[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

The sedan stayed with them. Quinn turned to Burroughs, who had a look of satisfaction on his face. 'I told you they'd come for me.'

'Where the hell did they come from?' Murray asked. 'The blonde,' Quinn said. 'She works for you,

doesn't she?' Burroughs smiled but said nothing. 'The girl?' Murray asked. 'She probably saw us drive off with our friend

here and called it in.' 'Sorry,' Burroughs said. 'It looks like we're done.' 'Lose them,' Quinn ordered Murray. 'Are you kidding?' Murray whined. 'You've

already got me in deep enough shit as it is.' 'That's right, Ken,' Burroughs said. 'Don't make

it worse.' Quinn turned back to Burroughs. 'Keep quiet.' 'Fuck you,' Burroughs said. 'Ken, pull over, and

I'll make sure they understand you did this against your will.'

Quinn lowered the angle of his gun and pulled the trigger.

Burroughs screamed in pain as the bullet tore through his right foot. It was all the message Murray needed. He pressed the accelerator to the floor.

Chapter 30

Quinn knew he had very little time left. He turned back to Burroughs. The man was still hunched over in pain, clutching his wounded foot.

Quinn shoved him back against the seat and glowered at him. 'You smug asshole. Believe it or not, until a few minutes ago I wasn't your enemy.' He thrust the barrel of the gun against Burroughs's right shoulder. 'This won't kill you either. But it'll hurt like hell.'

Burroughs raised a bloody hand defensively.

'This is no longer an exchange,' Quinn said. 'This is a one-way flow of information. From you to me. Got it?'

Burroughs nodded.

'Why was the Office called in?'

Grimacing, Burroughs said, 'Taggert was not considered a completely credible source. He'd cried wolf before. If something went wrong, we didn't want it boomeranging back to us. So they were running the protection.'

'Jills was working for the Office?'

'Yes.'

Something else Peter was keeping from him.

'What was Taggert up to?' Quinn asked. Burroughs's eyes darted toward the back window. 'Your friends are still there, if that's what you're wondering. Just talk.'

'He'd been working undercover. On his own.' 'A freelancer?' 'More of a lone wolf.' 'Doing what?' 'Research.' 'What kind of research?' Quinn asked. 'Biological research is what he said. He was a

virologist by training.' 'So he was working with the people who were

doing the . . . tailoring?' 'That's what he said.' 'And Borko was running things?' 'No,' Burroughs said. 'Jansen claimed Borko was

just the muscle.' 'Then who?' 'Some guy named Dahl.' 'He must have told you more,' Quinn said. 'What

is it? Smallpox? Ebola?'

'No, no,' Burroughs said. 'Neither of those. He told us that much ahead of time. Still, we weren't very inclined to believe him. Then he said he had tangible proof. That's why we gave him the meeting. But whatever proof he thought he had burnt with him in the fire.'

Or maybe not, Quinn thought, an image of the

bracelet in his mind. 'It doesn't matter,' Burroughs continued. 'Why?'

'He was single-source. There was no other corroborating evidence,' Burroughs said. 'I already told you, Jansen was unreliable. All he wanted was the cash.'

Quinn let out a short, bitter laugh. 'You didn't believe him.'

'He'd made a lot out of nothing before. There was no reason why he wasn't doing it again. Besides, he told us Borko was involved. Our sources confirmed Borko has been out of commission for over a month.'

Quinn couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'But what about the murder? What about the disruption at the Office?'

'Just an interagency spat. Jansen got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

'And that's what you believe?'

Burroughs was a bit slow to answer. 'Yes.'

'You're an idiot,' Quinn said. He looked out the back window. There were cars behind them, but he couldn't pick out the sedan. 'Did you lose them?' he asked Murray.

'I don't know,' Murray said. 'I think they're still back there, just not so close.'

'You're doing great. Let's see if you can put a little more distance between us.'

'Fuck,' Murray said. 'I'm a dead man.'

'I'll take care of it,' Quinn said. 'You'll be fine.'

'How the hell are you going to take care of it?' Murray asked, glancing back at Quinn. 'You'll just have to trust me.' 'So, what?' Murray asked. 'We drive around all

night?'

'You're going to drop me off first,' Quinn said. 'After that, you might want to take a little vacation. A week should do it.'

'You son of a bitch,' Murray said.

'I can't help you if I'm in jail,' Quinn said.

'You'll never make it,' Burroughs said, his voice weak.

'Really?' Quinn asked. 'You better hope I do.' He peered through the windshield. 'Take that next right. Then at the next street right again.'

Murray did as Quinn ordered. As soon as they made the second turn, Quinn said, 'Over to the curb. Now.'

Murray pulled to the curb and jammed on the brakes. Quinn threw open the door. 'Don't worry,' he said as he climbed out.

'Fuck you,' Murray said.