The Cleaner (41 page)

'He wouldn't enter through there,' Quinn said. 'Not with the boxes.'

His eyes scanned ahead. Suddenly he pointed.

'That's it.'

There was a large opening in the building, big enough for a delivery truck. A sign mounted to the wall indicated it was the entrance for deliveries and employee parking. There were two more police officers standing just inside the entrance. They were dressed warmly in long overcoats and gloves.

'Turn in there,' Quinn said. 'But don't stop until you are all the way inside. Let the cops walk up to you.' He looked up at the rearview mirror, his eyes momentarily meeting Nate's. 'You're going to have to help me take them.'

'Kill them?' Nate said, sounding surprised and horrified.

'I'm hoping we can avoid that.'

Nate got into the center lane and slowed down to a stop. He waited until the oncoming traffic had cleared, then turned into the entrance of the garage. One of the police officers held up his hand for Nate to stop, but he continued on past them for several car lengths before bringing the car to a halt. They were far enough inside that no one on the street would pay them any attention.

'Get out and distract them,' Quinn said. As the cops started walking toward them, Nate opened his door and got out.

'Sorry about that,' he said in English. 'I didn't see you at first.' He paused. 'You do speak English, don't you?'

Quinn slid across the back seat and reached for the passenger-side door.

'I'll go,' Orlando said, her face taut.

'You don't have to. I can handle this.'

'I'll go.'

Without another word, she opened her door and got out. Quinn watched as she walked around to the back of the car, joining Nate and the cops. Quinn swiveled so he could see out the back window.

Nate had maneuvered the two police officers so that they stood behind the trunk, their backs to the car. Quinn could only hear muffled voices, nothing specific, but he did see the gun suddenly appear in Orlando's hand. The cops froze, both apparently smart enough to know not to reach for their own weapons.

Orlando said something to Nate, and a moment later he was back at the driver's door. He reached in and released the trunk, then returned to the gathering at the back.

With the trunk open, Quinn's view of the action was diminished. He heard a few more voices, then the car creaked as it took on extra weight.

'There's not enough room,' a voice said. It was coming through the back of the seat, muffled but clear. Quinn assumed it was one of the cops.

'Kill one of them,' Orlando said, her voice more distant.

There was the sound of a slide release being pulled back on a gun. Almost immediately there was more shuffling and grunting coming from inside the trunk.

'That's better,' Orlando said.

When the trunk closed again, there were only two people standing behind the car – Orlando and Nate.

As the two climbed back in, Orlando threw something over the seat at Quinn. It was one of the long, dark overcoats the cops had been wearing. Once Quinn put it on, it would cover most of his pants, making him more presentable.

'I got these, too,' she said, holding up two utility belts complete with radios, guns, and tools of the cops' trade. Not surprisingly, the handcuffs were missing from each belt.

'IDs?' he asked.

Orlando nodded.

Nate put the car in gear and continued down into the garage. Soon they were on a ramp leading downward into the building. Fifty feet in, the road forked. To the right it veered sharply downward, spiraling farther below the surface toward what Quinn guessed was the employee parking area. The left fork kept going straight for another twenty-five feet, ending at a small parking area to the left and a raised loading dock straight ahead.

There was a single truck backed up to the dock. A linen supplier. Two men were rolling a big basket of towels out of the hotel and into the cargo area of the truck.

Quinn quickly shifted his attention to the small parking area off to the left. There were five cars there: two Fords, a Peugeot, and two BMWs. One of the BMWs was a silver two-door coupe. But the other was midnight blue.

'Stop,' Quinn said.

As Nate stopped their car, Quinn took a harder look at the parked BMW. The windows were tinted all the way around, front and back included.

'That's his car.'

Quinn opened his door and started to swing his legs around to get out, but the pain shooting up from his thigh stopped him.

'Wait,' Nate said. 'Let me check.'

As Nate opened his door, Orlando tapped him on the arm, then handed him an ID and one of the guns.

Nate approached the car cautiously, but it was soon apparent no one was inside.

'What now?' Nate called out.

'See if the boxes are still in the back,' Quinn said. Nate started trying all the doors.

'Nate,' Quinn said. Once his apprentice was looking over at him, Quinn mimed using his gun as a hammer.

Nate glanced over his shoulder toward the loading dock. The two men who had been rolling out the towels were just disappearing back into the hotel.

Instead of just smashing the gun into the window, Nate removed his jacket first, placing it over the glass. He had to hit the window three times before it broke, but the sound was muffled. Quinn smiled. Nate was getting it.

The tinting held the shattered safety glass together, so Nate just had to fold it in on itself and push it into the car.

'You're sure it was him?' Orlando asked Quinn. Her voice was quiet but demanding.

Quinn kept his eyes on Nate. 'Yes.'

Orlando was silent for a moment. 'That son of a bitch was alive the whole time,' she said to herself.

Nate got the trunk open on the other car and checked inside. Quinn could see the answer on his face before he even came back.

'No boxes,' Nate said.

'Then we need to find them,' Quinn said.

'How are we going to get inside?' Nate asked.

'Nate,' Quinn said, 'we are inside.'

Chapter 41

Quinn had Nate park their car directly behind the BMW, bumpers touching. There was just enough room left for traffic to still get by. In front of the car was a cement wall. If Durrie and Tucker came back for their vehicle, they'd have a hell of a time getting it out.

As Quinn suspected, security at the St. Martin Hotel was localized. Attendees were not high-level enough to interrupt the regular flow of the hotel's business. If heads of state had been attending, the place would have been locked down tight. But because the majority of the conference goers were college professors or other civilian professionals, the perceived threat level would be reduced and, therefore, the security would be designed to fit the situation.

But Quinn knew that didn't mean it was going to be easy.

The St. Martin seemed to be a series of service corridors. At least that was the impression Quinn got as they made their way through the bowels of the hotel. These were the passageways that allowed all the work needed to run a successful hotel to happen seamlessly. Signs were posted at each junction, directing traffic toward kitchens, reception areas, conference rooms, and the like. Hotel staff moved up and down the hallways, some faster than others, but none giving Quinn, Orlando, and Nate more than a single glance.

They weren't the only non-hotel employees in the hallways, either. Conference security, Quinn guessed. Police, or perhaps military, dressed in suits and pretending to work for the hotel.

Unlike the hotel employees, they took more interest in the trio. Twice, Quinn, Orlando, and Nate were stopped. But both times, Quinn flashed his new police ID and explained that they were doing a final check of the areas outside the secure zone prior to the start of the luncheon.

Their biggest obstacle was Quinn's injury. He had a definite limp. He tried as best he could to make it seem natural, an old injury. Often, though, he had to reach out and steady himself on Nate's shoulder.

They found a schedule of the day's events posted on a bulletin board down one of the halls. The conference luncheon was being held in the Athey Ballroom. At the next intersection, they looked for the ballroom on the directional signs and found it next to an arrow that pointed them in the right direction.

'Security check,' Quinn said quietly two minutes later.

They had come down a long hallway and had followed the arrows once again, turning right. The security check was just beyond another intersection. There were two men in dark suits standing next to a walk-through metal detector. Beside it was an X-ray machine for screening bags, similar to those in airports.

Quinn had them slow their pace. His intention was to turn down the hallway just before the checkpoint.

'Quinn,' Orlando said. 'Against the wall. On the other side of the metal detector.'

Quinn looked. There were six boxes against the wall, sitting on a handcart. Six identical cardboard boxes.

He could feel Nate tense beside him.

'Maybe it's not them,' Orlando said.

'It's them,' Quinn said.

His eyes had caught movement farther down the hallway, beyond the boxes. Two men were approaching from the other side of the checkpoint. One of the men seemed to be doing all of the talking. The listener looked like he worked for the hotel. He wore the same mauve suit jacket and black pants Quinn had seen other supervisors wearing. He was nodding his head every few seconds, like he was receiving instructions.

The talker was Leo Tucker. Quinn stopped. They were still a good twenty feet away.

'Turn around and look at me,' he said to the other two. 'We're having a conversation. Completely normal. Okay?'

Orlando turned first, then Nate joined in, their backs now to the checkpoint.

'Did you see those two men approaching?' Quinn

asked. 'Yeah,' Orlando said. Nate started to look over his shoulder. 'No,' Quinn said. Nate stopped. 'The tall one is Leo Tucker. It looks like he's

giving instructions to the other guy.'

Quinn glanced past Orlando toward the boxes. Tucker was getting closer now. He pointed at the stack. The other man nodded and started to move toward them.

'Shit,' Quinn said. 'Just follow me.' Quinn pushed past Orlando and Nate. 'Stop,' he yelled in German. He half ran, half hopped toward the checkpoint.

The two men at the metal detector looked up, one of them dropping his hand to the radio at his side. The man reaching for the boxes also paused. But not Leo Tucker. He glanced at Quinn in surprise, then took off running down the hallway.

'Don't touch those boxes,' Quinn said. 'Poison.' The hotel employee drew back suddenly. 'Stop him,' Quinn said, pointing toward Tucker. The two security officers weren't reacting quickly

enough. Quinn pulled out the police ID and held

it high in the air. 'Terrorist,' he said. 'Terrorist!' That got a reaction. One of the men started

running after Tucker, but the other remained at his post. As Quinn ran through the metal detector, it beeped loudly.

'Wait,' the remaining officer said.

Without stopping, Quinn looked over at the man and said, 'Don't let anyone touch those boxes.'Then he was off down the hallway.

Behind him, he could hear Nate and Orlando.

'Hold it right there,' the officer said.

Quinn looked over his shoulder. The officer was standing near the opening of the metal detector, determined not to let Nate and Orlando pass. As he reached for his radio, Orlando charged him, knocking the surprised man backward.

Quinn turned, unable to watch the rest without risking further injury. Ahead the hallway dead-ended at a T intersection. Tucker and the officer in pursuit of him had disappeared, but Quinn didn't know which way they'd gone. He forced himself to pick up his speed. As he reached the T, he turned to the left and was almost bowled over as Tucker ran past him. Down the corridor from which the Aussie had come, the officer was sprawled on the ground, unmoving.

Quinn grabbed at Tucker, getting a handful of jacket and holding on tight. The Aussie continued forward down the right side of the T, dragging Quinn with him. As he did, he tried to struggle out of his coat, but it slowed him enough so Quinn could pull out his gun and jam it into the other man's back.

'Stop it,' Quinn said.

'Go fuck yourself.' Tucker continued to struggle.

'Stop!'

Tucker's jacket slipped off his shoulder. It was everything Quinn could do to not pull the trigger. Just as Tucker was about to free himself, Quinn slapped the back of the Aussie's head with the barrel of the gun. Tucker stumbled sideways against the wall, then fell onto his knees. Dazed, but conscious.

Quinn quickly patted him down. Tucker, obviously not wanting to set off the metal detectors, was unarmed. Quinn grabbed Tucker's chin roughly and raised the man's face.

'Where's Garrett?' It took a moment for Tucker to refocus his eyes. 'Fuck off.'

Steps approached from around the corner, back toward the checkpoint. Quinn took a step away from Tucker and positioned himself so that he could cover both the hallway and the Aussie.

Orlando raced around the corner, sweeping the area in front of her with the gun in her hand. She lowered it slightly when she saw Quinn.

'Are you all right?' she asked. 'I'm fine,' he said. In truth, his leg throbbed

mercilessly. 'The boxes?' 'Secured. Nate's with them.' 'What about the other officer?' 'He'll live,' she said. 'We've got to get out of

here.' Quinn looked down at Tucker. 'You're coming

with us.' 'The hell I am.' 'Fine,' Quinn said. He raised his gun. 'You wouldn't shoot that in here.' 'Actually, I would.' Quinn moved his finger over

the trigger. 'All right, all right,' Tucker said. 'I'll tell you where the boy is. But only if you get me out of here and let me go.'

They found Nate back at the checkpoint. He was keeping watch over both the boxes and the terrified hotel supervisor who'd gotten caught in the action. The guard who remained there was slumped against the wall, unconscious.

'Time to go,' Quinn said.

He ordered the supervisor to push the cart. The man's reluctance soon disappeared when Quinn showed him his gun. Since Orlando was the most fit, she had Tucker duty. That left Quinn to lead and Nate to bring up the rear.