Chapter 31
The argument over who would actually do the following and who would do the spotting was a quick one. Quinn was the better driver and was more physically suited to take on Borko if it came to that. Reluctantly Orlando agreed to be the lookout. But only on the condition that if she could get back to the car quick enough, he would wait for her.
'Thirty seconds,' Quinn had said.
'Forty-five,' she countered.
He sighed. 'That's it, though. If you're not there by then, I'm gone.'
The elementary school directly across Schandauer Strasse from the water plant would have been the perfect place to position Orlando. But there was no easy way to get there, so the roof of the apartment building behind it would have to do.
Once again the early darkness of the northern latitudes proved useful. No one paid attention to two more bundled-up pedestrians walking the half-lit streets. It took Quinn less than fifteen seconds to unlock the front security door of the apartment building. Inside, Orlando spotted the stairwell and led the way up. They passed no one, though when they reached the fourth floor, they could hear people talking in the hallway.
There was a landing at the top of the stairs and beyond it a door that led, Quinn hoped, to the roof. The door looked seldom used. Orlando searched around the jamb, then looked at Quinn. 'I don't see any alarms,' she whispered. 'Shall I?'
Quinn nodded. She reached down and tried the knob. It turned, but the door didn't open. 'Deadbolt,' she said.
Quinn motioned for her to step aside, then pulled out his pick set. One of the items in the kit was a simple screwdriver. The deadbolt housing had been mounted from the inside of the building, so it was easy to remove the screws and disassemble the mechanism. Once the deadbolt was retracted, Quinn fiddled with the lock, jamming it so that it would no longer work. Then he put everything back together.
The door looked as it had when they'd first arrived, only now the deadbolt was disengaged and could not be reengaged without the help of a locksmith. Chances were it would be months before anyone noticed. Quinn pulled the door open, and he and Orlando exited the stairwell into the cold darkness of the roof.
They headed toward the back of the building, crouching as they neared the raised lip that surrounded the edge of the roof.
Once they reached it, Quinn peeked over the top. Closest to them was the school. Thankfully, it was a one-story structure that only partially blocked the view of Schandauer Strasse itself and not the water plant. Their position was not optimal but acceptable.
'Give me the glasses,' Quinn said.
Orlando handed him the pair of binoculars Quinn had been carrying around in his backpack since the night Nate was taken. The Rigel 2100 binoculars he owned back home turned night into day. The ones he was holding now turned night into twilight. They would have to do.
He scanned the water plant. Most of the front was dark. The only light was from the single-bulb fixture around the side, above the entrance. There were several cars parked out front. By Quinn's count: two Mercedes, a Ford, and a Peugeot. Near the entrance was a dark-colored van. Quinn continued his search until he spotted what he knew was already there. Sentries.
There were half a dozen of them scattered across the property. No doubt there were more on the street. This was a huge ramp-up from what the security had been just days before.
Quinn ducked back down behind the protection of the retaining wall. 'Here,' he said, returning the binoculars to Orlando, then told her what he'd seen.
'Call me the second you see him,' Quinn said.
'I will.'
Quinn started to back away from the edge.
'Forty-five seconds,' she reminded him.
'That's all, though,' he said. He pushed himself up and jogged away.
* * *
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Quinn had parked his car directly in front of the apartment building earlier that afternoon when the street was less crowded. Good thing, too. Now the street was packed with cars parked bumper-to-bumper along both sides.
Quinn sat in the front seat wishing he had a cup of hot coffee, but knowing he was probably more comfortable than Orlando at the moment.
It had been a busy afternoon. In addition to stealing the Mercedes he was sitting in, he'd picked up a few other items they might need. Rope, a crowbar, some other tools, even a phone for Orlando. He'd also spent some more time online, which proved to be both beneficial and frustrating. Beneficial, because he was able to discover the location of the IOMP convention office and was even able to register himself for the convention as Dr Richard Kubik, from Topeka, Kansas. He wasn't sure he would need to actually show up, but if he did, having a registration badge would make things much easier.
The only thing that had made him pause was that the convention wasn't scheduled to begin for another week. Borko had indicated his operation was to start within forty-eight hours. There was a time disconnect Quinn couldn't yet reconcile.
Time. The convention. The connection to the Office. The very nature of the biological agent itself. All were questions Quinn had no good answers for.
Maybe the IOMP meetings were merely a cover for the delivery of the biological agent. Maybe it was just a coincidence, and Duke had just been trying to mislead Quinn. Or maybe any of a hundred other scenarios. As for the identity of the disease, the answer was just as elusive. Quinn had been hoping the Mole would have gotten back to him with an answer by now. But there had been no word.
But most frustrating had been his lack of progress with his attempt to get to whatever files had been uploaded to Jansen's FTP server.
He jerked slightly when his phone rang. Orlando's name was on the display. Quinn put the hands-free earpiece in his ear.
'Yes?' Quinn asked.
'Borko's here,' Orlando said.
The way Orlando described it to Quinn, Borko arrived in a blue Porsche and waited outside the gate until one of the guards pulled it open. Then he drove onto the lot and around to the side, parking behind the van, near the building entrance. Borko was the only one to get out of his car. As far as she could tell, he'd arrived alone. Borko entered the building, and that's when she made her call.
A Porsche. Great, Quinn thought. If they ended up out on the Autobahn for some reason, there would be no way his Mercedes would be able to keep up.
It was nearly an hour before Orlando called again. 'He just came out.' Quinn started up the Mercedes, but remained parked at the curb. 'What's he doing?'
'Talking to someone,' she replied. 'They're walking to his car.' A pause. 'I'm coming down now.'
'Wait,' Quinn said. 'We need to know which
direction he goes in.' 'He'll leave the same way he arrived.' 'You don't know that.' Rapid breaths came over the phone, the sounds
of someone in motion. 'I'm already on my way,' she insisted. Quinn cursed to himself as he glanced at his watch, then he said, 'You've got thirty seconds.' 'Forty-five,' she huffed. Quinn guessed she was
on the stairs. 'You've already used fifteen.' He pulled the Mercedes away from the curb and
onto the street, double-parking in front of the apart
ment building. 'Fifteen seconds,' he said. 'I'm almost there.' 'Ten.' 'Wait!' He glanced at the door. No sign of her. 'Time's up. I'm leaving.' 'Don't!' she yelled. Suddenly she burst through the front door and
ran toward the car. Quinn reached over and pushed open the passenger door. She jumped in and pulled the door shut behind her.
'Go, go, go,' she said. 'Elbestrasse. Right in front of you.'
Quinn pressed down on the accelerator. The Mercedes raced forward toward the end of the block, toward Elbestrasse. When they got to the intersection, Quinn stopped. Elbestrasse was empty.
'Maybe he went the other way,' he said.
'No. This way,' she said.
'Then maybe he already went by and we missed him. Or maybe he hasn't left at all.'
She said nothing.
Quinn scanned the intersecting street in front of them. Elbestr
asse was divided in the middle by a row of large trees and additional street parking. It was still empty. He considered their options, but basically it came down to wait or give up.
Suddenly there was the roar of an engine and the reflection of headlights off the road. A moment later a dark blue Porsche Boxster flashed by.
'See. I told you,' Orlando said.
Quinn let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, then turned left onto Elbestrasse, mere seconds behind Borko.
Chapter 32
Borko raced through the city, seemingly with no destination in mind. He was obviously checking for a tail. Quinn kept his distance, but never lost sight of the Porsche.
After twenty minutes, Borko's driving became less erratic, more focused. Finally, he seemed to have settled on a fixed direction. Which meant only one thing.
He hadn't spotted them.
The Porsche pulled up in front of a run-down hotel in the southern part of Berlin known as Schöneberg. Quinn parked the Mercedes half a block away. After a moment, Borko got out of his car and entered the building.
Once Borko disappeared inside, Quinn and Orlando climbed out of their car. They walked toward the hotel, pausing in the shadows near the entrance. From there, Quinn could see into the lobby.
'Three men inside,' he whispered. 'One of them looks like the night clerk. The other two, definitely not guests.'
'Borko's men?' she asked.
'That would be my guess.'
'But he came alone. That means they were already here.'
Quinn nodded.
'There must be something important inside. Something they need to keep watch over.'
He knew what she was thinking. He knew he should probably say something so she wouldn't get her hopes up too much, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
'We have two choices,' he said instead. 'Either we continue following Borko when he comes back out and look for a better opportunity to get him alone, or we try to find out what's so special inside.'
'I'm staying,' Orlando said. 'You do what you want.'
Ten minutes later, the hotel door opened. Next came the sound of voices, Borko and another man talking as they stepped outside.
Quinn was hiding next to a car parked on the far side of the Porsche. Orlando was crouched in the shadows at the corner of the building. Quinn risked a peek and saw the two men walking toward Borko's car. The guard stopped at the front of the Porsche and watched as Borko got in. While the guard's attention was occupied, Quinn crept toward the front of the parked car, narrowing the gap between himself and the guard to under ten feet. The Porsche's engine started, then Borko backed it into the street and drove away.
Before the guard could return to the warmth of the hotel, Quinn came up behind him and threw an arm around the guard's neck. Using his free hand, he landed two quick, powerful punches to the man's jaw, knocking him unconscious. He picked up the man's gun and tossed it under a parked car, then dragged the unconscious body into the shadows next to the building.
'Are you sure he's out?' Orlando asked as she emerged from her hiding spot.
'He's out.'
Instead of waiting for the other guard to come and check on his friend, they pulled out their guns and entered the hotel. The remaining guard was standing near the elevators. The moment he spotted them, he reached for the gun in his shoulder holster. But Orlando shot first, hitting the man in the arm. The guard yelled in pain, his gun tumbling out of the holster and onto the floor. Quinn raced forward and punched him in the face. The man fell against the wall, then toppled to the ground.
There was a noise to Quinn's left. He shot a look over at the night clerk who was just picking up the phone. 'Nein,' Quinn said. 'Come here.'
Reluctantly, the night clerk came from around the corner and approached Quinn. 'You have a room we can lock him in?' Quinn asked in German.
The man nodded.
'Help us.'
Once they had both guards locked in a small office off the lobby, Quinn turned to the clerk. 'What room are they in?' he said, playing his hunch.
'Who?' the clerk asked.
Orlando raised her gun, pointing it at the clerk. 'Third floor. Three-twelve.'
There were no guards outside room 312. 'How many people inside?' Quinn asked.
'Three, I think,' the clerk said.
They reached the door. 'Is there a code?' Quinn asked, his voice a whisper. 'I don't know.' 'Then just knock. Tell them their boss sent up some food.'
The clerk hesitated.
'Do it,' Orlando said, playing up her self-chosen role as the enforcer.
The man knocked. Quinn could hear footsteps approaching from the other side, then, 'Who is it?' 'Herbert,' the clerk said. 'Your boss wanted me
to bring you something to eat.' The door opened. Standing just inside was a man in his mid-twenties.
'It's about fucking time. I'm starv –' He stopped when he saw Quinn. He reached for his gun, but he was too late.
Quinn shoved the clerk across the threshold into the man, crashing them both to the floor and dislodging the pistol in the process. Quinn entered behind them and picked up the gun. Orlando followed next, shutting the door behind her.
A second man jumped up from a chair to Quinn's right. He was starting to grab for his weapon, an Uzi resting on the end table next to him. Quinn shot the man once in the shoulder, knocking him back into the chair.
Quinn and Orlando stood in the middle of the room, guns pointed at the guards. 'Anyone else here?' he asked the injured man. 'Don't fucking lie to me.'
'No one,' the man grunted.
Quinn surveyed the room. In the corner was a bed. Someone was lying on it. Orlando had glanced at the bed, too. Quinn could see it in her face, the disappointment and continued fear. The person on the bed was far too big to be her son.
Quinn finished his sweep of the room. To the left were two doors, side by side. Next to one of them was a heavy-looking dresser with a TV on top.
'Where do those go?' Quinn asked, pointing at the doors. 'Closet and bathroom,' the clerk said from his position on the floor. Quinn looked back at the man in the chair. 'You carrying anything else?' The guard hesitated, then pulled up his trouser leg, revealing a Walther PPK in an ankle holster. 'Pull it out slowly and toss it over here,' Quinn ordered.
The man did so.
'What else?' Quinn asked.
The man shook his head. Quinn walked over, grabbed the Uzi off the table, and slung it over his shoulder. He then turned his attention to the person lying on the bed. A Caucasian male, mid-twenties.
Nate.
Quinn looked back at his three captives, then motioned to the closet door. 'Inside. You two in the
closet,' he told the guards. 'And you,' he said as he looked at the clerk, 'you can have the bathroom.' The clerk and the guard on the floor got to their
feet and started toward the closed doors.
'You, too,' Orlando said to the injured man.
It took the man a moment to stand up, but he was soon following the other two across the room. The guard who hadn't been shot opened the closet door, and he and his partner squeezed inside the tiny chamber.
Quinn walked over to the door. 'Phones,' he said, holding out his hand.
Once the guards had given him their cell phones and he'd stowed them in his pocket, he closed the door.
The clerk was already in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet lid.
'You got a phone?' Quinn asked.
'No,' the man said.
'Are you sure?' Quinn asked, his eyebrow raised.
'No phone,' the man said quickly. 'It's downstairs, under the counter.' Quinn shut the door, then with Orlando's help, he dragged the dresser in front of the two doors.
Quinn carried Nate in a fireman's hold across the empty hotel lobby, through the main entrance, and into the night. Orlando raced ahead of them and threw open the back door of the car. Carefully, they placed Nate onto the seat.
'Quinn?' Nate looked up at him, his
eyes barely open. 'It's okay,' Quinn said.
Nate began to mumble something else, but his eyes closed and his head fell back.
Quinn shut the door. 'I'm sorry,' he said to Orlando.
'Where are we going to take him?' she asked as if she hadn't heard him. Quinn was silent for a moment. 'I know a place.' They climbed back into the car. After Quinn
started the car, he turned to Orlando. 'We'll find Garrett, too.' Her only response was a quick, empty smile.
Sophie was in the doorway to the bar, saying good night to one of her customers, when Quinn drove up and parked at the curb.
'I didn't think you were coming back,' she said after he got out of the Mercedes and came around to the sidewalk.
'I need your help,' he told her.
She took a few steps toward the car, but stopped as Orlando opened the passenger-side door and climbed out.
'Who's she?' Sophie asked.
'A friend,' Quinn said.
He walked to the rear passenger door and opened it. With Orlando's help, he lifted Nate out of the back. 'What's wrong with him?' Sophie asked.
'He's hurt.'
'I can see that. How?'
'It's not important.'
'Did you . . .?'
'No.'
Nate groaned as Quinn shifted his position to get a better grip.
'I don't understand,' Sophie said. 'What's going on?'
'My friend's been drugged,' Quinn told her.
'And given a beating, too.'
'Yes,' Quinn said. He started for the building, Orlando directly behind him.
'Where do you think you're taking him?' Sophie asked. 'He should be in a hospital.' 'I can't take him to a hospital.' 'Why not?' 'I just can't.' They reached the entrance to her
apartment. 'Wait.' Sophie put her hand on Quinn's shoulder. 'I can't do anything for him.'
'You have an extra bed, don't you? That's all I want. Someone else will come to take care of him,' he said.
Sophie didn't move.
'Sophie, please,' Quinn said. 'Open the door.'
She pushed past them and pulled the door open. 'What are you getting me into?' 'Better if you don't know,' Quinn said.
They settled Nate in Sophie's guest room, then Quinn retrieved some water and some towels from the bathroom. He started to use them to clean up Nate's wounds.
The Cleaner Page 25