[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

'The mints?' she said. 'I blew them all up. Hell, you're lucky I didn't blow you up, too. Some guy must have been standing pretty close to you, because you were wearing parts of him when I found you.'

'Borko,' Quinn said.

'No shit?' Nate said.

Quinn nodded, though Nate couldn't see him. 'But we didn't get all the mints.' He told them about the transferred boxes. 'Six boxes,' he said when he was done. 'More

than enough to get the genocide started. He's got two choices. Dump the boxes, or deliver what he has and still get paid.'

'But why the hotel?' Nate asked. 'You said the

tins were supposed to be part of the welcome packets.' 'Yeah, well, it's too late to get them in the packets now, don't you think?'

'So what? We try to steal the remaining boxes, and still go for the trade-off?' Orlando asked. 'That's pretty weak, don't you think?'

Quinn chose his next words carefully. 'Dahl's the one with the boxes. And Tucker's with him.'

Orlando stared at him. 'Are you sure?'

Quinn nodded. 'They'll know where Garrett is.'

Silence filled the car. Outside, the city once again surrounded them. Nate had to slow the car as traffic began to increase. He shot a quick look at Orlando.

'The St. Martin or Dr. Garber?' he asked.

She didn't even hesitate. 'The hotel.'

Nate pulled up in front of a convenience store, and Orlando ran in. While she was gone, Quinn used the small first-aid kit to dress his wound. After he had the disinfectant and gauze in place, he wrapped an elastic bandage tightly around his thigh several times. He wasn't going to be able to walk perfectly, but the support of the bandage would help a little.

It was only a few minutes before Orlando returned. Once back in the car, she handed a bag to Quinn. Inside was a box of paper napkins and several bottles of water.

'Thanks,' Quinn said.

As Nate got them back on the road, Quinn poured water on several of the napkins, then used them to wipe the blood – Borko's blood, he realized – off his hands and face.

'Your clothes are going to be a problem,' Orlando said.

Quinn looked down. The jacket he was wearing was stained and ripped. Even the shirt underneath hadn't escaped damage. As for his pants, the left leg was soaked with blood from his wound.

'There's a sweater in the duffel bag,' Nate said.

Quinn had already noted the bag on the floor behind the driver's seat. He picked it up and put it on the seat beside him.

'What about pants?' he asked.

Nate shook his head. 'Sorry.'

Quinn removed his jacket and dumped it on the floor. He had to peel the shirt off slowly, as blood had begun to dry on his skin, creating a series of reddish brown lines and circles.

He used more napkins and water to clean off his torso, then opened the duffel bag. The sweater was on top. He removed it and pulled it over his head.

A few minutes later, Nate said, 'There it is.'

Quinn looked out the front window. Two blocks ahead was the St. Martin Hotel. There were police everywhere, and traffic was starting to slow to a crawl.

'Turn here,' Quinn said. 'See if we can get around back.'

'How are we supposed to get in?' Nate asked. 'There's too much security.'

'Just turn,' Quinn said.

Nate turned and drove for a few blocks before turning left again. The traffic was still slow, but it was moving.

'You really think Dahl brought the boxes here?' Nate asked.

'It's his only option,' Quinn said. 'Otherwise the plan is dead.' 'They could take them directly to Bosnia,' Nate countered. 'Maximum effect that way.'

'And the maximum chance HFA would be blamed for the attack. Release the bug here and they can expect a few ancillary outbreaks would occur in Bosniak populations outside of the Balkans. Even if bioterrorism is suspected, the finger would point at a much wider group of potential suspects.'

'But Jansen said the virus won't just infect the Bosniaks,' Nate said. ' We know that,' Orlando said. 'But they still think they've created the perfect weapon.' 'Dahl must be getting paid a hell of a lot of money to make this happen,' Nate said.

'I'm sure he is,' Orlando said.

Quinn pulled back slightly. There was more to it than just the money, he knew. He realized he'd been avoiding the subject since Nate had picked them up. But he couldn't avoid it any longer. Only as he started to speak, he couldn't find words to make it sound real. Finally he looked at Orlando. 'Do you still have your pictures of Garrett?'

She looked surprised, one hand unconsciously moving toward the pocket of her coat. 'Yes. Why?'

'Can I see them?'

Still perplexed, she reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out the small plastic wallet insert. She started to pull one of the pictures out.

'No,' Quinn said. 'Give me the whole thing.'

Reluctantly, she handed it over.

In total, there were three pictures of Garrett: two recent, the third from when he was a baby. But it was the fourth picture in the miniature album that interested Quinn.

He removed the picture and held it over the seat toward Nate.

'Look at this,' he said.

'Eh . . . I'm driving,' Nate said.