'It also . . . is providing a challenge.'
'So you don't have anything yet?'
'Not. . . yet.'
Quinn had been hoping for a little news, something that would at least put them on the right track. 'Okay,' Quinn said. 'I have another request.'
'What,' the voice said, 'do you want?'
Quinn told him.
Chapter 26
Somewhere an alarm was ringing, not a bedside alarm, but something more robust. More urgent. Quinn opened his eyes. It took him a moment to reorient himself. The bed he was lying on was harder and narrower than he was used to. And he was on his side; that wasn't normal. Then he remembered. He wasn't on a bed at all. He was sleeping on the couch in the suite at the Mandola.
He lifted his head and glanced at the digital clock sitting on the end table: 3:43 a.m.
'What's that noise?'
Quinn looked toward the voice. Orlando was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants serving as her pajamas.
Quinn sat up, focusing his attention on the alarm. It wasn't coming from inside the hotel room, but rather from the hallway beyond.
'Fire alarm,' he said, suddenly alert.
He pushed himself off the couch and walked quickly toward the front door. As he did so, he sniffed the air, trying to detect any smoke. The air seemed as fresh as it had been when he'd gone to sleep. He placed a hand on the door.
'It's still cool,' he said.
In the hallway beyond, Quinn could hear people running and calling to each other over the drone of the alarm. It was the panicked sound of people who had been ripped from their sleep into a dangerous situation.
'This doesn't feel right,' Orlando said. 'Get dressed,' Quinn said. He'd had the same thought as she did. 'And grab your stuff.'
His own clothes were draped over a chair near the couch. He pulled them on in record time. He then stuffed his new purchases into his backpack, pulled on his coat, and threw his bag over his shoulders, cinching it tight.
Moments later Orlando, now dressed, rejoined him in the living room. Quinn crossed back to the door and listened again. The alarm was still clanging loudly, but the sounds of movement and voices in the hallway were gone. He hesitated. There were only two possibilities. Either the fire was real or it wasn't. And if it wasn't, that meant this was a flush. Quinn wouldn't even consider the possibility that it was just a false alarm. That would be too much of a coincidence. And believing in coincidences, like indulging in curiosity, was just one more thing on a long list of items that could get you killed.
So if this was a flush, that meant Borko suspected Quinn and Orlando were in the building but didn't know where. Fire or flush, it didn't matter. The solution was the same. Get out.
Quinn undid the deadbolt, then eased the door open. Only a crack at first, just enough to peer outside.
'It's empty,' he said.
He pulled off his backpack, unzipped the flap, and retrieved the Glock he'd taken off of Duke. 'Here,' he said, handing the gun to Orlando. She released the magazine and checked to see if it was loaded.
'I'm down a round,' she said.
Quinn pulled one of the spare mags for the SIG from his bag, and released one of the 9mm rounds. 'Catch,' he said as he tossed it to her. He returned the mag to his bag, then slipped
the bag over his shoulders. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out his own weapon.
Gun in hand, he gave Orlando a quick nod, then opened the door all the way and stepped into the hall. No smoke, no smell of smoke, no sign of fire at all. Only the two of them in the otherwise empty corridor.
There were two stairways, one at each end of the floor. Quinn had examined each soon after they'd arrived. The one to his left, the west stairwell, went from the top floor to ground level. The one to his right went all the way up to the roof.
Quinn motioned toward his right, then headed down the hallway; Orlando trailed right behind him, watching their back. Once inside the stairwell, they paused and listened for a moment. Someone else was on the stairs, maybe two people. They were several floors below, but Quinn couldn't tell whether they were going up or down.
Quinn and Orlando went up.
The entrance to the roof was located three floors above their room. It took them only forty-five seconds to get there. Again, they paused, listening.
Steps. Perhaps four floors below, definitely heading in their direction.
'Hotel security?' Orlando whispered.
'Maybe,' Quinn said. But they both knew they couldn't take that chance.
A sign on the door to the roof warned that an alarm would sound if it was opened. Quinn guessed it couldn't be
