already been carried away. It was possible they weren't even in the building. If Quinn detonated the Semtex now, he might miss those other cases, and, in the process, tip off Dahl and Borko that he was onto them. The destruction of the virus had to be coordinated.
Quinn placed the Semtex at several points along the bottom of the laboratory. He then set a radio-activated detonator at each point. After that, he extracted a small box from the backpack. It was a relay. All they had to do now was trigger the relay with one of the remotes Orlando had obtained, and a signal would be sent out to the detonators. Then
Quinn attached the relay to one of the poles, then gave everything a final inspection. Satisfied, he unfastened the strips holding the backpack to the pole and pulled the pack over his shoulders. Now it was only a matter of time.
Chapter 37
Though Quinn's sleep was short, it was the best he'd had in days. It didn't matter that he and his team were holed up in the cold back room of an abandoned store, or that they had to sleep in sleeping bags on blow-up mattresses. It always happened this way. The night before any big operation, Quinn would sleep like the dead.
At 5:30 a.m. his eyes opened. He was fully awake. The first thing he did was check on Nate. His forehead was damp, but not hot. The fever he'd had earlier seemed to have broken. Quinn got up and stepped around the mattresses, working his way out of the room.
He made a quick stop in the bathroom, then went out to the coffee shop just down the street and bought coffee and breakfast rolls. He made one final call to the Mole on the walk back. It was short, this time Quinn doing most of the talking. As he finished the conversation, he passed a news kiosk. On the counter was a stack of the
'Police Raid Terrorist Cell,' it read in German.
The address of the raided house was Sophie's. She was even mentioned in the article as being a potential member of the organization. He read on:
One of the suspected terrorists was killed in the gunfight as she tossed a grenade at undercover officers. Extensive damage was done to the structure. Police were forced to fire tear gas canisters to root out the rest of the terrorist cell. According to police sources, at least two others remain at large.
The rest of the story was below the fold, where Quinn couldn't read it. It was all bullshit, of course. But apparently Borko had enough contacts to cover his own tracks.
Quinn returned to the hideout and found the other two still asleep. He set the coffee and food within reach if either of them awoke, then went back into the bathroom.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days and he was looking pretty scruffy. A plastic shopping bag sat on the floor near the sink. Inside were toothbrushes, toothpaste, a comb, deodorant, a hairbrush, razors and shaving cream, some first-aid stuff.
Quinn pulled out a razor and the cream and gave himself a thorough shave. He wiped away the excess foam, then opened one of the toothbrushes and brushed his teeth. Cleaner now, he turned off the light and returned to the other room.
Orlando was sitting up, drinking coffee. Nate was awake, too, the sleeping bag pulled up around his head. He was peeking out at Quinn through a small opening. 'It's fucking cold,' Nate said, his voice muffled by the bag.
'Have some coffee,' Quinn said.
'Can you just pour it over the top of my sleeping bag?'
'I guess you're feeling better then,' Quinn said.
'Compared to what?'
'Yesterday.'
'I guess.' Nate slowly sat up, letting the bag slide off his head and down to his shoulders. He moved his head slowly from side to side, stretching his neck. 'Definitely better. Yesterday when I woke up, I could barely turn over. I guess this is an improvement.'
'Do you think you're up to this?'
Nate didn't even hesitate. 'I'll be fine.'
'If you can't do it, tell us,' Orlando said, her tone all business. 'Good morning to you, too,' Nate said, turning toward her.
'I'm serious,' she said.
'So am I. I'll be fine.' Nate slowly reached over and picked up the remaining cup of coffee. 'I mean, if you're asking if I can run a mile, then sucker punch someone, I'd have to say no. But I can drive a car.'
'Even with your fucked-up shoulder?' Orlando asked. 'Jesus,' Nate said. 'You need to take a happy pill or something.'
'Nate,' Quinn said quickly.
'No,' Nate countered. He looked at Orlando. 'I realize this isn't easy for you. I know you wish you found Garrett instead of me. If I were you I'd feel the same way. But I'm here and you need my help to get him back. My shoulder
Orlando and Quinn both stared at Nate for a moment. Then Orlando said, 'You could have just said yes.'
Nate's hard expression softened. 'Yes.'
'I'm sorry,' she said.
