“If you don’t do it, he’s going to die. But you have to be careful. Those security men with him, they aren’t the good guys.”
Murray started to pull away. “No. You do it.”
“I can’t,” Quinn said. He knew if he did and Tasha saw him, she’d move in before he could get to the congressman. Murray had a much better chance. “You’ve got to go now!”
“Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit,” Murray said. “I swear to God you’d better be right.”
CHAPTER
THERE WERE PEOPLE EVERYWHERE. THE LUNCH CROWD
jammed itself into the hawker center like it was the only place to eat within miles. Lines in front of the most popular stalls were growing by the second.
Quinn moved out into the central aisle, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to find any sign of Tasha.
“Status,” he said.
“My guys are still holding back,” Orlando said.
“Ditto,” Nate said.
“Does anyone see Tasha?”
“You lost her?” Nate asked.
“Is that a no, then?” Quinn said.
“Sorry,” Nate said. “Yes, it’s a...no. I mean, you know. No, haven’t seen her.”
“Neither have I,” Orlando said.
Quinn looked to his left. Murray was fighting his way through the hungry mob toward the food stall the congressman had stopped at. The only problem was, the congressman and his party weren’t there anymore. They had moved back to the middle of the aisle and were making their way deeper into the hawker center, moving toward
Quinn’s position.
“Dammit,” Quinn said under his breath.
He had to find Tasha. He had to stop her.
He started weaving through the crowd, heading in the direction of the congressman.
“I have movement,” Nate said. “My guys are closing in.”
“Mine are holding back,” Orlando said.
There were still at least forty feet and nearly a hundred people between Quinn and the congressman. As he started to skirt around a couple of teenage girls, someone bumped into him, and almost immediately he could feel a cool liquid dripping down his shirt. It had the sweet, fruity smell of fresh juice.
“Oh, sorry,” a male voice said.
Quinn’s instincts told him to duck. Unfortunately, they came a half-second too late.
A fist smashed into his back right above one of his kidneys.
Pain shot through Quinn’s torso as he fell forward. He tried to twist on his descent, but was only partially successful in landing faceup.
The people closest to him pulled back, forming a small hole in the sea of customers. They looked down at Quinn in surprise and confusion. All, that was, except the blond man who was standing directly behind where Quinn had been a few seconds before.
Blondie’s damaged hand was held loosely against his stomach. But it was the good hand that was the problem. It was reaching for something under his jacket.
Quinn didn’t wait to see what it was. He pressed his hands against the dirty concrete floor and pushed himself up and out, aiming his feet at the man’s knees. He missed the left, but solidly connected with the right.
Quinn could feel the man’s kneecap slide to the right, dislocating from the socket.
Blondie cried out and quickly joined Quinn on the ground.
Whatever he’d been reaching for had been forgotten as he reflexively grabbed his kneecap and tried to push the bone back into place.
Quinn knew he had no more time to waste. He got to his feet, then stepped on Blondie’s bad hand.
With all of Blondie’s attention on the pain no doubt shooting through his body, Quinn reached under the man’s jacket. He was definitely armed, but pulling the gun out would cause instant panic.
Quinn moved his shoulder bag down so that he could maneuver the opening under the man’s jacket. He then slipped the gun inside with his own and stood back up.
“Quinn! She’s moving in!” It was Orlando.
