The Cleaner

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.

They wound their way back into the bowels of the hotel, this time the supervisor advising them on the quickest route to the parking garage. Even Tucker behaved, mostly because every time he took even a slight misstep, Orlando was right there to remind him which way to go.

When they reached the garage, Quinn told the supervisor and Tucker to load the boxes into the back seat of Nate’s BMW. When they were through, he had Nate get in the car and pop the trunk.

The two cops were still there, both conscious and looking pissed as hell. Tucker and the hotel employee helped them out as Quinn and Orlando kept their guns trained on them.

“Start it up,” Quinn called out to Nate. As the engine roared to life, he turned to Orlando. “You and Tucker squeeze into the back seat.”

A few seconds later he was alone with the supervisor and the two handcuffed cops. “This has been a pretty shitty day. But you’re going to have to trust me that it could have been a lot worse.” Quinn walked over to the front passenger door of the BMW and opened it. “I don’t want to see you move until we’re out of here. After that I don’t care what you do.”

Surprisingly, they did exactly as he said.

Quinn directed Nate back into Tiergarten, approaching the Grosser Stern monument this time from the southeast. Before they reached the traffic circle, Quinn told Nate to pull over.

Outside, the park was covered in snow. There were a few people walking down the sidewalks, but most of the activity was limited to the traffic on the streets.

“We separate here,” Quinn said.

“What?” Nate asked, surprised.

Quinn looked his apprentice in the eyes. “I need you to get rid of the boxes. Take them to the U.S. embassy. Tell them what’s inside. Tell them everything. They’re not going to believe you. Not at first. You’ll probably be locked in a cell. But at least they’ll quarantine the boxes. It may take a day or two, but I’ll get you out.”

Quinn expected his apprentice to give him one of his smart-ass remarks, but instead Nate said, “Okay.”

Quinn put out his hand and the two men shook. “You’ve done good. Better than I could have ever expected.”

“Does that mean I get a raise?”

Quinn smiled. “Doubtful.”

Quinn got out of the car first. Then the back door opened and Orlando emerged, pulling Tucker behind her. But before she closed the door, she leaned down and said to Nate, “I’m glad we found you.”

Quinn, Orlando, and Tucker walked northwest on Hofjägeralle, the Aussie in the middle.

“Where is he?” Quinn asked.

“You’ll let me go?” Tucker asked.

“I won’t stop you.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Tucker glanced over at Orlando. “What about her?”

Orlando’s face was hard. This was the man who had kidnapped her son. Quinn wasn’t sure what she’d do.

“That’s the deal, isn’t it?” she said.

Her words seemed to satisfy Tucker. “All right.” He said nothing for a moment, then looked at Quinn. “He’s at the Dorint. Same as you were.”

“Is he okay?” Orlando asked.

“Peachy,” Tucker said.

Orlando grabbed Tucker’s arm, stopping him. “Don’t mess with me.”

“He’s fine,” Tucker said. He looked at Orlando. “He’s with Durrie. I told him I’d already done enough time with the brat when I brought him here.”

“You son of a bitch.” Orlando forced the words through her clenched teeth.

“Orlando, no,” Quinn said. She was ready to kill Tucker, and for that matter, so was Quinn. But they were still too public. And they had made a deal.

Orlando didn’t move. Quinn could see her holding herself on the brink for several seconds before finally easing off.

“You two better get going,” Tucker said. “I’m sure they won’t be there long.”