The Deceived by Brett Battles

date?” Quinn asked.
    “Ida? Can you give us a moment?”
    The woman gave Quinn a half smile, then slowed to let them walk ahead of her.
    Quinn and Peter continued down the path. In the distance, the white dome of the Capitol building shimmered in the afternoon heat.
    “Is that for me?” Quinn asked, pointing down at the bag.
    “These things aren’t cheap.”
    “Don’t worry. I said I’d pay you back.”
    “Yeah. Well, you’d better. It’s the end of our fiscal year. We’re starting to close out this year’s budget, and haven’t finalized next year’s yet, and damn if they don’t want me to cut back again. I can’t afford to have gifts like this on my books.”
    Peter had been complaining about budgets for years. Quinn wasn’t sure if he believed him. The truth was, Quinn wasn’t even sure the Office answered to anyone other than whoever hired them for a particular project. Quinn had always presumed Peter’s organization was an off-the-books operation of some government agency, but he didn’t know that for a fact.
    “Can I have it?”
    Peter hesitated a moment longer, then handed the bag over. Quinn looked inside. At the bottom was a phone very much like the one that had been destroyed in Houston. To most people, it would look like a regular cell phone, but just like his old one it was a hell of a lot more powerful than your standard, off-the-shelf Nokia or Samsung. Multi-encrypted, touch-screen interface, thumbprint recognition security system, eight megapixel camera—an upgrade from the previous ver-sion—with normal, infrared, and advanced heat-sensing capabilities, and both cell- and satellite-ready depending on signal strength.
    “Thanks,” he said. “But I asked for two things.”
    The left side of Peter’s mouth raised slightly in annoyance. “I’m not your supplier.”
    “Do you have it or not?”
    “You promise not to do anything stupid with it?”
    Now it was Quinn’s turn to be annoyed. “Just give it to me.”
    Peter stared at Quinn a moment longer, then looked over his shoulder. “Ida,” he said.
    The woman picked up her pace and rejoined them.
    “Give it to him,” Peter said.
    She slipped her purse around so she had easy access, then zipped it open. From inside, she removed a three-inch-thick gray plastic box. Like the bag the phone had been in, it had the feel of an upscale present. Quinn guessed it was about nine inches by twelve, and seemed to have taken up almost all the room inside the purse.
    “For you,” Ida said, handing Quinn the box.
    “Thanks.”
    Inside Quinn knew he’d find a SIG Sauer P226, a few mags, extra ammo, and a suppressor. In Houston, he’d hadn’t had time to get a gun, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake in D.C.
    Without even being told, Ida fell back again, giving the two men privacy.
    “You said you wanted to talk,” Peter said. “You looking for work?”
    “Would you give it to me if I asked?”
    Peter looked over, his squint more pronounced than usual. “Of course I would. Nobody else I hire is as good as you. You know that.”
    Quinn smiled. “I’m not looking for work right now. But I’ll let you know.”
    Peter snorted, but said nothing.
    “I need something,” Quinn said.
    “I already gave you something,” Peter replied, motioning to the bag.
    “Information. I’m trying to find someone, and I think you can help.”
    Peter stopped and turned to Quinn. “Hold on. Are you asking me to do some work for you ?”
    “Just a quick check. That’s all. You have resources you can get to quicker than I can at the moment.”
    “I don’t know, Quinn. I’m not sure how to handle this.” Peter was obviously relishing the moment.
    “It’s a favor. That’s all. Don’t get all worked up.”
    “Aren’t you the one who once told me you didn’t do favors?” Peter said. “So what would motivate me to do one for you?”
    “I seem to recall I did the favor anyway. I also seem to remember saving your ass in Berlin. If I