[Quinn 04] - The Silenced

The man smiled without showing his teeth, but remained otherwise silent. His attention seemed to be focused more on the house across the street than on her.

“Nice night, huh?” Petra said.

He responded the same way he had before.

After a moment, she smiled and started walking off. “Have a good evening.”

At the next block she turned left. As soon as she was out of sight, she stopped and turned around. She almost expected to see him standing behind her, but the sidewalk was empty.

He was a watcher, not a local. And by the bulge Petra noticed under his jacket, an armed watcher. But was he watching to make sure no one got in, or that no one got out?

Or was he with the group inside? Standing guard in case …

In case someone like me shows up, she thought. She closed her eyes and swore under her breath. Like the others, Winters would soon be a dead end. If they hadn’t been delayed in New York, they wouldn’t have gotten stuck in traffic, and it was possible they would have been able to get to the house first. Winters would have been theirs.

She pulled out her phone and called Mikhail.

“We’re too late,” she said.

“What happened?”

She told him what she’d found.

“He’s still alive, though,” Mikhail said. “There’s still a chance.”

“The only chance I see involves a high percentage of bullets aimed at my head. Is that what you want me to try?” When he didn’t answer, she said, “Have you made progress on Moody?”

“A little. I traced him from Philadelphia to an address in Manhattan, but he’s not there anymore, either. I’m trying to figure out where he went next.”

Petra wanted to scream, but instead she said, “Get us on a flight back tonight.”

She disconnected the call, then stood there for several moments thinking. Maybe Mikhail was right, and Winters wasn’t yet a lost cause. At the very least, pictures of those who had him could be very useful in identifying who the killers were.

She traded her phone for the palm-size digital camera in her bag, then, keeping low, moved back onto Winters’s street, crouching behind a parked car to mask her return. She was only there a few moments before the watcher stepped away from the tree and started crossing the street. He was tilting his head the way a person did when he was listening to a receiver in his ear.

She shot off a couple of pictures, then turned the camera on the house. The front door was now open, and standing just inside was a large man in a suit that did little to hide his bulk. He stepped aside so that another man, this one only slightly smaller than the first, could pass through. Two others appeared in the doorway. Neither was in the same size class as the two behemoths. One looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. He was thin, but walked with a confidence that made Petra think he was in charge. The other man looked pale and nervous. Petra estimated that he was in his mid to late sixties, the right age to be Winters.

The one in charge had a hold of the other guy’s arm and was helping to keep him from collapsing. Once they were outside, one of the big men took over, lifting the man so that his feet barely touched the ground as he walked him toward the Mercedes in the driveway.

When the car door opened, the dome light came on, illuminating the older man’s face.

Winters. Definitely.

Even from this distance, she could see fear on the man’s face. She touched the zoom, took one more picture, then slipped the camera back into her bag.

Once Winters was shoved into the back of the silver sedan, Petra retreated to the next street down, then sprinted back to the Buick.

“Go!” she yelled as she jumped back into the car. “We have to follow them.”

Kolya pulled the car onto the road. “Follow who?”

“A silver Mercedes. They have Winters.”

Kolya turned onto Winters’s street just in time to see the taillights of the Mercedes turning two blocks away.

“Hurry,” Petra said. “But for God’s sake, don’t let them know we’re here.”

•   •   •

They followed the Mercedes south on the 101 freeway into Hollywood and then downtown. There it finally exited onto a side street.

“Not too close,” Petra said. Unlike on the freeway, they could be easily spotted now.

“I know,” Kolya shot back. “But I don’t want to lose them, either.”

They were surrounded first by skyscrapers, then by squat storefronts with signs mostly in Spanish. After a while, these gave way to warehouses and manufacturing plants, most with no identification at all.

It was quiet here, almost deserted. The buildings that didn’t look abandoned were shut down for the night. But it wasn’t only the buildings that looked abandoned. The roads, too, were nearly deserted. Petra was sure they would be spotted at any moment.

“Slow down,” she said.

“Trust me,” Kolya told her.