NINETEEN
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"Kind of rude of the little analyst to tell us a time and place while not showing up herself, don't you think?"
Grinning at his companion, Scott leaned back in the worn chair of the café and folded one arm behind his head.
"One would imagine she'd be the first one back, to be fair —"
"Shut up, Davidson." Gavin's words were sharp, "You were the one who handed over your last location to her."
"So what? She asked for it. I'm betting you she's completely fine."
Gavin's eyes tracked the crowds across the plaza, eyes skipping by families and tourists alike who swarmed the cobbled marketplace. Scott was busy stirring his drink with a straw, while antagonizing his grumpy companion.
"If you're so worried, try her phone again. Not that it worked the other times," added Scott, eyes tracking the bobbing ice of his drink while Gavin glared at him.
"Chief Tibble will string me up Big Ben by the balls if even a piece of hair on that bloody analyst's head is out of place, you hear me? I'm sure she'll be delighted to string you up next to me, too."
Gavin's sharp words made Scott look up from his drink, sipping thoughtfully.
"Good thing it's under construction then. And that she's unharmed, of course."
"What are you —"
Gavin's sweeping glances stopped as Quinn's figure stepped out of the shadows from one of the streets leading onto the square, steps headed right toward the café at which they were seated. A second, appraising look grazed her features, found her to appear unharmed.
It took a minute for her to reach the café, stepping under the checkered awning with a light smile.
"Sorry I was late. I've good news though." Quinn sank down on the third chair, digging through her bag. The sound of rustling paper rose reached her companions' ears, " — this last location was a hit."
"A hit?" Gavin raised a brow, glanced at Scott, "You found some information?"
"But there was no one there, right? Completely safe?" Scott leaned forward again, eyes trained on Quinn, " — you didn't get yourself into any situations?"
Sensing an uncomfortable tension, Quinn shifted in her chair.
Perhaps I should not tell them about Mr. Castiglione. On the other hand, if they ask about the information ...
The doubts Quinn was having seemed to unsettle both Scott and Gavin, as their eyes narrowed.
"Well?" Scott asked, because he needed to know if he'd unknowingly put the analyst in danger — an image of him strung up in Big Ben was still circulating through his mind — and for whatever reason Gavin seemed to become unhinged at the idea of O'Reilly being hurt.
"I mean, it was just a banker."
Who you had to threaten in order for him to cooperate, while having a hand on your gun.
Gavin's face scrunched into a scowl, features wholly unbelieving. Scott looked at Locke, looking increasingly worried.
"Whatever you're thinking, shove it aside — nothing happened. What did happen, though, was that I managed to dig this out."
She withdrew a stack of folded papers from her bag, pushing them across the table.
"Just read it. I asked him to run the account numbers, find the owner and all that — " Quinn waved the thought off with a gesture, " — and he dug out the listed name and address of the guy in question."
Gavin reached for the paper, swiftly flipping through the document as he scanned the picture of the guy whose account they'd tracked down. Scott's eyes tracked the same picture, eyebrows raising.
"Looks more like a mercenary than a banker," came Davidson's remark. Gavin flipped to the next page, browsed his info.
"It's probably not his real address, but we're in luck as this guy's somewhat of a go-to in the sophisticated circles around Italy." Quinn reached for the paper again, flipping to the last page. Somewhere far off, a church bell started tolling.
"Somewhat of a go-to?" Echoed Davidson, voice inquisitive.
"Yeah, Casti — uh, the banker told me that he's apparently hosting some form of fancy gala eve tomorrow night. He received an invitation as a thank-you a while back, and happened to remember it."
Reaching into her bag again, Quinn withdrew glossy papers. A light smile spread across her face again, expression smug.
"I'm guessing that's the invitation, then." Scott smiled, eyes lifting to Quinn, "Damn, O'Reilly, you're effective. You aren't planning on edging into the Agent field, are you?"
Quinn laughed, leaned back as she shoved the items back in her bag, "No, I could never. This whole 'get-your-victim-to-give-you-info' thing is something I'm not very good at."
"Victim?" Echoed Locke, eyes narrowing at O'Reilly, "Thought it was just a friendly banker."
Fucking O'Reilly's hiding something about this entire encounter, and thinks we're dumb enough to miss it? Bloody analyst.
"Uh, yeah, he was. Very cooperative, all that."
"Yet he handed you invitations to an apparently exclusive gala evening." Locke's eyes met Quinn's, hard as steel, "Interesting."
"I think Quinn's the type to be very persuasive when she sets her mind to it, don't you think Locke?" Scott trailed his fingers across the invitations, eyebrows furrowing, "You didn't happen across a third invitation, did you, O'Reilly?"
Quinn shook her head, reaching for the invitations, "No, he only had two. One for him and his wife."
"Want to go, Locke?" Scott's face shone, and Locke's scowl disappeared over the rim of a coffee cup.
"I thought I'd go," started Quinn. Locke's eyes shot to hers, found her expression unyielding, "I'm the primary analyst here, and I've got the info. It makes sense."
"You're not going alone," declared Gavin, eyeing Quinn warily. The scowl remained, ever present, "Bloody hell, if you believe that —"
Quinn held up a hand, eyes narrowing, "I am well aware it would be unwise to go on my own, but decided to let the two of you quarrel over who'd want to accompany me. I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do, but first —" Quinn's eyes lifted, found a server across the restaurant who'd busied himself with speaking to a colleague, " — I want some coffee."
Quinn rose, moved away from the table.
Deciding who went out of Locke and Davidson took approximately two seconds after O'Reilly left. Scott managed to look up and meet Gavin's hard look as they faced each other. Gavin lifted a brow lightly, arms crossing above his chest as he aimed a frosty look Scott's way.
Davidson lifted his palms, shaking his head. No words were exchanged, but it had been decided nonetheless. In the background, the noise from the plaza and the surrounding restaurants and cafés quietened beneath the rising sound from an on-street orchestra.
It took another two minutes for Quinn to return, during which Scott had busied himself with dunking ice cubes in his drink beneath its surface.
"Anyway, I thought we'd go over the plan for tomorrow evening. Get the hang of it in advance, and hopefully edge out any possibilities of it going awry."
"Sounds like a good plan. I'll let you and Locke go through it — meanwhile, I'm off to the ladies' room." With a wink, Scott stood up and crossed the café's outdoor seating spaces. Quinn followed his form, shook her head.
"Does he really mean that or is he just trying to be funny?"
"Just trying to be funny. I told you, he's had awful dating luck here." Gavin's words were dry, but Quinn smiled nevertheless.
As O'Reilly reached for her papers again, a server soon appeared and dropped off an iced coffee for her, as well.
"We're in luck, because the venue itself is not very far from our current hotel. Of course, it's a swanky gala so we might need to, uh, upgrade our wardrobes the slightest bit."
"The Agency will probably arrange that for us, if we ask them." Gavin offered.
"Right. I forget — your Agent budget is astronomical." Quinn shook her head.
"I saw your at-home setup — didn't look cheap either, O'Reilly." Locke glanced at her, drily. Quinn waved him off, focusing on her phone as she tapped in the address for the venue of the gala.
"Assuming we've fixed the clothes and everything superficial, we'll enter through the main entrance. I think we'd better station Davidson somewhere close by — " Scrolling on her screen, Quinn pointed out the surrounding buildings on the map, " — maybe a building in the closest neighborhood. As a precaution."
Gavin nodded, though he wholeheartedly believed Davidson was more of a danger than a precaution in most cases.
"And what's the main target for the evening? Target and eliminate someone?"
"Stars, no. We're not ... we're not killing anyone. Hopefully. We'll need to corner them, have a conversation."
"A favorite pastime for most criminals." Gavin offered again, and Quinn offered him another dry glance.
"How humorous you've become, Locke. Where's the usual scowl?"
"Left it at the hotel."
Quinn turned her face away, but one corner of her lip turned up at Locke's less hard-headed manners. She was certain he'd back in tough, seasoned Agent-mode by sundown, but for now she'd take the easygoing side of him — the one she had glimpsed only briefly during their interactions.
"Are we just looking for this guy, then?" Gavin inclined his head, nodded at the paper.
"He's the listed owner of the accounts, but as I mentioned before, he's most likely someone just registered for the purpose of bureaucracy."
"But you believe he's connected to whoever's truly behind this?"
Quinn nodded, confidence in her eyes, "I'm sure of it. Castiglione wouldn't have been so jumpy otherwise."
"Castiglione?" The words were quiet, " — tell me, O'Reilly, just how your interaction went with this banker."
Quinn shook her head, sighed, "Locke, listen — I made it out fine. I'm not an Agent, and I'm not pretending to be one either — I'd never want to, in the first place." She picked up her coffee, drank swiftly, " — I didn't try to fight him, or shoot him. I had a hand on my gun the entire time, and kept a close eye on him. He didn't seem that dangerous."
Locke could feel a muscle in his jaw ticking, as he lightly drummed his fingers on the side of the rickety metal table.
"Don't go off assumptions in the field, O'Reilly. That's the difference between life and death." A dark tint clung to Locke's voice.
"I didn't mean it precisely like that." Quinn sighed, eyes lifting to meet Gavin's head on," — I was careful."
"You could've answered your phone."
The words were quiet, almost soft. Quinn almost felt them melting into the background noise, as if he'd never said them at all. But he had, and Quinn felt her structured response imploding in her mind.
Because no actual words wanted to come out, Quinn reached for her coffee. Gavin scoffed, turning his face from the table. Quinn watched his side profile carefully, saw the sharp slash of his cheekbone, the annoyed tick of his jaw.
I don't know what to say.
Breathing carefully, Quinn tried to form an actual response.
"Locke, if I thought I was in danger ... I would've called you in a heartbeat, OK?"
Locke shook his head at her words, as if taking himself out of a trance. He turned back ground, met Quinn's wide eyes. His next words were sharp, almost accusatory.
"Tibble will kill me if you get yourself hurt. Just making sure I'll get to keep my head on when we return to the Agency."
Alright, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde — I see the dual-personality thing you're doing here, and it's bloody annoying.
"Is that so?" Quinn lifted a brow, eyed him over the rim of her coffee, "Maybe I'd better go to the gala with Davidson then, as he'd probably be more concerned with the mission rather than someone else's boss."
Gavin simply stared at her, a volatile darkness simmering in his expression. Quinn reached for her cup, lifted it in an ironic salute. He didn't manage a proper response as footsteps sounded from behind them, Davidson appearing by the table.
"I took care of the tab," Scott said, ignorant of the tension, " — are you lovebirds ready to go?"
Quinn stared coldly at Gavin, who returned in kind with a scowl.
"You can head off. I'll be fine here." Quinn looked up, saw Scott's face scrunch up. Davidson looked around, eyes scanning the plaza.
"No way, O'Reilly. Not letting you go off on your own." With that, Scott sank down into his chair again, "We'll all go. We're partners in this, no matter if you like it or not."
Right at that moment, Quinn found she did very much not like it.
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a/n: promised to update two books, managed one ... oh well, it's on me. hoping you enjoyed this one! i was excited to get back into this book and these lovely characters — i stan them.
questions of the chapter:
1. are they finding the person in charge at the gala?
2. are we expecting drama at the gala?
3. hmm, why the mood swings, locke?
4. what do you want to see next? ;)
as always, thank you so SO SO much for the endless support and comments and, well, energy. you bring it every time. much thanks!
xo, cleo