The Destroyed

CHAPTER 18

FRIDAY, MAY 12 ^ th 2006 12:53 PM LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

When Quinn saw Julien exit the terminal at McCarren Airport, he hit SEND on his phone, shooting off the text he’d written ahead of time.

The Frenchman stopped and pulled out his own cell. After reading the message he’d just received, he casually turned away from the line of taxis, walked over to the crosswalk, waited until traffic had stopped, and made his way onto the bridge that led to the parking structure.

Quinn lowered his binoculars and started the car. He arrived at the exit to the stairwell just as Julien came up the final step. The Frenchman threw his bag into the trunk, climbed into the front passenger seat, and they took off.

“I did not know I was so important,” Julien said, then let out a low, full laugh. “A personal pickup?”

“I had a little time.”

“ Merci beaucoup. ”

Quinn nodded, but said nothing else as they exited the parking garage.

“I’d forgotten how brown it is here,” Julien said as they drove toward the Strip.

“It is the desert.”

“Sure, but you don’t think about that when you think about Vegas.”

“Maybe you don’t think about that. I do, every time. Looks better at night, I guess.”

“The neon,” Julien said, excitement in his voice. “Yes. I remember.” He paused. “So, do you think there will be any time to do a little gambling?”

“Probably not.”

Though Quinn had told himself when he asked Julien to fly out that he was still unsure what he was going to do about Mila, the truth was, the moment Julien became involved, the future was set. Quinn could no longer pretend there were any other options. There was only one road they could go down now.

He pulled into a gas station near the Strip, and parked off to the side. For a few seconds he stared out the window, then he turned to Julien.

“What is it, my friend?” the Frenchman asked.

“I had an ulterior motive for having you come out here.”

Julien nodded. “I thought there might be something. The notice was very short, and…” He shrugged. “I’m sure you could have found someone closer who could do whatever you needed done. So, is there a job, or is this something else?”

“There is a job and it’s something else.”

“Two things?”

“One thing that’s both.”

One of Julien’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “Now you have my interest.”

“You’re going to wish that wasn’t the case.”

Quinn laid it all out for him, going step by step through Jergins’s plan, and ending it by telling Julien who the intended target was.

The Frenchman became uncharacteristically quiet. He stared out the front window, but Quinn was sure he wasn’t seeing the backs of the casinos a few blocks away.

Finally, Julien said, “Mila?”

“Yes.”

A slow turn back to Quinn. “This isn’t a mistake? Maybe someone who looks like her?”

Quinn didn’t answer. In their business, mistakes concerning other operatives were exceedingly rare.

“I…I can’t believe it.” The words were a whisper.

“What I don’t know, and couldn’t risk asking anyone, was why?” Quinn said. “Do you have any idea why someone would want to terminate her?”

Fifteen seconds passed, then half a minute, Quinn’s friend once more lost in his thoughts.

“Julien?”

Julien looked at him with a start. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Why would someone want to kill her?”

His friend seemed to consider the question. “I don’t know.”

But Quinn could see Julien did know, or at least it looked like he did.

“Is this why you wanted me here?” Julien asked, a barely noticeable shake in his voice. “To be the one who buries her?”

“Don’t be an ass, Julien. Of course that’s not why.”

“Then what?”

“What do you think? I’m giving you the chance to save her.”

“How are we going to do that? If I warn her not to come, that will only delay her death for a day or maybe a week. Even if she goes underground and stays there, they won’t give up until they know she’s dead. That’s how this works.”

“That’s true, but there might be another way.”

Julien stared at Quinn. “What way?”

The plan had come to Quinn the night before as he’d tried to sleep. Since then, he’d been punching as many holes in it as he could, then patching them with solutions. The plan still wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than burying Mila later that night.

“First off,” Quinn began, “she still needs to come to Vegas.”