She had failed to share that information with Quinn, but that wasn't surprising. "He didn't show up."

"What?"

"He didn't meet her at the airport and he's not at home, either. She thinks he's missing."

"He's probably just stuck on a job."

"Probably, but..."

They were both silent for a moment before Orlando said, "But he would have at least let her know."

"Yeah. Listen, I'll be there in a few minutes, but can you-"

"Make some calls? Not while I'm talking to you."

The line went dead.

__________.

QUINN SPRINTED THE rest of the way back to Orlando's place, and yanked open the front door. Mrs. Vu was standing at the entrance table, sorting the mail. She whirled around, gasping in shock as he entered.

"Sorry," Quinn said. "Where is she?"

The old Vietnamese woman hesitated only a moment before pointing up the stairs. "In office." As Quinn started across the foyer, she pointed at his feet. "Shoes. Shoes."

He ignored her, and ran to the stairs.

"Shoes!" she called after him.

He paused halfway up, just long enough to pull each shoe off, then continued to the second floor. Behind him he could hear Mrs. Vu scoff. She and her husband took care of the house and helped with Garrett. Undoubtedly, she was already heading for the vacuum, and would have the stairs spotless in a matter of minutes.

Orlando's office was located at the front of the house. Quinn skirted around the top of the banister, and raced over to the open door. She was sitting at her desk, her phone to her ear. Looking up, she raised a finger, telling him to hold on.

"Uh-huh...Yeah, I understand...Thanks. I appreciate it." She hung up, and said to Quinn, "Isaac Parker."

Parker was a middleman, a job broker who put together projects for clients who wanted to maintain distance from the actual work.

"And?"

"Nate's not working for him."

"Have you reached anyone else?"

"Two others. Simmons and Van Dorn. Was going to try Tan-" She paused. "What am I thinking? Daeng."

"What about Daeng?" Quinn asked.

"Nate's been using him a lot lately."

"He has? How do you know that?"

"Someone had to keep an eye on things here when you were doing your soul searching."

"You were there with me."

"Yeah," she said, lifting the corner of her laptop. "And there's this little thing called the Internet. Perhaps you're familiar with it."

He tried to keep from glaring at her as he pulled out his cell and selected Daeng's number.

Three rings, then a sleepy, "h.e.l.lo?"

"Daeng? It's Quinn."

"Kind of early to be calling, don't you think?"

Quinn glanced at his watch. It was four-twenty in the afternoon. "Depends on where you are."

"Everything depends on where you are." Daeng let out a long yawn. "It's all right. I needed to get up anyway."

"Are you back in Bangkok?"

"Yeah."

Quinn did a quick time calculation. It would be six twenty a.m. there. "Nate wouldn't happen to be with you, would he?"

"Nate? No. Why would he be here?"

"Haven't you two been working together?"

"Yeah, but I had to come home to deal with something."

"So you're not helping him on a job right now."

"No, I'm not. What's going on?"

Quinn filled him in. "It's only been a few hours, so it's possible he's just tied up, but it's not like him to let Liz arrive without getting word to her that he wouldn't be there."

Daeng was silent.

"Are you still there?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah. I was just thinking."

When Daeng didn't continue, Quinn said, "Thinking what?"

Daeng hesitated, then said, "Not important."

Quinn let the silence hang for a moment. "When did you leave L.A.?"

"Five days ago."

"Do you know if he was going to be working on a job while you were gone?"

"Yeah. He had something lined up."

"Who hired him?"

"He didn't tell me. The gig came in after I booked my flight, so he knew I wouldn't be helping him."

Which meant Nate's ethics would keep him from sharing the information, a habit Quinn himself had drilled into his former apprentice.

"Any idea who he got to replace you?"

"He was making some calls, but not having any luck at the time. He did say the broker offered to set him up with someone if he couldn't find anyone."

"He said a broker? Not a client direct hire."

"He said broker."

"Okay, that's something. Can you think of anything else?"

Daeng said nothing for several seconds. "No. That's it as far as I can remember."

"Thanks. If you do come up with something, call me," Quinn said. "Doesn't matter what time."

"I will."

Quinn hung up, and looked at Orlando. "Not Daeng. But Nate did have a job set up through a broker. That'll narrow things a bit."

She nodded without looking up from her laptop. After a moment, the printer whirled to life and spit out two sheets of paper. Once it was done, she closed her computer and stood up.

"All right, we'd better hurry," she said.

She handed him one of the printed pieces of paper. As often happened, they were on the same wavelength again.

In his hand was one of two tickets for a flight to Los Angeles.

CHAPTER 7.

BANGKOK, THAILAND.

WHAT DAENG HADN'T told Quinn was that the thing he'd come home to deal with turned out to be nothing. The message he'd received from Ton a week earlier had concerned a Burmese refugee kid, one Daeng had personally helped get onto the right path. According to the note, the boy had been arrested by the Bangkok police for drug trafficking, an offense punishable by death.

When Daeng couldn't get ahold of Ton right away to get more details, he had caught a flight home the next day, knowing the arrest had to be some kind of mistake because there was no way the kid would get mixed up in something like that. And he was right. Only it wasn't the police who'd made the mistake, it was Ton. The kid was not in jail and had no idea what Daeng was talking about when Daeng tracked him down.

Relieved but frustrated, Daeng had called Ton to try to figure out where the miscommunication had occurred, but Ton was still not answering his phone. Daeng had then checked around and learned that the man had gone northeast to Issan to visit family. That didn't explain why he wasn't answering his mobile, though. As a member of Daeng's loose organization of misfits, Ton was expected to have his phone on him at all times. Not about to travel out to the countryside himself, Daeng wasn't going to do much about it until Ton called him back.

Over the following few days, Daeng had become so preoccupied with checking in on his network of people and businesses, and making sure everything was still running smoothly, that he'd shoved all thoughts about Ton to the far reaches of his mind. He knew they'd get things cleared up soon enough.

Maybe that had been a mistake.

He headed into the bathroom with his mobile phone, turned on the speaker function, and tried Ton once more. As the line began to ring, he applied shaving cream to his face. Receiving no response, he punched DISCONNECT, finished his shave, and jumped in the shower.

In less than five minutes, he was dressed and making another call as he walked through the house.

This time the line was answered with a grunt.

"Yai, wake up," Daeng said.

Another grunt.

"Come on. I need you."

"Who is this?" Yai asked, his voice a slur.

"Who do you think it is?"

There was a rustle on the other end. "Daeng? Sorry. It's kind of early, you know?"

"Yeah, and I'm already up and dressed."

"Oh...um...what's going on?"

"When was the last time you talked to Ton?"

"Ton?" Yai seemed confused for a moment. "Little Ton? Or Big Ton?"

"Little."

"Uh, I don't know." Yai paused for a moment. "Well, he did tell me he was going away."

"When was this?

"If you hold on, I can check the time on his text."

"Wait, he told you by text? Not on the phone or in person?"

"Yeah."

"When was the last time you actually talked to him?"