[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

Quinn looked toward the voice. Orlando was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants serving as her pajamas.

Quinn sat up, focusing his attention on the alarm. It wasn't coming from inside the hotel room, but rather from the hallway beyond.

'Fire alarm,' he said, suddenly alert.

He pushed himself off the couch and walked quickly toward the front door. As he did so, he sniffed the air, trying to detect any smoke. The air seemed as fresh as it had been when he'd gone to sleep. He placed a hand on the door.

'It's still cool,' he said.

In the hallway beyond, Quinn could hear people running and calling to each other over the drone of the alarm. It was the panicked sound of people who had been ripped from their sleep into a dangerous situation.

'This doesn't feel right,' Orlando said. 'Get dressed,' Quinn said. He'd had the same thought as she did. 'And grab your stuff.'

His own clothes were draped over a chair near the couch. He pulled them on in record time. He then stuffed his new purchases into his backpack, pulled on his coat, and threw his bag over his shoulders, cinching it tight.

Moments later Orlando, now dressed, rejoined him in the living room. Quinn crossed back to the door and listened again. The alarm was still clanging loudly, but the sounds of movement and voices in the hallway were gone. He hesitated. There were only two possibilities. Either the fire was real or it wasn't. And if it wasn't, that meant this was a flush. Quinn wouldn't even consider the possibility that it was just a false alarm. That would be too much of a coincidence. And believing in coincidences, like indulging in curiosity, was just one more thing on a long list of items that could get you killed.

So if this was a flush, that meant Borko suspected Quinn and Orlando were in the building but didn't know where. Fire or flush, it didn't matter. The solution was the same. Get out.

Quinn undid the deadbolt, then eased the door open. Only a crack at first, just enough to peer outside.

'It's empty,' he said.

He pulled off his backpack, unzipped the flap, and retrieved the Glock he'd taken off of Duke. 'Here,' he said, handing the gun to Orlando. She released the magazine and checked to see if it was loaded.

'I'm down a round,' she said.

Quinn pulled one of the spare mags for the SIG from his bag, and released one of the 9mm rounds. 'Catch,' he said as he tossed it to her. He returned the mag to his bag, then slipped

the bag over his shoulders. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out his own weapon.

Gun in hand, he gave Orlando a quick nod, then opened the door all the way and stepped into the hall. No smoke, no smell of smoke, no sign of fire at all. Only the two of them in the otherwise empty corridor.

There were two stairways, one at each end of the floor. Quinn had examined each soon after they'd arrived. The one to his left, the west stairwell, went from the top floor to ground level. The one to his right went all the way up to the roof.

Quinn motioned toward his right, then headed down the hallway; Orlando trailed right behind him, watching their back. Once inside the stairwell, they paused and listened for a moment. Someone else was on the stairs, maybe two people. They were several floors below, but Quinn couldn't tell whether they were going up or down.

Quinn and Orlando went up.

The entrance to the roof was located three floors above their room. It took them only forty-five seconds to get there. Again, they paused, listening.

Steps. Perhaps four floors below, definitely heading in their direction.

'Hotel security?' Orlando whispered.

'Maybe,' Quinn said. But they both knew they couldn't take that chance.

A sign on the door to the roof warned that an alarm would sound if it was opened. Quinn guessed it couldn't be any worse than the alarm that was still ringing throughout the hotel. He pushed the door open, and, as promised, a second alarm went off. But it was merely an electronic bleep that could barely be heard above the din of the fire alarm.

Once outside, Quinn pushed the door shut behind them and looked around. The roof was a large flat space with vents and pipes sticking up here and there.

To their right was Leipziger Strasse. Quinn hurried over to the edge of the roof and peered down. Three fire trucks were parked in front of the hotel. Not far away, dozens of people were huddled together, trying to stay warm. A moment later Orlando was at his side.

'Who are they?' she asked, pointing to a group of three men standing off to one side.

Unlike most of the guests, the men were fully dressed in warm, dark clothing. Two of them seemed to be watching the building. The third was talking on a cell phone. They could have been with the fire department or hotel security. But where were their uniforms?

'Whoever they are, I don't think they're looking for a fire,' Quinn said. 'Come on.'