"Sure."

The image became a blur as Howard carried his phone through Misty's apartment. A moment later, they could hear him say, "Quinn wants to talk to you."

"Give me a moment," Misty told him, her voice distant. The wait lasted nearly a minute, then, "Okay."

The phone switched hands, and Misty, looking tired and scared, stared into the camera.

"I have a few more questions. Is that all right?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, of course."

"When the Office was closed, all the records were either taken over by another agency or destroyed, correct?"

"Mostly we were ordered to destroy them. A few select files were transferred, mainly ongoing operations."

"So, in effect, there's no way to access information about any job the Office undertook?"

She looked uncomfortable. "Um, right."

"Misty?"

She stared off for a moment, and then turned back to the camera. "Do you think there's something in one of the files that will bring Peter back?"

"That's what I was hoping."

"We...we kept a digital backup," she said. "Well, Peter did. I helped him collect it. When we were done, he told me never to mention it."

A backup was exactly what Quinn had been hoping for. He knew Peter would never permanently destroy everything. It would have gone against his always-prepared nature. "Do you know where it is?"

She hesitated before nodding.

"And you can access it?"

"If he didn't change the codes, yes."

That was a potential problem. "Okay, I need you to see if you can get in. If the codes are changed, let us know and we'll try to break them." By "we," he meant Orlando.

"What am I supposed to be looking for?"

"You have something you can write on?"

"Hold on." She set the phone down, giving them a view of the ceiling. She returned a few seconds later. "Okay, go ahead."

"I'd like you to pull any information on jobs that had the following personnel attached: Evan Berkeley, Maurice Curson, and myself."

"Am I supposed to pull jobs where there was just one of you? Because if I am, that's going to be a h.e.l.l of a lot of-"

"No," Quinn said. "Any pair combinations, and with the three of us together only."

"Okay," she said. Now that she had a task to perform, much of the stress had left her face. "I'll call you back as soon as I can. A few hours should be enough."

CHAPTER 33.

TAMPICO, MEXICO.

LIZ ARRIVED IN Tampico planning to find another taxi like she'd done in Monterrey. Instead, before exiting the building, she spotted a booth advertising tours and local hotels, and learned that yes, she could hire a personal English-speaking guide, and yes, one who could start as soon as she wanted.

"In an hour would be perfect," she said, paying the fee.

Right on time, a young man named Oscar met her at the booth. He was all smiles and service as he guided her out to his car, rattling off a list of places his standard tourist route would take her.

"Actually, I'm looking for something a little more specialized," she said when he finished.

"Specialized?"

Her first instructions were for him to wait in the car outside the terminal while she went back in for a few minutes. "Circle around if you have to, but don't be gone long. As soon as I come back out, we'll leave."

Confused and a bit wary, Oscar had reluctantly agreed. He drove her from the parking lot back to the terminal.

Inside, she checked first on the status of the next flight from Monterrey, and learned that it would be landing in a matter of minutes. This being a small airport meant the time between touchdown and exiting the aircraft would be short, so she found a spot from where she could see the corridor that all arriving pa.s.sengers would be funneled through.

As the people from the Monterrey flight began trickling out, her stomach started tying itself in knots, as she worried again that Jake and his friends had gone someplace other than Tampico. Then she spotted Daeng, and a moment later, Jake and Orlando.

Liz headed outside and spent a couple nervous minutes waiting for Oscar to return. The second he pulled to the curb, she jumped into the back.

"Wait," she said as he started to pull back into traffic.

He glanced back at her. "We can't wait here."

"We won't be long. Just hold on, okay?"

"What are we waiting for?"

She didn't answer his question until the other three stepped outside.

CHAPTER 34.

WHILE MORENO HAD not told them the precise location of the abandoned facility, he had given them enough information that Orlando was able to pinpoint the most logical location, using satellite imagery.

They drove twenty-five minutes into the Mexican countryside, the only words spoken Orlando's as she doled out directions when needed. Finally she pointed at a narrow, blacktop road that branched off to the east, and said, "There, turn right."

As Quinn did as instructed, he checked his rearview mirror. There had been a car behind them all the way from the city, never falling too far back and never coming too close. A tail? Perhaps, but he couldn't be sure.

His gaze switched back and forth between the road ahead and the mirror, but the other car drove past the road and didn't make the turn behind them. Maybe it was just a local who'd happened to be going in the same direction. Maybe. His cautious mind wasn't willing to go one hundred percent there just yet.

"That's got to be it, right?" Daeng asked.

He was leaning forward between the two front seats, looking at a building about a quarter mile away on the left.

"Should be," Orlando said.

A ten-foot high chain-link fence surrounded the property. Here and there, signs hung on it, warning people to stay away.

Quinn parked in front of the gate and they all climbed out. Standing near the fence, he examined the building. It was about the size of an average apartment building back in Los Angeles. Two stories, made of concrete. It looked like it had been built to last centuries. An old office building, perhaps, or manufacturing facility.

"Up and over or through?" Daeng asked.

The fence was topped by two strands of barbed wire. Not exactly inviting. As for the gate, it was held shut by a chain secured with a heavy padlock. It would have been easy enough to unlock if they'd had a set of picks.

"Up and over," he said.

They found a point where the top barbed-wire strand drooped, no longer taut. They climbed over one by one, all avoiding getting snagged, and headed toward the building.

It was set back a good hundred yards from the fence, with wild gra.s.s and weeds covering the wide expanse between the two. To the far side of the structure they could see part of a long, flat road to nowhere that could only be a runway.

As they neared, Daeng stopped and crouched down, looking at the ground. "Look," he said.

In the dirt was an imprint, several feet long but only a few inches wide.

"Helicopter," Orlando said.

Daeng nodded, and pointed at a less obvious, parallel imprint. "If Moreno was telling the truth, this must be where he landed."

"At least we're at the right place," Quinn said. "Let's have a look inside."

There were two doors along the side of the building facing them, each made of metal that had seen better days. Quinn was about to head toward the one on the right when the other one opened, and a man in a uniform stepped out, holding a gun.

"Esta es propiedad privada. No pueden entrar aqui," he said, telling them they shouldn't be there. He motioned back toward the fence. "Regresense a su coche. No pueden estar aqui."

"Buenos dias," Quinn said, and continued in Spanish, "Captain Moreno told us we'd find you here."

"I don't care who sent you. You can't be here."

"Captain Moreno from Monterrey? I'm sure you remember him. He was here a few days ago."

Caution crept into the man's eyes. "Who are you?"

"Duncan. DEA." Quinn held his hand out. The man didn't take it, so Quinn shrugged and said, "These are my colleagues, Travers and Song. We've been running a joint investigation with the Federal Police in Monterrey."

The man's expression remained the same. "No drugs here."

"We realize that," Quinn said. "We're here about the prisoner transfer."

"Prisoner transfer?"

"Yes, the man who Moreno escorted here and handed over to the other agents. Were you not here? He said you were here. Are you...um...um..." Quinn turned back to Orlando, as if looking for help remembering.

"Diaz?" the man offered.

"Yes, Diaz."

"That's me."

"And weren't you here?"

Diaz looked at them one by one. "I need to see your IDs."

"Really?" Quinn huffed, exasperated. "Moreno was supposed to have set this up. I get the impression you didn't know we were coming."

"No."

"That's just great." He looked at Orlando. "Get him on the phone."

She pulled out her phone and pretended to dial.

"No," Quinn said. "Don't call Moreno. Call Grayson in DC. Have him get ahold of Director Arroyo at CISEN." Centro de Investigacion y Seguridad Nacional was Mexico's chief intelligence agency. "Let him deal with his screwup."

Orlando nodded and walked several feet away, her phone to her ear.

Diaz eyed her nervously.

"Don't worry," Quinn said. "I'm sure you'll get a call in just a minute to straighten all this out. Wouldn't want to be in Moreno's shoes right now. Though I guess he might not be the only one who hears the wrath."

The man licked his lips, looked at Orlando again, and said, "It's okay. No problem. What is it I can do for you?"

"That's very cooperative of you. I appreciate that." Quinn glanced over at Orlando. "Never mind. We're good."

She said something into her phone, acted like she was disconnecting the call, and slipped it into her pocket.

Quinn looked back at the guard. "So, were you here during the prisoner exchange?"

"Yes. I was here," Diaz said. He quickly added, "But I stayed out of the way. Only unlocked the doors they wanted."