Brute Force

Chapter 62

Back on the Honda, Quinn headed west, giving Seattle Center and the attendant security a wide berth. He cut back to the north on Third Avenue, working his way up the hill by feel, using his senses as much as his intellect. Human beings tended to follow natural lines of drift and there was a very good chance that if he just looked for what he considered the perfect spot for a sniper to hide, Jiàn Zŏu would be somewhere nearby.

The trouble was any one of a dozen locations would make a good firing location. There were multistory mansions, at least three wooded parks, and a half dozen businesses on Galer Street that would all do the trick. Song sat behind him, arms around his waist, both hands pressed flat on the gas tank in front of him. He was sure she was in terrible pain, but she said nothing.

He had both Miyagi and Thibodaux conferenced in so he could hear them on the Bluetooth earpiece.

“You getting anything, Jacques?” he asked, hoping Big Uncle would have provided some clue to narrow down his choices.

“Working on it,” Thibodaux grunted. “Big Uncle has barricaded his shitty little self in the back room and his man Lok is awfully hardheaded.”

“All the patrons appear to be inside the event hall.” Miyagi’s voice came into his ear as clearly as if she were sitting on the bike behind him. “The Secret Service agents with the vehicles look like they are settling in for the long haul.”

“You’re too close if you can see that,” Quinn said.

“I’m on top of the theater next door. It gives me the perfect vantage point to be your eyes and ears.”

“That’s inside the blast radius, Emiko,” Jacques cut in, sounding as if he was still in the middle of thrashing someone. “Too close.”

“He’s right,” Quinn said, riding past an ice cream parlor, a glassblowing studio, and a bike shop, any of which could have been the ideal sniper hide for a shot with the Black Dragon. “You’re in grave danger if we don’t manage to stop Jiàn Zŏu.”

“Thank you for your concern,” she said. “Both of you. But we are all in grave danger if you do not stop Jiàn Zŏu.”

“Copy that,” Quinn said. The aftermath of the fight and the initial adrenaline dump of pursuit left him feeling muddleheaded and doomed to fail. “Tell me what you got, Jacques.”

“You mean besides the unconscious dude with a ponytail and his fat ass boss I had to drag through a mile of broken glass—”

Quinn let off the throttle and grabbed a handful of front brake, feeling Song pile up behind him as she was thrown into his back by the rapid stop. She gave a stifled whimper as the back wheel hopped up a hair in a modified stoppie. Quinn planted his foot and poured on the gas, throwing the Honda into a controlled 180 to head back the way they’d come.

“Get ready to go,” he said over his shoulder to Song. “He’s at the glass shop.”