The Cleaner (33 page)

'Three men inside,' he whispered. 'One of them looks like the night clerk. The other two, definitely not guests.'

'Borko's men?' she asked.

'That would be my guess.'

'But he came alone. That means they were already here.'

Quinn nodded.

'There must be something important inside. Something they need to keep watch over.'

He knew what she was thinking. He knew he should probably say something so she wouldn't get her hopes up too much, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

'We have two choices,' he said instead. 'Either we continue following Borko when he comes back out and look for a better opportunity to get him alone, or we try to find out what's so special inside.'

'I'm staying,' Orlando said. 'You do what you want.'

Ten minutes later, the hotel door opened. Next came the sound of voices, Borko and another man talking as they stepped outside.

Quinn was hiding next to a car parked on the far side of the Porsche. Orlando was crouched in the shadows at the corner of the building. Quinn risked a peek and saw the two men walking toward Borko's car. The guard stopped at the front of the Porsche and watched as Borko got in. While the guard's attention was occupied, Quinn crept toward the front of the parked car, narrowing the gap between himself and the guard to under ten feet. The Porsche's engine started, then Borko backed it into the street and drove away.

Before the guard could return to the warmth of the hotel, Quinn came up behind him and threw an arm around the guard's neck. Using his free hand, he landed two quick, powerful punches to the man's jaw, knocking him unconscious. He picked up the man's gun and tossed it under a parked car, then dragged the unconscious body into the shadows next to the building.

'Are you sure he's out?' Orlando asked as she emerged from her hiding spot.

'He's out.'

Instead of waiting for the other guard to come and check on his friend, they pulled out their guns and entered the hotel. The remaining guard was standing near the elevators. The moment he spotted them, he reached for the gun in his shoulder holster. But Orlando shot first, hitting the man in the arm. The guard yelled in pain, his gun tumbling out of the holster and onto the floor. Quinn raced forward and punched him in the face. The man fell against the wall, then toppled to the ground.

There was a noise to Quinn's left. He shot a look over at the night clerk who was just picking up the phone.
'Nein,'
Quinn said. 'Come here.'

Reluctantly, the night clerk came from around the corner and approached Quinn. 'You have a room we can lock him in?' Quinn asked in German.

The man nodded.

'Help us.'

Once they had both guards locked in a small office off the lobby, Quinn turned to the clerk. 'What room are they in?' he said, playing his hunch.

'Who?' the clerk asked.

Orlando raised her gun, pointing it at the clerk. 'Third floor. Three-twelve.'

There were no guards outside room 312. 'How many people inside?' Quinn asked.

'Three, I think,' the clerk said.

They reached the door. 'Is there a code?' Quinn asked, his voice a whisper. 'I don't know.' 'Then just knock. Tell them their boss sent up some food.'

The clerk hesitated.

'Do it,' Orlando said, playing up her self-chosen role as the enforcer.

The man knocked. Quinn could hear footsteps approaching from the other side, then, 'Who is it?' 'Herbert,' the clerk said. 'Your boss wanted me

to bring you something to eat.' The door opened. Standing just inside was a man in his mid-twenties.

'It's about fucking time. I'm starv –' He stopped when he saw Quinn. He reached for his gun, but he was too late.

Quinn shoved the clerk across the threshold into the man, crashing them both to the floor and dislodging the pistol in the process. Quinn entered behind them and picked up the gun. Orlando followed next, shutting the door behind her.

A second man jumped up from a chair to Quinn's right. He was starting to grab for his weapon, an Uzi resting on the end table next to him. Quinn shot the man once in the shoulder, knocking him back into the chair.

Quinn and Orlando stood in the middle of the room, guns pointed at the guards. 'Anyone else here?' he asked the injured man. 'Don't fucking lie to me.'

'No one,' the man grunted.

Quinn surveyed the room. In the corner was a bed. Someone was lying on it. Orlando had glanced at the bed, too. Quinn could see it in her face, the disappointment and continued fear. The person on the bed was far too big to be her son.

Quinn finished his sweep of the room. To the left were two doors, side by side. Next to one of them was a heavy-looking dresser with a TV on top.

'Where do those go?' Quinn asked, pointing at the doors. 'Closet and bathroom,' the clerk said from his position on the floor. Quinn looked back at the man in the chair. 'You carrying anything else?' The guard hesitated, then pulled up his trouser leg, revealing a Walther PPK in an ankle holster. 'Pull it out slowly and toss it over here,' Quinn ordered.

The man did so.

'What else?' Quinn asked.

The man shook his head. Quinn walked over, grabbed the Uzi off the table, and slung it over his shoulder. He then turned his attention to the person lying on the bed. A Caucasian male, mid-twenties.

Nate.

Quinn looked back at his three captives, then motioned to the closet door. 'Inside. You two in the

closet,' he told the guards. 'And you,' he said as he looked at the clerk, 'you can have the bathroom.' The clerk and the guard on the floor got to their

feet and started toward the closed doors.

'You, too,' Orlando said to the injured man.

It took the man a moment to stand up, but he was soon following the other two across the room. The guard who hadn't been shot opened the closet door, and he and his partner squeezed inside the tiny chamber.

Quinn walked over to the door. 'Phones,' he said, holding out his hand.

Once the guards had given him their cell phones and he'd stowed them in his pocket, he closed the door.

The clerk was already in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet lid.

'You got a phone?' Quinn asked.

'No,' the man said.

'Are you sure?' Quinn asked, his eyebrow raised.

'No phone,' the man said quickly. 'It's downstairs, under the counter.' Quinn shut the door, then with Orlando's help, he dragged the dresser in front of the two doors.

Quinn carried Nate in a fireman's hold across the empty hotel lobby, through the main entrance, and into the night. Orlando raced ahead of them and threw open the back door of the car. Carefully, they placed Nate onto the seat.

'Quinn?' Nate looked up at him, his eyes barely open. 'It's okay,' Quinn said.

Nate began to mumble something else, but his eyes closed and his head fell back.

Quinn shut the door. 'I'm sorry,' he said to Orlando.

'Where are we going to take him?' she asked as if she hadn't heard him. Quinn was silent for a moment. 'I know a place.' They climbed back into the car. After Quinn

started the car, he turned to Orlando. 'We'll find Garrett, too.' Her only response was a quick, empty smile.

Sophie was in the doorway to the bar, saying good night to one of her customers, when Quinn drove up and parked at the curb.

'I didn't think you were coming back,' she said after he got out of the Mercedes and came around to the sidewalk.

'I need your help,' he told her.

She took a few steps toward the car, but stopped as Orlando opened the passenger-side door and climbed out.

'Who's she?' Sophie asked.

'A friend,' Quinn said.

He walked to the rear passenger door and opened it. With Orlando's help, he lifted Nate out of the back. 'What's wrong with him?' Sophie asked.

'He's hurt.'

'I can see that. How?'

'It's not important.'

'Did you . . .?'

'No.'

Nate groaned as Quinn shifted his position to get a better grip.

'I don't understand,' Sophie said. 'What's going on?'

'My friend's been drugged,' Quinn told her.

'And given a beating, too.'

'Yes,' Quinn said. He started for the building, Orlando directly behind him.

'Where do you think you're taking him?' Sophie asked. 'He should be in a hospital.' 'I can't take him to a hospital.' 'Why not?' 'I just can't.' They reached the entrance to her

apartment. 'Wait.' Sophie put her hand on Quinn's shoulder. 'I can't do anything for him.'

'You have an extra bed, don't you? That's all I want. Someone else will come to take care of him,' he said.

Sophie didn't move.

'Sophie, please,' Quinn said. 'Open the door.'

She pushed past them and pulled the door open. 'What are you getting me into?' 'Better if you don't know,' Quinn said.

They settled Nate in Sophie's guest room, then Quinn retrieved some water and some towels from the bathroom. He started to use them to clean up Nate's wounds.

'Let me.' Orlando reached for the towel, then nodded toward the door that led back into the living room. 'Your friend out there probably has a few questions,' she said, her voice flat.

Reluctantly, he nodded, then let her take the towel.

He found Sophie sitting at her kitchen table, an open bottle of wine and a tumbler, half full, keeping her company. Her hands were clasped in front of her, almost like she was praying. But her eyes were wide open, staring at them, or, rather, staring through them.

He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. A closer inspection of the glass revealed the rim was dry. She had yet to take a drink.

She lifted her eyes to meet his. 'What's going on, Jonathan? Who is he?'

'I told you. He's a friend. A colleague.'

'And the woman?'

'The same.'

'Colleagues both? People you work with?'

He hesitated. 'Yes.'

'This doesn't seem like bank business.' She was referring to his cover. 'Sophie –' He was interrupted by a loud, short buzz coming

from the living room. Sophie looked over her shoulder toward the sound, then turned back to Quinn. 'Someone's at the front door,' she said, surprised.

'It's okay.' Quinn rose and headed for the door that opened to the landing at the top of the stairwell.

'Who is it?' Sophie asked.

'Help,' Quinn said.

Dr. Garber was Quinn's medical contact in Berlin. He had been in the business for a long time and was a specialist at this type of work. A late-night call for immediate assistance at some out-of-theway location. No notes taken, no records kept. Only the care of the patient, and the exchange of cash. Quinn had called him on the drive over to Sophie's.

The doctor spent half an hour with Nate while Quinn, Orlando, and Sophie sat in the living room, the only noise coming from the TV Sophie had turned on. The two women didn't even look at each other. They seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. As for Orlando, Quinn could almost feel her nervous tension. He knew she wanted to keep moving, keep looking for Garrett. Sophie was not only tense, but seemed confused and scared as well. There were several times Quinn wanted to say something to her, but he always stopped himself. His words would be meaningless, and liable to provoke Sophie more than comfort her. Instead he listened idly to the droning voice of a newscaster reciting the day's news: concerns over a proposed industrial facility in Dresden, preparation for an EU conference in Berlin, and an update on a story about a German tourist killed while on vacation to Central America.

When Dr. Garber finally came out of the guest bedroom, Quinn stood quickly.

'Without doing any real tests, I don't know exactly what they gave him,' the doctor said. 'Something to keep him under control, I'd guess. Not for the pain.'

'Will he be all right?' Quinn asked.

'With some rest,' Garber said, 'he should be able to get around soon. But I wouldn't count on him being one hundred percent for quite a while.

Along with the facial lacerations, one of his ribs is broken. At some point he dislocated his shoulder, too. It's been reset, but there's much tenderness and inflammation around the joint. I have left some medication on the table next to his bed.'

'When can we move him?' Quinn asked. 'Two days,' Garber said. 'Two days?' Sophie shot up. 'He's not staying

here two days. Take him to the hospital if he needs so much help.' 'Sophie,' Quinn said evenly, 'I told you that's not possible. I know I'm asking a lot.' 'I don't understand. No hospital? If he's your

friend, you would take him there.' 'He's safer here,' Orlando said. Sophie glared at Orlando. 'You, I don't know

who you are. Don't tell me what's safe or not. Don't

even talk to me.' 'Sophie –' Quinn started. 'Who is she?' Sophie pointed at Orlando. 'Is she

your lover? Is that what this is?' Quinn took a breath. 'She's not my lover. She's

my colleague.' 'I don't believe you.' 'I swear, Sophie. We work together.' 'And your friend in there? You work with him,

too?' 'Yes.' 'What kind of work that someone beats your

friend up? That you can't take him to the hospital?' Quinn sighed. 'You have to trust me. I need your help. This is the safest place I could take him.'

Sophie took several deep breaths, each a little longer than the last. Her shoulders started to sag slightly.

'He is really your friend?' she asked, her voice now quiet, almost defeated.

'Yes,' Quinn said.

A pause. 'Two days?' Sophie asked, looking at the doctor. 'No more than that,' he replied. She was silent for a moment. 'All right. Two days. Then you take him away.'

'Thank you,' Quinn said.

Dr. Garber headed toward the door. 'I'll be back in the afternoon,' he said to Sophie. 'Quinn will give you my number if you need me sooner.' Sophie looked at Quinn. 'What about you two? Are you leaving, too?' 'Orlando will,' Quinn said. 'I'll stay until morning. But then I have something to do.'

Sophie was silent for several moments. 'Fine,' she said, then turned and walked into her own bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Chapter 33