[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

'I don't have anyone else. You're it.'

'And if I say no?' Quinn asked.

'Then Duke does it on his own. Which we both know means he'll screw it up.' 'I guess you do have a problem.' 'Jesus, Quinn. If he's right, this might be the only

chance we get to find out who's behind the attack. I

need you to do this. I'm asking you as a favor to me.'

'I don't do favors.'

'When you were first on your own, I hired you when no one else would even give you a chance,' Peter said, a layer of anger underlying his words. 'I've made you a wealthy man. You owe me this much.'

Quinn closed his eyes. He could argue that Peter had continued to hire him because Quinn was the best at what he did, and that any wealth was a result of his talents. But Peter was right about giving Quinn his start, albeit at Durrie's prodding. It just pissed Quinn off that he was playing that card.

'If I do go, you're going to pay me for this,' Quinn finally said. 'I thought you might be interested in doing this gratis,' Peter said.

'That just cost you double.'

'Fine,' Peter said, as if he had expected it.

'I'm going to need a team, too.'

'Just get your resources together and get your ass to Berlin.' The line went dead. Quinn stared out the window for several minutes

before he returned to his computer and woke it up. He opened the last e-mail from Duke, then hit Reply and wrote:

I'll be there. Will advise when you should expect me. Have talked to Peter and told him I will need a full team. I'll put together prior to arrival. Need confirmation of payment when I get there. No shit hotels this time, okay? Xavier.

Quinn blind-copied Peter and Orlando on the message.

'You didn't want to check with me first?' Orlando asked, irritated.

Quinn was still in his hotel room. Orlando had called him not ten minutes after he sent the e-mail to Duke.

'Hold on,' he said into his phone. 'I'm not asking you to come. I don't want you to come. I just need somebody else to know what's going on.'

'Sometimes you're a real asshole, Quinn.'

'What the hell does that mean?' 'You can't do this alone,' she said. 'No kidding.' He was the irritated one now. 'I've

got Nate. I just need one more person.' 'Yeah. A tech.' 'So I'll find a tech. There's plenty of them around.' The line was silent for a moment. 'I'm only going because Peter has no one else,'

Quinn said. 'Right.' 'What's that mean?' 'It means maybe that's one reason,' she said. She was more right than he was willing to admit,

so he changed the subject. 'Have you got anything

new for me?' She paused. 'Not yet.' 'Then let's meet later tonight.' 'I won't have anything for you until the morning.' 'Okay. We'll meet for breakfast,' he said. 'Your

place? Seven-thirty?' 'Can we make it nine?' she asked. 'Nate and I are going to have to fly out some

time tomorrow. So earlier is better.'

'Okay. Fine,' she said, obviously not happy about it. Quinn was about to say goodbye when Orlando added, 'I'll also check around. See who's available.'

'You don't have to do that,' he said. 'Yeah. I know.'

When Nate finally checked in, Quinn tasked him with picking up some supplies they would need for the next leg of their journey. Quinn then set himself in front of his computer with two goals in mind.

First, he hoped to find someone to help him in Berlin, and second, he wanted to see if he could discover something that might help him figure out who wanted him dead. Unfortunately, he had no luck on either account.

When he finally gave up, night had fallen over Saigon. His legs ached and his eyes were strained from staring at the computer screen. Not surprisingly, he felt the need to get out of his room and clear his head.

He called Nate to see if he wanted to get a drink, but there was no answer. Probably off with his temporary girlfriend, Quinn thought.

If Orlando hadn't stopped him, Quinn probably would have clamped down a little harder on Nate. No matter what, they were going to have to have another chat about relationships when this was all over.

But for the time being, it looked like he was on his own, so he headed out. In front of the hotel, he flagged down a taxi, then had to stop two more before finding a driver who spoke English. 'Where to, mister?' the cabby asked as Quinn climbed in.

'A bar,' Quinn said.

'You look for girls? I know place.'