The Enraged

CHAPTER 25

Liz was asleep in the chair when Quinn and Nate reentered Orlando’s room. Orlando, though, was awake. So much for relying on his sister.

Quinn walked quietly up to the bed and whispered, “How are you feeling?”

“You don’t want to ask that.”

“Are you in pain? I could get the nurse.”

With effort, she reached out and put her hand on his. “No. It’s okay.”

He looked her over, concerned. “Is there something I can do?”

“Relax, maybe. You’re stressing me out.”

He forced himself to smile. “Sure. Sorry.”

“Ugh. That’s even worse,” she said.

As he moved his other hand onto the bed, he realized he was still holding his phone.

The Mole.

He thought for a moment. If his offering to get the nurse had stressed Orlando out, he couldn’t imagine what talking to the Mole would do to her, so he slipped the phone into his pocket.

Nate moved in behind him. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“I hear that I’m better than I was,” Orlando said.

“Well, yeah. That wouldn’t take much, though.”

“I see you came to cheer me up.”

“My official capacity today is Quinn’s Sherpa.” He raised the laptop.

Orlando looked confused. “That’s mine, isn’t it?”

“Um, I guess,” Nate said.

“It is,” Quinn told her. “Hope you don’t mind I was using it.”

“No, it’s fine. Have something to do with why you went to see Misty?”

“Yeah, partly.”

She watched him for a moment. “Are you going to share?”

“It’s not important.”

“Actually, maybe you can help,” Nate said.

Quinn glared at him. “It’s fine. Not important.”

Orlando looked back and forth between them. “Tell me, for God’s sake.”

Nate opened his mouth to speak, but Quinn said, “Stop. I’ll tell.”

“Sure,” Nate said. “No problem. Just trying to help.”

“Thanks,” Quinn told him, the sarcasm thick and heavy. As concisely as he could, he explained about the files and trying to decrypt them using her computer.

“What program did you use?” she asked.

“I looked through almost all of the ones in your encryption file. One called Juniper Lemon 23 came closest to working, but I couldn’t figure out how to input—”

With a groan, she rolled her eyes, a look of utter disgust on her face. When she looked at him again, it was as if she were wondering whether he was worthy of her attention. “Two problems. A) I don’t have a specific encryption file, and b) you’re not even using the right program.” She looked at Nate. “Give that to me.”

She tried to lift her hands toward him, but had to settle for turning them palms up.

Quinn stayed Nate’s arm with his own hand. “I don’t think so,” he said.

“Do you want it done or not?” she asked.

“Just tell us how. You don’t have to do it yourself.”

“It’ll be faster if I do it.”

“I said no.”

“I don’t care what you said. I’m not a child.”

Quinn’s phone vibrated in his pocket. The Mole. Dammit. He reached in and sent the call to voice mail as he said, “You’re not in any condition to help. Just rest. That’s your job right now, remember?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Oh, really.” He let his gaze trace some of the wires and tubes that connected her to the devices surrounding her bed. “When you can sit up on your own, maybe we’ll talk.”

Her mouth pressed into a hard, thin line, her eyes narrowing to match it. “Okay. If that’s how you want it, good luck figuring it out.”

“Oh, so now it’s all right to act like a child?”

His phone vibrated again.

“If you’re going to treat me like a child, I might as well act like one.” In the pause that followed, the cell vibrated again. “Are you going to answer that?”

Quinn pulled out the phone. UNKNOWN again. “I’ll deal with it later,” he said as he sent the Mole once more to voicemail.

Before Quinn could even put the phone away, the Mole called back.

Orlando’s eyebrows rose, her anger partially replaced by curiosity. “What’s going on?”

He looked at her, and then at the phone. “Hold on,” he told her.

Turning for the exit, he pressed ACCEPT. “Yes?”

“Orlando…can I talk…to her?”

“Not right now. She’s—”

“Who is that?” Orlando said.

Two things happened at the same moment. Liz’s eyelids cracked open. She sat up and said, “What’s going on?”

And on the phone, the Mole said, “I heard…her voice…this is important…please…I need…to…talk to…her.”

Quinn stood unmoving in the doorway for a moment before stepping back into the room. With extreme reluctance, he said to Orlando, “It’s for you.”

“Who is it?”

“A friend of yours.” Walking back to her bed, he said into the phone, “Do not upset her.”

“That is not my…intention,” the Mole said.

“Fine. I’m going to put you on speaker, and I will hang up if I think there’s even a chance of that happening.”

Liz looked at him, clearly confused. For half a second, Quinn considered asking her to leave the room, but she would probably find out from Nate what was discussed anyway.

He put the phone on the bed next to Orlando, and pressed speaker. “Okay. You can talk to her now. But don’t forget what I said.”

“Who is this?” Orlando asked.

“It’s me,” the Mole said. “I understand you aren’t well.” While his distinctive monotone was still there, his usual lethargic pacing had disappeared.

“It’s been a rough week,” she said. She was still obviously perplexed that the Mole had called her.

“Better now?”

“Getting there.”

“Good.” The Mole paused. “There’s something I think you need to know.”

“What?”

“Does the name Misty Blake mean anything to you?”

Quinn looked at the phone, his eyes widening. “Misty? What about Misty?”

“I was not talking to you.”

“It’s okay,” Orlando said. “We both know Misty. You can answer him.”

“There was a car accident in Washington, DC yesterday. Misty and two other men were involved.”

“How did you know about them?” Quinn asked.

“I was asked to identify them from photographs.”

Photographs? “Who asked you to identify them?”

The Mole said nothing.

“Who?” Quinn asked again.

“Someone who wants to find them.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“For now it’s my answer.”

“You’ve got to give us more than that.”

“All right. An individual.”

“An individual who works for a security and retrieval firm in the DC area, I’ll bet.”

“DC, yes. But he does not work for any kind of security and retrieval firm.”

That was not the answer Quinn had been expecting. The only photos this “individual” could possess were the ones taken by the men who’d been outside Peter’s place when Daeng, Misty, and Howard had been there. It hadn’t been a stretch to assume the photographer worked for the same place as Witten and his team. Was this the unnamed client Witten had mentioned?

“Why does this person want to find our friends?” Orlando asked.

“He wouldn’t tell me, but he deals in dirty work, so I’m guessing what he wants can’t be good.”

“Lovely client you have there,” Quinn said.

“He is not my client!” The software controlling the Mole’s voice could not contain his anger.

“Then why are you helping him?”

Several seconds passed before the Mole finally answered. “Sometimes we have no choice.”

“So you’ve given him this information already?”

Another flash of annoyance. “No! I’ve put him off for now.” The Mole took a breath. “When I figured out who the woman was, I knew you might know her, Orlando, so I thought it best to talk to you first.”

“But at some point you’re going to have to tell him,” Orlando said.

“I will have to tell him something. But I’m open to suggestions.”

Orlando looked at Quinn, perplexed. Quinn, too, wasn’t sure what the right answer was.

“When are you supposed to let him know?” Quinn asked.

“He gave me four hours. That was seventeen minutes ago.”

Good, Quinn thought. There was still more than three and a half hours left until the deadline. “We need to think this through. Can we call you back?”

“Don’t wait too long.”