The Destroyed

CHAPTER 43

Seldom was there a bigger story in an election year than the election itself. The Thomas Gorman scandal was going to be one of those exceptions.

His resurrection was littered with the bizarre. The facility he had been released from turned out to be an abandoned factory. PCN reporter Dewayne Beetner and his cameraman Zach Yates had searched the place themselves, finding absolutely no signs that it had been used at any point in the last decade. Wherever the prison was that Gorman said he had been held in, it wasn’t located in that building.

Strange occurrence number two happened at almost the same instant, half a world away in New York City. If a PCN crew hadn’t been assigned to do generic on-the-street interviews near the PCN monitor in Times Square, it was possible this second event would have been covered up. But the crew couldn’t help notice the three men in orange jumpsuits with black hoods on their heads being pushed out of a van. They had rushed over, and had been in time to see the men pull their hoods off moments before two SUVs screeched to a halt nearby. From inside, several men in dark suits jumped out and grabbed the three in orange. They quickly ushered them into their vehicles and drove away. But the faces of the men in jumpsuits had already been recorded, and within minutes producers at PCN identified them as former senator Mygatt, a high-ranking CIA operative named William Green, and another member of the intelligence community named Scott Olsen.

Even more interesting was that these were the same men implicated in a set of anonymously leaked documents, which included recorded phone conversations between the senator and Green that clearly showed they were responsible for Gorman’s faked death and incarceration.

Not surprisingly, before the sun had even risen the next day, both the current and former administrations publicly denounced the men, anxious to separate themselves from Mygatt and his associates’ grossly illegal actions.

Quinn and the others drove straight from New York to a safe house outside Philadelphia.

The next day a package arrived from Peter. In it were the contents of yet another new life for Mila.

When Quinn showed it to her, she looked less than enthusiastic.

“There might still be those loyal to Mygatt or Green who would want to take out their revenge on you,” he explained.

“I know,” she said. “I just hadn’t thought this far ahead.”

“You did the right thing, Mila.”

She held up the package. “And for that, this is my punishment.”

“Not a punishment. An opportunity. A chance to do something you wanted to do, perhaps.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Julien would have been proud of you.”

A smile touched her lips. “He would have, wouldn’t he?”

A few hours later, a car came to take Mila to her new life. Where and what that was going to be, Quinn and the others didn’t know. It was better that way.

They all gathered at the front door to see her off.

“Thank you,” she said. “All of you, for coming after me. I would have failed on my own.”

“You would have found a way,” Nate said.

“I don’t know about that.”

“We do,” Orlando told her.

Mila gave each of them a hug, saving the longest and last for Quinn.

“I’m sorry you were shot.”

“Part of the job.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to find me again.”

“If you need us to, we will.”

The day was sunny with only a few scattered clouds moving along the southern edge of the bright blue sky. The sound of the boat’s motor hummed as its propeller churned through the river.

As soon as the familiar dock came into view, Quinn could feel the release of the tension he’d been holding on to. In an odd way, it felt like he was coming home.

The scaffolding was still erected around the temple, and while he could see some work had been done, they were not nearly as far along as he’d thought they’d be.

No matter. It would get done eventually.

The engine died as the boat pulled against the dock.

“So this is it?” Orlando said.

“Sorry you came?” Quinn asked.

She smiled. “Not at all.”

“Please tell me they have Wi-Fi here,” Garrett said.

Quinn patted Orlando’s son on the shoulder. “Sorry, buddy. No Wi-Fi.”

“PlayStation?”

“No.”

“Wii? Xbox? They at least have cable, right?”

Quinn shook his head.

“Well…what am I going to do?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll find something.”

As they climbed out of the boat, three monks appeared at the end of the dock, smiling broadly. Both Quinn and Orlando gave them a deep wai.

“Welcome back, Khun Jonathan.”

“ Khob khun, krap,” Quinn said.

He took Orlando’s hand, put his other on Garrett’s back, and walked across the dock to the temple grounds.

“Thanks, Quinn,” the client said. “We’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”

“Right. See you then.” Nate hung up.

The job he’d just taken was a simple one. In fact, as was often the case, the client wasn’t even sure he would need the cleaner’s services, but was hiring Nate as insurance just in case. Once the gig was done, Nate thought he might take a week to go visit Liz in Paris.

He looked across the room. “Puerto Rico. Ever been there?”

Daeng, sitting on the couch in the living room of Quinn’s Hollywood Hills home, shook his head. Instead of heading straight back to Bangkok, he’d come to L.A. to visit some old friends from his high school days. Nate had offered him the guest room at the house.

“Interested in going? They’ve budgeted me for an extra man.”

A shrug. “Why not? Sounds like fun.”

“Fun? Hopefully it’s boring, but I guess we’ll see.” He paused for a second. “There are a few rules we should probably go over first.”

“You’re the boss.”