[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

Nate gave her a smile and waved it off.

'So are we all good now?' Quinn asked. 'Because we need to get a move on.'

Orlando had been able to learn from monitoring conversations at the plant that the transportation of the polio- laced mints was scheduled for 8:30

a.m. Their only chance to take everything out was between the time the mints left the water plant and when they arrived at the building on Kaiserdamm where the welcome packets were being stuffed. A narrow window at best.

Nate unzipped his bag and began to stand up, the whole time wincing in pain. 'There's some aspirin in the bathroom, if you need it,' Quinn said. Nate looked over at him. 'I may need the whole bottle.'

The information the Mole had given Quinn proved to be accurate. The place where the welcome packets were being prepped was an old stone office building sitting at the corner of a block of similar old stone buildings.

Quinn watched it from the Einstein Coffee Shop on the corner, just down the street. For the past thirty minutes several people had entered the building. The majority were young, probably university students. All were dressed comfortably for several hours of menial work. Quinn pegged them as the hired help who would be filling the packets.

Quinn's phone rang. It was Orlando. 'The van's leaving now.'

For the last hour she had been in position on top of the same apartment building she'd been on two nights before. This time she was watching Borko's goons load the boxes of mints into a white cargo van.

'Is Borko still there?' Quinn asked.

'He left about ten minutes ago.' Orlando's voice came in short bursts. Quinn guessed she was once again making her way down the stairs, this time to Nate, who was sitting behind the wheel of a maroon BMW Quinn had appropriated earlier that morning.

'How many boxes total?' Quinn asked.

'Twenty.'

'All of them, then.'

'Looks like it.'

Twenty boxes, each containing 120 tins, gave Dahl 2,400 miniature biological weapons containers. Multiply that by the 6 mints in each box and the total number of delivery devices was 14,400. There were enough tins so that every attendee could leave with several extras. Have one now. Take a few home. Share them with your friends.

'They secured the boxes with a cargo net,' she added.

No doubt to keep the boxes from moving around, Quinn guessed. 'Were they alone?'

'No,' Orlando said. 'Hold on.'

Quinn could hear the sound of a car door opening, then a moment later slamming shut. Orlando said, 'Looks like they're heading toward Karl Marx Strasse.' The words were not for Quinn but Nate.

'Okay,' Orlando said into the phone. 'I'm back. What was the question?'

'Were they alone?'

'No. A silver Mercedes sedan is following. But as far as I can tell, that's it.'

One escort wasn't enough. There had to be more. At the very least, reinforcements would be at the ready at various points along the route if needed. 'You see them yet?' Quinn asked.

'They're about a block ahead of us.'

'Best guess?'

'Route C,' Orlando said, indicating one of the possible directions they had guessed the shipment might take. 'We'll go with that,' Quinn said. 'Call me if anything changes.'

He hung up.

Quinn walked outside to the Porsche he'd picked for his own ride that day. As he climbed into the car and started the engine, he watched a couple of late arrivals hurrying up the steps of the Grob Promotions facility. More college kids, probably just trying to earn a little extra money. Quinn took a deep breath, then pulled away from the curb.

As he drove he connected the hands-free device to his phone, stuck the earpiece in his ear, and made a call. It took Peter a moment to come to the line. 'This is it,' Quinn said.

'What is it?' Peter asked.

'Just shut up and listen. If things don't go well, in a few hours you'll be getting a call from an associate. If you listen to what he says and do what he tells you, you may still have a chance. But it's not a guarantee.'

Quinn's instructions to the Mole had been even simpler. If Quinn didn't call him by 1:00 p.m. Berlin time, the Mole would tell Peter everything.

'What the hell is going on?'

'I promise, you'll know soon enough.'

'Quinn, I –'

Quinn disconnected the call.

Quinn swung the Porsche onto Kantstrasse, eastbound, then called Orlando. 'Where are you?' Quinn asked.