up.
“Take a shower and get dressed,” she said.
“We’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“London.”
The text from Wills said he’d arrive at the Grand Hyatt Hotel between twelve and twelve-thirty. So Quinn and Nate arrived a few minutes before eleven.
The hotel was at the corner of Forty-second Street and Lexington Avenue, midtown Manhattan, its black glass tower standing in stark contrast to the stone edifice of Grand Central Terminal next door.
Quinn and Nate entered through the revolving doors, staggering their entrance so that it didn’t seem like they were together. An escalator took them up to the large open lobby. There, Nate headed toward check-in, while Quinn turned right toward the elevators at the rear of the room.
Though there were many people in the lobby, the size of the room made it seem almost empty. Here and there couples and small groups clustered together, while others sat on the couches and chairs reading or talking or just passing the time.
Each person in the room received either an X or a check in Quinn’s mind. An X meant they could be ignored. A check meant follow-up might be required. By the time he reached the far end of the elevators, he had accumulated twenty-one Xs and two checks.
One of the checks was a woman standing alone off to the left. She was Caucasian, mid-thirties, and had dirty-blonde hair. She was dressed in a gray pantsuit and was holding a briefcase in her left hand. She also seemed to be trying very hard not to look at Quinn.
The second check was for a man seated on a chair near the elevators. He appeared to be around the same age as the woman, but was dressed more casually: dark green polo shirt and blue jeans. What earned him the extra attention was that he had a look that screamed operative. Good shape, hair not too long and not too short, and eyes that took in everything without seeming to do so.
Quinn moved into the seating area and leaned against one of the circular pillars that held up the second-floor atrium. From this position, he could see both the man and the woman. After a few moments, the man picked up a newspaper and started to read. The woman held her position, still not looking at Quinn.
Wills’s people?
It would make sense. If he were Wills, Quinn would have had people scouting the meet by now. Only with everything that had been going down, Quinn couldn’t dismiss the possibility that one or both of them might be with the people who’d shown up at the Moody operation.
He pulled out his phone and brought up the text he’d received from Wills. He selected Reply, then wrote:
U send advance team to Hyatt? If yes, how many?
He touched Send, then glanced toward the far end of the lobby. He expected to see Nate, but there was no sign of his apprentice. As Quinn scanned the large room, his phone vibrated. He thought it would be a reply from Wills, but the text was from Nate.
Look up
Quinn glanced up at the atrium that ringed the lobby, and spotted Nate a second later standing a few feet back from the railing that stretched between the columns.
It was a good position. Great, considering that Quinn was stationed at the opposite corner, one floor down. Together they had the whole lobby covered.
Quinn texted Nate back:
Anything?
Nate’s reply came twenty seconds later.
Man sitting near elevators w/paper. Woman at stairs south of you.
Nate had seen them, too. Good .
Quinn’s phone buzzed again. Wills this time.
Leaving airport now. One person at hotel.
Quinn replied:
M/F?
Wills’s answer came only a few seconds later:
M
The man reading the newspaper, then. So that meant the woman was an unknown.
Quinn strolled over to one of the empty seats, putting a little more distance between himself and the woman. As he sat he called Nate.
“Hey,” Nate said.
“The man is with our friend.”
“And the woman?”
“Unknown. Perhaps not even interested in us.” Quinn paused for a moment. “Stay on the line.
“Take a shower and get dressed,” she said.
“We’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“London.”
The text from Wills said he’d arrive at the Grand Hyatt Hotel between twelve and twelve-thirty. So Quinn and Nate arrived a few minutes before eleven.
The hotel was at the corner of Forty-second Street and Lexington Avenue, midtown Manhattan, its black glass tower standing in stark contrast to the stone edifice of Grand Central Terminal next door.
Quinn and Nate entered through the revolving doors, staggering their entrance so that it didn’t seem like they were together. An escalator took them up to the large open lobby. There, Nate headed toward check-in, while Quinn turned right toward the elevators at the rear of the room.
Though there were many people in the lobby, the size of the room made it seem almost empty. Here and there couples and small groups clustered together, while others sat on the couches and chairs reading or talking or just passing the time.
Each person in the room received either an X or a check in Quinn’s mind. An X meant they could be ignored. A check meant follow-up might be required. By the time he reached the far end of the elevators, he had accumulated twenty-one Xs and two checks.
One of the checks was a woman standing alone off to the left. She was Caucasian, mid-thirties, and had dirty-blonde hair. She was dressed in a gray pantsuit and was holding a briefcase in her left hand. She also seemed to be trying very hard not to look at Quinn.
The second check was for a man seated on a chair near the elevators. He appeared to be around the same age as the woman, but was dressed more casually: dark green polo shirt and blue jeans. What earned him the extra attention was that he had a look that screamed operative. Good shape, hair not too long and not too short, and eyes that took in everything without seeming to do so.
Quinn moved into the seating area and leaned against one of the circular pillars that held up the second-floor atrium. From this position, he could see both the man and the woman. After a few moments, the man picked up a newspaper and started to read. The woman held her position, still not looking at Quinn.
Wills’s people?
It would make sense. If he were Wills, Quinn would have had people scouting the meet by now. Only with everything that had been going down, Quinn couldn’t dismiss the possibility that one or both of them might be with the people who’d shown up at the Moody operation.
He pulled out his phone and brought up the text he’d received from Wills. He selected Reply, then wrote:
U send advance team to Hyatt? If yes, how many?
He touched Send, then glanced toward the far end of the lobby. He expected to see Nate, but there was no sign of his apprentice. As Quinn scanned the large room, his phone vibrated. He thought it would be a reply from Wills, but the text was from Nate.
Look up
Quinn glanced up at the atrium that ringed the lobby, and spotted Nate a second later standing a few feet back from the railing that stretched between the columns.
It was a good position. Great, considering that Quinn was stationed at the opposite corner, one floor down. Together they had the whole lobby covered.
Quinn texted Nate back:
Anything?
Nate’s reply came twenty seconds later.
Man sitting near elevators w/paper. Woman at stairs south of you.
Nate had seen them, too. Good .
Quinn’s phone buzzed again. Wills this time.
Leaving airport now. One person at hotel.
Quinn replied:
M/F?
Wills’s answer came only a few seconds later:
M
The man reading the newspaper, then. So that meant the woman was an unknown.
Quinn strolled over to one of the empty seats, putting a little more distance between himself and the woman. As he sat he called Nate.
“Hey,” Nate said.
“The man is with our friend.”
“And the woman?”
“Unknown. Perhaps not even interested in us.” Quinn paused for a moment. “Stay on the line.
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