The Deceived

CHAPTER

THE APARTMENT NE WIN HAD SET THEM UP IN WASN’T

quite as luxurious as the ones at the Quayside Villas, but it was clean and it was furnished. There were two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room/dining room combination, and a walk-through kitchen.

When Quinn arrived, he found Orlando standing near the back window. She’d been looking outside, but had turned toward him as he entered.

“Our little outing at the Far East Square made the news tonight,” she said. She glanced over at the TV. It was on, but the volume was low.

“Are they shutting the city down?” he asked.

Gunfire in Singapore was not a usual occurrence. The authorities’ response to even one shot would be something other countries might consider an overreaction.

“They’re calling it a prank.”

“Really?”

“They say it was a particularly loud firecracker,” she said. “I believe that was the newscaster’s exact phrasing.”

“What about the body?” Quinn asked. “The guy I shot up on Club Street?”

“Nothing.”

Quinn thought about it for a moment. A sudden heightened sense of security would probably have forced Guerrero and his fellow congressman to head out of town, thus lessening the threat against Jenny. So it might have actually been preferable. At least this way, though, he could still move around the city without causing any suspicion.

But what he didn’t want was to drag things out any longer than

necessary. “Where’s Nate?” he asked. “Sleeping.” Quinn walked down the hallway, looking first in the master bed

room, then the smaller room, where he found his apprentice stretched

out on the bed, snoring. Quinn walked over and gave Nate a shake. “Get up,” he said. Nate’s eyes shot open. “What? What is it?” “Get up.” “It can’t be morning already.” “It’s not,” Quinn said as he turned for the door. “Get dressed and

come out. I need your help.” “Ah... okay,” Nate said, sleep still heavy in his voice. “Can you

give me a minute?” “I’ll give you two.” Back in the living room, Quinn quickly filled Orlando in on his

meeting with Jenny. “You’re going back, aren’t you?” Orlando said when he was finished. He pulled the cassette Jenny had given him out of his pocket and

held it out to Orlando. “Here,” he said. “You’re changing the subject.” “Yeah. I am.” She scowled, then took the cassette from him. She twirled it

around. “This is an AIT tape.” “Data tape?” he said. “Yeah. Sony’s version. Similar to an eight-millimeter cassette.” “She said it was a recording.” “Could have a sound file on it. Usually we’d just need to de-

archive it. But the container looks damaged.”

“I have faith in you.” “I don’t even have anything I can play this on,” she said, obviously annoyed. “Call Ne Win,” Quinn said. “I’m sure he can get something sent

over.” “He’s not going to have something like this just lying around.” “He’ll find one.” “Then you call him,” she said. Quinn thought about it for a moment. “Fine,” he said. There was

something he needed to ask the old man to do anyway. From down the hallway, they could hear Nate shuffle out of his

room. “You taking the Boy Wonder with you?” Orlando asked. “Thought I might.” “Maybe I should go with you this time.” “We really need you to figure out what’s on that tape.” “If I can figure it out.” “If anyone can do it, you can.” “Gee, thanks, Dad.” Her face turned serious. “Be careful.” “Be careful?” Nate said as he entered the living room. “Be careful

of what?”

They walked from their apartment to the Quayside Villas. Earlier in the day, Quinn had all but decided to forget about Markoff ’s message. Whatever was at the Quayside Villas wasn’t as important as getting Jenny off the island. But that plan hadn’t worked out. In fact, Jenny’s feeling that whatever Markoff had found might have helped her had only refocused Quinn’s attention on the building. So a return trip seemed the logical thing to do.

On the way, Quinn called Ne Win. He wasn’t surprised to find the old man still up. After Quinn told him what he needed, Ne Win said, “I’m not convenience store.” “I never thought you were,” Quinn said.

There was a sigh on the other end. “Data tape player might take a little while. I’ll call when you can pick it up.”

“We need it as soon as you can get it. So instead of calling, have one of your men bring it to the apartment.”

“You are big trouble, you know that?” Ne Win said.

“You should have thought about that before you sent me the container with Markoff ’s body in it.”

“I never said I sent you container.”

“So you’ll get the recorder over to the apartment?” Quinn asked, getting back to business.

“Yes, yes. I take care of it.”

“And the power? You can take care of that, too?”

There was a long pause. “Take care of that, too. My man call you when they are ready. His name Lok.”

“Okay. We’ll be in position in...” Quinn looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes. It would be great if it could happen right around then.”

“You are big trouble.”

The line went dead.

Quinn and Nate stood in the fourth-floor hallway of the Quayside Villas, near the entrance to the stairs. Each had a backpack on his back, and they both wore latex gloves. If someone chose that moment to step out their door and saw them, there would be no mistaking Quinn and Nate as a couple of residents hanging out in the corridor. But like before, the building was quiet, asleep. Their presence had been unobserved.

In Quinn’s hand was his phone. It was also silent.

“Maybe your friend couldn’t make it happen,” Nate said.

“Patience,” Quinn said.

Another minute passed.

“Perhaps we should go back,” Nate said. “Do it tomorrow night. You know, give the old guy more time to arrange things.”

This time, Quinn said nothing.

Another minute. “What if one of the security guards sho—” The soft hum of Quinn’s cell phone vibrating in his hand cut Nate

off. Quinn raised the phone to his ear. “Yes.” “Mr. Quinn?” “Yes. Who is this?” “Lok.” Ne Win’s man. He sounded around the same age as Nate

and had a slight British accent. “We’re ready when you are.” “We’re ready now,” Quinn said. One second. Two. Three. Suddenly all the lights in the hallway went out. Though there was

no window nearby to check, Quinn knew the power outage extended farther than just the corridor, encompassing several blocks on the north side of the river.

“We’re dark here,” Quinn said. “One hour’s the most I can guarantee,” Lok said. “That’s plenty.” Quinn disconnected the call, then switched his phone to thermal

camera mode. The faint blue glow from the screen illuminated his face

but little else. “Anything?” Nate asked. “No,” Quinn said. He closed his phone, then pulled out the small

set of night vision binoculars he’d let Nate use on their last visit. “Wait here.”

Quinn anticipated that one of the residents would come out to check if power was also lost in the hall, but as he made his way toward 04-21 no one had stepped out to join him. Either they were all asleep, or they assumed the entire building was in a blackout.

When he reached room 04-20, he stopped. He pulled out his phone again and aimed the lens at the wall of room 04-21. Nothing. All was dark. No power and no people, either.

He quickly returned down the hallway where he’d left Nate. “Empty,” he whispered. “Let’s go up.” Quinn was working under the assumption that because the door

to 04-21 was impassable, there must be another way. And since the room directly above it—05-21—was owned by another phony corporation, perhaps that was the way in.

The layout of the fifth floor was exactly the same as the fourth. As was the lack of light.

With Nate’s hand on his back, Quinn led the way down the corridor. When the door to 05-21 came into view, he said, “Same as below. Sconce directly across from the door.” He reactivated his cell phone, then handed it to Nate. “Check it out.”

Nate accessed the thermal image function, then turned the device toward the ornament.

“I’m picking up two power sources. Probably batteries,” he said.

“Two?” Quinn said.

“One toward the bottom and one near the top.”

Quinn trained the night vision binoculars on the sconce. There was a hole at the bottom just like the one downstairs. So that had to be a camera. But there was no corresponding hole near the top.

Camera first, he thought.

As Nate scanned the apartment, Quinn slipped his backpack off his shoulders and removed a small rectangular box from inside.

“Dark,” Nate said after a moment. “The apartment’s empty.”

“Good,” Quinn said.

He flipped the switch on the side of the box, then a small video screen mounted on the device came to life. He scrolled through a menu until he came to a function labeled sgnl srch. He selected it, was presented with another set of options, selected dig vid, then waited as the device cycled through potential transmission frequencies.

Forty-five seconds later, a dark, murky image filled the monitor. He’d tapped into the feed from the camera in the sconce.

“Here,” Quinn said, handing Nate the monitor.

From his pocket, he pulled out a disk about the diameter of a quarter, and half an inch thick. He removed the protective covering off the sticky rubber base, then crept along the wall until he was only a few feet away from the sconce. He touched a tiny switch on the side of the disk, then pressed the object against the wall. He held his hand underneath for a moment, making sure it wasn’t going to fall off.

“That did it,” Nate said. He was looking at the small monitor.

The disk was a jammer. Until it was turned off, the camera would only be generating garbage.

Quinn moved in close to the sconce and pulled out his flashlight.

“Was that other source on this side of the sconce or the other?” he asked.

“The other,” Nate said.

Quinn moved quickly to the opposite side, passing directly in front of the camera lens. He trained his light along the edge of the sconce and worked his way to the top. There was nothing obvious.

Keeping his motion steady and careful, he reached up into the central vase and worked his fingers down along the stems of the flowers. Less than an inch down, he hit a bump. It was about an inch wide, and rounded over the top like a blemish. It was a shape he knew.

He worked his fingers around it and gave it a tug. It resisted for a moment, then pulled free of the wall. It appeared that it had been held in place by a magnetic backing. He could feel it wanting to reattach itself as he moved it up the side of the vase with his fingertips. Once he was free of the sconce, he slipped his prize into his palm.

It was black and no more than half an inch thick at its highest point. It was exactly what he’d expected. But just to confirm, he pulled out the tracking device and held it next to the bump.

1.0000.

They had found the source of Markoff ’s beacon.

In essence, it was a mobile phone, without the ability to receive or transmit sound. It used the digital airways merely to let others who knew its ID code know it was there. And aided by the fact that the device was basically passive, the specialized battery could last for over a month.

There was no question now. This was where Markoff had been leading them.

“Do you think he ever got inside?” Nate asked.

“No idea.”

Quinn put the beacon and the box that had tracked it down into his bag. Neither was needed any longer.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he moved quickly to the door and examined its locks. He aimed the beam of his flashlight directly into each slot. Unlike the keyholes on the door to room 04-21, these were not faked.

Quinn held his hand out, and Nate gave him the monitor back. Returning to the main menu, Quinn ran through the options until he’d selected sec sys—Security System. He moved the detector along the doorjambs, across the top and the bottom. When he was through, he looked at the display screen. sys det—inact.

“There’s something there,” he said. “But it’s not on.” “So we go in?” Nate asked. “Yes.” “Can I do it?” “Fine,” Quinn said. “Just be quick.” From his own backpack, Nate removed a set of lock picks and set

to work first on the deadbolt, then on the lock in the handle of the door. After a moment, he looked up. “Done,” he said. Quinn glanced at the detector. The display still read sec sys—

inact. He gave Nate a nod. His apprentice smiled, then turned the han

dle and pushed on the door until it cleared the jamb. “I’ll go first,” Quinn said. He returned the monitor to his bag, then pulled out a palm-size

flashlight and turned it on. As he entered the room, he swung his

flashlight in a wide arc, looking for any type of booby trap. “Clear,” he said. Nate entered, then shut the door behind him. “Check the bedrooms,” Quinn told his apprentice. “I’ll look out

here.”

Quinn did a quick sweep of the living room, then moved on to the dining area and the kitchen. The couch, the tables, the chairs, the appliances in the kitchen all spoke of someone who liked to live comfortably. Only it was a sham. A fine layer of dust had settled over everything. In the kitchen, the cabinets were all empty. The same went for the refrigerator.

As Quinn reentered the living room, Nate emerged quickly from the hallway. “I think I found something,” Nate said.

It was in the closet of the smaller bedroom. The only thing that indicated there might be something odd was a metal strip that ran up the center of the back wall.

Nate had already flipped up the tan carpet that had covered the closet floor. Underneath, where Quinn would have expected concrete, there was wood. He tapped the flooring and was greeted with a hollow echo.

“It looks like it flips up here,” Nate said.

He slipped his fingers into a groove along the edge closest to them, then began to lift the base of the closet up. It seemed to be hinging along the back wall. As soon as Quinn could get his fingers underneath, he helped Nate to push the floor all the way up.

There was a metal fastener attached to the underside, very near the top. That explained the metal support bar on the back of the closet. Quinn flipped the fastener over the edge of the trapdoor and snapped it into a slot on the bar.

In the void that had been the closet floor, there was a steep metal staircase—almost a ladder—leading down into the darkness.

“Somebody’s spent a lot of time and money on this,” Nate said, then looked at Quinn. “Shall we?”

Quinn moved the flashlight over the makeshift stairwell. It seemed to be exactly what it looked like.

“Keep your eyes open,” he said.

Nate nodded, then stepped onto the staircase and began descending into apartment 04-21. Quinn followed right behind.

As expected, the stairs ended in the closet of another bedroom. But unlike the bedroom upstairs, this one had no furniture inside. Instead, it seemed to be some sort of storage room. There were dozens of cardboard boxes and wooden crates stacked neatly along the wall, filling up nearly half the room.

Quinn ran his flashlight over them, but there were no markings indicating what might be inside. Nate walked over and put a hand on a box at the top of a stack. He pushed, but the box barely moved.

“Heavy,” he said.

Quinn looked at his watch. Only ten minutes had passed. Though plenty of time remained, they still needed to hurry. He wanted to be out of the building and miles away by the time the power came back on.

“Leave them for now,” Quinn said, then pointed toward the main part of the apartment. “Check for heat signatures again.”

Nate moved the phone in a wide arc, taking in the entire apartment beyond.

“Clear,” Nate said.

They stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Quinn motioned for Nate to wait, then moved to his left to check the master bedroom. More boxes. Bigger than those in the other room, but also unmarked.

He retraced his steps and headed toward the main part of the apartment, this time with Nate following. As they neared the end of the hall, they slowed. The flashlight revealed little of the living room beyond, only the side of some bookcases along the wall.

“Check again,” he said to Nate.

Nate scanned the room ahead of them. “Still nothing.”

Quinn took a single step into the living room, then moved his flashlight slowly through the space. As the light revealed more and more of the room’s contents, the skin at the base of his neck began to tingle.