The Cleaner (38 page)

The man was barely five feet away when the bullets smashed into his chest, whipping him around and spinning him to the ground.

'Give it up. You're not getting out of here,' someone yelled from across the street.

A bullet flew by Quinn, just missing his shoulder. Someone had gotten smart and was shooting under the van. Quinn, ignoring the pain in his side from his fall, pushed himself off the ground and took two quick steps to his left, putting the van's rear wheel between him and Borko's men. The hands-free earpiece to his phone was dangling over his shoulder. He placed it back in his ear.

'Quinn? Are you there?' Orlando asked. 'Quinn?'

'I'm here. I'm okay,' Quinn said.

'We're two blocks away,' Orlando said. 'What's your situation?'

'There are at least six men, probably seven, on the north side of the street.' Quinn's voice was calm. 'They were in a couple of sedans, a BMW and a Mercedes. Don't know if they're still in them now. I'm out of the car, but I've got the van between us. I need you to take those guys out.'

'We're on it,' Orlando said.

'Is that you, Mr. Quinn?' Another voice called to him from across the street. 'You come out now and I'll make sure nothing too bad happens.' A pause. 'Mr. Quinn? You really think you are going to be able to stop this? If you do, you are wrong. You do not start playing smart, in a couple of minutes you are going to be dead.'

Quinn had been silently counting the seconds in his mind. Orlando and Nate should have been here by now.
What the hell was

Orlando's voice came over the receiver. 'Cover your ears and duck.' Quinn immediately curled into a ball, a hand squeezed tightly over each ear.

For a second there was nothing. Then suddenly the air was filled with a loud
whomp.
Quinn could feel his whole body pulse inward, his breath nearly knocked out of him. Thankfully the van protected him from the brunt of the concussion grenade.

'Are you all right?' Orlando asked, still on the phone. Quinn uncurled himself and stood up. 'I think so. Did it work?' 'Yeah,' Orlando said. 'There were actually eight

of them. But they're all sleeping now. Some more permanently than others.' Orlando suddenly appeared from around the side of the van, and jogged over to Quinn.

'It was stronger than I expected,' Orlando said.

'Where's Nate?'

'Still in the car.'

'Count the boxes,' Quinn said, nodding toward the back of the van. 'I'm going to see if this thing will still start.'

'Okay.'

Quinn stopped first at the Porsche and retrieved his backpack. At the cab of the van, Quinn threw his stuff inside, then climbed in. It took him less than thirty seconds to find the right wires to hotwire the vehicle. As he touched them together the engine roared to life.

In the distance, Quinn could hear sirens. They weren't nearly as far away as he would have liked. Soon the street was going to be flooded with police.

'I've got to go,' he yelled toward the back of the van. 'Are you done?'

'They're all here,' Orlando answered.

'Okay,' Quinn said. 'We're back on plan. I'll take the van. You guys run point.'

Something pinged off the hood of the van. Quinn looked out the windshield. Someone was standing at the end of the block pointing a gun at the van. Quinn shifted into drive and hit the gas.

'I'm still in here!' Orlando shouted.

'Hang on,' Quinn yelled back.

They raced down the street. Quinn had no choice but to go in the direction of the man with the gun.

Bullets kept coming, but none had yet to pierce the windshield. The shooter was obviously torn between stopping the van and not putting the cargo in danger. As Quinn got closer he ducked below the dash, keeping the accelerator pressed to the floor.

Another ping, this time off the passenger-side door, followed quickly by two more. Then there was the squeal of brakes and, very near, the wail of a siren.

Quinn looked up. They had passed the building and were in the intersection just beyond. Coming at them from the side was a cop on a motorcycle. The driver had apparently not anticipated the appearance of the van, and was coming at them too fast. At the last second, he turned to the left, laying his bike down in a storm of sparks and screeching metal. The cop rolled off his bike just before it smashed into a light pole, silencing the siren.

Quinn continued to race forward. He was in the middle of a deep breath when there was a bang from the rear of the van. He glanced into the side-view mirror. One of the rear doors, flapping back and forth with the movement of the van.

'Are you all right?' Quinn called out.

'Yeah,' Orlando answered. 'He shot at me as we went by, but it went wide.'

'Didn't want to damage the boxes,' Quinn guessed, then added, 'We almost hit a cop.'

'Yeah. That was kind of hard to miss.'

'Are there any more of them back there?'

'Not yet.'

'What about Nate?'

There was a pause, then, 'I don't see him.'

Quinn turned left at the next intersection. Again, the doors banged against the side of the van. 'We've got to get those shut,' he said. 'No shit.' Ahead the light was turning red. There were two

cars in front of him, so there was no way he was going to make it. 'When I stop up here, you get out and shut them,' he said.

He halted at the end of the line of waiting cars. From the back, he could hear Orlando jump out and close the doors. A few seconds later, she was opening the passenger-side door and hopping into the seat next to him.

As the light turned green, Quinn moved the van forward with the other cars. But instead of following them through the intersection, he made a right turn onto the less trafficked side street.

'So that didn't exactly go as planned,' Quinn said.

'I wasn't going to say anything,' Orlando told him.

'But you were thinking it.'

'I was thinking it.'

For five minutes, they were alone on the road. No pursuers, but no Nate either. Quinn didn't want to even think about the possibility that Nate had been captured again.

'I think there's someone back there,' Orlando said. She was looking through the side-view mirror mounted to the passenger door.

Quinn looked through the mirror on his side. There were several cars behind them.

'Which one?' he asked.

'The black Mercedes. Three cars back.' She paused, still looking in her mirror. 'The silver one behind it might be with him.'

Quinn moved the van slightly so he could get a better look. 'Okay. I see them. I'll make a couple turns. Keep an eye on them.'

Quinn made a quick left turn.

'Still there,' Orlando said after a moment.

Quinn made another turn, this time to the right. Before Orlando could confirm anything, there was a familiar ping off the side of the van – another warning shot.

'Yeah,' Orlando said. 'They're following us.'

Quinn glanced back at his side mirror. The rear driver's-side window of the black Mercedes was open, and someone was leaning out, a gun in his hand. Quinn immediately swung the van over, blocking the shooter's view.

Ahead, a traffic light was turning from green to yellow. Quinn raced through the intersection just as the light turned red. He checked his mirror and grimaced. Both Mercedes had followed him through the light, ignoring the cross traffic, honking horns, and screeching brakes.

Quinn's only advantage was they wouldn't want the shipment harmed. They were probably instructed to get Quinn to stop the van with minimal damage. Then they could kill whoever was inside.

Another traffic light was turning red. This time there were several cars between Quinn and the intersection.

'Hold on,' he said.

At the last instant, instead of stopping, he whipped the van around in a U-turn, pulling in front of two cars in the oncoming lanes. There was the loud squeal of tires as one of the cars spun sideways, nearly ramming into the back of the van.

The black sedan was in position to continue the chase. The silver one, at least for the moment, was trapped on the other side of a delivery truck. The black Mercedes swung around, coming up on the driver's side of the van.

'Roll down your window,' Orlando said.

He glanced at her. She was holding the Uzi. Without any further hesitation, he did what she asked.

As soon as the Mercedes came into view, she barked, 'Duck!'

Quinn leaned forward as she unloaded a burst of fire over his head. The bullets sliced into the side of the Mercedes. As soon as she stopped, Quinn popped up again, glancing out at where the other car had been, but it was gone. His eyes flicked to his mirror. The Mercedes was sitting sideways on the far side of the road. All the windows on the side that had been facing the van were shot out. There was no movement from inside.

Quinn could hear more sirens converging on their location, but he saw no flashing lights yet.

'Grab on to something,' he said.

He whipped the steering wheel quickly to the right, turning them onto a narrow side street. He made a left, then two more rights before the sirens began to fade. He started to smile, but then as he looked in his side-view mirror again, his jaw tensed.

The silver sedan was still behind him.

They began a game of cat and mouse, Quinn never quite able to lose them, and the silver Mercedes never quite able to get the drop on him. Nate was still a no-show; that was troubling. Orlando had tried calling him twice, but there had been no answer.

Quinn glanced down at the backpack on the floor between them. Inside was more than enough Semtex to destroy the van and its contents completely. He nodded toward it.

'Hide it between the boxes,' he said.

She looked at him. 'But we don't set it off until we've got Garrett, right?'

'That's the plan. I just don't want to be messing with that stuff later.'

With only a slight hesitation, she reached down and picked up the backpack. She carried it into the back, then unhooked the cargo net holding the boxes in place and pushed open a gap between the containers. Carefully, she placed the bag as close to the center of the pile as she could get. Once the net was resecured, she slipped back into her seat.

'Not until we find my son,' she said, nodding toward the back of the truck.

They found themselves back in the Mitte, driving west on Unter den Linden, near the Brandenburg Gate. Ahead was Tiergarten, Berlin's version of Central Park. In the center was a large traffic roundabout that encircled the Grosser Stern monument, a golden winged angel which looked out over the city from the top of a giant pillar.

Quinn tried to maneuver to the right and take Ebertstrasse toward the Reichstag, but there was too much traffic. He was forced to continue forward, into Tiergarten. To compound his problems, the road had widened into four lanes in each direction. No way he would be able to keep them from pulling up alongside now.

'This might not be the best way to go,' Orlando said.

'Yeah, I know.'

When he looked into his mirror, he saw that the silver Mercedes had been joined by a midnight blue BMW. Whoever owned the car apparently enjoyed his privacy. The windows seemed to be darkly tinted all the way around, including the windshield.

'New arrival,' Quinn said.

Orlando took a look and nodded.

Their only hope was that they could reach the traffic circle before the others did, and use its inherent confusion to their advantage. Quinn pressed the accelerator as far down as it would go and sped forward.

Behind them, their pursuers were driving side by side. It was almost like there was a conversation going on between the cars. Then, when they were halfway through the park, the Mercedes accelerated.

Quinn waited until it was even with his passenger-side door, then he gave the steering wheel a jerk to the right. The driver of the Mercedes slammed on his brakes and swerved out of the way.

Ahead, the Grosser Stern monument drew near. Parked along the side of the road, just before the traffic circle, were several tour buses. Even in winter, the monument would be crawling with tourists.

'He's coming back again,' Orlando said.

Quinn swung the steering wheel again as the Mercedes neared, but the driver had anticipated the move and kept coming.

'Oh crap,' Orlando said.

'What?'

Before she could answer, a bullet slammed into the passenger door. Immediately, a second one shattered the side window, then lodged into the roof just above Quinn's head.

'Dammit!' Orlando yelled. 'I thought you said they'd only fire warning shots.' 'The warning shots would be for me,' he said. 'You're kind of expendable.' 'Then let me drive and you be the expendable one,' she said, taking a deep breath as she finished.

He looked over. Her face was etched with pain.

'Are you hit?' he asked as he swerved to the left, sideswiping an Audi and creating a little distance between himself and the Mercedes. 'It's nothing,' she said, her teeth clenched. Blood was running down her left arm.

'Are you sure?'

'I'm fine. It's just a cut.' She held out the hand of her other arm. 'Give me your gun.' Quinn gave her his SIG. 'You'll need a new mag, too,' he said as he dug one out of his pocket.

She reloaded the gun, then turned and fired three

shots out her window. The first sailed over the hood of the sedan, but the second and third punctured the side of the car. The Mercedes veered, then straightened out, continuing forward.

As the rear window on the driver's side started rolling down, Orlando fired again. But instead of hitting the open window, the bullets shattered the closed one in front of it, the driver's window. One moment the Mercedes was beside them, a second later it swung violently to the right and slammed into the side of a tourist bus parked at the curb.

'Nice shot,' Quinn said.

The traffic circle was just ahead of them now, six lanes of vehicles, traveling counterclockwise around the monument. As Quinn swung the van into the inner lane and began racing around the circle, he checked his mirrors again. The BMW was still there, content to follow. But about a quarter mile behind it, several police cars raced toward them.