The Cleaner

by Brett Battles

  As he drove he connected the hands-free device to his phone, stuck the earpiece in his ear, and made a call. It took Peter a moment to come to the line. 'This is it,' Quinn said.

  'What is it?' Peter asked.

  'Just shut up and listen. If things don't go well, in a few hours you'll be getting a call from an associate. If you listen to what he says and do what he tells you, you may still have a chance. But it's not a guarantee.'

  Quinn's instructions to the Mole had been even simpler. If Quinn didn't call him by 1:00 p.m. Berlin time, the Mole would tell Peter everything.

  'What the hell is going on?'

  'I promise, you'll know soon enough.'

  'Quinn, I –'

  Quinn disconnected the call.

  Quinn swung the Porsche onto Kantstrasse, eastbound, then called Orlando. 'Where are you?' Quinn asked.

  'Still Route C.'

  'Any sign of other escorts?'

  'Just the sedan.'

  'All right. Give me a five-minute heads-up before you reach the rendezvous point.' 'That won't be long,' Orlando said. Quinn drove cautiously, trying not to attract

  attention. By the time he was in position, he still hadn't heard back from Orlando. He found an open spot at the curb and parked, leaving the engine running.

  His phone finally rang a minute later.

  'Five-minute warning,' Orlando said.

  'Status?'

  'Everything's the same.'

  'They haven't spotted you?'

  'No,' Orlando said. 'For someone who can barely move, Nate's pretty good.' 'Don't hang up,' Quinn said. Quinn pulled his backpack onto his lap. He

  extracted his SIG Sauer, checked to be sure the magazine was in place, then set the pistol on the passenger seat.

  The extra mags were in the backpack. Quinn extracted two of them, slipping them into his pocket. He then set the backpack on the floor in front of the passenger seat.

  'Two minutes,' Orlando said. 'They're four blocks away.'

  Quinn glanced in the direction from where the shipment would be approaching. Nothing yet. Without looking, he reached back behind his seat and grabbed the Uzi he'd taken from Nate's captors off the floor. He only had the one magazine for the weapon, but its intimidation value would make up for his lack of ammunition.

  'Wait a minute,' Orlando said.

  'What?'

  'They're turning.'

  'Which way?' Quinn asked.

  'Left,' Orlando said, some of her calm slipping. 'They're going left!' As Quinn pulled out from the curb, he could

  hear Nate cursing in the background.

  'What is it?' Quinn asked.

  'We're blocked off,' Orlando said.

  'You've been spotted?'

  'No,' she said. 'Just too much traffic'

  'Can you still see them?'

  'Hold on.' There was a pause. 'No. They must have turned again. I don't know where they are. Quinn, we've got to find them. We have to get those boxes.' Her voice was emphatic, desperate.

  Quinn raced down the road. When he was only a block from where Nate and Orlando had lost the truck, he turned down a side street. His eyes flicked back and forth at every cross street looking for the cargo van. But it wasn't there.

  A sense of impending disaster began to creep into his mind, but he quickly pushed it down. They had to get the shipment. There was no choice.

  'Scratch the ambush,' Quinn said. 'We have to go to Charlottenburg. To the delivery point.'

  'Got it,' Orlando said, then relayed the instructions to Nate.

  Quinn made a quick adjustment to his route and was soon heading west toward Charlottenburg.

  He tried to stay calm. They could still do this. They had to do this.

  It was the last possible chance they'd have.

  Chapter 38

  Quinn retraced his route back to the conference staging building in Charlottenburg, the whole time keeping a lookout for the van. But he never caught sight of it.

  'Orlando, where are you?' Quinn asked. There was a bit of static, then, 'About a mile and a half away.' With city traffic, that put them several minutes behind Quinn.

  'I'm almost there,' Quinn said.

  'Are you going to wait for us?'

  'No,' Quinn said, without hesitation. 'Just get here fast.'

  Ahead was the Einstein Coffee Shop he had been sitting in earlier. As he turned the final corner, his mouth tensed.

  'The van's already here,' he said as he pulled the Porsche quickly to the curb and stopped a block away.

  'Have they taken any boxes out?' Orlando asked. 'I don't think so. The back's still shut.'

  'We're two minutes away.'

  'Make it one,' Quinn said.

  The van was parked at the curb near the front door of the building. Four people stood near the back. Two of them had the unmistakable look of hired muscle. The other two, a man and a woman, were both younger. Quinn pegged them as two of the hired workers.

  There were two sedans parked directly across the street from the van, a dark BMW and a silver Mercedes. Quinn counted three men in each. This was getting more fun by the minute.

  He placed his SIG in his lap and rolled down the driver's-side window. At the van, one of the goons had moved over to the doors and was starting to open them. Quinn took a deep breath, then put the car back in gear and gunned the engine. The Porsche jumped away from the curb and began racing down the street toward the cargo van.

  The four people standing behind the van looked up almost in unison. The two kids looked on curiously, but the other two immediately rushed around the side of the van looking for cover.

  Doors on both sedans flew open. Quinn, gun now in his left hand, aimed the weapon out his open window and let off ten quick shots. The men dove in all directions, unable to return fire. As he squeezed the trigger, Quinn whipped the steering wheel to the right, bringing the Porsche up onto the sidewalk.

  The two kids were no longer in sight. Quinn drove the Porsche between the van and the building.

  At the last second, he slammed on the brakes, bringing his car to a quick stop. He threw open his door and jumped out. In one hand he carried his pistol and in the other, the Uzi.

  No one had opened fire on him yet. As he had hoped, the contents of the van acted as a makeshift shield. None of them wanted to be the one who destroyed the product.

  Quinn headed toward the rear of the van. He needed to get a count of the boxes, make sure they were all still there.

  Behind him, something scraped the ground. As he turned he saw a man racing toward him. It was one of the two thugs who had been standing outside. In a single motion, Quinn jumped to his right and unloaded a short burst from the Uzi, before landing hard on the sidewalk.

  The man was barely five feet away when the bullets smashed into his chest, whipping him around and spinning him to the ground.

  'Give it up. You're not getting out of here,' someone yelled from across the street.

  A bullet flew by Quinn, just missing his shoulder. Someone had gotten smart and was shooting under the van. Quinn, ignoring the pain in his side from his fall, pushed himself off the ground and took two quick steps to his left, putting the van's rear wheel between him and Borko's men. The hands-free earpiece to his phone was dangling over his shoulder. He placed it back in his ear.

  'Quinn? Are you there?' Orlando asked. 'Quinn?'

  'I'm here. I'm okay,' Quinn said.

  'We're two blocks away,' Orlando said. 'What's your situation?'

  'There are at least six men, probably seven, on the north side of the street.' Quinn's voice was calm. 'They were in a couple of sedans, a BMW and a Mercedes. Don't know if they're still in them now. I'm out of the car, but I've got the van between us. I need you to take those guys out.'

  'We're on it,' Orlando said.

  'Is that you, Mr. Quinn?' Another voice called to him from across the street. 'You come out now and I'll make sure nothing too bad happens.' A pause. 'Mr. Quinn? You really think you are going to be able to st
op this? If you do, you are wrong. You do not start playing smart, in a couple of minutes you are going to be dead.'

  Quinn had been silently counting the seconds in his mind. Orlando and Nate should have been here by now. What the hell was

  Orlando's voice came over the receiver. 'Cover your ears and duck.' Quinn immediately curled into a ball, a hand squeezed tightly over each ear.

  For a second there was nothing. Then suddenly the air was filled with a loud whomp. Quinn could feel his whole body pulse inward, his breath nearly knocked out of him. Thankfully the van protected him from the brunt of the concussion grenade.

  'Are you all right?' Orlando asked, still on the phone. Quinn uncurled himself and stood up. 'I think so. Did it work?' 'Yeah,' Orlando said. 'There were actually eight

  of them. But they're all sleeping now. Some more permanently than others.' Orlando suddenly appeared from around the side of the van, and jogged over to Quinn.

  'It was stronger than I expected,' Orlando said.

  'Where's Nate?'

  'Still in the car.'

  'Count the boxes,' Quinn said, nodding toward the back of the van. 'I'm going to see if this thing will still start.'

  'Okay.'

  Quinn stopped first at the Porsche and retrieved his backpack. At the cab of the van, Quinn threw his stuff inside, then climbed in. It took him less than thirty seconds to find the right wires to hotwire the vehicle. As he touched them together the engine roared to life.

  In the distance, Quinn could hear sirens. They weren't nearly as far away as he would have liked. Soon the street was going to be flooded with police.

  'I've got to go,' he yelled toward the back of the van. 'Are you done?'

  'They're all here,' Orlando answered.

  'Okay,' Quinn said. 'We're back on plan. I'll take the van. You guys run point.'

  Something pinged off the hood of the van. Quinn looked out the windshield. Someone was standing at the end of the block pointing a gun at the van. Quinn shifted into drive and hit the gas.

  'I'm still in here!' Orlando shouted.

  'Hang on,' Quinn yelled back.

  They raced down the street. Quinn had no choice but to go in the direction of the man with the gun.

  Bullets kept coming, but none had yet to pierce the windshield. The shooter was obviously torn between stopping the van and not putting the cargo in danger. As Quinn got closer he ducked below the dash, keeping the accelerator pressed to the floor.

  Another ping, this time off the passenger-side door, followed quickly by two more. Then there was the squeal of brakes and, very near, the wail of a siren.

  Quinn looked up. They had passed the building and were in the intersection just beyond. Coming at them from the side was a cop on a motorcycle. The driver had apparently not anticipated the appearance of the van, and was coming at them too fast. At the last second, he turned to the left, laying his bike down in a storm of sparks and screeching metal. The cop rolled off his bike just before it smashed into a light pole, silencing the siren.

  Quinn continued to race forward. He was in the middle of a deep breath when there was a bang from the rear of the van. He glanced into the side-view mirror. One of the rear doors, flapping back and forth with the movement of the van.

  'Are you all right?' Quinn called out.

  'Yeah,' Orlando answered. 'He shot at me as we went by, but it went wide.'

  'Didn't want to damage the boxes,' Quinn guessed, then added, 'We almost hit a cop.'

  'Yeah. That was kind of hard to miss.'

  'Are there any more of them back there?'

  'Not yet.'

  'What about Nate?'

  There was a pause, then, 'I don't see him.'

  Quinn turned left at the next intersection. Again, the doors banged against the side of the van. 'We've got to get those shut,' he said. 'No shit.' Ahead the light was turning red. There were two

  cars in front of him, so there was no way he was going to make it. 'When I stop up here, you get out and shut them,' he said.

  He halted at the end of the line of waiting cars. From the back, he could hear Orlando jump out and close the doors. A few seconds later, she was opening the passenger-side door and hopping into the seat next to him.

  As the light turned green, Quinn moved the van forward with the other cars. But instead of following them through the intersection, he made a right turn onto the less trafficked side street.

  'So that didn't exactly go as planned,' Quinn said.

  'I wasn't going to say anything,' Orlando told him.

  'But you were thinking it.'

  'I was thinking it.'

  For five minutes, they were alone on the road. No pursuers, but no Nate either. Quinn didn't want to even think about the possibility that Nate had been captured again.

  'I think there's someone back there,' Orlando said. She was looking through the side-view mirror mounted to the passenger door.

  Quinn looked through the mirror on his side. There were several cars behind them.

  'Which one?' he asked.

  'The black Mercedes. Three cars back.' She paused, still looking in her mirror. 'The silver one behind it might be with him.'

  Quinn moved the van slightly so he could get a better look. 'Okay. I see them. I'll make a couple turns. Keep an eye on them.'

  Quinn made a quick left turn.

  'Still there,' Orlando said after a moment.

  Quinn made another turn, this time to the right. Before Orlando could confirm anything, there was a familiar ping off the side of the van – another warning shot.

  'Yeah,' Orlando said. 'They're following us.'

  Quinn glanced back at his side mirror. The rear driver's-side window of the black Mercedes was open, and someone was leaning out, a gun in his hand. Quinn immediately swung the van over, blocking the shooter's view.

  Ahead, a traffic light was turning from green to yellow. Quinn raced through the intersection just as the light turned red. He checked his mirror and grimaced. Both Mercedes had followed him through the light, ignoring the cross traffic, honking horns, and screeching brakes.

  Quinn's only advantage was they wouldn't want the shipment harmed. They were probably instructed to get Quinn to stop the van with minimal damage. Then they could kill whoever was inside.

  Another traffic light was turning red. This time there were several cars between Quinn and the intersection.

  'Hold on,' he said.

  At the last instant, instead of stopping, he whipped the van around in a U-turn, pulling in front of two cars in the oncoming lanes. There was the loud squeal of tires as one of the cars spun sideways, nearly ramming into the back of the van.

  The black sedan was in position to continue the chase. The silver one, at least for the moment, was trapped on the other side of a delivery truck. The black Mercedes swung around, coming up on the driver's side of the van.

  'Roll down your window,' Orlando said.

  He glanced at her. She was holding the Uzi. Without any further hesitation, he did what she asked.

  As soon as the Mercedes came into view, she barked, 'Duck!'

  Quinn leaned forward as she unloaded a burst of fire over his head. The bullets sliced into the side of the Mercedes. As soon as she stopped, Quinn popped up again, glancing out at where the other car had been, but it was gone. His eyes flicked to his mirror. The Mercedes was sitting sideways on the far side of the road. All the windows on the side that had been facing the van were shot out. There was no movement from inside.

  Quinn could hear more sirens converging on their location, but he saw no flashing lights yet.

  'Grab on to something,' he said.

  He whipped the steering wheel quickly to the right, turning them onto a narrow side street. He made a left, then two more rights before the sirens began to fade. He started to smile, but then as he looked in his side-view mirror again, his jaw tensed.

  The silver sedan was still behind him.

  They began a game of cat and mouse, Quinn neve
r quite able to lose them, and the silver Mercedes never quite able to get the drop on him. Nate was still a no-show; that was troubling. Orlando had tried calling him twice, but there had been no answer.

  Quinn glanced down at the backpack on the floor between them. Inside was more than enough Semtex to destroy the van and its contents completely. He nodded toward it.

  'Hide it between the boxes,' he said.

  She looked at him. 'But we don't set it off until we've got Garrett, right?'

  'That's the plan. I just don't want to be messing with that stuff later.'

  With only a slight hesitation, she reached down and picked up the backpack. She carried it into the back, then unhooked the cargo net holding the boxes in place and pushed open a gap between the containers. Carefully, she placed the bag as close to the center of the pile as she could get. Once the net was resecured, she slipped back into her seat.

  'Not until we find my son,' she said, nodding toward the back of the truck.

  They found themselves back in the Mitte, driving west on Unter den Linden, near the Brandenburg Gate. Ahead was Tiergarten, Berlin's version of Central Park. In the center was a large traffic roundabout that encircled the Grosser Stern monument, a golden winged angel which looked out over the city from the top of a giant pillar.

  Quinn tried to maneuver to the right and take Ebertstrasse toward the Reichstag, but there was too much traffic. He was forced to continue forward, into Tiergarten. To compound his problems, the road had widened into four lanes in each direction. No way he would be able to keep them from pulling up alongside now.

  'This might not be the best way to go,' Orlando said.

  'Yeah, I know.'

  When he looked into his mirror, he saw that the silver Mercedes had been joined by a midnight blue BMW. Whoever owned the car apparently enjoyed his privacy. The windows seemed to be darkly tinted all the way around, including the windshield.

  'New arrival,' Quinn said.

  Orlando took a look and nodded.

  Their only hope was that they could reach the traffic circle before the others did, and use its inherent confusion to their advantage. Quinn pressed the accelerator as far down as it would go and sped forward.