[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

'Duke owned a company called Grob Promotions,' Quinn said. 'It was one of the stops he made that morning I followed him. At the time I didn't care what they did, because I didn't think it mattered. But it does. When I went online to find out more information about the convention, there was something I read, only it didn't hit me at the time.'

'What?'

'Something like "IOMP Berlin managed by Grob Promotions."' Quinn began pacing the floor in thought. 'If so, that means Grob is handling all the promotion and running of the convention. Including,' he said, looking at Orlando, 'the preparation of gift bags.'

'Gift bags?'

'All of the registered attendees receive complimentary gift bags when they check in. It was on the website. Inside there'll be brochures, convention information, pencils, pens, buttons, and, if I'm right, a tin of mints.'

'You said the convention doesn't start for nearly a week,' she said. 'Why would Borko's deadline be tomorrow? It's too soon.'

She was right, Quinn knew.

'Maybe we're wrong. Maybe the convention isn't ground zero,' she said. 'If that's the case, they could be targeting almost anything.'

Right again.

Quinn looked back at the screen. Work continued in the containment room, but he wasn't really watching anymore. He had a decision to make. A decision, he quickly realized, with only one answer.

'It doesn't matter what the target is,' he said, sounding far more sure of himself than he actually was.

'You're going to try and stop them, aren't you?' she asked.

'I'm going to get Garrett back,' he said. 'And at the moment, the only way I can figure out how to get to Dahl. . . to Piper, is to steal something that's valuable to him.'

'The mints,' she said, her face brightening as she realized his plan. 'We get them, we can trade them for Garrett.'

'Something like that,' he said. It was leverage they sorely needed. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if the candy was distributed.

'We're still going to have to do this alone,' he said. 'If we call anyone in, Piper will find out and he won't hesitate to kill Garrett.' He paused. 'We're it.'

She smiled. 'Good by me.'

From outside, Quinn heard a loud truck pass by the front of the store. There were people on the sidewalk, too. Laughing, talking, arguing. Sharing just another moment in the day. People who, if Quinn did nothing, might not make it to the end of the year.

Orlando's voice suddenly cut through the noisy silence. 'The Mole called right before you came in. He wants you to call him back.'

'Did he say what he wanted?'

'He wouldn't tell me,' she said, an angry tremor in her voice. 'I tried but he said he'd only talk to you.'

Chapter 34

Quinn left the store and headed southeast on Karl Marx Strasse toward Neukölln station. On the way over, he used the number Orlando had given him and called the Mole.

'I received . . . your payment . . . it was more than . . . expected.'

'Consider it an advance on future requests,' Quinn said. 'Orlando said you have some information for me.'

'Something has actually come . . . to us in the last . . . hour . . . concerning the location of. . . Orlando's son.'

'The picture?'

'Not. . . the picture . . . Garrett left. . . Vietnam the day after Orlando did . . . he was with a man . . . Caucasian . . . they flew to Hong Kong . . . but from there no more trace.'

'That's the whole description?'

'The man . . . may have had an . . . accent . . . Australian.' Tucker, Quinn thought. Of course. 'How did he get him out of the country?'

'He claimed he had . . . adopted Garrett . . . he presented all the . . . correct paperwork.' 'Son of a bitch,' Quinn said. Piper had planned things well. 'As for the picture,' the Mole went on. 'There is nothing . . . to tell yet.'

'It is faked, then,' Quinn said.

'No . . . we don't. . . believe so.'

Quinn paused, digesting the information. 'But you don't think you can place the location.'

'It is . . . possible . . . there are . . . some geological markers . . . that may help us . . . but I don't think . . . very likely.'

Quinn couldn't remember seeing any markers, geological or otherwise, but if there were, that was something anyway. A chance.

'This isn't why you called me earlier, though, is it?' 'I think perhaps . . . you have . . . made a misjudgment . . . concerning the situation.'

'What misjudgment?'

'The bio-agent,' the Mole said.

'The IOMP convention isn't the target, is it?'

'Then . . . you already know.'

'I wasn't even sure of that,' Quinn said. 'If you know more, tell me.' There was a long silence. 'It is very. . . ambitious,' the Mole began.

'Remember . . . we only had the . . . damaged tissue . . . sample to work . . . with . . . nerve tissue it . . . turns out. . . still . . . we could only . . . guess.'

'But you know what it is, don't you?'

'We were able . . . to download . . . the documents from the . . . address . . . on the bracelet.' 'You figured out the password?' Quinn said, surprised.

There was a pause. 'Yes.'

'What did you find?'