The Collected (A Jonathan Quinn Novel) (12 page)

Maybe he’d just overreacted. Just because she’d looked at his place didn’t mean she was trouble. Ten minutes passed with still no sign of her.

Okay, I
was
overreacting
, he thought, relieved.

He pushed himself back to his feet, intending to head downstairs, but as he was turning to leave, he caught sight of someone standing near the end of the pathway that weaved through the homes about a quarter block from his place. From his position, he could only see a hand and partial profile, but it was enough to make him suspicious.

Carefully, he worked his way down the row of townhomes until he reached the one on the corner above the unknown person. Lying down again, he inched out until he could look straight down.

His stomach clenched.

It was the woman.

He watched her for a minute, then pulled back, suddenly afraid she would sense his gaze and look up. There was no question why she was there. The entire time he’d observed her, her eyes had been trained on his place.

As far as he was concerned, there were only two people who could have sent her to look for him: Pullman, who’d want to know what the hell had gone wrong; or the man who’d called himself Mr. Blair. Of the two, it was Blair he worried about most.

Though he’d done exactly what the man had asked—delivering the information about the cleaner’s plan—Burke now thought that Blair had only been playing him, and hadn’t actually intended for Burke to get away. Ironically, it was Quinn who had preserved his freedom, by buying time and ordering Burke to take off.

I’m a loose end.

Burke looked in the direction of his place. “Sorry, Ellie,” he whispered. “Gonna have to take this trip alone.”

Four minutes later, he was back in his car, heading for the freeway.

CHAPTER 17

LOS ANGELES

A
NGER WAS AN
emotion Daeng had learned to control during the time he’d spent as a monk at the temple in the Thai countryside. It would still occasionally rear up, but only in the most extreme situations. Years before, the crackdown in his mother’s homeland of Burma that saw many of his brother monks murdered had not only been one of those situations, but the one that had pushed him out of the saffron robes and into a life where he could have a more direct hand in dealing with the injustices being thrust upon the Burmese people.

Now, being coaxed away from Los Angeles by lies so that he would not be in a position to help his friend was another. He let it simmer inside for the entire return trip from Bangkok, knowing it was best to let it run its course. It wasn’t until the plane began its descent into LAX that he finally allowed himself to close his eyes in his well-practiced ritual. In his mind, he pictured a box rotating just below his ribs. As it turned, it sucked in more and more of his anger, until finally the last wisps of it were gone. As he closed the box and stored it away, he could feel his body relax. Opening his eyes, he was calm again, his anger a memory now, but one he could grab on to and use to focus as needed.

He waited until he cleared passport control before he called Quinn. No answer, just voice mail.

“I’m here,” he said, leaving his message. “I’ll head over to your place and call you again when I get there.”

He arranged for a rental car, then drove across town and up into the hills.

Quinn had told him Liz would be at the house. Daeng had heard plenty about her from Nate, and had seen several pictures, but the two had never actually met. So, not wanting to walk in and scare her, he pushed the buzzer on the gate intercom.

When she didn’t respond, he had no choice but to enter the code. He parked in front of the garage and knocked on the door. Still no answer. Apparently, she’d gone out, so he let himself in. It was good to be back at Quinn’s house. Nate had been letting him use the second guest room, so it was almost like coming home.

“Hello?” he called, just in case she hadn’t heard him knock. “Liz? It’s Daeng. Nate and Quinn’s friend. Hello?”

He was answered only by silence.

He set his bag by the stairs so he could take it downstairs later, and went into the kitchen to start some coffee. The flight was a long one, and his internal clock was all screwed up from going back and forth.

It wasn’t until he’d pulled a mug out of the cabinet that he noticed the piece of paper on the table. He went over and picked it up.

__________

“T
HIS IS WHAT
I want you to do,” Quinn said to Ellie. “Take your suitcase and go home to your place.”

She looked at him, the area between her eyebrows wrinkling. “But…he’s coming back. Our trip.”

“Do you feel safe here?”

She pulled back a few inches. “You’re going to hurt him, aren’t you?”

“I never said that. I just need to ask him a few questions.”

Her eyes suddenly lost focus as she tilted her face down. With a half laugh, she looked over at Orlando and shook her head. “I’m such an idiot. There wasn’t an ex-girlfriend.”

“You thought I was his ex?” Orlando said.

She frowned as she looked back up. “Never mind.” She stood up. “I’ll go. If you see him, tell him…Tell him if he wasn’t lying to me, he knows where to find me. And if he was…” She shook her head and said, “Screw it.”

Once she’d retrieved her suitcase and left, Quinn pulled out his phone and took a picture of the photograph of Burke and Ellie on the boat. He asked Orlando, “You didn’t happen to see a ticket for their flight, didn’t you?”

“If he printed them out, they’d probably be in his carry-on up in his room.”

Quinn ran up the stairs, and returned a few moments later with several pieces of paper.

“You think he’s stupid enough to still go?”

“Let’s find out.”

He led the way back to the car. Just as he was climbing in, his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and saw that he already had one missed call.

“Hello?” he said.

“It’s Daeng. I’m at your house.”

“Oh, crap,” he said. “I forgot to tell Liz you were coming. Please tell her I’m—”

“She’s gone.”

Quinn had been about to start the car, but paused. “Gone?”

“She left a note. It says, ‘Jake, I can’t stay here. Don’t call me unless you find him. I need to think about things. Liz.’”

Quinn grimaced. It was just as he’d feared. She was going to get hurt all over again, and, ultimately, it would be his fault.

“Snap a photo of it and message it to me, okay?” he said. He wanted to make sure it was her handwriting.

“No problem,” Daeng told him. “I
could
go out and look for her if you want.”

Quinn glanced at the tickets Burke had printed out. “No. It’s better if we just leave her alone. I actually have something else I need you to do. I’m going to send you a picture of a guy named Douglas Burke. He’s scheduled to fly out on Qantas for Australia tomorrow night, but I have a feeling he’s going to try to move up his reservation. Get back to LAX. If you see him, detain him. I don’t know if he’s driving in or flying, but he’ll have to go through the international terminal. We’ll get there as quickly as we can.”

__________

“G
OOD AFTERNOON,” THE
female attendant said as Daeng walked up to the Qantas Airlines check-in counter. “Passport, please.”

“Actually, I’m not checking in,” he said, putting on his friendliest face.

“Oh. Well, then, what can I do for you?”

“I hope I’m not too late. I’m supposed to meet someone who
is
flying out today, and give him these papers.” He held up a manila envelope he’d picked up at an office supply store on the way to the airport and stuffed with several pieces of blank paper. Written on the outside was:
DOUGLAS BURKE
. “Is there any way for you to tell me if he’s already checked in or not?”

“No problem. Name?”

He set the envelope on the counter so she could see it. She typed in the name, then studied her screen.

“Oh,” she said after a few seconds. “I see he changed his reservation to today.”

“Yeah. He was supposed to leave tomorrow. That’s why I had to rush.”

“Well, he hasn’t checked in yet, but his flight doesn’t leave for another five hours, so you have plenty of time.”

Daeng put on his best look of relief. “Thank God. I was told the plane was leaving at seven p.m.”

She smiled. “No. Just after ten.”

“That’s good. Well, except now I have to sit around and wait.” He grinned and shrugged.

“Better than missing him, though, right?”

“That’s true,” he said, picking up the envelope. “Thanks.”

At the back of the Tom Bradley International terminal was a balcony level with several restaurants that overlooked the check-in area. Daeng went up, bought a bowl of chicken udon soup from the Japanese place, and took a seat at the front edge of the balcony, with a view of the Qantas counter.

For the first hour, it saw very little action. Then, just a little after six p.m., traffic started to pick up. First the line was a constant half dozen, then a dozen. By seven p.m. it had almost doubled again, and new staff had come on to direct people to the different stations as they opened up.

He still hadn’t seen Burke.

At a quarter after seven, Quinn called.

“We just landed,” he said. “Any news?”

“You were right. He changed to tonight’s ten-o’-clock flight. But so far, he hasn’t checked in.”

“All right. We’re on our way over to you.”

“I’m sitting at the—” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked at a man who’d just joined the end of the line.

“Daeng? Are you there?”

“I think I see your friend.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hard to tell from where I’m positioned. I’m going in for a closer look, but you’d better hurry.”

“Five minutes,” Quinn said, and hung up.

Daeng dumped his empty bowl in the trash and rode the escalator back downstairs. As he approached the line in front of Qantas, he saw his instincts had been right. It was Burke.

The guy was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses despite the fact he was inside, but the jawline was the same, as were the ears and the mouth. He was nervous, too. He kept looking over his shoulder, scanning the crowd. He even paused on Daeng for a moment, but quickly moved on, obviously dismissing the former monk as a threat.

By the way the line was moving, it would be at least ten minutes before Burke’s turn. Daeng moved down to the end of the aisle nearest the front doors, and casually stood where he could keep an eye on the man.

Quinn and Orlando joined him three minutes later.

“Where?” Quinn asked.

“Qantas line, about midway, in the baseball cap and glasses.”

“Subtle,” Orlando said.

“Yeah, wouldn’t have been my choice,” Quinn agreed. He watched Burke for a moment. “Here’s what I’d like to do.”

__________

“G
OOD EVENING. PASSPORT
, please,” Maddee James said.

The passenger placed his passport on the counter. “My reservation was for tomorrow, but I switched it earlier today,” he said.

“No problem, sir,” she told him, hoping he was right. It had been a long day already, and the last thing she wanted was to deal with a passenger who thought he’d changed his flight but actually hadn’t. It had happened before and it was never any fun.

She input his name into the system, and smiled. He was indeed on tonight’s flight. She printed out his boarding card, tagged his bag, and handed the card and passport back to him.

“Security check is in the back and to the left. Have a nice flight, Mr. Burke.”

It wasn’t until he grunted a thanks and walked off that she remembered his name from earlier. He was the person that cute messenger was looking for. She had a second to wonder if they’d been able to find each other before the next passenger walked up.

“Good evening. Passport, please.”

__________

Q
UINN WATCHED FROM
the back end of the aisle as Orlando moved in beside Burke, and Daeng took up position behind the man.

Subtly, Orlando angled her path so that Burke had to move more and more to his right. As they took the turn toward security, he was almost up against the wall. That was Quinn’s cue.

He moved in quickly, a broad smile on his face, his arms open wide. “Doug!”

He enveloped Burke in a hug before the guy even knew what was happening.

“Great to see you again,” Quinn said loudly, then whispered, “If you try to draw
any
attention, we will kill you here and leave you to die.”

Both Orlando and Daeng moved in close so Burke would know they were there.

“Do you understand?” Quinn asked.

Burke swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Quinn let go and took a small step back. “Let us help you with your stuff.”

Daeng grabbed Burke’s carry-on, while Orlando took his passport and boarding card.

“I’ve got a plane to catch,” Burke said.

“Maybe. That depends on your answers to a few questions.”

“What questions?”

Quinn smiled. “Why don’t we go outside where it’s a little quieter?

CHAPTER 18

J
ANUS LED NATE
down a long dark hall to the room with the washbasin and toilet. It was the second time he’d been taken there since he came into possession of the bolt. This time, though, there was a clean shirt and pair of pants hanging from a peg on the back wall.

“Wash up,” Janus said. “You want to look good for later.”

Nate held his cuffed hands in the air, silently asking how he was supposed to do that.

Janus smirked, then pulled a pair of cutters out of his back pocket and snapped the plastic tie in two. For half a second, Nate thought about making a move, but Janus quickly stepped back into the doorway, out of range.

“Now wash,” the big man said.

With Janus keeping an eye on him, Nate used the toilet, removed his shirt, and cleaned up, using the soap and washcloth next to the sink. It felt good to get some of the grime and old sweat off, but he knew it was just temporary. Unlike the room he’d been held in, this one didn’t seem to have any climate control. The air was thick and humid. Even as he was drying off, he could feel sweat forming on his skin again.