They wound their way back into the bowels of the hotel, this time the supervisor advising them on the quickest route to the parking garage. Even Tucker behaved, mostly because every time he took even a slight misstep, Orlando was right there to remind him which way to go.
When they reached the garage, Quinn told the supervisor and Tucker to load the boxes into the back seat of Nate's BMW. When they were through, he had Nate get in the car and pop the trunk.
The two cops were still there, both conscious and looking pissed as hell. Tucker and the hotel employee helped them out as Quinn and Orlando kept their guns trained on them.
'Start it up,' Quinn called out to Nate. As the engine roared to life, he turned to Orlando. 'You and Tucker squeeze into the back seat.'
A few seconds later he was alone with the supervisor and the two handcuffed cops. 'This has been a pretty shitty day. But you're going to have to trust me that it could have been a lot worse.' Quinn walked over to the front passenger door of the BMW and opened it. 'I don't want to see you move until we're out of here. After that I don't care what you do.'
Surprisingly, they did exactly as he said.
Quinn directed Nate back into Tiergarten, approaching the Grosser Stern monument this time from the southeast. Before they reached the traffic circle, Quinn told Nate to pull over.
Outside, the park was covered in snow. There were a few people walking down the sidewalks, but most of the activity was limited to the traffic on the streets.
'We separate here,' Quinn said.
'What?' Nate asked, surprised.
Quinn looked his apprentice in the eyes. 'I need you to get rid of the boxes. Take them to the U.S. embassy. Tell them what's inside. Tell them everything. They're not going to believe you. Not at first. You'll probably be locked in a cell. But at least they'll quarantine the boxes. It may take a day or two, but I'll get you out.'
Quinn expected his apprentice to give him one of his smart-ass remarks, but instead Nate said, 'Okay.'
Quinn put out his hand and the two men shook. 'You've done good. Better than I could have ever expected.'
'Does that mean I get a raise?'
Quinn smiled. 'Doubtful.'
Quinn got out of the car first. Then the back door opened and Orlando emerged, pulling Tucker behind her. But before she closed the door, she leaned down and said to Nate, 'I'm glad we found you.'
Quinn, Orlando, and Tucker walked northwest on Hofjägeralle, the Aussie in the middle.
'Where is he?' Quinn asked.
'You'll let me go?' Tucker asked.
'I won't stop you.'
'It's not you I'm worried about.' Tucker glanced over at Orlando. 'What about her?'
Orlando's face was hard. This was the man who had kidnapped her son. Quinn wasn't sure what she'd do.
'That's the deal, isn't it?' she said.
Her words seemed to satisfy Tucker. 'All right.' He said nothing for a moment, then looked at Quinn. 'He's at the Dorint. Same as you were.'
'Is he okay?' Orlando asked.
'Peachy,' Tucker said.
Orlando grabbed Tucker's arm, stopping him. 'Don't mess with me.'
'He's fine,' Tucker said. He looked at Orlando. 'He's with Durrie. I told him I'd already done enough time with the brat when I brought him here.'
'You son of a bitch.' Orlando forced the words through her clenched teeth.
'Orlando, no,' Quinn said. She was ready to kill Tucker, and for that matter, so was Quinn. But they were still too public. And they had made a deal.
Orlando didn't move. Quinn could see her holding herself on the brink for several seconds before finally easing off.
'You two better get going,' Tucker said. 'I'm sure they won't be there long.'
Chapter 42
On the cab ride to the Dorint, the wound on the back of Quinn's thigh began to feel hot again. He wondered if it was becoming infected, but knew there wasn't much he could do about it at the moment.
'Someday I'm going to kill him,' Orlando said softly, so only Quinn could hear.
He nodded, but said nothing. She didn't have to tell him who she was talking about. He'd seen it in her eyes as Tucker had walked away from them, untouched and arrogant as ever.
When they arrived at the hotel, Quinn went in first, carefully scanning the lobby in case Durrie was there. As he walked up to the reception desk, one of the young ladies standing behind it looked at him and smiled in recognition.
'Mr. Bragg,' she said. 'I didn't realize you were returning. Let me check your reservation.'
'No,' Quinn said. 'I'm actually not staying here.'
'Okay,' she said, a question on her face.
'I'm really just looking for one of your guests. An older man. He has a small child with him. He
lent me a book that I'd like to return to him before I leave the country.' 'An American,' she said. Not a question, but a confirmation of knowledge she already had.
'I believe so.'
'Mr. Quinn,' she said.
Quinn looked at her. 'I'm sorry?'
'Mr. Quinn,' she said again. 'And his son, Garrett.'
The son of a bitch had hijacked Quinn's name. No doubt it had amused Durrie to do so. But it was also brilliant, really. Of all the names in the world, that would have been one of the last ones Quinn would have expected to find here.
'Yes. That's right. Do you know where I can find him?'
She looked down at the computer terminal on the desk in front of her, then typed something on the keyboard. 'According to this, he's checking out today.'
'Has he left already?' Quinn asked.
'No,' she said. 'But we have a car coming for him in fifteen minutes.' 'Perfect. I'll wait by the elevators for him.' Quinn thanked her, then found Orlando tucked
into an alcove near the elevators. He shared the new information with her, then located a house phone. Speaking in German, he had the operator put him through to housekeeping. From there it was simple. He pretended to be a disorganized waiter from room service and within moments he had Durrie's room number.
'I'm going to go up,' Quinn said. 'You wait here in case he's on his way down and I miss him.'
'You've got to be kidding,' she said.
'Five minutes. If I'm not back by then, then you come up.' 'No,' she said. 'You wait here. I go up.' 'That idea sucks, and you know it,' he said. He
could almost feel the anger radiating from her. 'You go up there, you're not going to be able to think straight. Give me a minute to get into position, then call the hotel and ask to be connected to his room.'
After a quick pause, she said, 'Go on. You're wasting time.'
Durrie's suite was one floor above the one Quinn's room had been on. There were fewer doors here. Quinn guessed that the suites here were larger, perhaps two bedrooms. He found Durrie's not far from the elevator, and he listened at the door. The only sound was that of a television.
The doors of the rooms at the Dorint locked automatically, so he didn't even try it. Instead, he removed the gun from the pocket of the overcoat and aimed it at the lock. He took a deep breath, calming himself.
Just as he finished exhaling, a phone rang inside the room. Quinn held the gun steady, waiting for exactly the right moment.
There was a second ring, then a third.
Maybe they've already left,
Quinn thought.
A fourth ring, then nothing. No one had answered.
Quinn pulled the gun back, pointing it upward out of the way. The phone started ringing again, but still no one picked it up.
Break in and see if they were still there? Or go back downstairs?
But the decision was made for him.
The door opened suddenly, swift and wide. Quinn reacted quickly, stepping backward and lowering his gun.
Durrie stood in the doorway. He was carrying Garrett, his left arm supporting the boy against his chest. In his right hand was a knife resting gently against Garrett's back. Quinn could also see a pistol tucked into Durrie's waistband.
Quinn lowered his gun a few inches. If Durrie had been holding the pistol instead of the knife, Quinn might have risked a shot. But with the blade where it was, there'd be no way to keep Garrett from being injured.
'You're a real fucker, Johnny,' Durrie said.
'Are you okay, Garrett?' Quinn asked.
The boy looked over his shoulder at Quinn. His eyes were wide with terror, but he clung to Durrie tightly. Without answering, Garrett buried his head in Durrie's shoulder.
'He's fine,' Durrie said. 'Why shouldn't he be?' 'Because most dads don't use their sons as a shield.' 'Ouch,' Durrie said, mockingly. 'That was a
good one. Now get out of the way.'
'I can't let you go.'
Durrie laughed. 'The only way you're going to stop me is if you kill the boy. See, if this knife breaks his skin, it's your hand that's guiding it. Do you really want to do that? Do you really think she'll ever forgive you for that?'
'Let him go,' Quinn said. 'You don't want to
hurt him.' 'What are you going to do? Take me in?' 'I'll make sure no one harms you.' 'Jesus Christ, don't act like an amateur.' There was movement from down the hall
toward the elevator. It was Orlando. 'Garrett?' she called. 'Mommy?' Garrett's head snapped up, his eyes immedi
ately locating his mother. Orlando started running toward them. 'Hey, babe,' Durrie said. He turned just enough
so that she could see the knife. Orlando stopped, her face frozen in shock. Quinn knew she'd been hoping he was wrong,
but now the proof was in front of her. Durrie, her long-dead lover. Alive.
She stammered as she took a few tentative steps toward them, then reached out to steady herself on the wall.
'You look good,' Durrie said. 'Maybe it's the
kid.' 'Please, D,' she said. 'Let him go.' 'D?' Durrie scoffed. 'Is that supposed to make
me feel all nostalgic or something?' 'Mommy?' Garrett asked, not in excitement, but almost as an accusation. 'Remember what I told you,' Durrie said to the boy. The boy looked unsure, but he leaned back into Durrie. 'What did you tell him?' Orlando asked.
'I think that's between me and the boy,' Durrie said. 'What did you tell him?' she repeated, her voice rising.
'Quiet,' Durrie said. 'You'll disturb the other guests. You don't want this knife to accidentally slip, do you?'
'There's no need for any of this,' Quinn said. 'It's over. We got the boxes at the hotel. The ones you had Tucker deliver. Just let it go.'
Durrie's face hardened. 'You've got to be fucking kidding me. That's a ten-million-dollar paycheck you just took out of my pocket. Goddamn it!'
'It's over,' Quinn said.
Durrie took several loud, angry breaths. 'No,' he said. 'Not even close.'
'Nobody needs to get hurt,' Quinn told him.
'I'm sorry, what?' Durrie spat the question at his former apprentice.
'We all just need to relax. No reason anyone should get hurt.' 'I didn't start this,' Durrie said. 'You did.' His eyes moved from Quinn to Orlando. 'What are you talking about?' Orlando asked. Durrie snorted, then shook his head. 'We're
leaving now.' As he took a step in the direction of the elevators, Quinn moved in front of him. 'Pull your head out of your ass and get out of my way,' Durrie said.
'Quinn,' Orlando said.
As Quinn looked over, she nodded. Reluctantly he stepped back.
Durrie smiled. 'Thanks, Johnny.'
The older man began carrying Garrett down the corridor. As Quinn and Orlando followed him to the elevators, they could see Garrett's eyes peeking over Durrie's shoulder. They were moist and laced with fear and uncertainty.
Durrie stopped on the landing in front of the closed elevator doors. 'Can one of you push the Down button for me?' Durrie asked.
Neither Quinn nor Orlando moved.
'Maybe you can help me,' Durrie said to Garrett. He leaned down, close to the control panel. 'Push the lower button for me.' Garrett reached over and touched the Down button. It took less than a minute for an empty elevator car to arrive. Durrie stepped inside, then turned.
'We'll take this one,' he said. He moved the knife a few inches up Garrett's back, then looked at Quinn, a mischievous smile on his face. 'Perhaps, Johnny, you'd like to join us? You come with me, maybe I'll let the boy go.'
Both Quinn and Orlando took a step toward the elevator, but Durrie shook his head.
'Just Johnny, babe.' Durrie pointed at the gun in Quinn's hand. 'Why don't you leave that behind?'
Quinn passed the gun to Orlando.
'You carrying anything else?' Durrie asked.
'No.'
'Okay then.' Durrie motioned for Quinn to step inside.
As Quinn got onto the elevator, he glanced back at Orlando. The same fear and terror he'd seen in Garrett's eyes were in hers, too. Only there was more. Hatred and helplessness and fury.
The door closed, and she was gone.
Immediately Durrie set Garrett down. But instead of punching a button on the console, he let the elevator sit where it was for a moment, unmoving. He replaced the knife with the pistol, closing the blade and putting it in his pocket.
'You created a big mess for me,' Durrie said, his voice surprisingly light, almost playful. 'I wasn't sure at first whether to be proud or pissed off. Given the cash I'm out now, I think pissed off is the better choice.'
Quinn looked at him, saying nothing.
'But I'm going to give you a chance here, Johnny boy. The opportunity to clean things up for me, and make up for your betrayal. It's just a little sacrifice for my employers. Your head in a box should be enough. Don't worry, I'll kill you myself. No more fuckups. I'll even make you a promise. When I'm done, I'll let Garrett go back to his mom.'
'But Mommy's too busy,' Garrett said.
'It's okay. Grown-up talk, all right?'
Garrett nodded slowly, then leaned against Durrie's leg. 'What did you tell him?' 'I told him his mom didn't have time to take care of him, so he was going to be with me now.'
'You're a bastard,' Quinn said softly.
'Better that he learn about betrayal early. Hell,
I've already been a better father to him than you've ever been.' The comment stopped Quinn. He looked questioningly at Durrie, but his mentor only laughed.