The Destroyed (36 page)

Peter glanced at the man who’d escorted Mila into the plane. “Go with him. Figure out who these people are. If they’re a problem, subdue them.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, heading for the door.

“And tell the pilot to get ready to leave.”

The man went with Howard.

When Peter turned back around, he saw that Olsen had his phone to his hear. Olsen frowned, pulled it down, and hit another button. “They’re not answering.”

“Who?” Peter asked.

“The senator and Mr. Green.”

“They’re safe at the trailer. The team will protect them.”

Olsen shoved his phone into his pocket. “I need to go check on them.”

“You’re not getting off right now.”

“They might be in trouble!”

“Perhaps, but you’re not going to be much help if you’re dead.”

Right on cue, the sound of the plane’s idling engines began to increase. At almost the same moment, shouts came from the cabin. This was followed by what sounded like muted gunfire. Then something slammed into the outside wall of the room.

“Please tell me you’re armed!” Olsen said.

Peter nodded, and pulled a pistol from his shoulder holster. “I’m going to go see if I can help.”

“No! Stay in here.”

“If I stay here, we’re dead for sure. Out there, I might be able to do something to stop this.”

Not waiting for a response, he ran out the door, making sure to shut it behind him.

__________

Q
UINN WAS WAITING
five feet away when Peter exited the room at the back of the plane. He motioned for his former client to run past him. Once Peter was clear, Nate threw himself against the wall again, this time letting out a loud groan.

Quinn aimed the gun that was loaded with blanks at one of the empty seats, and pulled the trigger twice. As soon as the echoes of the shots died down, he motioned for everyone to stop making any sounds.

He gave it ten seconds, then walked to the door and threw it open. What he’d expected to find was either Olsen cowering in the corner, or perhaps using Mila as a shield. Instead, Olsen was on the floor and Mila was straddling his chest, one leg pressed down on each of his arm.

“Hope you don’t mind,” she said, looking back at Quinn.

He shook his head, and removed a syringe from the case on his belt. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“Please.”

Quinn released her from her cuffs, and handed her the syringe.

“Goodnight, Mr. Olsen,” she said as she stuck the needle in the man’s arm.

CHAPTER 41

M
YGATT, GREEN, AND
Olsen were propped next to each other against the wall of the back room, black bags over their heads, their hands and legs restrained. The amount of Beta-Somnol they’d been given had been carefully measured so that they’d only be out for approximately thirty minutes.

Right on schedule, Nate exited the room and said, “Two of them are waking up.”

“Good,” Quinn said.

He rose from his seat, walked into the room, and closed the door behind him. There was only one chair inside now. He pulled it as far from the three men as possible, and sat down.

It was another five minutes before the first one was fully alert.

“Hello?” Olsen said, his voice at first tentative, but quickly growing in strength. “Hello? Is anybody there? Hey, anyone!”

Quinn remained silent.

“Hello? Somebody! Anybody!” As Olsen tipped to the side, his shoulder knocked against Mygatt. “Who’s that? Hey, who are you?”

Mygatt groaned.

“Shit,” Olsen said.

A few seconds later, Green moaned and said, “What the hell? Take this thing off my head!”

“Mr. Green?” Olsen said.

A pause. “Olsen? What are you doing? Get this off my head!”

“Sir, I can’t. I’m tied up and my head’s covered, too.”

“Have you tried to get free?”

“I’ve only been awake a minute or so, sir.”

“Dammit,” Green said, his tone even more urgent than before. “Is the senator here, too?”

“I don’t know.”

“Senator Mygatt?” Green called out. When there was no reply, he said, “Olsen, what the hell happened at the plane?”

“We were attacked. I’m pretty sure they killed the other men. Peter, too. He went to see what he could do, but I heard gunshots right after. Then a man came into the room who seemed to know Voss. They shot me up with something. That’s all I remember.”

“Same thing happened to us. Hit us in the trailer. Goddammit! Any clue where we might be?”

“Sir?” Olsen said. “Don’t you hear it?”

“Hear what?”

“The drone? We’re on the plane, sir. Or
a
plane, anyway.”

Quinn decided this was as good a time as any to give them something else to think about. He shifted in his chair, intentionally causing it to creak.

The two men’s heads jerked toward the sound.

“Who’s there?” Green asked. “Senator Mygatt? Is that you?”

Quinn said nothing.

“Who’s there? I can hear you! I know you’re there!”

For several more minutes, Green and Olsen took turns trying to get Quinn to talk. Finally, as Mygatt was waking, Quinn stood up, and noisily left the room.

__________

P
ETER WATCHED THE
plane until it disappeared into the night. Not that he would have, but there were points during the last twenty minutes when he could have turned the tables, and stayed in the good graces of Mygatt and Green. Now, there was absolutely no turning back.

He headed to his car. He’d been able to set up most everything before he drove to the airfield with Olsen, but there were still a few things that were incomplete and one very important phone call he had to make.

Despite Helen Cho’s stated desire not to discuss the Gorman matter any further, Peter had called her three hours earlier as he was helping to put Quinn’s plan in motion. Now, as he drove back toward DC, he punched in her number again.

“What?” she said as she came on the line.

“Do you have it?”

“I swear to God, Peter, I should just—”

“Do you have it?”

She was silent for several seconds. “Yes.”

“Is it enough?”

“More than enough. But…”

“But what?” he asked. “Helen, you know who Mygatt really is. You know what he and Green have done. What’s going to happen to you and your little group there if Mygatt becomes the director of the CIA?”

“I get it. You don’t have to lecture me.”

“Noted.”

Knowing that Mygatt and Green were guilty was one thing; making people believe it would be an entirely different matter. Helen now had in her possession the hard proof.

He gave her a timeline of what she had to do next.

“If this ever comes back on me, I’m coming after you. You know that, right?” she said.

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“As long as we’re clear.”

“There’s one more thing.”

He could hear her take a deep breath. “What is it?”

He told her the final part of Quinn’s plan.

“You have got to be kidding. No way!”

“All I need you to do is open the door. Do that, and you won’t have to deal with either man ever again.”

“And if I don’t?”

“It’s going to come out anyway, and, naturally, there will be some collateral damage.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m informing you. So what’s it going to be?”

This time she was quiet for nearly half a minute before she said, “You asshole.”

__________

O
VER THE NEXT
couple hours, Quinn took turns with Nate and Orlando silently sitting in the room for ten or fifteen minutes at a spell, then leaving again. At first, their three guests were belligerent and demanding, then they became more imploring, offering to make some kind of deal. Finally, the perceived reality of their situation set in, and fear took full control.

At this point, Quinn and the others left the men alone, letting them live with their imagination of what might happen next.

“Will Peter be able to pull it off?” Orlando asked as they waited in the main cabin.

Before Quinn could answer, Mila said, “I don’t trust him. He tried to kill me.”

“Who? Peter?” Quinn said. “That may be, but he was only doing the job he’d been hired for, and it seems to me he’s trying to make up for it now.” He glanced at Orlando. “So, yes, I think he’ll be able to pull it off.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said.

__________

I
T TOOK LONGER
than Peter had hoped for all the parts to come together. By the time he was ready to make his second-to-last call, he’d been back in the townhouse for several hours.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“Prime Cable News,” a pleasant female voice said.

“Dick Tillman, please. He’s expecting my call.”

She transferred him to a secretary who put him through to Tillman.

“I hope to hell you’re not fucking with me,” the network executive said.

“I’m not. I assume you contacted our mutual acquaintance?”

His voice lost some of its aggressiveness. “Yeah. He vouched for you.”

Peter had needed to pull several strings to get the retired general to talk to Tillman, but he knew it would do the trick. “And your camera teams?”

“The one here is no problem, but we don’t have anyone in Romania. On the word of your friend, I’ve sent a team there from Paris. They should arrive in Bucharest within the next three hours.”

“Good,” Peter said, then relayed a set of coordinates. “The Bucharest team will have ninety minutes after they land to get to that location. Tell them to do nothing to draw attention to themselves. They should get in a position that allows them a view of the gate. They’ll know what that means when they get there. Then they just wait.”

“What are they waiting for?”

“They’ll figure it out.”

“What about the other team?”

Peter gave him another set of coordinates. “Their timeline will mirror that of your team in Romania.”

“And I suppose you can’t tell me what they need to watch for, either?”

“No, I can’t. But I can tell you, Mr. Tillman, you don’t want to miss this.”

__________

F
OUR AND A
half hours after
they’d taken off from the airfield in Virginia, Quinn’s phone rang.

“Yes?”

“I’ve just received the final confirmation. Everything’s in place,” Peter said. “Is two hours enough?”

“Hold on.” Quinn grabbed the walkie-talkie that connected him with the flight crew. “We’re ready to take her down. How long until we can be on the ground?”

“Forty-five minutes. Fifty, tops,” the pilot reported.

“Whatever you can do to make it sooner will be helpful.” He added the estimate to the time it would take them to drive to their final destination. “Two hours should be doable, but it’ll be tight.”

“You want a delay?” Peter asked.

“No. Any later will be less effective. We’ll make it work.”

“All right. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Peter. You really came through.” Quinn hung up and looked at the others. “Time for that chat.”

They all pulled on ski masks, and relocated to the back room. Nate and Daeng each held a video camera, so the rest stayed behind them to make sure that the only ones in the shot would be Mygatt, Green, and Olsen.

“What’s going on?” Mygatt asked.

“Where are we?” Green threw in. “Someone, please talk to us!”

“We felt the plane turn,” Olsen said. “Are we landing?”

“Yes,” Quinn said. It was the first word any of them had spoken to the prisoners since takeoff.

“What do you want? Who are you?” Mygatt said.

“Who I am isn’t important. What do I want? Well,
Senator
Mygatt, what I want is an explanation.”

“Explanation? About what?”

“Thomas Gorman.”

Mygatt delayed a second too long before saying, “Who?”

“We’re not going to do that, senator. Let me make this clear. As soon as we land, there are two groups of people we can give you to. One who will make sure you get home, and one who will tear you apart.” He gave it a beat, then said, “So, tell us what happened to Thomas Gorman.”

What started as dribbles of denial and deflection soon became a flood of reality as the story came out. Even then, Mygatt tried to paint himself as a hero, protecting his country, but his attempted ruse sounded empty.

“Moving in,” Quinn whispered, as soon as the senator was finished.

Both Nate and Daeng zoomed their lenses in so that only the black bag covering Mygatt’s head was visible. Quinn then walked over to the man’s side.

“How much of this story is true?”

“All of it,” Mygatt said. “Everything. And I’d do it again.”

As he said the last sentence, Quinn pulled the bag off, revealing the former senator’s face.

“Again,” Quinn said. “The story you just told, is it true?”

Mygatt’s eyes widened as he noticed the cameras.

“Senator?”

“Yes,” Mygatt whispered.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, it’s all true.”

“So you faked the death of an American citizen, and flew him out of the country to a secret prison in Romania?”

Mygatt looked at him, surprised. “Romania? How did…It’s not like that! He was a menace. I did what everyone else wanted to do. It needed to be done.
For
the US.”

“And these men were with you?” As Quinn asked this, Orlando moved around and pulled the bags off Green’s and Olsen’s heads. “They were part of this?”

Nate and Daeng waited until she was out of the way, then panned their cameras over to the two newly revealed faces.

“These men are patriots,” Mygatt said.

“Were they part of this?” Quinn asked.

“They were also doing what needed to be done.”

Quinn stood up and nodded at Nate and Daeng. They switched off the cameras and lowered them.

“Thank you, Senator Mygatt, Mr. Green, and Mr. Olsen. That’ll be all.”

The bags went back over their heads.

“Hey!” Olsen called out.

“I did what you asked!” Mygatt shouted.