[Quinn 04] - The Silenced

BY BRETT BATTLESThe Cleaner

The Deceived

Shadow of Betrayal

The Silenced

The Silenced is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Dell Mass Market Original

Copyright © 2011 by Brett Battles

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Dell, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

DELL is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-440-33989-2

www.bantamdell.com

Cover design: Jerry Todd

Cover photos: Eifel Tower by Arthur Tilley/Jupiter Images; Paris Street at Night by Mel Curtis/Photodisc

v3.1

With immeasurable thanks

to Mr. Kubik and Mrs. Bernhardi,

two of the best teachers I ever had

Contents

Cover

Other Books by This Author

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Late September

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 - October

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Acknowledgments

PETRA GLANCED AT HER WATCH.

4:15 p.m.

Her lips tightened as she held in the curse she so desperately wanted to mutter.

The Cathay Pacific flight to New York was only fifteen minutes from boarding, and there was still no sign of Kolya.

If it had been Mikhail who had not yet arrived, she wouldn’t have been so worried. But it wasn’t Mikhail. He’d already been sitting in the waiting area when she walked up.

No, of course it was Kolya. She had known from the beginning that he was too young, too inexperienced to take with them. But what choice did she have?

Maybe an officer at Passport Control had scrutinized his documents. They were expertly done, but fake, so there was always a chance something had been missed. Maybe Kolya had begun to sweat and look nervous. Maybe Hong Kong security had him in a back room right that very moment, questioning him about his identity and trying to find out whom he might be traveling with.

Maybe the police were even now heading toward the gate where Petra and Mikhail waited, intending to take them into custody.

Petra looked down the concourse toward the main part of the terminal. But there were no uniformed men marching in her direction, only other passengers toting carry-ons and wasting time until their flights departed.

There was also no Kolya.

She glanced over at Mikhail two rows away. Though she couldn’t see his face, she knew he had to be as tense as she was. Their operation could afford zero complications, especially after having experienced another setback, this time right there in Hong Kong, the former British colony where it had all begun so long ago.

Another possibility hit her. What if Kolya hadn’t even arrived at the airport yet? They had each traveled separately. Mikhail had taken the Airport Express train, while Kolya and Petra had each hailed taxis. What if Kolya’s cab had broken down? What if the driver had misunderstood Kolya’s destination? Doubtful, she knew. Airport was airport. Even with Kolya’s limited English, he should have been able to communicate where he needed to go.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice blared over the public address system, “at this time we will begin preboarding Cathay Pacific flight 840 to New York’s John F. Kennedy Airport. Passengers traveling with small children or those who need additional assistance may board the aircraft now. Once we are done preboarding, we will start boarding all our first-class and business-class passengers, Marco Polo Club members, and …”

Petra pushed herself up, unable to sit still any longer. Where was he?

Her hand slipped into her shoulder bag as she scanned the terminal, her fingertips quickly searching through its contents. They found what they were looking for. Touching it made her relax, if only just a little.

At the far end of the terminal, dozens of people wearing identical blue sweatshirts moved almost as one toward a gate. Elsewhere, individuals and couples, some using the automated sidewalks, some walking beside them, moved between shops and waiting areas and restrooms. But none of them, none of them, was Kolya.

“Excuse me,” a voice said into her ear. “Did you drop this?”

Petra turned quickly, surprised to find Mikhail standing right behind her, holding a pen out. She hadn’t even heard him walk up.

“What are you doing?” he whispered through his smile.