Flight 12: A Jonathan Quinn Thriller

CHAPTER 2

Sticking to the initial plan, Nate drove the van into Queens, where they set the plastic ablaze in the pre-selected Dumpster. From there, they went another seven blocks and exchanged the van for the rental sedan meant to take them back to the airport. While it would have been helpful to keep the van to transport the new body, Quinn was not about to use the same vehicle on a pair of unrelated jobs. The possibility of cross contamination was too great. He always kept jobs separate. Durrie had taught Quinn that. “If you don’t,” his old mentor had said, “and one goes south, it’ll take the other with it. Bad business.” They would have to appropriate a new vehicle in Manhattan.

Being a little after two a.m., the drive into the heart of the city was easy, and soon they were parked three blocks from the Tribeca address Helen had given Quinn. Nate and Daeng grabbed the two duffel bags containing their clean kits, and the three of them headed the rest of the way in on foot. When they reached the specified street, they paused at the corner and scanned the area ahead.

“That’s it,” Quinn said in a low voice as he motioned toward a five-story red brick building. It was smashed between two similar structures, all of which were mixed-use, with apartments above ground-floor businesses.

The restaurant on the ground level of the target building appeared closed — a sushi place, with a glass door on the left and a large window under an awning on the right.

“I don’t see anyone,” Nate whispered.

“Me, neither,” Daeng said.

Quinn frowned. He had also not picked up signs of anyone. Where were these contacts of Helen’s?

“Wait here,” he said.

He crossed the street and circled a line of matching blue bicycles parked in gray docks before he turned down the street. He took a quick glance at the Japanese restaurant as he passed, but the interior was too dark for him to see anything. He had just reached the neighboring building and was contemplating his next move when he heard the door to the restaurant creak open behind him.

“Quinn,” a voice whispered.

Turning back, he saw an op named Leonard Tune stepping through the doorway. Quinn had worked with him on another of Helen’s jobs a month earlier.

Tune met Quinn halfway and held out his hand. “Right on time.”

As they shook, Quinn said, “What have you got for us?”

“A courier. Don’t know who did it, but they knew what they were doing.”

Quinn glanced past him at the restaurant. “The body’s in there?”

“No. Down the street.”

“Inside or outside?”

“Out.”

Quinn looked down the road, concerned. “It’s on the street and no one’s found it yet?”

“Not exactly on the street. Let me show you.”

“Hold on.”

Quinn waved Nate and Daeng over, then Tune led them all to a small, triangular park surrounded by streets. The park consisted of an area of bushes and trees encircled by a three-foot-high iron fence and a curved walkway. Along the walkway were several benches lined up end to end under the canopy of trees.

As they neared, Tune said, “Kal? It’s us.”

A shadow uncurled from among the bushes and stood up.

“Still quiet?” Tune asked.

“Nothing since that homeless guy,” Kal said.

“What homeless guy?” Quinn asked.

“Some old guy looking for a place to sleep,” Kal replied. “I made it clear he needed to find somewhere else tonight.”

“Did he see anything?”

“Nah.”

Maybe he didn’t see anything, Quinn thought, but the guy would know something was going on here, and maybe he’d be curious enough to come back at an inopportune time. They’d have to keep an eye out.

“The body?” he asked.

“You’ll have to hop over,” Kal said.

The courier turned out to be a woman. Early twenties by the looks of her, with dark hair and a tan complexion. Hispanic, perhaps, Quinn thought, or possibly Mediterranean. She was about five foot five and had the typical courier body shape — lean with strong arms and legs. She was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a brown leather jacket over what looked like a black T-shirt. The bullet hole in the middle of her forehead spoke to the cause of death. Quinn crouched down, turned her head, and noted there was no corresponding exit wound. A small-caliber gun, then, probably a .22, and, given the very public location, with an attached sound suppressor. Tune had been right. Her killer had known what he was doing.

Quinn took a step back and looked out at the three surrounding streets. Though he and the others were under the cover of the trees, he could still see the windows of apartments in at least half a dozen buildings. It was a damn theater with the park center stage.

“How is it no one saw anything?” he asked.

“It happened around 1:30 a.m.,” Tune said, shrugging. “It’s a weeknight. Most people are already asleep.”

“But not all.”

“True, but if anyone had seen anything, the police would have been here long ago. The press, too, probably. Trust me, no one reported it.”

“Not reporting isn’t the same thing as not having seen anything,” Quinn said.

“Relax. We did two thorough night-vision scans of all the windows on the street and found no one paying any attention to this park. That make you feel better?”

A bit, though Quinn didn’t tell him that. “So, no idea who did this.”

Tune shook his head. “Only that it was someone who wanted her bag.”

“So she was definitely on a run.”

“Uh-huh.”

“For Helen?”

Tune looked confused for a second, then said, “For Ms. Cho, yes. We arrived here to escort the person she was meeting to his final destination.”

“Where’s he?”

“No clue. We just found her.”

Quinn took another look around for signs of an additional struggle that might indicate what had happened to the courier’s contact, but nothing caught his eye. “Are you hanging around?” he asked. “Would be nice to have a few extra pairs of eyes on the street while we work.”

“Sorry. Other places to be. So if that’s it…”

Quinn glanced at Nate and Daeng to see if they had any questions, but both men shook their heads. “I guess you’re free,” he told Tune.

“Enjoy your night,” Tune said as he headed to the fence.

“Don’t work too hard, boys,” Kal said, following his partner.

As soon as the two were gone, Quinn said, “Daeng, you’re on vehicle. Nate, you and I are on prep. I’d like to be out of here in the next five minutes.”

Daeng put down his duffel and left to obtain a ride, while Quinn and Nate began a thorough inspection of the area to make sure no evidence got left behind. The good thing, if you could call it that, was that they didn’t have to search for the bullet since it was still in the woman’s head. But there were other potential problematic items — bits of clothing, a phone that might have been in her hand when she was shot, jewelry. Their search, however, turned up nothing.

Nate pulled the remaining plastic out of one of the duffels and laid it on the ground. They didn’t have enough left for a full body wrap, but they could at least bind the woman’s arms to her sides to make carrying her a little easier.

“What was she doing back in here?” Nate asked. “Hiding?”

“Who knows,” Quinn said.

“Seems kind of weird.”

Quinn shrugged. Maybe she was supposed to meet her contact at the benches and was hiding in the bushes until he arrived. Her killer might have sneaked up on her, and she might have turned at the last moment and seen her assassin right before she was shot. Or maybe the killer approached her directly, acting the part of her contact. Like with so much of their work, it was a question they’d likely never know the answer to.

Carefully, they lifted her to put her on the plastic.

“Got something,” Nate said, twisting so he could look under the body.

“What?” Quinn asked.

“Not sure. Saw something fall…from her jacket sleeve, I think.”

They set the courier on the plastic, and then Nate hunted around until he found the item. Picking it up, he said, “It’s some kind of box.”

“Let me see.”

Nate handed it to Quinn.

The box was made of black plastic and was approximately one inch square and a quarter inch thick. On one corner were three small raised characters. Quinn pulled out his pocket flashlight and shined it on the surface.

He had no idea what that meant.

He examined the rest of it in the light and found a seam running around three of the narrow sides. Slowly so as not to disturb the contents, he opened it like a clam.

Another square, this one only half the size of the box, sat in a custom-cut indentation on a bed of foam in the bottom section. Quinn didn’t need to pull the square out to know what it was. A computer chip.

He closed the box and shoved it in his pocket. He would worry about its importance after they finished what they’d come to do.

As they secured the plastic with duct tape, Quinn’s phone vibrated twice with an incoming text. He checked it, then whispered, “It’s Daeng. He’s on his way.”

Quinn made sure the body was ready to go, and then moved through the bushes so he could peek down the road. Fifteen seconds later, a large SUV rounded the corner to his right. The glare of the vehicle’s headlights prevented him from seeing the driver, but he had no doubt it was Daeng. A van or small covered truck was always preferable, but certain SUVs were more than adequate for the task.

Quinn was about to go back and help Nate move the body closer to the fence when a second pair of headlights swung around the corner. A sedan, but not the run-of-the-mill family type.

A police car.

“Down,” he whispered back toward Nate as he dropped to the ground.

Daeng had obviously seen the vehicle, too. Instead of slowing when he neared the park, he drove by, his pace steady. Suddenly, Quinn saw flashing red and blue lights on the buildings and heard the police car speed up. Daeng immediately floored the SUV and screeched around the corner just past the park. The police car, siren off but lights still flashing, took up pursuit.

As soon as both vehicles were out of sight, Quinn yanked out his cell and called Daeng.

“Tell me that isn’t you in the SUV,” he said.

“Wish I could,” Daeng said in his usual calm voice.

“I figured as much. All right, be careful, but try to get them as far way from here as possible before you lose them.”

Over the phone, Quinn heard the wail of rubber on asphalt.

“A little update,” Daeng said. “There are two of them now.”

Quinn grimaced. More would likely join them soon. “Scratch what I said. Ditch the vehicle before they can cut you off.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

The line went dead.

Keeping low, Quinn crept back to Nate.

“I’m just going to put this out there,” Nate said. “Feel free to ignore me, but I’m not a big fan of doing jobs we can’t properly plan ahead of time.”

“You and me both.”

“I take it you want me to find us a ride,” Nate said.

Before Quinn could answer, a vehicle turned onto the street. He rose high enough to take a look.

Another police car, this one pulling to a stop in the middle of the road at the far end.

As he watched, two officers climbed out and headed over to the opposite sidewalk. The guy in the lead pulled a flashlight from his belt and turned it on, pointing the beam at the sushi restaurant straight in front of him.

“Dammit,” Quinn muttered to himself.

When the cops reached the door, one of them stood back a few paces while the other tried the handle. Tune had apparently reengaged the lock when he’d left because the door remained closed.

Flashlight cop shined the beam through the window on the door before doing the same at the larger front window. Quinn could hear him say something to his partner, but the words were lost in the night. They checked the doors of the neighboring buildings before heading down the sidewalk toward the park.

Quinn tensed. Someone had definitely seen something and called the police. The question was, had the observer seen Tune escort Quinn and his team all the way to the park and reported that, too?

The officers came within fifty feet of the park before they finally stopped.

Quinn heard one of the men call in to the station, and then say, “Everything’s locked tight. No signs of a break-in.”

A moment later, the flashlight went off and the two cops headed back to their car.

As they drove off, Quinn turned to Nate. “We need to get out of here fast.”

“On it,” Nate said.

Quinn watched him sneak out of the park and disappear down the street.