[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

'How's it going, mate?' the man said. Australian. Quinn recognized him as one of the guys who'd arrived just after he had.

'Fine,' Quinn said.

'Didya get a load of her?'

Quinn nodded but said nothing.

'A real pro, that,' the man said. 'Wanted a hundred fifty U.S. Hell, I could go to Phnom Penh and find a real looker who'd stay with me all week for less than a hundred and fifty. She'll be back though. Unless she finds a newbie not clued into the local pricing structure.'

Quinn shook his head sympathetically. It wasn't a conversation he had any real interest in. 'Where you from?' the man asked.

'Canada,' Quinn said. 'Vancouver.'

'To the Queen, then.' The man raised his beer, and Quinn tapped it with his own glass. 'Leo Tucker,' the Aussie said. 'That's me.'

'Tony Johnson.'

'Here on business, Tony?'

Quinn nodded. 'You?'

'Nah. Just checking out the action. The ladies here are fucking gorgeous, but they're pricing themselves out of business. You here for long?'

'Leaving in the morning.'

'Too bad,' Tucker said. 'There's a private party tomorrow night. Hoping it'll salvage my trip. A friend's throwing it. Should be a lot of fun. Plenty of women to go around.'

Quinn professed his disappointment, then, feigning fatigue, he made his escape. As he stepped outside, he felt a momentary sense of relief. But it didn't last long. Standing just outside the door was the drug dealer from inside. There was no one else around. Even the bouncer seemed to have disappeared. Quinn's senses went on alert.

'Where you going, American?' the dealer asked.

'Home,' Quinn said.

'It's early. Party's just starting. You want some pot?'

Quinn shook his head. 'No, thanks.'

There was a cab parked a block up the street. He began walking toward it.

But before he got very far, the dealer ran up and grabbed Quinn's arm. Quinn turned, glaring.

'Hold on,' the dealer said. Metal flashed in his hand. A knife. 'Let's you and me go for a walk. Okay?'

Quinn turned quickly, grabbing the man's arm with both hands and shoving him backward until he was pinned against the outside wall of the club.

The dealer cursed in surprise, obviously not expecting Quinn to react so quickly.

Quinn held on tight to the hand holding the knife. He knew he couldn't let go. If he did, he'd end up on the sidewalk cut, bleeding, maybe even dead.

The dealer knew this, too. He began to punch at Quinn with his empty hand while trying to pull free the one holding the knife. Quinn rolled into him, offering only his back to the man's blows. The dealer's breaths quickened, each huff more vocal than the last as his frustration grew.

Quinn twisted the man's wrist, trying to make him drop the knife. But the dealer's grip was strong.

Changing tactics, Quinn pulled away slightly, then slammed himself back into the man's chest. He did it again. And again. The third time, he knocked the breath out of the dealer. Surprisingly, the asshole still wouldn't let go of the knife.

As the man gasped for air, Quinn quickly looked around. There was an old pipe, maybe four inches thick, running up the side of the building only a few feet away. Quinn pulled the dealer toward it, then smashed the man's wrist against the pipe over and over again.

Suddenly there was a crack and the man cried out in pain. The knife clattered to the ground. Quinn found it with his foot and kicked it as far away as possible before he let go of the man. He needn't have bothered. The dealer slipped down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, cradling his arm in his lap.

'You son of a bitch,' the man said. Quinn leaned down, grabbed the man by the hair, and pushed his head back until their eyes locked. 'When someone tells you no,' Quinn said, 'you should listen.'

He let go of the man's hair, then stood back up.

'What the hell?' a voice called out in English.

Footsteps. It was Leo Tucker. 'You all right, mate?' Tucker asked when he reached Quinn. 'I'm fine.' Tucker looked down at the writhing drug dealer on the ground. 'Who the hell is he?'

'I don't know.'

'I saw him take a swing at you.' Tucker nodded in admiration. 'Good move.'

'He's high. It wasn't hard.' In the distance, they could hear the sound of sirens. 'Christ,' Tucker said. 'The last thing you need is to be messing with the police. Come on.'

Tucker started toward a cab that had just pulled up. Quinn had no desire to get involved with the local authorities, so he followed. Tucker opened the door for him.

'Thanks,' Quinn said. 'I owe you.'

'Just get in,' Tucker said.

Quinn ducked inside.

'You're going to have to scoot over,' Tucker said, leaning through the doorway. 'I appreciate your help, but I've got it from here.' Then Quinn saw the pistol in Tucker's hand. The

Australian smiled, and Quinn slid over.

Chapter 14

Tucker said something in Vietnamese to the cab driver, then settled back and gave Quinn another smile. 'Cheer up, mate. We'll get our business done, then you can be on your way.'

'And what business would that be?' Quinn asked.

Tucker said nothing.