one should be there, too. The killers were sloppy.”
“There was more than one?” Durrie asked. “If there was only one, he would have shot them between the eyes,
and not worried about the bullet. He wouldn’t have been able to suffocate one without chancing that the other would put up a fight. So there had to be two. One for each victim.”
Durrie was silent for a moment as he stared into the room. Finally he turned to Quinn. “Right,” he said, sounding as if he’d expected Quinn’s answers. “Let’s clean it up.”
As it turned out, that was the last job Quinn went on as Durrie’s apprentice. He had just turned twenty-six, completing his training in four years. And though they did work the next several projects together, it was as colleagues, not as teacher/student, Quinn getting a full cut of the fee.
It was ironic that one of the most valuable lessons Quinn learned was on the jobs after his apprenticeship was over. Two or three times, Durrie had been forced to take on substandard help to fill out their team. A sloppy mistake had lost one man his life, and on another job, one man’s incompetence nearly got Quinn and Durrie arrested.
“It’s the people you surround yourself with that really make you look either good or bad,” Durrie had said as they shared a drink after the near miss with the law. “If the client finds out what happened today, I might not get work for months. Remember that, Johnny.”
Quinn did. That’s why he loved working with Orlando. He had no doubt that when it came to her specialties of information and technology, there were few in the business smarter. But it wasn’t just the areas she was trained in that made her valuable. She had a keen mind for all aspects of a job. Quinn often found himself running things by her to see what she thought. He trusted her implicitly. That wasn’t something he could say about anyone else. Nate someday, maybe. But he still had a ways to go.
If a job required more personnel than the three of them, Quinn would hire only those he knew would do it right and could improvise when necessary. If he couldn’t get the team he needed, he wouldn’t take on the project. It was the reason he had reached the level he had—a level higher than Durrie had ever reached. His clients knew the high-quality work they would get from him. There would be no problems, no accidental body discoveries, no unwanted attention from local authorities.
And when things got messy like they had in Berlin the previous winter, and now seemed to be getting with Jenny, he and his core team could deal with that, too.
“She’s up,” Nate said when Quinn returned to the hotel. “I heard her in the shower a few minutes ago.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow.
“Hey,” Nate said. “I didn’t go in and check. I just heard the water, all right?”
“Whatever makes you happy, Nate.”
“Why don’t you go check?” Nate said. “I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t mind.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Nate smiled, then plopped back down on one of the beds. “Never mind.”
Quinn pulled off his suit jacket and hung it in the closet. Whatever garbage Nate was pushing, Quinn didn’t have time for it. He removed his tie, shoes, and slacks, and changed into his street clothes.
Nate, a sucker for vintage shows, was watching TV. A rerun of
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Quinn said. “We’re leaving soon.”
“How was the funeral?” Nate asked.
“I was too late.”
“Then where have you been all afternoon?”
Quinn stared at his apprentice. “A, none of your business. But B, I said I was late to the funeral. I didn’t say I didn’t see Orlando.”
“Sorry,” Nate said. “How is she?”
“Ask her yourself. We’re meeting her in a little while.”
Quinn walked over to the door that separated the rooms. He knocked, but got no response. He pulled the door open and peeked in. No one was in the room, but the sound of water was coming from behind the closed bathroom door. He walked over and tapped on the door.
“Tasha?”
The water shut off. “Is someone there?” “It’s me,” Quinn said. “I need to talk to you when you’re done.” “Hold on,” she said. He could hear her moving around, then the door opened just
enough to reveal her head and her bare left shoulder. “Sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t hear you.” “When you’re done, come into our room.” “Okay,” she said. “What’s going on?” “We just need to talk.” “Give me ten minutes.” Quinn nodded and started to turn away. “Jonathan?” she said. He stopped and looked back at her. She smiled. “Thanks.”
Back in his room,
“I hope wherever we’re meeting her is someplace I can get something to eat,” Nate said. He hefted his suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it. From inside he removed two pistols. “You want this now?” he asked, holding up the SIG.
“Yeah.” Nate pulled out a suppressor from the bag, and handed it and the
weapon over to Quinn. “Extra mags?” Quinn asked. “I could only get one.” He grabbed the SIG’s magazine and tossed
