“Daeng will be with you the whole time,” Nate said.
Another nod.
From the angle of their descent, Quinn knew they were almost there. “Shades,” he said.
They moved quickly through the cabin, closing all the window shades so no one could see in after they land.
After they were all seated, Quinn thought through the revised plan one more time. They had taken every precaution possible, but there were still at least a million ways it could go wrong. The number one being if Peter decided his interests were better served elsewhere and screwed them over. They’d know the answer to that soon enough.
The plane bounced as its rear wheels hit the runway, then stayed down. Once the front gear settled on the ground, the engines wailed as they worked hard to kill the momentum that had carried them across the Atlantic Ocean. Once their speed slowed enough so that the plane could safely turn off the runway, everyone but Mila jumped out of their seats.
As soon as Orlando turned off the interior lights, Quinn raised one of the shades a few inches and peeked out.
There were two medium-sized hangars, and a long, one-story building that fit with the description of the terminal Peter had given him. On the tarmac near the terminal was a plane not much different than the one they were in, and in front of it was a single car.
So far, so good.
“All right,” he said. “Looks like we’re a go.”
__________
P
ETER POINTED AT
the distant white dot moving toward them in the afternoon sky. “There she is.”
As soon as Olsen spotted it, he nodded. “I want this transfer to go as quickly as possible.”
“That’s the plan. Once she’s transferred to the other plane, we’ll proceed with identification. That should take no more than fifteen minutes. After that, she’ll be back in the air.” Peter had hired Steven Howard and Rickey Larson at Quinn’s request to serve as “protection” for Olsen and the former Office chief, and to handle the identification process.
Peter’s explanation seemed to satisfy Olsen. He touched his hands-free earpiece, waited a moment, then said, “It’s Olsen, sir…Yes, almost here…How’s the visual there?…Good, good… Call me if there’s anything you want to ask her.”
Tucked half a mile away in the woods was a trailer, but not the kind someone would take camping to Yosemite or the Rockies. It was a high-tech surveillance station, complete with monitors; recording equipments; microwave, satellite, and radio receivers; several comfortable chairs; and a stocked refrigerator.
The trailer had been moved into position three hours prior to the scheduled landing time, ready for its guests to arrive.
This had been the hardest part of Peter’s end of Quinn’s plan. Hardest, that was, next to agreeing to help in the first place. If
anything
went wrong, they were all doomed, but knowing what Mygatt and the others had done, there was no way Peter could just stand around and do nothing. The secret world was not always the most moral of places, but there were lines that should never be crossed. Mygatt and Green and Olsen hadn’t just stepped over one of the lines, they had rocketed miles onto the other side.
After convincing Olsen that bringing Mila to Virginia was the right thing, Peter had waited thirty minutes, then offered up another idea.
“If you’d like, I could have cameras set up, and the senator and Mr. Green could watch the identification remotely.”
As Peter knew would be the case, Olsen loved the idea.
In a hesitant voice, he added, “We could do a satellite feed or even route it through the Internet. It all depends on how worried you might be about someone hacking the signal.”
Again, Olsen’s reaction was predictable. “That is something that
cannot
happen.”
“Chances are, everything will be fine, but if you’re asking for an absolute guarantee, I can’t give you that.”
Olsen frowned. “We’ll just record it, then. They can watch it later.”
“Sure, that makes sense.” Peter paused the appropriate amount of time, then said, “There is another option, if you’re interested.”
“What would that be?”
“I can get access to a remote surveillance trailer that we can set up close to the airport, and use a microwave link to relay the feeds. No one will be able to tap in. It’s the most secure way if they’d like to watch live.”
Olsen said he’d ask, and when he came back ten minutes later and said both Mygatt and Green would like to utilize the trailer option, Peter wasn’t surprised. When presented with an opportunity to micromanage an important event, he had found that people in power seldom said no.
The plane landed with a squeal of rubber. The roar of the engines took over, and finally the aircraft settled down to a pedestrian pace as it headed over to where Peter and Olsen were waiting.
The jet made a large circle just before it reached the terminal. When it stopped, it was beside the second plane, facing in the opposite direction. This would make it easier to move the prisoner from one craft to the other.
As the engines wound down, the door opened. Standing at the top was a tanned man in a suit and tinted glasses. Peter had never seen him before, but that was probably good. It meant Olsen was unlikely to know him.
The man lowered the built-in staircase and disappeared back into the plane for a moment. When he reemerged, Mila Voss was with him.
A low, satisfied grunt reverberated from Olsen’s throat. “It’s definitely her.”
“Just to be safe, I think we should still do the checks.”
“Fine,” Olsen said, though it was a halfhearted assent.
Only the suited man and Mila exited the plane. Peter had explained to Olsen that the idea was to keep things low-key on the off chance someone might be watching. Mila even had a coat draped over her hands, covering the cuffs around her wrists.
As she and the suited man crossed the tarmac, Peter folded his arms, right over left. Mila walked with her head drooped, as if defeated, while the man with her kept a steady hand on her back. When they were within five feet of Peter and Olsen, the man told her to stop.
To Peter, he said, “I was instructed to see her all the way onto the plane.”
“Correct,” Peter said. “Proceed.”
“Let’s go,” the man said, guiding Mila toward the stairs.
Just before they reached the first step, Peter called out, “Hold on.”
The man turned back around. “Yes, sir?”
Peter walked over, his back now to the other craft. As he’d hoped, Olsen did the same.
“I just want to take a look,” Peter said.
He put a hand under Mila’s chin and lifted up her face. Her eyes seemed unfocused, as if she hardly knew he was there.
“What are you doing?” Olsen asked.
Ignoring him, Peter asked the man, “Is she drugged?”
“No, sir. She’s been like that since she boarded the plane.”
“What about when you captured her?”
“That was a different part of the team, sir. I was waiting at the airfield so I can’t say.”
Peter moved Mila’s face side to side as if checking for cuts and bruises.
After a few seconds, the tanned man said, “She
was
asleep right before we landed.”
That was the cue.
“All right,” Peter said. He took a step back. “Go ahead. Take her on.”
__________
Q
UINN WATCHED THROUGH
a narrow slit at the bottom of one of the window shades as Daeng walked Mila toward the other plane. They stopped in front of Peter and the other man, shared a few words, then continued toward the stairs.
This was another point where Peter could blow things for them, but Daeng stopped and turned, Peter and the man with him walked over, their backs now to the newly arrived aircraft, just as discussed.
“Now,” Quinn said.
In silent succession, Nate, Orlando, and Quinn exited the plane, slipped under the fuselage, and made for the trees fifty yards on the other side. As soon as they were safely under cover, Quinn took a look back. Though his view was limited, it looked like the others had boarded the second plane.
“This way,” Orlando whispered. She was looking at the map on her phone that showed their current location in relation to the trailer.
They made their way through the woods, careful to make as little noise as possible.
“I don’t know, Quinn,” Peter had said after Quinn laid out everything for him before boarding the plane in Venice.
“You have a choice to make. It’s not a small one, I know, but let’s be honest. Is there really any answer but yes?”
“You’ve got to give me a little time to think.”
“You have until we get to Geneva.”
Peter’s response would come in one of two ways: either Quinn and the others would be taken into custody in Geneva upon disembarking the flight from Venice, or they wouldn’t. That would mean the plane and the equipment Quinn had requested would be waiting for them.
Option two turned out to be the winner.
Somewhere in the woods ahead they would find three guards. They knew this because of the way Peter had been holding his arms when Daeng approached him—folded, right over left.
When Quinn, Orlando, and Nate were within one hundred and fifty feet of the trailer, they pulled down their ski masks, circled to the left, and quickly came to the dirt road where two cars were parked.
One of the three guards was sitting behind the wheel of the car in back, but the other two were nowhere in sight.
Quinn pointed at Nate, who nodded, then headed along the edge of the trees toward the car. When he came level with the vehicle, he dropped down so as not to be seen, and moved around the rear over to the driver’s side.
Quinn could no longer see him at this point, but what he could see was the man inside. For a few seconds, everything was as it had been, then the man looked over, surprised, as his door was jerked open. Before he could do anything, he slumped forward as the shot of Beta-Somnol Nate had jabbed into him took effect.
The crown of Nate’s head appeared for a second as he arranged the man back into a sitting position so it would look like nothing was wrong. He then shut the door and returned to the others.
It took them two precious minutes to find the next guard. He was wandering the woods, beyond where the cars were parked. Once more, Nate did the honors, shoving the needle into the man before the guy even knew he was there.
Quinn knew the third guard would be positioned close to the trailer, most likely on the side with the door, so they came at the surveillance vehicle from the back. When they reached it, Nate went one way, Quinn and Orlando the other.
As he and Orlando turned the corner, they came face to face with the third man. The guard pulled back in surprise, his hand automatically going for his gun, but before he could free it, Quinn had an arm wrapped around him, and a hand over the man’s mouth. Orlando quickly injected enough of the drug into the man’s arm to keep him out until morning.
With her help, Quinn laid him on the ground. He grimaced as he straightened back up.
“You okay?” she whispered.
“Fine,” he lied.
They reconnected with Nate around front, and gave him the sign that told him the third man was taken care of.
Quinn checked his watch. Nearly five minutes had passed since they’d left the plane. They needed to speed this up. Without wasting another second, Quinn wrenched the door open and the three of them rushed inside.
Most of the opposite side of the trailer was taken up by a wall of monitors. On the largest screen was a shot showing the inside of the second plane. Mila was having her fingerprints taken. Two men—Mygatt and Green—were sitting in chairs in front of the wall where they had been watching the action. But now, they were looking toward the door in confusion.
“Hands where I can see them!” Quinn yelled.
“What the hell?” Mygatt said.
“Hands where I can
see
them!”
Green got the message first, and put his hands on the counter in front of the monitors. Mygatt didn’t budge.
“You’ve just made a huge mistake,” the former senator said. “There are half a dozen men out there right now undoubtedly surrounding this trailer. You need to put down your—”
“You know, I’d love to play who’s got the bigger set of balls but we don’t have time,” Quinn said. “Hands where I can see them.” He slapped the barrel of his gun against Mygatt’s head.
The politician screamed out in pain, and complied with the order.
“What do you want?” Green asked.
“We’ve got what we want.”
“There
are
men outside. They will kill you unless you put down your guns.”
“We’ve already met them. They won’t be a problem.”
Green started to look nervous for the first time. “Who the hell are you?”
Quinn held a hand out to Nate. His former apprentice gave him an empty black cloth bag and a pair of handcuffs. While Quinn put the cuffs on Mygatt, Nate did the same with Green.
Then they both opened the bags.
“Mr. Mygatt, Mr. Green, I believe you are both familiar with the term extraordinary rendition. Consider this yours.”
As he and Nate pulled the bags over the men’s heads, Orlando administered the needles.
__________
P
ETER AND OLSEN
were in the private room at the back of the second plane. Mila was sitting in the chair in front of them while her suited escort stood quietly against the wall near the door.
As Peter knew would happen, when they were in the middle of taking Mila’s photos and the necessary samples to verify her ID, Olsen had started asking her questions. Playing her part, Mila refused to respond. This only made the agent more determined, which was why he didn’t seem to hear the car driving up outside.
Several seconds later, feet pounded through the plane, then someone knocked rapidly against the door. When Daeng opened it, the man named Howard was standing there.
“Yes?” Peter said.
“Sir, a car just drove up with a group of armed men,” Howard said.
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know, sir, but they’re not our people.”