The Collected

CHAPTER 49

They drove South through Cordoba-Orlando behind the wheel, Quinn and Daeng in the backseat with Porter between them, and Liz up front with Orlando’s computer.

“Here we go,” Liz said, looking at the laptop’s screen. “The island’s called Duran, and is thirty-one miles south-southeast of Isla de Cervantes. Apparently, it was first spotted by Columbus on his final voyage in 1503. Says he didn’t stop there, though. Not big enough, I guess.” She began to read aloud. “‘In the early 1600s, Charles Duran, one of the early Spanish governors of Isla de Cervantes, decided the much smaller Isla Helena, as Duran was first known, could serve as an early warning outpost, alerting the bigger island of approaching enemies by lighting bonfires at its highest point, a low-slung hill at the southwest end of the island.’

“‘Over the years, the outpost’s few buildings were renovated and added to until it became known as Fort Duran.’” She paused as she read on silently. “It does say the island eventually fell into private hands. Nothing about whose, though.”

According to Porter, the private hands in question belonged to the Romero family, and they’d made Duran their private retreat for over a hundred years. Javier had apparently taken sole control of the island a year prior to his faithful run for the presidency, and had moved there permanently-with the blessings of the government he’d tried to oppose-when he was released from the hospital.

“Is there a map?” Quinn asked.

“Yeah, but it’s small,” Liz said. “Let me see if I can find something better.”

A few moments later Orlando said, “Highway 3 south? Or is there another way?”

Ahead was a sign with an arrow pointing toward the entrance to the highway.

“Yes,” Porter said. “Highway 3.”

Orlando gunned the engine and transitioned them off the city street onto the faster road.

Their destination was a private marina just south of town, where Porter said there was a boat that could take them to Duran. Porter was more a behind-the-scenes guy, who became even more cooperative after a demonstration of how easy it was to dislocate a finger if Quinn wasn’t happy with a response.

“I swear, I didn’t know what he had planned at first,” Porter had said. “It was too late for me to do anything when I did.”

“Bullshit,” Quinn said.

Porter looked nervous, but didn’t push the point again.

“How did you get everyone’s names?” Quinn asked.

“I don’t know. Either Harris or Romero did that.”

“The prisoners-you’re sure they haven’t been killed?”

“They were still alive last I heard.”

“But the plan is to kill them.”

Porter nervously licked his lips, then whispered, “Yes.”

As soon as they’d extracted the information they needed, and learned about the boat, they packed Porter into the car, where Liz had been waiting, and headed out.

“Got one,” Liz said. She raised the computer and flashed the screen at Quinn. On it was a map of the island.

“Perfect,” Quinn said. “Nice and big.”

Liz smiled, and lowered the machine back to her lap. “I’ll save it to the drive.”

“The turnoff’s coming up,” Porter said. “You’ll see a sign for Cordoba Royale Marina. Just after that. The turn will be on the left.”

There was a brief pause, then Orlando said, “I see it.”

Quinn turned to Porter. “Tell me again, how many on the boat?”

“Only two.”

“What about elsewhere in the marina?”

“Elsewhere?”

“Men on another boat, maybe? Or housed on shore?”

“No. Only the two guys.”

“You know what happens if you’re lying.”

“You’ll kill me.”

“We’ll kill you.”

“I’m not lying. There used to be more, but Harris had everyone but a few who were still on the payroll moved out to Duran.”

Quinn looked for signs of deceit, but saw none. Still, they wouldn’t let their guard down.

As Porter had said, the unmanned marina gate was opened by entering a code on a keypad.

“Give me the number,” Orlando said as she rolled down her window and pulled to a stop in front of the gate.

“Four, seven-”

“Before you finish,” Quinn said. “I’d strongly advise you not to give us a code that will alert anybody.”

Porter’s chin began to shake. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then give her the code.”

“Four, um, eight, two, two, nine.”

“You’re sure?” Orlando asked.

“Yes.”

She punched in the numbers. There was a two-second delay, then the gate rolled out of the way. Porter directed them to a parking area in front of pier number eleven.

“That’s it,” he said, looking out the front window. “The one with the white top and dark blue side, tied up on the right.”

The boat was a beauty-a Princess V57. Quinn was familiar with its specs, and knew once they were away from the island, as long as the water wasn’t too choppy, they should be able to make thirty knots easy, getting them to Duran in about an hour.

“Last chance, Porter. How many on the boat?”

“Two. I swear.”

“Names?”

“Hansen and, um, Flores.”

Orlando took Quinn’s place in the backseat next to Porter, while Quinn and Daeng went to pay the men on the boat a visit.

No one was on deck. Unfortunately, the glass door to the cabin area was locked. Quinn explained to Daeng what he wanted to do. Once his friend was in position and ready, he knocked on the door.

“Hello? Anyone awake? Harris sent me. Hello?”

There was a thump somewhere beyond the door, then the sound of feet shuffling. Quinn knocked again.

“Hello? Where is everyone?”

Through the door, he could see a shadow come up the stairs from the below-deck living area and walk across the cabin. The door opened, and a man who’d obviously just crawled out of bed looked out.

“Are you Hansen or Flores?” Quinn asked.

“What? Who are you?”

“Look, Harris sent me. Are you Hansen or Flores?”

“I’m Hansen.”

“Good. I’ve got something they want out at the island, but I need your help carrying it on board.”

“No one told me anything about going out there today.”

“Not my problem.”

“I should call and check.”

“Fine by me,” Quinn said. “But help me get this on board first, all right? You’re not the only stop I’ve got to make this morning.”

Hansen frowned. “Let me put on my shoes.”

When Hansen was finally ready, Quinn said, “It’s over here.”

As he led Hansen to the dock, Daeng moved in behind them, and gave the deckhand a quick shot in the arm from the vaccine gun.

Flores was even easier. He was still asleep in one of the beds below, and stirred only slightly as the tranquilizer entered his arm.

They put both men in the same cabin and locked the door.

Quinn returned to the car and pulled Porter out. Orlando followed right behind with the duffel bag full of equipment. When Liz climbed out, Quinn said, “You’re not coming with us.”

“But-”

“You’re not coming, Liz.”

“You might need me,” she argued.

In the past, he would have gotten mad and told her she was staying, end of story. But this time, he put his hands on her arms and said, “I do need you. That’s why you can’t come. This is one of those not-safe situations. I can’t do my job and worry about you at the same time. I swear I’ll let you know the second everything is okay.”

As she looked at him, he could tell she was trying to find something she could use to change his mind, but then the tension drained from her shoulders and she nodded. “Okay. I understand.”

He pulled her to him, and she hugged him back.

“Find him,” she whispered.

“We will.”

When they parted, she said, “Be careful.”

He smiled. “Go back to the plane. I’ll call you there.”