The Discarded

CHAPTER 16

They caught a six a.m. flight out of Dallas to DC, Quinn promptly falling asleep before the plane even reached cruising altitude.

The night before, after they’d buried Eli, they had gone to the hotel Nate and Daeng had been using. Orlando and Daeng had been the only ones who’d tried to get some rest, achieving, at best, a ninety-minute nap prior to when they needed to leave for the airport. Quinn had spent the time filling Nate in on recent events, while Abraham had stood by the hotel window and stared out into the night.

“Sir, can I ask you to return your seat to its upright position, please?”

Quinn cracked open his eyelids. “No problem,” he said as he pushed the button that returned his seat to the FAA-required uncomfortable position.

Beside him, Orlando was in the process of shutting down her laptop.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Good morning.”

“It was already morning when we left.”

“Don’t kill the mood.”

She raised an eyebrow. “If it was mood fulfillment you were looking for, you shouldn’t have waited until we were descending,” she said, purring. “There was a good hour there when no one was in the restroom, and the flight attendants were busy doing their flight-attendant thing. Could have been fun.”

“If you’re trying to up my frustration level, mission accomplished.”

She smiled as she slipped her computer back into her bag. She then leaned back and rubbed her eyes.

“Didn’t you get any rest?” he asked.

“A little. But one of us had to figure out where we’re going before we get there.”

“And?”

“Eli has a townhouse in Bethesda.”

“Can’t imagine that took the whole flight to figure out.”

She hesitated, then said, “Thought I’d do a little hunting for the girl.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

After they arrived at Dulles International, they rented a Ford Explorer and made a quick stop in Reston to purchase heavier jackets and gloves before heading toward Maryland.

A layer of clouds filled the sky, dulling the light. Quinn hoped it wasn’t some kind of precursor to a storm. The scattered patches of snow along their route were already pushing his annoyance level too high.

The townhouse was located about half a mile away from the Walter Reed military hospital, on a road that dead-ended at a park. A sign indicated the complex was called Warwick Mews. According to the information Orlando had dug up, it consisted of twenty-eight units, each with two stories up and a half-sunken basement down, and were divided into four rows of seven units each. The exteriors had been well maintained, but Quinn guessed the buildings had been built at least thirty years ago.

The Mews had driveway entrances at both ends that led into parking areas for visitors. Residents had garages at the back of their units that were accessed through the visitor parking area and then down the center between two of the rows.

“There,” Orlando said. “Ninety-four-twenty-three.”

She pointed at the third townhouse from the end. Like the others, it had steps leading up to a deck where the front door was located.

Quinn pulled to the curb and looked at the two units flanking Eli’s. Since it was nearing ten thirty in the morning, he was hoping most people who lived in the complex would be at work. The townhouse to the left looked appropriately dark, but the one to the right looked like it could be a problem. He didn’t see any movement through the half-covered windows, but a stroller was on the deck and a few toys were lying around, suitable for a child young enough to have not started school. Which meant the possibility of a parent or nanny being home.

He glanced back at Abraham. “How likely is it that Eli would have made friends with his neighbors?”

“Over time, maybe,” Abraham said. “I don’t know for sure, though.”

“What about a wife? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Roommates?”

Abraham shrugged. “He never talked about anyone but he was kind of awkward. I don’t think romantic relationships would have come easily to him. But you never know.”

As Quinn scanned Eli’s place, he saw no obvious signs that someone was home.

“Okay,” he said. “We can’t all go walking up there. That’ll draw too much attention. Nate, Daeng—”

“I know, I know,” Nate said. “Stay in the car.”

“Sorry.”

“Someday maybe I’ll make you stay in the car and see how you like it.”

Quinn, Orlando, and Abraham climbed out and made their way up to Eli’s porch. Quinn peered through the front window, saw a dark and quiet living room, and beyond it, an equally unoccupied kitchen.

“Alarm?” he whispered.

“I’d be surprised if there wasn’t,” Orlando said.

She dug into her bag and pulled out a device that looked like a beefed-up mobile phone. After tapping on the screen several times, she moved the box along the outside of the doorjamb. Given her barely five-foot height, she had to stretch to cross the top of the doorway. As she came down the other side, the device emitted a soft beep. She continued to the bottom, receiving a second beep six inches from the ground before she finally looked at the screen again.

“Not bad,” she said. “He’s using a Nevin D-60L.”

The Nevin was not a top-of-the-line security system but pretty damn close. Way more sophisticated than what a normal townhome owner would have.

“Can you deactivate it?” Abraham asked.

“Please,” she told him. “You didn’t train me to be an amateur.”

She had barely begun the process of turning off the alarm when the door to the home with the kid’s stuff on its deck opened.

A woman in a bright red jacket and holding a bundled-up child hurried out and pulled the door closed behind her. She was nearly to the stairs before she realized Quinn and the others were next door.

“I don’t think he’s home,” she said, continuing down the steps.

“Well, that explains why he’s not answering,” Quinn said lightly. “You don’t know when he might be back, do you?”

“No idea. Didn’t even know he was going away.”

“Well, thank you anyway.”

She reached the bottom of the steps and started to walk away but then looked back. “You friends of Mr. Becker’s?”

“I’m his uncle,” Abraham blurted out. “In town on business. Thought I’d stop by.”

The woman seemed to relax. “I’m sorry you missed him. He’ll be disappointed.”

“Me, too. I guess I’ll just leave him a note.” He reached into his jacket like he was going to pull out a pad of paper and a pen. “Thanks for your time. Sorry if we held you up.”

“When I see him again, I’ll let him know we spoke.”

“That would be very nice. Thanks.”

Apparently satisfied they weren’t up to anything, she hurried across the lawn and climbed into a Prius parked at the curb.

After she drove off, Quinn said, “Not bad for being a retiree.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Abraham said.

Before Quinn could point out exactly how long it had been, Orlando said, “Done.”

From his wallet, Quinn removed a hard plastic card and punched out the pre-cut pieces of the metal-free lock-pick set it contained. He disengaged the locks in less than thirty seconds.

There was a double beep from somewhere inside as he opened the door, but no blaring alarm.

Stepping across the threshold, he said, “Hello? Anyone home?”

No sound.

In addition to the living room and kitchen he’d seen through the window, the main floor included a small bathroom, a staircase that went up to the second floor and down to the basement, and a rear door to the outside.

“Down or up?” he asked.

“Up first, I think,” Orlando said.

The second floor held three bedrooms and two full bathrooms, one of which was part of a master suite. Quinn thought it was a lot of space for one guy, but when they looked through the bedrooms, he changed his mind.

Eli had apparently been a collector. Filling the two spare bedrooms were paperbacks and comics and graphic novels and movie posters and vintage toys, most with a sci-fi theme. Almost as fascinating was the fact that everything seemed to have its place. The rooms looked like a combination museum and library. Quinn wouldn’t have been surprised if Eli had a detailed catalogue he could use to quickly locate each item.

“This stuff has got to be worth a mint,” Orlando said. “Look at this.” She was in front of a vertical stack of posters individually wrapped in plastic sleeves and backed by cardboard. “I think this is an original, first-release Star Wars.”

“I don’t think that’s what we’re looking for,” Quinn said.

“I know, but…what’s going to happen to all this?”

“No idea.”

“Down here!” Abraham called from somewhere outside the room.

They stepped back into the hall.

“Where are you?” Quinn asked.

“Master!”

They found him standing next to one of the nightstands, the drawer open.

“What is it?” Orlando asked.

He held up a stack of letters and then flipped through them so Quinn and Orlando could see that while the envelopes looked similar, each was addressed to someone different.

“One’s for me,” Abraham said.

He pulled out his and set the others on the bed.

A first-class stamp in the right corner, and in the return-address area a single word: BECKER. No number or street or city.

“Open it,” Orlando said.

Abraham turned it over and worked the sealed flap free. He pulled out the folded piece of paper inside and opened it up so they could all three read it.

“I don’t get it,” Quinn said. “Did he know he was going to die?”

“I don’t know,” Abraham said, confused.

“I don’t think so,” Orlando said as she gently took the letter from her mentor and looked it over. She then picked up several of the envelopes and examined them. “I think these have been waiting here for a while. Just in case.”

“Just in case he suddenly died?” Abraham said.

“Look, you’ve as much said it yourself. He was a bit odd. Maybe he thought because of his work, there was always the possibility he might not be around that long.”

Abraham thought for a moment, then said, “Maybe, but who knows?”

“I do,” she said. “Look at these envelopes.” She held out the ones she’d been examining. “The edges are darker than the fronts and backs.” She set them down and grabbed one of the others. “Except for the front of this one. It was the one at the front of the stack. It’s darker, too.” She rubbed her finger across it. “See? Dust. These have been here a while.”

Abraham took the envelope and held it up for a closer look.

“Then there’s this.” She picked up the opened letter again and read, “‘My biggest regret is that I was unable to help you find your answers before I died.’” She lowered it again. “He did find answers. That’s why he wanted to meet you.”

Abraham still looked confused, so Quinn put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Find anything else?”

“Uh, no. Not yet.” Abraham dropped the envelope he was holding on the nightstand. “I don’t even know if there’s anything here that’s going to help us.”

“No sign of a computer?” Orlando asked.

“No,” Abraham said.

That was the top item on their search list. Eli must’ve had one, and if any of the information he intended to give Abraham was on it, Orlando should be able to dig it out.

“We need to keep looking,” Quinn said. “We don’t want to be here when the neighbor gets back.”

While Orlando helped Abraham search through the main part of the bedroom, Quinn checked out the walk-in closet. On one side was a large collection of T-shirts that spoke to Eli’s passion for sci-fi, while on the other were the utilitarian suits and shirts and ties Quinn guessed he wore to his job. The shoes were also subdivided — five pairs of nice leather dress shoes in varying degrees of brown under the suits, and three pairs of broken-in sneakers under the T-shirts. Quinn ran his hands through all the clothes, feeling for anything unusual. He came across a comb and some change but nothing useful. He also checked behind the clothes along the wall for hidden compartments. If something was there, he didn’t find it.

Above the clothes racks, running around the entire room, was a two-foot-wide shelf holding boxes and stacks of sweaters and a few other odds and ends. One by one, Quinn checked through the boxes. Most contained the junk people accumulate over the years — magazines and photographs and Christmas cards and the like.

It wasn’t until he moved a pile of thick sweaters that he came across something unusual. It happened when the bottom sweater caught on something, causing the ones on top of it to tumble onto Quinn.

He gathered the sweaters and placed them on the ground, out of the way. He then tried to free the remaining sweater from whatever it had snagged on. The shelf was too high for him to see over the top, so he moved his hand under the sweater and felt around. The yarn had hooked onto what he thought at first was a small knot of wood. But as he tried to free it, the knot clicked down.

He froze and listened, expecting to hear the sound of a latch releasing or a drawer opening, but there was nothing. Maybe the knot was just a knot. He pulled down one of the boxes stuffed full of papers and used it as a stepping stool so he could see for himself.

While it did look a bit like a knot, it most definitely wasn’t. He pressed it again and the button popped back up. Still no responding sound, though.

“Anything happening out there?” he called toward the door.

Orlando stuck her head inside the closet. “What?”

“I found a button and pushed it a couple times, but nothing’s happened in here. Thought perhaps it controlled something out there.”

“Do it again,” she said, and ducked back into the bedroom.

Quinn depressed the button. “Anything?”

For a few moments there was nothing, then she called, “In the bathroom.”

When he entered, he found her kneeling near the toilet and Abraham standing a few feet behind her. In front of them, two of the large tiles that went up the side of the wall were now sticking out at an angle, creating an open wedge at the top. Visible behind the tiles was a metal door with a keypad and digital read.

Orlando looked at Quinn. “You are a genius.”

“Hey, you can’t say things like that unless I have a recorder on. But yes, I am a genius.”

“You’d be more of a genius if you could get that safe open,” Abraham said.

“That’s my job,” Orlando told him.

She moved the tiles until they were completely out of the way, and then pulled out the same device she’d used on the alarm. After she’d navigated through several menus on the touch screen, she placed the box against the keypad and touched the screen one more time. Suddenly numbers began blinking on an off.

After approximately ten seconds, the number 6 appeared and stayed there. A beat later, the same number showed up on the safe’s digital display. Next up was 1, and then 0, and 2, and finally 7. The display on the safe blinked on and off three times before they heard a loud clunk.

Orlando removed the box, slipped her fingers into the divot that served as the handle for the safe’s door, and pulled.

“Hello there,” she said.

Inside were two shelves. The top one held a few files and some closed envelopes, and the bottom the laptop she’d been hoping for.

As she started to pull the computer out, Quinn’s phone vibrated. It was Nate.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Company, I think,” Nate said.

“The neighbor’s back already?”

“No. Not that kind of company. Sedan just pulled into one of the visitor spots. Three men, one woman, all suited. Walked fast into the garage area. They’re out of sight now. Could be heading your way, could be going someplace else entirely. I didn’t like the looks of them, though. Wherever they’re going, they’re bringing trouble.”

Quinn touched Orlando on the shoulder. “Out. Now.”

“What about the rest of the stuff?” Abraham asked.

“We’ll bring it with us,” Orlando said.

“Fast,” Quinn told her.

As she began scooping out everything from inside the safe, Quinn hustled Abraham into the bedroom and said into the phone, “The front still clear?”

“Yeah, you’re good there for now,” Nate said.

“All right. We’ll use the—”

A pop from downstairs. Not loud, but distinct. The opening of a door a bit out of alignment with its frame.

“Check that,” he whispered. “We may be coming out hot.”

He hung up and glanced around. The master bedroom was at the back of the house. Not the way he wanted to leave.

He moved his mouth right up to Abraham’s ear. “As quiet as you can, go to the front bedroom. I’m going to grab Orlando and we’ll be right behind you.”

Abraham nodded and headed out of the room.

Quinn moved back into the bathroom, stepping carefully so that none of the floorboards squeaked.

“They’re inside,” he whispered.

She shoved the tiles back into place, stuffed the computer and papers into her backpack, and jumped to her feet.

Quinn led her through the hall and to the front bedroom. As Orlando carefully closed the door, Quinn unlatched the window and gave it a test upward push. He breathed a sigh of relief as it slid easily along its frame. Because it was winter, Eli had removed his screens, so as soon as Quinn had the window all the way open, he stuck his head outside.

The roof that covered part of the entrance-level deck was only a few feet below the windowsill.

“Come on,” he said. “Orlando first.”

She crawled out the window.

“Abraham,” Quinn said, holding out a hand to help the older man.

“It’s okay. I can do it.”

Abraham ducked through the frame and disappeared outside.

As Quinn lifted a leg over the sill, he heard a noise from the other side of the bedroom door that sounded very much like someone coming up the stairs. He hurried out and lowered the window, wishing he had a way to lock it.

He motioned for Orlando to head over to the deck roof of the townhouse that had looked unoccupied. Once there, he lowered himself and took a quick glance through the window, confirming no one was home.

“Abraham,” he said.

The older man’s legs appeared first. As he lowered himself, Quinn grabbed him just above the knee to help guide him. Without warning, his rate of descent increased. Quinn tried to catch him, but ended up becoming more of a landing pad as Abraham tumbled completely off the edge.

Quinn was sure the sound of the crash would draw the attention of the visitors next door.

“Move,” he said to Abraham, pushing him off.

As soon as he was free, Quinn jumped to his feet and called to Orlando, “Come on.”

She eased over the edge and didn’t let go until Quinn had a good hold of her. Quickly, he set her down, his eyes darting over to Eli’s deck. No one yet.

“You have any trackers with you?” he asked Orlando.

She shot a guilty glance at Abraham. “A couple.”

“Give me one, then you two go to the car. I’ll tag their vehicle and meet you a few blocks away.”

She pulled out a plastic box and removed a tracker identical to the one she’d put on Abraham’s collar. “Be careful,” she said.

He kissed her. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Quinn had to assume the intruders were professionals, which meant at least one of them would have remained outside the townhome, covering the entrance they had used. But when he looked down the access road at the back of Eli’s building, he could see no one.

He pulled out his phone, flipped up the collar of his jacket, and walked with purpose into the alley, pretending to scroll through e-mails. His eyes, however, were moving back and forth just enough so that he could take in both sides of the alley.

The backs of the units consisted of garages separated by narrow, fenced-off patios. Most people seemed to be using the extra space as storage areas for bikes and the like.

Eli’s patio was empty, the back door the others had used to get in, closed. Nowhere to hide there. So, was there a sentry or not? Or was someone waiting in the sedan Quinn planned on tagging? That would be a problem.

Quinn chuckled as if he’d read something amusing, then looked up, just a normal guy checking his progress.

There.

On a patio two homes ahead and on the right, where a permanent wooden shed had been built. Not big by any means, three foot wide at the most, and sticking out from the townhouse perhaps twice that distance. It was tall in comparison, seven feet with a sloping roof. There were two stacks of heavy-duty plastic storage containers, and another stack of outdoor chairs on the patio. A virtual fort someone could hide inside.

He tapped Orlando’s number and raised the cell to his ear.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m heading out now. Had to take care of a little thing here at home first,” he said.

“Oh, we’re playing that game, are we?”

“Yeah,” he said, a quick laugh in his voice. “Something like that.”

As he drew level with the shed, he kept his eyes forward and focused on his peripheral vision.

“Do you need help?” she asked.

“No, no. It’s all good. I should be there on time.”

A twist of a shadow. Simple. Subtle.

A civilian would have dismissed it as a trick of the eye, if the person would even notice it at all, but to Quinn it was proof he was right.

“If you could do me a favor and make sure everyone’s ready to go when I get there,” he said. “Better if we don’t waste any time.”

“South southeast of you,” she said. “Battery Lane. There’s a big ambulance dispatch station at the corner with Old Georgetown Road.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. He was past the shed now, only a unit away from the end of the alley.

“We’re in the parking lot on the north side.”

“That’s great. Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

He put the phone away and shoved his hands into his pockets, tensing his arms to ward off the cold — not something he needed to pretend to do. Keeping his pace unchanged, he turned left out of the alley, toward the main road. As soon as he was out of the sentry’s line of sight, he angled over to the cars parked alongside the lot where the sedan was.

He pulled the tracker out of his pocket and dropped to a crouch. Using the other cars to shield his presence, he worked his way back to the sedan and slipped the tracker into its grill, jamming it into a niche so that even if the adhesive had trouble hanging on in the cold, the chip wouldn’t go anywhere.

He grabbed his phone again and sent a quick text to Orlando.

Tracker in place

Her reply came moments later.

Active and working