[Quinn 04] - The Silenced

“One of them?”

“I’m not sure.”

Could be anyone, Nate thought. But Quinn had taught him to always assume the worst. He looked at Liz. “Which way to the alley door?”

“It’s across from the elevator at the back of the lobby,” she said. “There’s a hallway that leads to the exit.”

They would have to cross through the center of the lobby. If someone looked through the window while they did, they’d be spotted.

“I’ll check,” Nate said.

The men outside might have descriptions of both Liz and Julien, but they would have no idea who Nate was.

“Stay with Julien,” he said as he let go of her arm.

He moved around Julien and entered the lobby. Then, as if he’d done it a million times before, he strolled toward the entrance of the rear hallway. He was only a few feet from it when someone rapped against the window on the front door.

“Monsieur, s’il vous plaît. Pouvez-vous me laisser entrer?” The voice was male, most likely the same person Julien had seen.

Not even flinching, Nate continued on as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

“Monsieur? S’il vous plaît.”

The rapping on the glass didn’t stop until Nate disappeared into the back hallway.

That’s a problem, he thought.

He looked at his watch. Julien was due at the café in one minute.

“Julien,” he whispered as loud as he dared.

“Oui?”

“You’re going to have to go out and pretend like everything is okay. You need to get that guy away from the door long enough so I can get Liz out the back.”

“D’accord,” Julien said. “I’ll do what I can.”

Nate angled himself so he could see as much of the lobby as possible without coming into view of the door. Fifteen seconds passed, but the Frenchman hadn’t appeared.

“Julien. Now would be good.”

Ten more seconds went by before Julien emerged from the staircase. The Frenchman stutter-stepped, glanced back over his shoulder in the direction he’d just come, then recovered and headed to the door.

He whispered something, but Nate couldn’t make it out.

As Julien opened the door, the man who’d been standing there backed up a few steps. He looked at Julien, and they exchanged a few words. As this was happening Julien let the door close behind him, then moved in front of the window to block the view.

Nate sprinted across the lobby and turned onto the stairs. “Come on, we—”

He didn’t finish, because no one was there to hear him.

Quinn looked stunned as he disconnected the call from Julien.

Orlando already had her own phone up to her ear. “Steven? I know it’s early there. But there’s been an escalation. What’s your situation? … Have the others seen anything unusual? … Okay, I’ll hold.” She moved the cell away from her mouth and looked back at Quinn. “Everything’s quiet at your mother’s house. He’s calling Rickey to see if he’s seen anything.” She suddenly swung the phone back. “Yeah, I’m here.… Okay … good.” To Quinn, she said, “Everything’s quiet.”

“Let me talk to him,” he said.

Orlando handed him the phone.

“Steven? It’s Quinn. We have reason to believe that someone might make a move on my mother at any time. I need you to get her out of there.”

“Okay, sure,” Steven Howard said. “Anyplace specific?”

Quinn thought for a moment. “If they do come looking and see that she’s gone, they’ll think she headed to either Winnipeg or Minneapolis.” They were the two closest cities of any size, and would be obvious destinations. “Go west into North Dakota. Stay on Highway 2. When you reach Montana, find a motel somewhere out of the way. Use precautions.”

“Got it,” Howard said.

“I should probably talk to my mom,” Quinn said.

“I’m going to have to wake her.”

Quinn looked at his watch, then did a quick calculation. It was 4:27 a.m. in Minnesota.

“Do it,” he said. First he had to convince his sister, and now his mother. This was a day he never saw coming.

On the other end, he could hear Howard moving through the house. There was a gentle knock. “Mrs. Oliver?” A pause. “Mrs. Oliver, are you awake?” Then in a whispered voice, “She’s coming.”

The creak of a door opening, the same creak Quinn had heard a few weeks before when he’d been there for his father’s funeral.

“Steven? Is something wrong?” Dorothy Oliver said, her voice muffled.

“It’s your son,” Howard said. “He needs to talk to you.”

“Jake?”

“Yes.”

“Jake. Is everything all right?” His mother’s voice was now clear and unimpeded.

“Mom, I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course.”

“I need you to leave the house. Steven will—”

“What?” she said. “Why?”

“Please, Mom. I need you to trust me, and not ask any questions.”

She was silent for a moment, then said, “I trust you, honey. But you can’t wake me in the middle of the night and tell me I have to leave my house without telling me why.”

He hesitated, but knew he had to tell her something. “There are some people … people who might use you to get to me. They may be on the way to the farm right now.”

“What are you talking about? What people?”