The Deceived (42 page)

“Where is she?” Quinn asked. He was moving quickly through the crowd toward the street.

“She got out of a car about half a block away from me. She’s walking across the street now.”

Quinn dodged past a group of teenagers and craned his head, looking in the direction Jenny had indicated. There was a group of five coming across the street. All but one of them were male. One of the four men was a guy Quinn had seen in Houston and again in D.C. He was sure of it.

The hit squad,
he thought.

He checked his watch: 12:30. They’d arrived early so they could be in position by the time the congressman got there.

As Quinn looked back at the group, the men began moving off in different directions. For the first time, Quinn was able to get a look at the woman.

Even though he’d already prepared himself for it, he still stopped in his tracks. He could feel anger beginning to swell inside him again, only instead of clouding his judgment, it focused him.

“Tasha,” he said.

“God, I was hoping you were wrong,” Nate said.

“Me, too,” Quinn said, teeth clenched.

He stared at Tasha for a moment longer, then tore himself away.

“Orlando, two of them are heading in your direction. They’re not going to be hard to miss. White guys in suits. Tall, short hair. Nate, move to the south. See if you can keep tabs on the other two.”

“Check,” Nate said.

“Be careful,” Orlando said. “She’s a lot more dangerous than you thought she was.”

Quinn grunted a response. No matter how dangerous she was now, he was pissed and she was going to pay.

He moved to his right, keeping a layer of people between himself and the road as he got closer to Tasha’s position. She had none of the helpless look he’d seen in her before. She was all business, her face hard and determined.

As she scanned the food center, Quinn knelt down as if he’d dropped something. From the lower angle, he could see her continuing her examination. Her gaze passed right by his position, not even noticing him.

“We’ve got another problem,” Orlando said over the radio.

“We don’t need another problem.”

“Well, tell that to the congressman. His car just pulled up.”

Before Quinn could say anything, Nate jumped in. “I’ve got movement over here. The two I’m watching are headed north now.”

Quinn stood up. Tasha was moving, too, heading in the same direction as the others. They were all converging on the congressman’s position.

“Orlando, we’re all coming to you,” Quinn said.

“Check,” she said.

Tasha stayed to the street, so Quinn paralleled her from his position inside.

“The congressman is getting out of the car,” Orlando said. “His wife is with him. So is your blond friend from last night. He’s got a nice big bandage around his hand.”

“Keep your eyes open,” Quinn said. “The shot can come from anywhere.” Just because Tasha was in charge didn’t mean she’d necessarily be the one to pull the trigger. It could come from any of her team—not only those who’d arrived with her, but also the men supposedly guarding the congressman.

They all worked for Tasha.

“My guys have stopped in the crowd and are just watching, not moving in,” Orlando said.

“Mine, too,” Nate said. “We’re a little bit south of you.”

As Tasha neared the corner, she turned in, passed beneath the metal roof, and entered the food center. She kept scanning the crowd as if she expected to find someone, but she never stopped moving forward.

Quinn had at first thought she was going to take the most direct route to the congressman, but instead she headed a little to the south, aiming for a break between the permanent food stands that would take her into the central aisle.

Quinn circled around so she was in front of him, then followed her, keeping about fifteen feet between them. If she were to turn around, she’d see him, but her focus seemed to be on what was ahead of her, not behind.

“Status,” Quinn whispered. “Holding position here,” Nate said. “Same,” Orlando said. “The congressman’s party is starting to move

down the central aisle. He seems a little tired. His wife is tense, though.” “Go figure,” Quinn said. “The blond guy stayed back at the car,” she said. “But two of the se

curity men are with them. They’ve also got someone who looks local with them. Chinese, I think. He seems to be giving the congressman a tour.”

Ahead, Tasha moved into the ten-foot-wide passageway. Because of the angle, she passed out of his sight for a moment, hidden by one of the cinder-block restaurants.

Quinn quickened his pace, but when he reached the gap, she wasn’t there.

She must have turned either right or left immediately on the other end of the short corridor; those were the only options. Quinn ran to the other end, slowing just as he reached the central aisle so as not to attract undue attention.

He looked right. Then left. But she wasn’t there. He turned around to look behind him, thinking maybe she
had

spotted him and had just tricked him into passing by her. But she wasn’t behind him either, and there was no place in the passage she could be hiding.

Again he scanned the central aisle. But the result was the same.

Off to his left, near where the rows of restaurants began, he could see the congressman and his party. Their guide had led them to one of the stalls and was explaining something to them.

“Quinn?”

Quinn whipped around, his hand slipping into the opening of the bag on his shoulder. But it wasn’t Tasha or one of her team. It was Kenneth Murray.

“I saw you, but I wasn’t sure,” Murray said. He was an average-sized man, with an average-looking face. The kind of guy who would be hard to describe later, if you even remembered him. “I mean, I thought it was you, but...well, I guess I was right.” He paused. “What is it you wanted me to see?”

“Kenneth, I nearly killed you just now,” Quinn said.

“Wh...what?” Murray stammered.

Quinn could see the white all the way around Murray’s irises.

“Rule number one for you, never sneak up on me.”

“Okay, sure. No problem.” He took a step back. “Maybe actually I shouldn’t be here. I’m just in the way.”

Quinn grabbed Murray by the arm and turned him so he was facing the north end of the food center.

“There,” Quinn said. “You see him?”

Murray glanced nervously over his shoulder at Quinn, then looked down the central aisle of the hawker center. “What am I looking for?”

“That group of people down near the end. The man in the dark suit, that’s the congressman.”

“Okay. Yeah, I see him.”

“I need you to go down there and get him out of here.”

“Whoa. Wait. You just said you wanted me to see something. You didn’t say you needed me to
do
something.”

“If you don’t do it, he’s going to die. But you have to be careful. Those security men with him, they aren’t the good guys.”

Murray started to pull away. “No. You do it.”

“I can’t,” Quinn said. He knew if he did and Tasha saw him, she’d move in before he could get to the congressman. Murray had a much better chance. “You’ve got to go now!”

“Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit,” Murray said. “I swear to God you’d better be right.”

CHAPTER

THERE WERE PEOPLE EVERYWHERE. THE LUNCH CROWD

jammed itself into the hawker center like it was the only place to eat within miles. Lines in front of the most popular stalls were growing by the second.

Quinn moved out into the central aisle, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to find any sign of Tasha.

“Status,” he said.

“My guys are still holding back,” Orlando said.

“Ditto,” Nate said.

“Does anyone see Tasha?”

“You lost her?” Nate asked.

“Is that a no, then?” Quinn said.

“Sorry,” Nate said. “Yes, it’s a...no. I mean, you know. No, haven’t seen her.”

“Neither have I,” Orlando said.

Quinn looked to his left. Murray was fighting his way through the hungry mob toward the food stall the congressman had stopped at. The only problem was, the congressman and his party weren’t there anymore. They had moved back to the middle of the aisle and were making their way deeper into the hawker center, moving toward

Quinn’s position.

“Dammit,” Quinn said under his breath.

He had to find Tasha. He had to stop her.

He started weaving through the crowd, heading in the direction of the congressman.

“I have movement,” Nate said. “My guys are closing in.”

“Mine are holding back,” Orlando said.

Mop-up duty,
Quinn thought. In case things didn’t go well for the first team.

There were still at least forty feet and nearly a hundred people between Quinn and the congressman. As he started to skirt around a couple of teenage girls, someone bumped into him, and almost immediately he could feel a cool liquid dripping down his shirt. It had the sweet, fruity smell of fresh juice.

“Oh, sorry,” a male voice said.

Quinn’s instincts told him to duck. Unfortunately, they came a half-second too late.

A fist smashed into his back right above one of his kidneys.

Pain shot through Quinn’s torso as he fell forward. He tried to twist on his descent, but was only partially successful in landing faceup.

The people closest to him pulled back, forming a small hole in the sea of customers. They looked down at Quinn in surprise and confusion. All, that was, except the blond man who was standing directly behind where Quinn had been a few seconds before.

Blondie’s damaged hand was held loosely against his stomach. But it was the good hand that was the problem. It was reaching for something under his jacket.

Quinn didn’t wait to see what it was. He pressed his hands against the dirty concrete floor and pushed himself up and out, aiming his feet at the man’s knees. He missed the left, but solidly connected with the right.

Quinn could feel the man’s kneecap slide to the right, dislocating from the socket.

Blondie cried out and quickly joined Quinn on the ground.

Whatever he’d been reaching for had been forgotten as he reflexively grabbed his kneecap and tried to push the bone back into place.

Quinn knew he had no more time to waste. He got to his feet, then stepped on Blondie’s bad hand.

With all of Blondie’s attention on the pain no doubt shooting through his body, Quinn reached under the man’s jacket. He was definitely armed, but pulling the gun out would cause instant panic.

Quinn moved his shoulder bag down so that he could maneuver the opening under the man’s jacket. He then slipped the gun inside with his own and stood back up.

“Quinn! She’s moving in!” It was Orlando.

Quinn whipped around until he was looking in the direction of the congressman. It seemed Quinn’s run-in with Blondie had attracted only local attention. The crowd at large appeared oblivious to what had gone on.

As Quinn pushed his way through, he spotted Guerrero. The con-gressman’s wife was no longer with him. She had moved off toward one of the stalls with a member of Guerrero’s security team—getting out of the way, perhaps, and creating a legitimate reason why Guerrero would have only one guard at his side.

What he couldn’t see was Tasha.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“She’s about fifteen feet in front of me, coming in from the north,” Orlando said.

She must have circled around,
Quinn thought.

“Take her out!” Quinn said.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?”

“Nate, do you see her?”

“No,” Nate said.

Quinn no longer cared about maintaining secrecy. He began shoving people out of his way. He could hear angry voices behind him, but no one took their protest further.

He closed to within twenty feet of the congressman and shouted out a warning. But his words were swallowed by the noise of the crowd.

“Bad guy coming up on your right,” Nate said.

“You have visual on me?” Quinn asked.

“Yes. I’m not far behind him.”

Quinn looked to his right and immediately spotted one of Tasha’s men.

“Keep him away from me,” Quinn said. “I don’t have time.”

“Check,” Nate said.

The congressman was only ten feet away when someone tugged at Quinn’s arm. Quinn pulled back, ready to lash out at his new attacker, but it was Murray.

“I...I lost him before,” Murray said. “I’m sorry. Do you still want me to talk to him?”

Quinn grabbed Murray by the back of the shirt and started pushing him toward the congressman. “Get in there and get him on the ground! Now!”

He gave Murray a powerful shove, sending him racing through the crowd.

Quinn looked past Guerrero, in the direction Orlando said Tasha would be coming from.

And there she was. Only five feet behind the congressman. She was reaching into the large purse that hung over her shoulder.

Quinn threw the man who was standing in front of him to the side.

“No!” he screamed as he rushed forward.

Everyone looked up—Tasha, the congressman, his remaining bodyguard. They were all looking toward Quinn, so none of them saw Murray rushing up to the congressman. Without a word, Murray tackled Guerrero to the ground.