The Deceived

CHAPTER

THE SUN WAS SHINING BRIGHTLY BEYOND THE WIN

dows of the bedroom when Quinn opened his eyes. His back ached, but that wasn’t surprising. He’d spent the night sleeping on the floor of the master bedroom so that he would be close if Jenny needed anything.

Orlando was beside him, tucked against his side, her head on his chest. It was nearly the identical position they’d been in when they’d fallen asleep hours before. They had been too exhausted to do anything more than hold each other.

He could hear Jenny breathing evenly on the bed. She had stirred only once during the night, but had not come fully awake—a bad dream, no doubt, probably heightened by Dr. Han’s pain medication.

Quinn tried to slip his arm out from under Orlando without waking her, but she stirred, then suddenly stretched. Her eyes opened just enough to look at him through her intertwined lashes.

“What time is it?” she whispered.

He looked at his watch. “Ten-forty,” he said, surprised. It was the longest night of sleep he’d had since Markoff had turned up dead.

He pushed himself up, then pulled on his jeans and a black polo shirt. “I’ll make coffee.”

The pot was almost done when he heard Orlando come down the hall. He waited until the coffee was finished, then filled two cups and carried them into the living room.

Orlando had changed clothes and had pulled her hair back into a ponytail. It looked like she’d run some water over her face, too. She looked refreshed and ready to go.

She was sitting at the table with her laptop open again. Quinn set one of the cups down beside the computer.

“Did it finish processing?” he said.

“Looks like it.”

“And?”

“Hold on,” she said.

The folder on the screen displayed a single file. She opened it.

“Is that coffee?”

They both looked up. Nate walked into the living room looking only half awake.

“In the kitchen,” Quinn said.

With a grunt of thanks, Nate shuffled across the room and out of sight.

“Let’s hear it,” Quinn said to Orlando.

She hit the Play button, but no sound came out of the speakers.

Orlando stopped the playback, then moved the cursor to the middle of the file timeline and started it again. Again there was nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.

“Hold on.”

She tried a couple different spots on the timeline with the same result.

“What’s going on?” Nate asked as he emerged from the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

“Not now,” Quinn said.

Orlando had opened the conversion software she’d been using and was examining the log. After a moment, she shook her head and closed the program.

“What is it?” Quinn asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It should play. The log says it converted fine.”

She tried the file again. Dead air.

She leaned back and stared at the screen.

“There was something on the tape,” Quinn said. “Right?”

“Yes, there was something on the tape,” she snapped. “Please, just...give me a few minutes to figure this out.”

“Sure,” Quinn said. He touched her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she said, glaring up at him. “There should be something here. We should be hearing it.”

Quinn went into the kitchen to refresh his coffee and to give Orlando a little space. When he returned, her mood seemed to have gotten worse.

“It should be there,” she said. “There’s no reason why it’s not.”

“Then run it again,” he said.

“That’ll take another day.”

“Okay, so it takes another day. We’ve got nothing now.”

“Another day will be too late,” Jenny said. She was standing near the entrance to the hall, her good shoulder propping her up against the wall. “Can I get some water?”

Quinn shot Nate a look, then nodded toward the kitchen.

“I’ll get it,” Nate said.

Quinn walked over to Jenny. He put an arm around her waist and guided her into the living room.

“Sit down,” he said when they reached the couch.

She didn’t need to be told twice.

“How’s the shoulder?” he asked.

“Not too bad if I don’t move it.”

Nate came back in carrying a glass of water. He handed it to Jenny, and they all watched while she took a drink.

“What did you mean?” Quinn asked after she set the glass down. “Why too late?”

“It was on the tape,” she said. “If you’d been able to listen to it, you’d have understood.”

“We don’t have that option right now,” Quinn told her. “You’re going to have to tell us what was there.”

She looked down at the glass in her hand and sighed. “They’re going to kill him,” she said. “Today.”

“Kill who?” Orlando asked. She’d turned in her chair so she was facing everyone.

“Guerrero?” Quinn asked.

“Yes,” Jenny said.

“Who’s going to kill him?” Quinn said.

“I don’t know exactly who. Someone was hired to do it. That was what was on the tape. A conversation between the killer and...”

“And who?” Orlando asked.

Jenny didn’t look up. “The congressman’s wife.”

“What?” Quinn said.

“I know. I didn’t believe it at first either. But then Gerry gave me the tape. He worked with the congressman’s wife. He was Ms. Goodman’s personal assistant.”

“Was?” Orlando said.

“He’s dead,” Jenny told them. “A day after he gave this to me, they killed him. That’s why I had to run. I didn’t want to die, too. But once I heard what was on there, I knew I couldn’t ignore it. I tried getting in touch with the congressman, but others were keeping me from him. I came here because I knew this would be the only chance I had.”

“Hold on,” Quinn said. “The congressman’s men have been after you.”

“Not the congressman’s men, his wife’s.” She paused. “When his campaign started getting serious this past summer, she told him she would hire a security team for him. She comes from money, you know that, right? Very politically active. He didn’t think it was necessary, but she insisted. But I think the people she hired really work for the person who’s going to kill her husband. She sent them after me because she knows I have this tape. That I can ruin all of her plans.”

Jenny took another drink of the water.

“But why kill her husband?” Orlando asked.

Jenny looked briefly at Orlando and then Quinn before glancing away, saying nothing.

“Jenny, why?” Quinn asked.

“At...at first I thought it had something to do with their marriage. Maybe she caught him cheating on her and wanted to avoid any potential embarrassment. I don’t know. Could have been a million reasons. Spouses kill spouses all the time.”

“You said ‘at first,’ ” Quinn reminded her after she’d fallen silent for several seconds. “You don’t think that now.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

Again she looked away, seeming reluctant to elaborate.

Quinn knelt down directly in front of her. “What is it?” he asked. “Why would she want to kill him?”

“Steven figured it out,” she finally said.

“Markoff?”

She nodded. “I’m sure that’s why he’s dead.”

“Jenny, what did he figure out? You’ve got to tell us.”

This time when she looked at him, she didn’t look away. “Steven said there’s this group... this organization that tries to... manipulate things to benefit its members,” she said.

“LP?” Quinn asked.

“Yes.”

“Manipulate what?” Orlando said.

“Policies. Laws. Whatever it takes. That’s what Steven told me, anyway.” She paused. “He said they’ve been building up over time, moving members into key positions in every department and branch of the government.”

“A shadow government,” Orlando said.

Jenny looked over at her. “That’s exactly what Steven said. ‘They’re a shadow government lying in wait.’ ”

“So Guerrero’s wife? She’s what? A member?” Quinn asked.

Another nod. “Exactly.”

“But I still don’t understand why LP would want her husband dead.”

“Some administrations are more open to the ideas fronted by LP than others. The current administration is not one of those. The way things are looking right now, the President is going to win reelection easily. No one in the congressman’s party will be able to catch him. Not the way things stand now. Steven said LP couldn’t sit still for that.”

“So they kill Guerrero? Someone from the same party they want in power?” The plan did make sense to him, though as he started to ask the question, an inkling of what they had in mind began to form.

“He was a military hero. A Marine,” Jenny said. “He was involved in the Panamanian invasion in the late eighties. Saved a few of his men. When he got out, moving into politics came naturally to him. But though the congressman is loyal to the party, he’s not a yes man. He votes what his conscience tells him, which puts him at odds with almost everyone at some point or another. But the public likes his independent spirit. That’s why he’s seeking the presidency. He feels he provides an alternative to the status quo.”

“Man of the people,” Orlando said.

“Yes,” Jenny said. “Exactly right.” She took a second, then continued. “But Steven said that despite the fact the congressman’s wife is in the LP, the organization has no control over him. But they have found a use for him.”

“So they’re going to kill him because they can’t control him? Why not just create a scandal? Force him to leave office?” Nate asked.

“Let me ask you something,” she said, glancing at Nate. “What would happen if a U.S. presidential candidate was assassinated in a foreign country?”

“It wouldn’t be good,” Nate said.

“And what if the evidence pointed at the killer working for Islamic extremists?”

Nate’s eyes widened. “We’d...go right back to the mindset the country had after September eleventh.”

“Perhaps not to that extent, but definitely on the way there,” she said.

Jenny was about to say something else, but Quinn stopped her.

“They’re changing the dynamic,” he said, not a question, but in his mind a fact. “The more we draw back within ourselves as a country, the harder time the President’s going to have getting reelected.”

“You’re missing one thing,” Jenny said.

“What?”

“Once Congressman Guerrero is dead, his wife is going to take his place in the election.”

No one said a word for several seconds.

“Oh my God. She’s playing Corazon Aquino,” Orlando said. “I mean, Aquino wasn’t the one who killed her husband, and he wasn’t running for office at the time, but in effect her political career was launched because of his death.”

“I don’t think the congressman’s wife is in the same league as Corazon Aquino,” Quinn said.

“Maybe not,” Orlando said. “But she’s a white woman...a white widow of a man who will have been assassinated by the enemy. She’s well known. Her views are ones that will play well with the changed national psyche. And if her friends at LP arrange any more incidents, perhaps ones embarrassing to the President? She wins in a landslide.”

Quinn tried to picture Jody Goodman as the next President of the United States. It was hard, but not impossible.

“The assassination is supposed to happen here in Singapore, isn’t it?” Quinn asked.

“Yes,” Jenny said. “That’s why I’ve been trying to talk to him, to tell him.”

“He leaves for the States tonight,” Orlando said.

“And that’s why there’s no time to wait for the tape to be fixed,” Jenny said. “All I know is that it’s supposed to be at some sort of public place. Something on his itinerary.”

Orlando moved quickly back to her computer. After a moment, she looked up. “The Maxwell Food Centre,” she said. “It’s the only public outing he has left on his schedule. He’s supposed to be there at one p.m.”

Quinn looked at his watch. It was 11:10 a.m. “Where is he now?” he asked.

Orlando looked back at the computer. “He should be finishing up a meeting at the U.S. embassy. Then he heads to another meeting at the Von Feldt Building near Chinatown before heading over to Maxwell.”

“He’s at the embassy right now?” Quinn asked.

“Yes.”

“Nate,” Quinn said. “Get dressed, then get us a car. Orlando, gather up the gear.” He looked at Jenny.

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

As much as he would have liked to leave her in the apartment, she might be the only one who could convince the congressman if it came to that.

“Ask Nate for one of his clean T-shirts.”

While everyone was getting ready, Quinn made a phone call to the embassy.

“Kenneth Murray, please,” he said once his call was answered.

He was put on hold for a few seconds, then the line began ringing again.

“Kenneth Murray’s office.” It was a woman’s voice, soft and young. If Quinn knew Murray, her looks would match her voice.

“I need to speak to Mr. Murray,” Quinn said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “He’s on a conference call. Can I take a message?”

“I need him now,” Quinn said.

“I’m sorry, sir. But he’s unavail—”

“Tell him it’s Quinn.”

“That won’t change anything.”

“Do it. Please.”

He could hear her exhale an angry breath. “One moment.”

While he was on hold, Nate reentered the living room dressed in a dark blue T-shirt and jeans.

“Hurry,” Quinn said.

Nate nodded, then left the apartment. Stress was the great focuser for Quinn’s apprentice. It would be one of his major strengths in a few years when he went out on his own.

There was a click on the line. Then a voice, very tentative, said, “This...is Murray.”

“Kenneth, I need your help now.”

“Oh hell. It is you.”

“I don’t have any time for bullshit. I need you to listen to me.”

“Quinn, I don’t work for you. So—”

“Shut up and listen. Congressman James Guerrero is somewhere in your building. You need to keep him there. Don’t let him leave.”

“What?” Murray said, confused. “Why?”

“Because if you let him out, he’s going to be killed.”

“I don’t know if I can—”

“I’m not screwing with you. Do it!”

“Just a minute.”

Murray’s reluctance to help was understandable. Beyond the fact that he had somehow developed the idea that Quinn was an assassin who might kill him at any moment, he had almost lost his job and gone to jail the previous winter in Berlin for helping Quinn. But none of that had happened. Quinn had made sure of it. In fact, Quinn had been the one instrumental in getting Murray transferred halfway around the world to his current cushy job in Southeast Asia.

Jenny came back into the living room wearing the same pants she’d been wearing the night before, and a blue T-shirt.

Only seconds behind her was Orlando. She had a black backpack hanging from her shoulders and had another in her hand. Each looked full and heavy.

“Who are you talking to?” Jenny asked.

“The embassy,” he said.

She looked surprised. “Have...have they been able to stop him?”

Before he could answer her, Murray came back on the line. “He’s already gone.”

Quinn closed his eyes. “When did he leave?”

“Twenty minutes ago.”

“Twenty minutes?” Quinn said, looking over at Orlando.

“His schedule says he shouldn’t be leaving for another ten,” Orlando said.

“You have to send someone after him,” Quinn said to Murray. “Get him someplace safe.”

“I can’t just do that for no reason.”

“I’ve told you the reason!” Quinn yelled.

“I need proof, Quinn,” Murray said. “I can’t just say ‘I heard some-one’s going to try to kill the congressman.’ ”

“Hell yes, you can!” Quinn said. “Look, the congressman is scheduled to visit the Maxwell Food Centre at one p.m. He won’t leave there alive. You need to stop him before he even gets there.”

“I don’t know if I can. I mean, if you’d just give me a little—”

“Do it, goddamn it! Just do it!” Quinn hung up the phone, then looked over at Orlando and Jenny. “Let’s go.”