anymore.
For the last six months, he had been a full-fledged cleaner, running Quinn’s business on his own. Well, with the occasional assist from Orlando, but the point was the same. He’d been operating successfully outside Quinn’s authority for half a year. So just because Quinn was reverting to old habits didn’t mean Nate had to.
He reached out and grabbed his mentor by the shoulder, turning him around. “I need more than just your word.”
Anger flared in Quinn’s eyes, but Nate didn’t back down.
“You’ve been gone since last year,” Nate said. “I’ve seen what you’ve been doing with your time, and that’s all well and good, but I’ve been working since the moment you left. My instincts and skills are sharp. Can you say the same about yours?”
Quinn stared at him for a second, then said, “Don’t ever touch me like that again.”
“And don’t treat me like a kid. I’m here. I will help you. But I’m not your damn lackey. You want me to treat you with respect? Then treat me with the same.”
“You guys coming?” Daeng called out. He had stopped a couple dozen feet down the sidewalk.
Nate held up a hand, indicating for him to wait a moment.
“So?” he said to Quinn.
The fire in Quinn’s eyes waned. He took a breath. “Daeng’s a good man who has seen a lot of other good men die and decided he wasn’t going to stand for it any longer. I’ve seen the things he’s done, the help he’s given his people—”
“Those Burmese kids? I thought he was Thai.”
“His mother was Burmese, his father Thai. For a long time he’s been involved behind the scenes in the struggle between the Burmese people and their government. You can trust him, Nate, and we could use his help. I could use his help.” He paused. “Just like I could use yours.”
Nate snorted softly and looked away for a moment. When he turned back, he said, “All right. And for the record, my help is never a question.”
As they began walking again, Nate sensed that Quinn wanted to say something more. He looked over, but his mentor shifted his gaze away and remained silent.
__________
T HE CALL CAME only seconds after they’d hopped on the SkyTrain. Nate handed Quinn the phone. The display read: ORLANDO .
“Hey,” Quinn said.
“I have something for you. Well, more than one thing,” she told him. Though he’d been hoping otherwise, the tone of her voice was basically the same as on their previous call.
“The dead man in Tanzania?”
“His name was Lawrence Rosen. Does that ring a bell?”
“Rosen? Yeah, I’ve worked with him before. Military intelligence guy, right?”
“Was. Went freelance a few years back,” she said. “Is there any reason Mila would have something to do with his death?”
“None I can think of, but I guess it’s possible.” The scene in front of the Majestic Hotel flashed in his mind. “In the video. When she was looking at him, she seemed—”
“Surprised when she saw who it was?” Orlando said.
“Exactly.”
“Have you ever heard of someone named John Evans?”
“Evans?” He ran the name through his mind. “There was someone involved in the Las Vegas job named Evans, if I remember correctly. Don’t know his first name, but he was the one Mila picked up the package from before flying out, I believe. Why?”
“Twelve hours ago there was a report out of London about the murder of a man named Bernard Johnston. Mr. Johnston was the owner of Johnston’s Rare Books Finding Service. He was also a retired American agent whose real name was John Evans. Witnesses say they saw a beautiful dark-haired woman go into his offices a few hours before his body was found.”
“Any security footage of her?”
“Nothing that I’ve been able to uncover.”
“You think it was her?”
“When I read the report, I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t aware of the connection you just told me about. So there’s a chance.”
“Did anyone see her leaving the
For the last six months, he had been a full-fledged cleaner, running Quinn’s business on his own. Well, with the occasional assist from Orlando, but the point was the same. He’d been operating successfully outside Quinn’s authority for half a year. So just because Quinn was reverting to old habits didn’t mean Nate had to.
He reached out and grabbed his mentor by the shoulder, turning him around. “I need more than just your word.”
Anger flared in Quinn’s eyes, but Nate didn’t back down.
“You’ve been gone since last year,” Nate said. “I’ve seen what you’ve been doing with your time, and that’s all well and good, but I’ve been working since the moment you left. My instincts and skills are sharp. Can you say the same about yours?”
Quinn stared at him for a second, then said, “Don’t ever touch me like that again.”
“And don’t treat me like a kid. I’m here. I will help you. But I’m not your damn lackey. You want me to treat you with respect? Then treat me with the same.”
“You guys coming?” Daeng called out. He had stopped a couple dozen feet down the sidewalk.
Nate held up a hand, indicating for him to wait a moment.
“So?” he said to Quinn.
The fire in Quinn’s eyes waned. He took a breath. “Daeng’s a good man who has seen a lot of other good men die and decided he wasn’t going to stand for it any longer. I’ve seen the things he’s done, the help he’s given his people—”
“Those Burmese kids? I thought he was Thai.”
“His mother was Burmese, his father Thai. For a long time he’s been involved behind the scenes in the struggle between the Burmese people and their government. You can trust him, Nate, and we could use his help. I could use his help.” He paused. “Just like I could use yours.”
Nate snorted softly and looked away for a moment. When he turned back, he said, “All right. And for the record, my help is never a question.”
As they began walking again, Nate sensed that Quinn wanted to say something more. He looked over, but his mentor shifted his gaze away and remained silent.
__________
T HE CALL CAME only seconds after they’d hopped on the SkyTrain. Nate handed Quinn the phone. The display read: ORLANDO .
“Hey,” Quinn said.
“I have something for you. Well, more than one thing,” she told him. Though he’d been hoping otherwise, the tone of her voice was basically the same as on their previous call.
“The dead man in Tanzania?”
“His name was Lawrence Rosen. Does that ring a bell?”
“Rosen? Yeah, I’ve worked with him before. Military intelligence guy, right?”
“Was. Went freelance a few years back,” she said. “Is there any reason Mila would have something to do with his death?”
“None I can think of, but I guess it’s possible.” The scene in front of the Majestic Hotel flashed in his mind. “In the video. When she was looking at him, she seemed—”
“Surprised when she saw who it was?” Orlando said.
“Exactly.”
“Have you ever heard of someone named John Evans?”
“Evans?” He ran the name through his mind. “There was someone involved in the Las Vegas job named Evans, if I remember correctly. Don’t know his first name, but he was the one Mila picked up the package from before flying out, I believe. Why?”
“Twelve hours ago there was a report out of London about the murder of a man named Bernard Johnston. Mr. Johnston was the owner of Johnston’s Rare Books Finding Service. He was also a retired American agent whose real name was John Evans. Witnesses say they saw a beautiful dark-haired woman go into his offices a few hours before his body was found.”
“Any security footage of her?”
“Nothing that I’ve been able to uncover.”
“You think it was her?”
“When I read the report, I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t aware of the connection you just told me about. So there’s a chance.”
“Did anyone see her leaving the
Similar Books
