[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

'On the other side of the hall there's a bathroom,' Orlando went on. 'I checked the water. It's still running. It's only cold, though.'

'Orlando,' Quinn said.

She looked over at him. 'What?'

He glanced at the floor, buying himself an additional moment to collect his thoughts. 'Borko said something to me,' he began. 'It's probably just a bluff.'

She was staring at him now, her eyes unblinking. 'What did he say?' 'He said if we needed any more reason to back down, I should tell you to . . .' Quinn paused. 'What? Tell me what?'

'Tell you to call home.'

Her gaze passed through him for a moment, her face blank. When she took a step toward him, her movement was so sudden it surprised Quinn.

'Give me your phone,' she said.

'He was probably lying.'

She reached for his jacket, grabbing at one of his pockets. 'Give it to me!' 'Wait,' he said, pushing her back. 'It's not there. I'll get it for you.'

He pulled off his backpack, set it on the floor, and kneeled beside it. From one of the smaller zippered pouches he removed his phone. Before he could even move, she grabbed it out of his hand.

Within seconds she had it open and a number already punched in. She waited with the phone pressed against her ear for nearly a minute, then disconnected the call and input another number. This time someone answered.

She spoke rapidly in Vietnamese, and though Quinn couldn't understand what was being said, he could tell by the rising anxiety in her voice that it couldn't be good. When she finally finished, the hand holding the phone fell to her side and her eyes closed.

'Tell me,' Quinn said.

She opened her mouth, but instead of speaking she sucked in a convulsive breath. When she opened her eyes, they were watery but no tears escaped.

'What is it?' he asked.

She tried to speak, her mouth moving, but nothing coming out. Her body began to shake, and the tears finally began to stream down her cheeks.

'Garrett,' she finally said, her voice a forced whisper. 'He's gone.'

It took a while, but Quinn finally got the whole story. It was Mr. Vo, Orlando's assistant at the relief agency, she'd talked to. Apparently he had tried calling Orlando several times, but because her phone was one of the items she'd left during her escape, he hadn't been able to reach her. Trinh, the nanny, was in the hospital. Mr. Vo said she had been beaten badly. A concussion, broken leg, cuts, and bruises. No one knew exactly what had happened. Trinh had been in and out of consciousness, then had been drugged to allow her body to heal. What she had been able to say was that it had been at least two men – one Asian and one Caucasian. It had been in a park while Garrett played. When she awoke, she was in the hospital and Garrett was gone.

The only clue came in the form of a simple business card slipped carefully into Trinh's pocket as she lay bleeding on the grass. Like those left on the victims of the disruption, there was but a single word on it. Instead of pronouncing the word, Mr. Vo had carefully spelled it out so that he wouldn't get it wrong. 'D-a-h-l,' he had said.

Quinn's head began to spin as he processed this. Dahl? In Vietnam? Why? And was it even possible? The idea was almost too bizarre to accept. But the card was proof. Just as with the disruption, he wanted them to know who was responsible.

'We have to find Borko,' Orlando said. 'Right now. We'll force him to take us to Dahl.'

'We don't even know if Dahl is in Germany,' Quinn said.

'I don't care. We have to go. We have to find Garrett.' She was frantic now, her eyes darting around the room. Her body moved from side to side, her hands touching her arms, her shoulders, her face. But her feet remained rooted to the floor, paralyzed with indecision.

Quinn took a deep breath, hoping she would do the same. He needed her to calm down and think more rationally. He tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off. 'We will find him,' he said, keeping his voice soft and even. 'But think it through. It's not even dawn yet. We don't know where Borko is, or even what Dahl looks like.'

'We can't just sit here.'

'Yes,' Quinn said. 'We can.' This time he put a hand on each of her shoulders and held on as she attempted to remove them. 'Orlando, we have to be smart about this. Rushing will hurt more than help. That's probably what they're hoping for anyway.'

'No,' she said, trying to twist away from him. 'They have my son!'

He pulled her to him, putting his arms around her and holding her tight as she fought him. Slowly, she began to stop pulling away. She leaned her head against his chest. There was no sobbing, though, just the deep, rapid breathing of panic and anger.

'Listen to me,' Quinn said. 'Gathering information, then operating from a position of strength. This is what we do.'

She looked up at him. 'You just want us to do nothing and wait?'

'Wait, yes. Do nothing?' He shook his head. 'No way.'