[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

He found himself in a dingy entrance hall. A bicycle was chained to a metal pipe running up the side of the wall and into the ceiling. To Quinn's left were a series of battered, built-in mailboxes. In front of him was another door that led into the main part of the building. The door was propped open, a brick holding it in place. By the look of things, the door appeared to have been in that position for years. Beyond it was a staircase leading up and to the right, and a hallway that jogged around the stairs heading back toward the rear of the building.

Quinn passed through the open doorway, stopping at the base of the stairs. The air inside smelled of mold and food and urine. The place was just a few notches above uninhabitable. Duke wouldn't have lived in this building. He had to be here for something else.

Using the staircase as cover, Quinn leaned around the banister and looked down the hall expecting to see Duke, but it was deserted. There was a faint whining sound coming from down the hallway, though. Moving cautiously to investigate, he found the cause halfway down in a small alcove.

An elevator.

A moment later the whining stopped abruptly. Duke had apparently arrived at his destination. Unfortunately, there was no indicator to show Quinn which floor he had stopped on. But the building wasn't that high, and unlike Duke, Quinn had no problem with exercise. He returned to the stairs and mounted them in search of his former client.

* * *

243

Quinn found Duke on the fourth floor knocking on a door halfway down the hall. Staying in the shadows of the stairwell, Quinn waited.

The door opened, and an elderly woman stuck her head out. 'Frau Russ,' Duke said. 'Ich müss mit Ihnen reden.'

'Fa, Herr Reimers,' she said. 'Einen Moment, bitte.'

The woman disappeared back into the room, leaving the door ajar. Quinn moved silently into the hall. As he neared Duke, he pretended to reach into his pocket as if searching for something, tilting his head down to help conceal his identity. Duke glanced at him, then returned his attention to the old woman's apartment.

As Quinn was about to pass the fat man, he stopped. It took Duke a moment to realize that something was up. As he turned, Quinn smiled.

'Guten tag, Herr Reimers,' Quinn said.

Chapter 23

Quinn shoved Duke through the door and into the apartment. Once they were both inside, Quinn kicked the door closed. The old woman appeared in a doorway to the right.

'Was ist los?' she asked.

Duke stumbled against an old cloth-covered chair. He turned and looked back at Quinn, then started to push himself up.

'Don't move,' Quinn said to Duke. He shot a glance at the woman. 'Was ist hinter dieser Tür?' he asked her, nodding toward a door on the other side of the room.

'Wer sind Sie?' she demanded.

Quinn glared at Duke. 'What's behind that door?' he asked in English. 'It's a bathroom,' Duke said. Quinn looked at the woman and told her in

German to go into the bathroom. She didn't move. To Duke, Quinn said, 'Maybe she'll listen to you. Tell her if she doesn't, I'll shoot her.'

'What's the problem here?' Duke asked.

'Tell her.'

Duke turned to the old woman. 'Frau Russ. Bitte gehen Sie in's Bad, während wir uns unterhalten.'

This time the woman did as ordered. Quinn watched as she entered the bathroom and shut the door, then he turned and looked down at Duke.

'Get up,' Quinn said.

Duke pushed himself against the chair and found his footing. 'What's going on, Quinn? What's wrong?'

Quinn scoffed, but said nothing.

'I'm confused. Please, you're scaring me.'

'Good,' Quinn said. 'Let's cut through all the you-don't-know-what-I'm-here-for bullshit. All right?'

Duke's hand suddenly shot under his jacket, but Quinn was already in motion, slipping his knife out of his pocket and into his right hand. He grabbed Duke by the hair with his left hand as he pressed the blade against the fat man's neck. 'Not a good idea.'

Duke stiffened.

'Now. Slowly,' Quinn continued. 'Hands to the side.' Duke started to speak, but Quinn said, 'Quiet.' Duke moved his hands away from his jacket. Quinn let go of Duke's hair, then moved his free

hand to the spot Duke had been reaching for. From under the jacket, he pulled out a pistol. A Glock.

Quinn transferred the gun into the pocket of his coat. 'Anything else?'

'No,' Duke said.

Quinn increased the pressure on the knife. 'No,' Duke repeated. 'Nothing.'

'In the chair,' Quinn ordered.

He pulled the knife back and let Duke sit back down in the old chair. Sweat beaded on the fat man's brow. In front of the chair was a coffee table. Quinn pushed a stack of magazines off it and onto the floor, then he took a seat on the edge. 'Who are you working for?'

'None of your business.'

Quinn brandished the knife. 'You see, that's just stupid. I'm a little pissed off right now. My self-control isn't exactly running at full strength.'