[Quinn 01] - The Cleaner

'Son of a bitch,' he said under his breath.

Outside, the sound of steps moving up the stairs continued. Soon they'd reach the platform and the tunnel that led into the sphere. Had Quinn been anywhere else in the building, he would have had multiple opportunities for escape. But standing where he was, his options were severely limited.

He stopped himself. There was one possibility. There had been a door in the housing at the bottom of the sphere. He wasn't sure if he could get there from where he was, but trying was better than just standing there and waiting for them to arrive.

Quinn hurried across the platform toward the door to the containment room, stopping and kneeling down just before he reached it. He looked over the edge of the narrow walkway into the space below.

The crisscrossing scaffolding structure he'd glanced at moments earlier led down into the darkness at the bottom of the sphere. It would be easy to climb down. He quickly pointed his flashlight at the very bottom, and though it was hard to tell for sure, there appeared to be some kind of hatch on the floor. His best guess was that it led down into the circular base structure where the other door was located.

Potential escape was there, but he'd never make it in time. He'd be spotted by whoever was coming up the stairs before he was even halfway down.

He looked under the platform again.

Okay. Escape might be impossible, he thought. But what if –

The clanging of the metal steps ceased.

There was no more time to think. Quinn stowed his flashlight and quickly lowered himself over the edge of the platform. Moving as silently as he could, he maneuvered his body underneath it.

He paused for a fraction of a second to get his bearings, then worked his way across the scaffolding, using it like a kid's jungle gym. When he was directly under the center of the bio-containment room, he stopped.

He could feel the sweat beading on his brow, and his breaths were coming in short, silent bursts. But he knew just hanging from the center of the room wasn't enough-

He pulled his feet up and secured them on top of one of the crossbars, tucking himself horizontally against the bottom of the room. He wasn't invisible, but it was the closest he could get to it.

He heard the door to the sphere open. There was a rush of air, followed by the sound of two people stepping through the opening and onto the platform. A pause, followed by a low voice, then a flicker of brightness. The new arrivals were scanning the space with a flashlight. Quinn could see the reflection of the beam as it occasionally slipped below the level of the platform and glinted off the scaffolding.

After several moments, the footsteps continued across the platform, to the door of the lab. There was a sucking sound as the door was opened and air moved from one space to another. A moment later the door shut.

Quinn's left calf had begun to cramp. He chanced moving his leg to relieve the pressure and had just found a more comfortable position when the door to the lab opened again. Then: 'One, this is Matz. The sphere is empty.'

The voice spoke German, clear and distinct. Matz was apparently talking into a radio. It was also obvious by the unhampered sound of his voice that he was not wearing any protective gear over his face. To Quinn it meant the lab wasn't hot yet. He would have felt a sense of relief if he hadn't been hanging dozens of feet above the ground wondering how long it would be before a bullet pierced his skull.

The radio crackled with static, then a voice, also in German but not with a native accent, said, 'You checked everywhere?'

'Yes,' Matz replied. 'There is no one here but us.'

'Underneath?' the voice asked.

Another pause. Then Matz said, 'We're checking now.'

Quinn tensed. There was nothing he could do except remain perfectly still. He couldn't even grab his gun without upsetting his balance.

Suddenly, the flashlight beam swung over the edge of the platform. There was a thump, and Quinn guessed that one of the men was kneeling down so he could get a better look below. The beam of light flashed across the scaffolding close to Quinn as it traveled down toward the bottom of the sphere. Once there, it moved slowly across the floor, taking in every inch.

'I don't see anything,' a voice said. Not Matz this time, but his partner.

'Are you sure?' Matz asked.

'You want to look?'

'One, this is Matz. There's no one below.'

'He has to be in the building somewhere,' the voice on the radio said, his irritation coming through clearly. 'He hasn't come outside yet.'

'Maybe his partner warned him,' Matz offered.

'Not a chance. Get out of there and go out back in case the others are able to flush him out.' 'Understood.' Quinn listened as the two men walked across the

platform above him and exited the sphere.

Quinn remained hanging under the platform, as still as possible, for what he guessed to be about thirty minutes. Eyes closed, his breathing even, he silently recited the lyrics to the songs on Changes One, David Bowie's first greatest-hits album.

Halfway through 'John, I'm Only Dancing,' his leg cramped again. He flexed his foot back and forth, easing the pressure on his calf. But neither Bowie nor the pain in his leg could clear his mind.