The Cleaner

CHAPTER 29

A taxi dropped Quinn off one street away from Duquois thirty minutes later. He made a two-square-block inspection of the area surrounding the restaurant to be sure there wasn’t anyone waiting for him to arrive. All appeared quiet.

Once inside the restaurant, he was shown to a table near the front door. He ordered a glass of mineral water and a stuffed mushroom appetizer. There was no need to look for Burroughs. Quinn had seen him the moment he walked in.

The spook was sitting in the far corner near the back. Quinn noticed that Burroughs’s taste in companions hadn’t changed. Burroughs liked them tall, he liked them blonde, and he liked them fake. He liked them young, too. Tonight’s date couldn’t have been more than twenty-four, at least a quarter century younger than Burroughs. The man himself hadn’t changed, either. His unnatural tan was still capped by dyed black hair. As usual, he was wearing an expensive, European-tailored suit.

He and his date seemed to be near the end of their main course. Quinn watched as a busboy approached their table and removed some dishes. A moment later a waiter brought over an unopened bottle of wine. He showed it to Burroughs, who nodded. While the waiter opened the wine, Burroughs returned to his conversation with the woman.

Quinn turned away when he heard the front door to the restaurant open. It was Murray. He stood nervously near the front, waiting to be helped. He started to glance toward Quinn but stopped himself, obviously realizing it wasn’t a good idea. A moment later, the maitre d’ looked up. Quinn watched as Murray spoke to the man, then they both glanced toward Burroughs.

The maitre d’ turned back to Murray and asked a question. Murray replied, then slipped him some euros. This seemed to satisfy the maitre d’, as he smiled and pocketed the bills. He held a hand up indicating for Murray to wait, then walked across the restuarant toward Burroughs.

When he reached the table, the maitre d’ leaned down and whispered something in Burroughs’s ear, pointing back toward Murray. Burroughs looked over, and Murray gave him a little wave. The look on Burroughs’s face was not pleasant. He turned his attention to his date, said a few words, then stood up and followed the maitre d’ back across the restaurant.

Once the two had passed him, Quinn placed enough money to cover his bill on the table, then rose and followed at a reasonable distance.

“What do you want?” Burroughs asked as soon as he reached Murray.

Quinn continued past them, stopping at the dessert counter and leaning forward to examine the cakes. He was just close enough to hear them.

“I’m Kenneth Murray. Strategic planning.”

“I know who you are,” Burroughs said. “Why are you interrupting my dinner?”

Murray paused, no doubt uncomfortable that Burroughs knew his identity. “There’s an emergency that needs your attention,” he finally managed to eke out.

“What kind of emergency?”

“I don’t know. I was still at the office, so I got volunteered for the run.”

“Why didn’t someone just call me?”

“I was told it was too sensitive. It’s got to be face-to-face.”

Burroughs seemed to ponder this. “Okay. We’re face-to-face. Give me whatever it is you’ve brought.”

“I’m not really the messenger. I got volunteered to be the chauffeur,” Murray said, sticking to the script Quinn had worked out for him. “The information’s with the captain in the car. I thought it would be less conspicuous if I came in. You know, instead of someone in a uniform.”

Burroughs scowled. “Are you parked close by?”

“Across the street.”

“Hold on.” He turned and walked back to his table.

As soon as Burroughs was gone, Quinn looked at Murray, giving him the barest of nods. Murray looked like he was about to crumble.

Quinn glanced over his shoulder and saw that Burroughs was talking to the blonde, no doubt telling her he’d be back in a few minutes.

That was Quinn’s cue to leave.

A few minutes later, Quinn could hear their footsteps on the cobblestones. He was sitting in the passenger seat of Murray’s car, back straight, like a good military messenger. He’d had Murray park as far as possible from any streetlights. While he could see them approaching on the sidewalk, they would only be able to make out his shadowy form in the car.

He waited until they were only a few feet away, then opened the door and got out.

“All right, Captain,” Burroughs began. “I understand you have something for—” Burroughs stopped and stared at Quinn. “Who the hell are you?” He turned and looked at Murray. “What’s going on here?”

“We’ve met before,” Quinn said.

Burroughs stiffened. “We have?” Burroughs’s eyes narrowed. “I do know you, don’t I?” he asked. “Manila?”

“No. Montevideo,” Quinn said.

Burroughs began to nod. “Ramos.”

“That’s right.”

“You’re Quinn.”

“Right again.”

“What do you want?”

“Why don’t you get in the car? We’ll have a little more privacy in there.”

Burroughs took a step backward, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think so.”

Quinn pulled his gun out of his pocket. “It may have sounded like it, but it wasn’t actually a request.”

Murray drove around Brussels, while Quinn sat in back with Burroughs. “They’re going to come looking for me soon,” Burroughs said. “You’ll both be in deep shit.”

Quinn looked at him. “Does it look like I care?”

“What do you want?”

“An exchange of information.”

“I don’t deal.”

“Tell me about Robert Taggert.”

Burroughs looked at Quinn with contempt, but there had also been a flicker of what-the-fuck in the spook’s eyes. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

“Try this one then. Henry Jansen?”

This time it was a twitch, just above Burroughs’s left eye.

“It’s a little confusing,” Quinn said. “I mean, since they’re the same person.”

Burroughs shrugged. “Okay. If you say so. So what?”

“Jansen was supposed to give you some information,” he said. “About an operation run by Borko.”

Burroughs stared hard at Quinn, then turned to Murray. “Stop the car,” he commanded.

Murray, surprised, slammed on the brakes. Burroughs started to reach for the door. “Hold on,” Quinn said calmly as he raised the gun. “Ken, just keep driving.”

The car lurched forward as Murray pressed down on the accelerator.

“Stop the fucking car!” Burroughs snapped. Turning to Quinn, he said, “I don’t know what you’re playing, but I’m getting out now.”

“Keep driving,” Quinn said. He raised his gun, aiming it at Burroughs’s chest. “If you think I’m kidding around, you’re wrong. Some people I care about are in a lot of trouble because of whatever’s going on. My personal rules of engagement aren’t as strict as they used to be.”

Burroughs clenched his jaw. His fingers were still on the handle of the door. Quinn waited. It was obvious that Burroughs knew something he didn’t want to share.

Finally, Burroughs let go of the handle and leaned back into the seat.

“Jansen. Taggert. You’re right, okay? They’re the same guy,” Burroughs said.

Quinn remained silent.

“And yes. He said he had come into some information that he wanted to pass on to us.”

“Who’s us?” Quinn asked, moving the barrel of the gun a fraction of an inch to remind Burroughs it was there.

“The Agency. Who did you think?”

“What did he want to tell you?”

“If we knew that, he wouldn’t have had to tell us, would he?”

“So, he never said anything about a biological sample he might have for you?”

“He wasn’t specific about what he had.”

“That’s all you knew?”

Burroughs hesitated, then said, “He told us it was something tailored.”

Quinn furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”

“That’s all he would say. We were meeting so he could give me the details.”

“Tell me about the meeting,” Quinn said.

“We were supposed to meet in Vail. On the slopes.”

“When?”

“The same day as the fire. I was in Vail, but Taggert didn’t show up.”

“Didn’t you know where he was staying?”

“No. He insisted on making those plans himself. The only thing he allowed us to do was arrange for someone to drive him around.”

“Protection?”

“We insisted.”

“And this chauffeur didn’t tell you where he was?”

“She was instructed not to. Taggert was very nervous. We didn’t want anything messing up the meet.”

She? “Jills,” Quinn said.

“That’s right. You were the one who found her, weren’t you?”

Quinn stared at Burroughs for a moment, eyes narrowing. “What’s the Office’s role in this?”

Burroughs seemed to gauge how much he wanted to say. “I tell you this, and you have to tell me everything you know.”

“I did say this was an exchange, didn’t I?”

Burroughs nodded. “But you haven’t shared anything with me yet.”

“You’re right,” Quinn said. “I haven’t.”

“Quinn?” Murray said from the front seat.

“What?” Quinn asked.

“You told me to keep a lookout for anything unusual.”

“What is it?”

“I think we’re being followed.”

Quinn swiveled around in his seat to look out the back window. There were several cars behind them. “Which one?” he asked.

“The sedan. Directly behind us.”

A dark Ford was two car lengths back. “You’re sure?” Quinn asked.

“I’ve made a couple of turns. He’s staying right with us.”

“Do it again,” Quinn said. “A quick turn at the next block. No signal.”

Quinn watched out the back window as Murray executed his instructions. The Ford continued to follow them.

“Again,” Quinn ordered. “Left at the next street.”

The sedan stayed with them. Quinn turned to Burroughs, who had a look of satisfaction on his face. “I told you they’d come for me.”

“Where the hell did they come from?” Murray asked.

“The blonde,” Quinn said. “She works for you, doesn’t she?”

Burroughs smiled but said nothing.

“The girl?” Murray asked.

“She probably saw us drive off with our friend here and called it in.”

“Sorry,” Burroughs said. “It looks like we’re done.”

“Lose them,” Quinn ordered Murray.

“Are you kidding?” Murray whined. “You’ve already got me in deep enough shit as it is.”

“That’s right, Ken,” Burroughs said. “Don’t make it worse.”

Quinn turned back to Burroughs. “Keep quiet.”

“Fuck you,” Burroughs said. “Ken, pull over, and I’ll make sure they understand you did this against your will.”

Quinn lowered the angle of his gun and pulled the trigger.

Burroughs screamed in pain as the bullet tore through his right foot. It was all the message Murray needed. He pressed the accelerator to the floor.