'Get up,' Quinn said.
Duke pushed himself against the chair and found his footing. 'What's going on, Quinn? What's wrong?'
Quinn scoffed, but said nothing.
'I'm confused. Please, you're scaring me.'
'Good,' Quinn said. 'Let's cut through all the you-don't-know-what-I'm-here-for bullshit. All right?'
Duke's hand suddenly shot under his jacket, but Quinn was already in motion, slipping his knife out of his pocket and into his right hand. He grabbed Duke by the hair with his left hand as he pressed the blade against the fat man's neck. 'Not a good idea.'
Duke stiffened.
'Now. Slowly,' Quinn continued. 'Hands to the side.' Duke started to speak, but Quinn said, 'Quiet.' Duke moved his hands away from his jacket. Quinn let go of Duke's hair, then moved his free
hand to the spot Duke had been reaching for. From under the jacket, he pulled out a pistol. A Glock.
Quinn transferred the gun into the pocket of his coat. 'Anything else?'
'No,' Duke said.
Quinn increased the pressure on the knife. 'No,' Duke repeated. 'Nothing.'
'In the chair,' Quinn ordered.
He pulled the knife back and let Duke sit back down in the old chair. Sweat beaded on the fat man's brow. In front of the chair was a coffee table. Quinn pushed a stack of magazines off it and onto the floor, then he took a seat on the edge. 'Who are you working for?'
'None of your business.'
Quinn brandished the knife. 'You see, that's just stupid. I'm a little pissed off right now. My self-control isn't exactly running at full strength.'
'Borko,' Duke said quickly.
'Only Borko?'
Duke eyed the blade nervously. 'He's been my only contact.' 'Not Dahl?' 'The name doesn't mean anything to me.' 'God, I hate it when you lie.' 'I'm not,' Duke said. Quinn inched the knife
closer. 'Okay, okay. I've heard the name, all right? He called Borko once when I was meeting with him. That's all.'
Quinn stared without saying anything.
'I swear, that's it.'
'Then let's talk about the water plant. What's it being used for?' 'You think they would tell me?' Duke asked. 'Borko wouldn't even let me in the building.'
'I have a hard time believing that. Borko isn't based here. He needs a local guy. Someone who knows the city and can make things happen.' Quinn pointed the knife at Duke. 'That's you. So don't fucking tell me it isn't.'
'I'm a nobody, Quinn. A hired hand. Like you. That's all,' he said, his accent all but gone. 'Borko doesn't tell me anything. Sure, I got the property for them, but that's it. What they're doing, I haven't a clue.'
'Think really hard. Maybe you're forgetting something. Something Borko might not have told you directly. Maybe something you overheard or even figured out on your own.'
Duke didn't say anything, but the look in his
eyes told Quinn he knew more. 'What is it?' Quinn asked. Duke hesitated, then said, 'It's just a guess.' 'Then guess.' 'They needed the Office out of the way. I don't
know why. Borko handled that. I think he worked
with someone on the inside.' 'Who?' Quinn asked. 'Was it Peter?' Duke said nothing. 'Fine,' Quinn said. 'But why take me out? I don't
even work for the Office.' Duke hesitated. 'What?' Quinn asked. 'You were a special request.' 'Special request? You mean I was singled out?' 'That's all I heard, okay? It's all I know.' Quinn let the meaning of Duke's words sink in.
A special request? Could that be true? Even if it
was, it did little to explain what was going on. 'What are they up to?' Quinn asked. 'I already answered that,' Duke said. In one quick, fluid motion, Quinn flicked the
blade against Duke's ear. Blood began running down the fat man's neck. 'What the fuck?' he said as he put a hand over the wound to staunch the flow.
'What's the job?' Quinn asked again.
'I told you, I –'
The knife started to move again.
Duke raised his hands, palms outward. 'Wait. All right. I overheard something. But it didn't make sense to me.'
'What?'
'Just some initials,' Duke said. He closed his eyes, as if straining to remember. 'What initials?' 'Give me a
