Quinn professed his disappointment, then, feigning fatigue, he made his escape. As he stepped outside, he felt a momentary sense of relief. But it didn't last long. Standing just outside the door was the drug dealer from inside. There was no one else around. Even the bouncer seemed to have disappeared. Quinn's senses went on alert.
'Where you going, American?' the dealer asked.
'Home,' Quinn said.
'It's early. Party's just starting. You want some pot?'
Quinn shook his head. 'No, thanks.'
There was a cab parked a block up the street. He began walking toward it.
But before he got very far, the dealer ran up and grabbed Quinn's arm. Quinn turned, glaring.
'Hold on,' the dealer said. Metal flashed in his hand. A knife. 'Let's you and me go for a walk. Okay?'
Quinn turned quickly, grabbing the man's arm with both hands and shoving him backward until he was pinned against the outside wall of the club.
The dealer cursed in surprise, obviously not expecting Quinn to react so quickly.
Quinn held on tight to the hand holding the knife. He knew he couldn't let go. If he did, he'd end up on the sidewalk cut, bleeding, maybe even dead.
The dealer knew this, too. He began to punch at Quinn with his empty hand while trying to pull free the one holding the knife. Quinn rolled into him, offering only his back to the man's blows. The dealer's breaths quickened, each huff more vocal than the last as his frustration grew.
Quinn twisted the man's wrist, trying to make him drop the knife. But the dealer's grip was strong.
Changing tactics, Quinn pulled away slightly, then slammed himself back into the man's chest. He did it again. And again. The third time, he knocked the breath out of the dealer. Surprisingly, the asshole still wouldn't let go of the knife.
As the man gasped for air, Quinn quickly looked around. There was an old pipe, maybe four inches thick, running up the side of the building only a few feet away. Quinn pulled the dealer toward it, then smashed the man's wrist against the pipe over and over again.
Suddenly there was a crack and the man cried out in pain. The knife clattered to the ground. Quinn found it with his foot and kicked it as far away as possible before he let go of the man. He needn't have bothered. The dealer slipped down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, cradling his arm in his lap.
'You son of a bitch,' the man said. Quinn leaned down, grabbed the man by the hair, and pushed his head back until their eyes locked. 'When someone tells you no,' Quinn said, 'you should listen.'
He let go of the man's hair, then stood back up.
'What the hell?' a voice called out in English.
Footsteps. It was Leo Tucker. 'You all right, mate?' Tucker asked when he reached Quinn. 'I'm fine.' Tucker looked down at the writhing drug dealer on the ground. 'Who the hell is he?'
'I don't know.'
'I saw him take a swing at you.' Tucker nodded in admiration. 'Good move.'
'He's high. It wasn't hard.' In the distance, they could hear the sound of sirens. 'Christ,' Tucker said. 'The last thing you need is to be messing with the police. Come on.'
Tucker started toward a cab that had just pulled up. Quinn had no desire to get involved with the local authorities, so he followed. Tucker opened the door for him.
'Thanks,' Quinn said. 'I owe you.'
'Just get in,' Tucker said.
Quinn ducked inside.
'You're going to have to scoot over,' Tucker said, leaning through the doorway. 'I appreciate your help, but I've got it from here.' Then Quinn saw the pistol in Tucker's hand. The
Australian smiled, and Quinn slid over.
Chapter 14
Tucker said something in Vietnamese to the cab driver, then settled back and gave Quinn another smile. 'Cheer up, mate. We'll get our business done, then you can be on your way.'
'And what business would that be?' Quinn asked.
Tucker said nothing.
Quinn shrugged as if to say he didn't really care what the answer was. In many ways, that was true. Survival was his main objective now. He couldn't afford to believe Tucker would just let him go after their 'business' was done. But until the opportunity to escape presented itself, he knew he'd have to play along.
They rode in silence. Without looking at his watch, Quinn guessed it was a little before 10 p.m. As the cab moved through the city, he marked the path in his mind. A hotel here, a bamboo scaffolding there, a three-tiered pagoda, a blue lantern hung in a window. Though he was in a part of the city he had never been before, he knew, given the opportunity, he would be able to make it back to familiar ground.
After about ten minutes, they entered an area that looked primarily residential, not just apartment buildings, but a few homes, too. Tucker leaned forward and said something to the driver, who nodded, then turned at the next street. The houses here were different – larger, better kept. Two blocks later, the cab stopped beside a large white
