The Cleaner

by Brett Battles

Behind them, their pursuers were driving side by side. It was almost like there was a conversation going on between the cars. Then, when they were halfway through the park, the Mercedes accelerated.

  Quinn waited until it was even with his passenger-side door, then he gave the steering wheel a jerk to the right. The driver of the Mercedes slammed on his brakes and swerved out of the way.

  Ahead, the Grosser Stern monument drew near. Parked along the side of the road, just before the traffic circle, were several tour buses. Even in winter, the monument would be crawling with tourists.

  'He's coming back again,' Orlando said.

  Quinn swung the steering wheel again as the Mercedes neared, but the driver had anticipated the move and kept coming.

  'Oh crap,' Orlando said.

  'What?'

  Before she could answer, a bullet slammed into the passenger door. Immediately, a second one shattered the side window, then lodged into the roof just above Quinn's head.

  'Dammit!' Orlando yelled. 'I thought you said they'd only fire warning shots.' 'The warning shots would be for me,' he said. 'You're kind of expendable.' 'Then let me drive and you be the expendable one,' she said, taking a deep breath as she finished.

  He looked over. Her face was etched with pain.

  'Are you hit?' he asked as he swerved to the left, sideswiping an Audi and creating a little distance between himself and the Mercedes. 'It's nothing,' she said, her teeth clenched. Blood was running down her left arm.

  'Are you sure?'

  'I'm fine. It's just a cut.' She held out the hand of her other arm. 'Give me your gun.' Quinn gave her his SIG. 'You'll need a new mag, too,' he said as he dug one out of his pocket.

  She reloaded the gun, then turned and fired three

  shots out her window. The first sailed over the hood of the sedan, but the second and third punctured the side of the car. The Mercedes veered, then straightened out, continuing forward.

  As the rear window on the driver's side started rolling down, Orlando fired again. But instead of hitting the open window, the bullets shattered the closed one in front of it, the driver's window. One moment the Mercedes was beside them, a second later it swung violently to the right and slammed into the side of a tourist bus parked at the curb.

  'Nice shot,' Quinn said.

  The traffic circle was just ahead of them now, six lanes of vehicles, traveling counterclockwise around the monument. As Quinn swung the van into the inner lane and began racing around the circle, he checked his mirrors again. The BMW was still there, content to follow. But about a quarter mile behind it, several police cars raced toward them.

  Quinn waited until the monument was between him and the police, then veered off the circle in the direction that would take them north out of town. Hopefully he'd be able to shake the police.

  The BMW was another matter.

  Chapter 39

  As Quinn neared the airport he removed the white business card Dr. Garber had given him. He turned it over so the phone number was visible, then handed it to Orlando.

  'Make the call,' he said. 'Whoever answers should be able to get Borko or Dahl.'

  Someone answered almost immediately. Once Orlando had hung up, she said, 'We should be getting a call soon.'

  Less than thirty seconds later, the phone rang.

  'Give it to me,' Quinn said.

  Orlando handed it to him. Quinn pushed the connect button and held the phone to his ear. 'Yes?' he said.

  'You wanted to talk to me?' It was Borko.

  'I'm going to make this fast. We'll give you back

  the van when you give us the boy.' 'Why would we do that? Soon we will have the van and the boy.' 'Call your friends at the water plant,' Quinn said, then disconnected the call. He pulled an object that looked like a thick

  credit card out of the inside pocket of his jacket. At one end, there were two switches. The first was the safety. Quinn flipped it to the off position. The second was an A/B switch, allowing access to two different channels. Quinn selected channel A. Below the switches was a pad that had been keyed to Quinn's right thumbprint.

  'Be careful with that,' Orlando said. He placed his thumb on the pad. A second later, he was greeted with a barely audible beep.

  If everything had worked properly, the sphere in Neukölln had just lit up like a blast furnace. Quinn was certain he'd placed more than enough Semtex to incinerate any residual virus. If he flipped the switch to channel B and thumbed the pad again, it would trigger the explosives in the back of the van. As a precaution, Orlando and Nate had similar triggering devices.

  Quinn glanced at the side mirror. There was no outward reaction in the BMW, but almost immediately his phone began ringing again.

  'What was the point of that?' Borko said.

  'A demonstration. If we don't get Garrett back, alive and unharmed, your building in Neukolln won't be the only thing destroyed. Your call.'

  He hung up again. 'You really think it's going to work?' Orlando asked.

  His only answer was a nod and a smile. In truth he had hoped to be free and clear when it came time to make the call. Now with the way things were, he just hoped one of them would be able to get out alive.

  'Look out!' Orlando said.

  Less than a half a block away, a Volvo sedan pulled out from a side street and stopped in their path. Quinn had been paying too much attention to the car behind them and barely had time to react. Pressing down on the accelerator, he turned the wheel so they could swing past the front of the vehicle.

  There was the crunch of metal on metal as the front right corner of the van pushed the sedan out of the way, ripping the car's bumper off in the process.

  'You're clear,' Orlando said.

  Quinn pressed the pedal all the way to the floor.

  They drove north through the city, past Tegel Airport, and into the less populated countryside. The BMW was still behind them, as was the bumperless Volvo. Both seemed content to let Quinn lead the way.

  There was still no sign of Nate. 'We're going to have to dump this soon,' Quinn said.

  He'd been monitoring the gauges on the dashboard. While they had plenty of fuel, the oil pressure had been steadily dropping.

  'We can't,' Orlando said. 'We need it.'

  'I don't think we're going to have a choice.'

  'No!' she yelled. 'We can't. We need it to find Garrett!'

  Ahead Quinn noticed a snow-packed road leading into a wooded area. There was a construction sign near the entrance, proclaiming the road off-limits to anyone but employees of Boon Industries.

  At the last second, Quinn whipped the van down the road. The Volvo shot past, unable to react in time. But the BMW made the turn, its back end fishtailing as it tried to gain traction on the snowy surface.

  'What are you doing?' Orlando asked.

  'I'm trying to keep us alive.'

  The road wound through a grove of trees before emerging into a clearing. It was a construction site, by the looks of it, not much farther along than the leveling-of-the-ground stage. Work must have been halted when winter rolled in.

  Quinn shot across the field. Somewhere there had to be another exit, another way through the construction site. Behind him, the BMW entered the clearing, then stopped, the car's occupants no doubt concerned about an ambush. A moment later, it was joined by the Volvo. It was exactly what Quinn had been hoping they'd do.

  He kept driving across the field away from them. The terrain forced him to reduce his speed to only a few miles an hour. His eyes scanned the rapidly approaching trees in front of them.

  'What are you looking for?' Orlando asked.

  'An exit or a back road.'

  They were both quiet for a moment, then Orlando shouted, 'There!'

  She pointed at a gap in the trees off to the left. Quinn turned toward it. Almost immediately he realized he'd made a mistake. The ground quickly became uneven and rutted. Quinn jerked the wheel left, then right, then left, then –

  A loud thud shook the van as the
front passenger tire dipped into an unseen hole about three feet wide, slamming the rubber up against the top of the wheel well. Quinn gunned the engine. The vehicle lurched forward, pulling itself back onto level ground. But the damage was already done. The tire was blown. And from the screeching, it sounded like the axle might be bent.

  Quinn cursed under his breath and stopped the van.

  'We can't stop here,' Orlando said.

  'We don't have a choice,' Quinn said, emphasizing each word. 'The van is done.'

  As he turned off the engine he glanced out his side window back toward the other two cars. They were still parked near the entrance to the site, but there was activity now.

  The driver of the Volvo was walking over to the other sedan. A window rolled down, and the driver seemed to listen for a moment. A second later he turned and shouted something at the Volvo. The rear passenger doors of the Volvo flew open, and two men jumped out. They ran across the field, not straight for the van, but parallel to it.

  'Out, out, out,' Quinn said.

  The van had come to a rest at an angle that shielded the passenger side of the vehicle from the BMW and Volvo. Orlando shoved the door open, then slipped outside. Quinn quickly followed her.

  As soon as he was outside, Quinn reached into his pocket and retrieved the remote triggering device. He turned the safety off and moved the channel switch to B. To ensure he didn't set the

  explosives off prematurely, he held the device in his left hand. Across the field, another car door opened. 'Quinn?'

  It was Borko.

  'Quinn! Enough already, hey? You had a good run! But give it up, my friend! You have no chance!'

  One hundred feet from where they stood, the woods encroached on the clearing. Quinn nodded toward them.

  'You first,' he said to Orlando. 'I'll distract them. The moment you're in position, blow the van.'

  He could see the hesitation in her eyes. 'We go together,' she said, then held up her gun. 'If we get to cover, we can pick them off. We won't have to set off the explosives.'

  'That's not going to work,' Quinn said.

  'Dammit, we can at least try.'

  Quinn nodded tersely. 'Fine. We'll try. But if it's not working, we blow the van.' Orlando smiled weakly. 'Quinn, you're finished! Do you understand?'

  Borko's anger was starting to bleed into his voice, 'Put down your gun and come out where I can see you!'

  Keeping the van between them and the sedans, Quinn and Orlando began running toward the woods.

  'You would think I'd have lost my patience by now!' Borko continued. 'You have done a great deal of damage! But it is only business! I understand this! Just as I am sure you'll understand I cannot let you get away!'

  The trees were only ten yards away now. 'Borko, over here!' another voice called out from Quinn's right. 'They're almost to the woods!' Quinn glanced over his shoulder. He saw one of Borko's goons circling around the van. 'Run,' he said as he pushed Orlando in front of him.

  They sprinted for the trees, Orlando a step ahead of Quinn. The forest was less than fifteen feet away when a sharp, burning pain ripped across Quinn's left thigh, knocking him into Orlando and dropping both of them onto the ground.

  'Go!' he yelled at Orlando. It felt like his leg was on fire.

  She pulled herself up again and began to run. As she reached the woods, she turned, a look of panic on her face. Immediately he realized what was wrong. She was no longer holding her gun. He could see it on the ground about a body's length in front of him. Too far for him to reach, and too far for her to come back. Yet that looked exactly like what she was about to do.

  'No!' Quinn yelled. 'Run!'

  A bullet slammed into a tree next to Orlando's head.

  'Run!' Quinn yelled again.

  This time she listened to him and quickly disappeared into the forest.

  Quinn took a deep breath, then reached down to check his wound. He expected to find his leg shredded, but the bullet had only grooved a line across the back of his thigh, never fully entering the muscle.

  He could hear the sound of running feet. He was never going to make it to the woods. He had to set off the explosives. Only when he went to push the button, the trigger was no longer in his hand.

  'Turn over.' The voice came from only a few feet away. 'Slowly.'

  Quinn did as he was told, trying as hard as possible to keep the pain that was screaming at him from showing on his face. As he finally rolled onto his back, he thought he felt something hard under his right arm. His triggering pad. But it was too far up, near his elbow. He couldn't reach it without being noticed.

  Borko's man stood just to the side. In his hand was a pistol aimed at Quinn's head. 'I got him!'

  Less than a minute later, the BMW rolled to a stop several feet away. Quinn looked over. First the front passenger-side door opened, and the driver from the Volvo got out. Then the back door followed suit, and out stepped Borko.

  'The girl?' the Serb asked as he walked over. 'She ran into the woods,' the man who'd shot Quinn replied.

  The Serb nodded, then said to the man and his partner who had also approached the van on foot, 'Get her.'

  The two immediately headed toward the woods in pursuit of Orlando.

  Borko smiled, then turned back to the car. 'The girl is missing,' he called. 'But we'll find her.'

  Quinn looked over at the open back door, noticing for the first time that there was someone else in the back seat. So Piper had come along, too, Quinn thought.

  The passenger leaned toward the opening. As he did, the morning sunlight fell across the right side of his face. Something wasn't right. The man didn't look like Piper at all.

  Quinn all but stopped breathing. It was the shock of the injury causing him to see things. That had to be it.

  Slowly, the man swung his legs out of the car, then stood up and walked over to Quinn and Borko. Once he reached them, he stopped and looked down.

  'Apparently I taught you well,' the man said, his voice a hoarse croak.

  'No,' Quinn said. 'You're dead. I saw you die.'

  Durrie, Quinn's mentor, looked down at him and laughed. 'Really? I don't feel particularly dead.' Durrie looked over at the van, his eyes stopping for a moment on the damaged wheel. 'Goddamn it. Thanks for fucking up our transport.'

  'We can move the boxes into the cars,' Borko said.

  Quinn tried to refocus himself. It took every ounce of concentration to do so. Even then, there was a part of his mind screaming, It's not him! It's not him!

  He tried to remember what Borko had just said. Something about the boxes. About moving the boxes. Shit. If they went into the back of the van, they'd find the explosives. He needed the triggering switch, but it was under his arm. Even if he made a quick move to grab it, Borko would shoot him.

  'Put as many of the boxes as you can in the trunk of my car,' Durrie said to the Volvo driver. 'Then you guys can take the rest in your car once the girl's been dealt with.'

  'Okay,' the man said. Quinn watched as the man walked over to the van and opened the back doors.

  Borko crouched down next to Quinn. 'You've fucked up our timetable,' he said. 'Some people will have to work very quickly now. That's not going to make them happy.'

  The Volvo driver leaned into the van, then stood back up holding two boxes. He carried them over to the BMW. The trunk of the sedan popped open just before he got there.

  'Maybe you could give them some mints,' Quinn whispered. 'That should make things better.'

  Borko grinned. 'Very good. I was wondering how much you knew. Sadly, I'm afraid the mints would be wasted on them.'

  'Because they're not Bosniaks?' Quinn asked.

  Borko stiffened. 'How do you know that?'

  'Jesus Christ,' Durrie said to Borko. 'It doesn't matter.' 'How did you know that?' Borko repeated, still kneeling next to Quinn. Two more boxes were placed into the BMW. Quinn added them to his mental tally. 'Borko,' Durrie barked. 'Come on. We don't have time for this shit.' Reluctantly, B
orko stood back up.

  Durrie looked down at Quinn. 'I'm going to skip over the how've-ya-been talk, all right? I just don't care. You're dead, Johnny boy. That's all I need to know. Tell your bitch girlfriend when you see her on the other side I'll take good care of Garrett for her.'

  Durrie smiled, then pulled a gun out from under his jacket. 'Let me,' Borko said. 'He's killed several members of my team. I owe them his life.' 'You've got to be kidding me,' Durrie said. 'Cut the honor shit.' 'Let me do it,' Borko insisted. 'I'll give you half my share.'

  Durrie raised an eyebrow, then laughed. 'If you want it that bad, fine.' Durrie looked down at Quinn. 'I guess I can be bought.' He laughed again, then walked slowly back to the car.

  As he neared, the front door opened and out stepped Leo Tucker. Quinn's eyes narrowed. He should have expected him to be here, but seeing him in the flesh made Quinn flush with anger. The Aussie opened the back door for Durrie. As Quinn's mentor got in, the Volvo driver put another two boxes in the trunk.

  Six, Quinn thought. 'You guys take the rest,' Durrie yelled toward Borko.

  A moment later the BMW was speeding away. As Borko tracked the car, Quinn quickly moved his arm a few inches so that the triggering switch was now under his palm.

  As Borko turned back to him, Quinn worked the switch into his hand, but kept his palm pointed at the ground. He knew he wasn't going to be able to set it off in time to get the BMW. Some of the virus was going to get away.

  'Okay. Now we have a little fun,' Borko said. He removed a pistol from a holster under his jacket. It was a SIG P226, just like Quinn's.

  'Why didn't Gibson have a card?' Quinn asked. He was trying to buy time as he turned the switch in his hand so his thumbprint would be properly aligned.

  Borko's brow creased for a moment, then he smiled. 'You mean at your house? You want to know the truth?' He leaned forward slightly, as if he were passing on a great secret. 'He was supposed to carve Dahl's name in your chest.'

  Yeah. That would explain it, Quinn thought as he made sure the safety was off.

  'Your plan isn't going to work, you know,' Quinn said. He moved his thumb to the A/B switch. Had he already put it in the B position?