tensed.
'The van's already here,' he said as he pulled the Porsche quickly to the curb and stopped a block away.
'Have they taken any boxes out?' Orlando asked. 'I don't think so. The back's still shut.'
'We're two minutes away.'
'Make it one,' Quinn said.
The van was parked at the curb near the front door of the building. Four people stood near the back. Two of them had the unmistakable look of hired muscle. The other two, a man and a woman, were both younger. Quinn pegged them as two of the hired workers.
There were two sedans parked directly across the street from the van, a dark BMW and a silver Mercedes. Quinn counted three men in each. This was getting more fun by the minute.
He placed his SIG in his lap and rolled down the driver's-side window. At the van, one of the goons had moved over to the doors and was starting to open them. Quinn took a deep breath, then put the car back in gear and gunned the engine. The Porsche jumped away from the curb and began racing down the street toward the cargo van.
The four people standing behind the van looked up almost in unison. The two kids looked on curiously, but the other two immediately rushed around the side of the van looking for cover.
Doors on both sedans flew open. Quinn, gun now in his left hand, aimed the weapon out his open window and let off ten quick shots. The men dove in all directions, unable to return fire. As he squeezed the trigger, Quinn whipped the steering wheel to the right, bringing the Porsche up onto the sidewalk.
The two kids were no longer in sight. Quinn drove the Porsche between the van and the building.
At the last second, he slammed on the brakes, bringing his car to a quick stop. He threw open his door and jumped out. In one hand he carried his pistol and in the other, the Uzi.
No one had opened fire on him yet. As he had hoped, the contents of the van acted as a makeshift shield. None of them wanted to be the one who destroyed the product.
Quinn headed toward the rear of the van. He needed to get a count of the boxes, make sure they were all still there.
Behind him, something scraped the ground. As he turned he saw a man racing toward him. It was one of the two thugs who had been standing outside. In a single motion, Quinn jumped to his right and unloaded a short burst from the Uzi, before landing hard on the sidewalk.
The man was barely five feet away when the bullets smashed into his chest, whipping him around and spinning him to the ground.
'Give it up. You're not getting out of here,' someone yelled from across the street.
A bullet flew by Quinn, just missing his shoulder. Someone had gotten smart and was shooting under the van. Quinn, ignoring the pain in his side from his fall, pushed himself off the ground and took two quick steps to his left, putting the van's rear wheel between him and Borko's men. The hands-free earpiece to his phone was dangling over his shoulder. He placed it back in his ear.
'Quinn? Are you there?' Orlando asked. 'Quinn?'
'I'm here. I'm okay,' Quinn said.
'We're two blocks away,' Orlando said. 'What's your situation?'
'There are at least six men, probably seven, on the north side of the street.' Quinn's voice was calm. 'They were in a couple of sedans, a BMW and a Mercedes. Don't know if they're still in them now. I'm out of the car, but I've got the van between us. I need you to take those guys out.'
'We're on it,' Orlando said.
'Is that you, Mr. Quinn?' Another voice called to him from across the street. 'You come out now and I'll make sure nothing too bad happens.' A pause. 'Mr. Quinn? You really think you are going to be able to stop this? If you do, you are wrong. You do not start playing smart, in a couple of minutes you are going to be dead.'
Quinn had been silently counting the seconds in his mind. Orlando and Nate should have been here by now.
Orlando's voice came over the receiver. 'Cover your ears and duck.' Quinn immediately curled into a ball, a hand squeezed tightly over each ear.
For a second there was nothing. Then suddenly the air was filled with a loud
'Are you all right?' Orlando asked, still on the phone. Quinn uncurled himself and stood up. 'I think so. Did it work?' 'Yeah,' Orlando said. 'There were actually eight
of them. But they're all sleeping now. Some more permanently than others.' Orlando suddenly appeared from around the side of the van, and jogged over to Quinn.
'It was stronger than I expected,' Orlando said.
'Where's Nate?'
'Still in the car.'
'Count the boxes,' Quinn said, nodding toward the back of the van. 'I'm going to see if this thing will still start.'
'Okay.'
Quinn stopped first at the Porsche and retrieved his backpack. At the cab of the van, Quinn threw his stuff inside, then climbed in. It took him less than thirty seconds to find the right wires to hotwire the vehicle. As he
