'I'm fine.'
'It'll help you relax.'
Quinn waited until Murray broke away from the wall and sat down. 'See?' said Quinn. 'That wasn't so hard.'
He walked into the kitchen and pulled the bottle of wine out of the refrigerator. From an overhead cupboard he removed a wineglass and carried it and the bottle into the living room. He sat back down in the chair he'd been in when Murray arrived and poured a generous amount of wine into the glass.
'Here.' He held it out to Murray. 'It's good. I've had some myself.'
Murray took the glass. With only the slightest hesitation, he raised it to his lips and took a big gulp.
'Better?' Quinn asked, as he sat back down.
Murray nodded slightly. 'Are you going to tell
me what you want now?' 'Just talk.' 'That's it?' 'That depends on the talk.' Murray took another drink. 'Are you here to
kill me?'
'I don't kill people. Not unless I really need to.' Quinn cocked his head. 'Is there a reason I should need to?'
Murray shook his head vigorously. 'No.' 'Okay, then. You've got nothing to worry about.' Murray relaxed a little more. 'You know,' he said,
still with an undertone of nervousness, 'you really
scared the shit out of me.' Quinn remained silent. 'I mean, I thought maybe you were a burglar or
something.' Quinn still said nothing. 'I'm glad you're not.' 'I'm glad I'm not, too.' 'So.' Murray gave him a weak smile. 'What do
you need?' 'I'm looking for someone.' 'Who?' 'Somebody who works at NATO. He probably
came on recently.' 'What's his name?' 'Burroughs.' 'Mark Burroughs?' Murray asked, eyes widening. 'I take it you know him.' 'I can't help you,' Murray said quickly. 'That's disappointing.'
'Burroughs is into a lot of heavy stuff here. He's untouchable. I've been able to steer clear of him, and I really don't want to change that.'
Quinn leaned close, his face only a few feet from Murray's. 'And I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell anyone about that little incident in Lisbon you told me about.' Reflexively, Murray recoiled. 'Are you going to help me or not?'
Murray closed his eyes. 'Goddamn it, Quinn. Why the hell did you have to pick me?'
Quinn smiled. 'Because I knew I could count on you.'
After several phone calls, Murray learned that Burroughs was having dinner at Duquois, a small upscale restaurant downtown. 'There,' Murray said after he wrote the restaurant's address down and handed it to Quinn. 'Have a nice talk.'
'I think you may have misunderstood something, Ken,' Quinn said. 'You're coming with me.'
'No, I'm not,' Murray said.
Quinn smiled. 'Yes. You are.'
Chapter 29
A taxi dropped Quinn off one street away from Duquois thirty minutes later. He made a twosquare-block inspection of the area surrounding the restaurant to be sure there wasn't anyone waiting for him to arrive. All appeared quiet.
Once inside the restaurant, he was shown to a table near the front door. He ordered a glass of mineral water and a stuffed mushroom appetizer. There was no need to look for Burroughs. Quinn had seen him the moment he walked in.
The spook was sitting in the far corner near the back. Quinn noticed that Burroughs's taste in companions hadn't changed. Burroughs liked them tall, he liked them blonde, and he liked them fake. He liked them young, too. Tonight's date couldn't have been more than twenty-four, at least a quarter century younger than Burroughs. The man himself hadn't changed, either. His unnatural tan was still capped by dyed black hair. As usual, he was wearing an expensive, European-tailored suit.
He and his date seemed to be near the end of their main course. Quinn watched as a busboy approached their table and removed some dishes. A moment later a waiter brought over an unopened bottle of wine. He showed it to Burroughs, who nodded. While the waiter opened the wine, Burroughs returned to his conversation with the woman.
Quinn turned away when he heard the front door to the restaurant open. It was Murray. He stood nervously near the front, waiting to be helped. He started to glance toward Quinn but stopped himself, obviously realizing it wasn't a good idea. A moment later, the maitre d' looked up. Quinn watched as Murray spoke to the man, then they both glanced toward Burroughs.
The maitre d' turned back to Murray and asked a question. Murray replied, then slipped him some euros. This seemed to satisfy the maitre d', as he smiled and pocketed the bills. He held a hand up indicating for Murray to wait, then walked across the restuarant toward Burroughs.
When he reached the table, the maitre d' leaned down and whispered something in Burroughs's ear, pointing back toward Murray. Burroughs looked over, and Murray gave him a little wave. The look on Burroughs's face was
