The Enraged

CHAPTER 11

They spent the remainder of the night in a motel next to the interstate near Tyson’s Corner. Howard arranged the rooms so the night staff would know only his face in case anyone came looking for the others.

Since Daeng had already put in his time on watch back at the house, Quinn and Howard split the rest of the night, with Quinn taking the final shift. Every minute he was up, he wanted to call Liz to find out what was happening with Orlando, but he forced himself to wait until the sun peeked over the horizon before finally sneaking outside with his phone.

The call was answered after three rings.

“Hey, Quinn.” Definitely not Liz’s voice.

“Nate?”

“Uh-huh. Hold on a sec.” Movement and a few grunts. When the younger cleaner spoke again, his voice no longer sounded quite as sleepy. “Sorry. Liz forgot her phone when she left last night.”

Quinn tensed. “Left?”

“Down the hall,” Nate said quickly. “I’m assuming you want to talk to her.”

“I just want to check on Orlando.”

“Oh, well, I can do that.” A pause. “She looks fine.”

“You’re in her room?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What does Dr. Montero say?”

“Haven’t seen him. I think a nurse comes in a few times an hour, but, well, I’ve kind of been sleeping, you know?”

“Then you have no idea how she is.”

Nate took a moment before he answered. “I know she seems to be resting peacefully. I know none of the machines she’s hooked up to are making funny noises. I know there hasn’t been any sudden rush of doctors into the room responding to some kind of crisis. I’d say she’s doing exactly what she’s supposed to be doing. Resting and getting better.”

Quinn forced himself to take a calming breath. It was as early there in Isla de Cervantes as it was in Virginia, after all. Dr. Montero probably wasn’t even at the hospital yet. And Nate was right. If she was resting comfortably, that was a good sign.

“How, um, how are you doing?” he asked.

“Peachy. My back still hurts, but if I keep it stretched, I do okay.”

“That’s good. What about Lanier, Berkeley, and Curson?”

“They’re a bit worse off, but on the mend.”

“Best that we can expect, I guess.”

“Quinn, Liz said you were trying to find who gave Romero the list,” Nate said. “How’s that going?”

Quinn felt a slight tinge of guilt for not having told Nate himself. “It’s been…interesting.”

“Interesting how?”

“I’ll tell you when we come back.”

“When will that be?”

“I’m hoping tonight. If not, then tomorrow.”

Nate was quiet for several seconds. “I don’t want to be cut out. Whatever you’re doing, I want to be a part of it.”

“I know. You will be. It’s just—”

“I’m fine,” Nate said. “It’s not the first time I’ve been injured. I can do what needs to be done.”

“I promise I’ll brief you when I get back.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

A big rig rattled down the interstate, its engine bellowing as the driver downshifted. “If anything changes with Orlando, call me right away.”

“Don’t worry so much,” Nate said. “I’ll keep an eye on things here and call if there’s anything you need to know.”

It was another hour before the others were up and dressed. They grabbed a quick breakfast at the café next to their motel before heading back into DC.

Even with traffic, they arrived at the John Adams building of the Library of Congress fifteen minutes before its 8:30 opening.

“You two cover the outside,” Quinn said to Daeng and Howard. “I don’t want trouble showing up without us knowing about it.”

Both men nodded.

“You’re coming with me, though, right?” Misty asked Quinn.

“I’ll be right next to you the whole time.”

At 8:30 on the dot, they exited the car. While Daeng and Howard went to find lookout spots, Quinn accompanied Misty inside to one of the available public computer workstations.

“You’re the driver,” he said, motioning for her to take the seat.

Once she was situated, he leaned in behind her so he could have a better view of the monitor. She pulled the keyboard forward and extended her fingers above it, but they remained there, hovering, unmoving.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.

“I shouldn’t be showing you this. Peter was very clear that no one but he and I could know.”

Her loyalty to Peter was as annoying as it was admirable. “He’s not here anymore.”

“I don’t care. I promised him. Please.”

“Fine,” he said, rising back up. “Wave me back once you’re in.”

Looking relieved, she said, “Thank you.”

Quinn wandered several terminals away, and used the opportunity to scan the room in case someone had been able to bypass Daeng and Howard, but none of the library’s patrons triggered his alarm.

When his gaze returned to Misty, she motioned that it was okay for him to return. He resumed his position behind her, and saw that the Library of Congress screen had been replaced by some sort of index.

“This is it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How do you search?”

“Here.” She clicked on a small circle near the top. Instantly, a text box opened, ready for input. “Should I try it?”

“That’s what we’re here for.”

Quinn, having taken possession of the card from Peter before they’d left the motel, pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Misty looked around, as if what she was about to do was a crime. On the surface, it probably was. The Library certainly wouldn’t be happy to learn its servers secretly housed the archives of a former intelligence agency.

Slowly, she typed in the first line from Peter’s note.

When she hit ENTER, the cursor blinked several times, then the screen went blank.

When it remained that way for more than ten seconds, Quinn said, “That can’t be right.”

“That didn’t happen last time I was here,” Misty said, looking equally concerned. “What should I do?”

“Maybe we should try closing the database and bringing it back up.”

“How? The screen’s blank.”

Behind them, someone said, “Is there a problem?”

They both turned to find a woman in her early thirties, dressed in slacks and a nice blouse, standing a few feet away. Her name tag indentified her as Carole Barnes, Librarian, Interactive Media.

“No, we’re fine,” Quinn said.

But she was already looking past him at the monitor, her eyes narrowing. “Is the terminal frozen?”

Misty hesitated, then said, “It seems to be.”

“Here,” Ms. Barnes said. “Move out of the way.”

“I’m sure it’s just running slow,” Quinn said.

The librarian looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “And I’m sure you’re not the one in charge of the equipment. Now, please, step back.”

Short of rendering the woman unconscious, Quinn didn’t know what else to do. So he gave Misty a subtle nod, and they moved away from the station.

Ms. Barnes immediately took the vacated seat and reached under the desk. A second later, the computer powered down.

“Let’s see if that does the trick,” she said without moving from the chair.

Ten seconds passed before Quinn heard the computer fan kick back on. A moment after that, the monitor sprang back to life. Once it cycled through, they were greeted once more with the Library of Congress screen.

“There,” Ms. Barnes said, finally relinquishing the chair. “Let me know if it acts up again.”

Quinn and Misty thanked her as she left.

“I’ll turn my back, but I’m not walking away this time,” Quinn said when they were alone again.

“So turn already.”

Once more, Misty logged in to the Office’s archive and brought up the search box.

She retyped the characters and said, “Here goes nothing,” as she pressed ENTER.

The result was a repeat of last time.

“Dammit,” she said.

Quinn frowned at the screen. “Try typing. Maybe it’ll allow you to navigate back.”

She hit a few keys. Surprisingly, characters started appearing right where the text box had been.

“Wait,” Quinn said. “Erase that and type in the message again.”

She did what he asked. When she hit ENTER, the screen went black again, but only stayed that way for a second before a column of several short lines of type appeared. The first line contained an address — number and street only. The ones below it appeared to be a short list of cryptic directions.

“Does the address mean anything to you?” Quinn asked.

Misty shook her head. “No.”

Quinn pulled out his phone and took a picture of the screen.

“Is there another page or is this it?” he asked.

She moved the cursor across the screen. “Nothing is linked.”

“What if you try typing it in again?”

As she put her fingers on the keyboard, a small box labeled TIME UNTIL LOG OFF appeared on screen, with numbers below it counting down from thirty.

Misty went ahead and typed in the characters anyway, but none of them appeared. As the countdown clock reached fifteen, she said, “You want to take another picture, just in case?”

Quinn checked the one he’d already taken. It was clean and readable. “We’re good,” he said.

When the clock hit zero, the screen faded first to black, then to the home screen for the Library.

“I guess that’s it,” Misty said, staring at the monitor. “At least we know the message was a password.”

“Yeah, but to what?” He looked around and noticed that Ms. Barnes was heading their way again.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Worked fine,” he said. “We just finished up.”

“Great. Well, enjoy your day.”

Quinn and Misty rendezvoused with Daeng and Howard back at the car.

After everyone was in the vehicle, Daeng said, “Well?”

“It worked. Gave us an address,” Quinn said.

“An address to where?”

“Good question.”

Quinn looked at the photo he’d taken, memorized the street and number, then entered them into the search box of his map app. He expected to get at least half a dozen matches across the country, but only three choices popped up. All were on the East Coast — one in Maine, another in New Hampshire, and a third only a few miles away.

“Arlington,” he told Howard.