one sent.
Was working late and figured you might be asleep. I can give you more details on the phone in the morning if you want.
I ran a check on Tasha Laver. So far I’ve found only 3 people with that name in the entire country. It’s not a common combination apparently. Unfortunately, two are in their seventies, and the other one’s dead.
I’d say it’s a pretty good guess none of them are your 30-year-old woman.
I’ll continue to check, but doubtful about any relevant hits.
Have you called Orlando yet?
N.
No luck on Tasha. Why doesn’t that surprise me? Quinn thought.
The second e-mail was sent a few hours after the first. Quinn opened it.
The pictures you took in Houston just finished processing through the system. Nothing.
I’ve started them through some of the secondary sources, and should have more info in the morning. I was thinking maybe they’re not from here, so I’m also trying some of the foreign databases, but those are going to take longer to get any results from.
Do you think they might be ghosts?
Ghosts were those who eluded the system, often actively searching and removing any information about themselves that might be floating around. There was a damn good chance Nate was right. After all, Quinn was a ghost, and he was in the process of turning Nate into one, too.
Quinn clicked on Reply.
Let me know as soon as you get anything new.
On Tasha Laver, leave it for now. Name is probably a dead end.
Good job.
Q
He hit Send.
The House Majority Whip’s office was in the Longworth Office Building on Independence Avenue. It was the second, and smallest, of three buildings specifically designed and constructed for the members of the House of Representatives. It was the same building where the Majority Leader had his office, so it was convenient for party matters. The minority party leaders were next door in the Rayburn Building, a massive
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