On their way back to the hotel that afternoon, Quinn and Nate had made a stop at a small family-run DIY—do- it-yourself—store near Chinatown. It was crammed full of kitchenware, janitorial supplies, knickknacks, and tools. It was one of those places where if you didn’t see what you were looking for, all you had to do was ask. No matter what it was, they’d find it for you.
Without the need of assistance, Quinn had been able to locate a pair of gloves with rubber grips and some sturdy rope. Back at the hotel, he had cut the rope down to twenty feet, then tied a thin piece of cord near one end.
Now as he stood in front of one of the columns at the base of the wall, he attached the free end of the thin cord to one of the belt loops on his pants. It would serve as a safety line for when he had to let go of the rope. The next step was the rope itself. He doubled it up and swung it around the column, then wrapped each end around one of his palms, and pulled tight in unison, checking the strength.
Satisfied, he looked in both directions along the river to be sure he was still alone, then began climbing up the column. The rope held him in place as he moved his feet. Every few seconds, he would lunge upward, scooting his lifeline higher. In less than half a minute, he reached the top of the column. From there, he shimmied his feet back up waist-high, resting them on a lip near the top of the column, his knees against his chest.
The timing of his next move was critical. Simultaneously he dropped the rope, shoved upward with his legs, and reached out and grabbed the bottom ledge of the second-floor window. There was a soft thud as the rope smacked against the column, but it fell no further, the safety cord tied to his pants keeping it from dropping all the way to the ground.
Legs dangling below him, Quinn pulled his body up with his arms. As soon as he was high enough, he swung his right leg like a pendulum, catching the ledge with the heel of his foot.
“Any movement?” Quinn half whispered, half grunted. From the angle of the security cameras, he thought he was still out of range, but there was no way to know for sure.
“No,” Nate said over the radio. “He’s not even looking at the screens.”
Security at the Quayside Villas wasn’t a high-risk gig. The mere fact it was right out front and visible to all would have been enough deterrent for most potential troublemakers. The security guards would know that, and no doubt it would make them lazy.
Once Quinn had both feet on the ledge, he maneuvered himself into a crouch. He made a quick scan, assessing his options. The top lip of the wall was about three feet above him. He could make the leap, but if he missed he’d fall backward through the air and land hard on the cement walkway below.
He took a deep breath. Then, without another thought, he thrust upward, his hands reaching for the top of the wall. The lip was curved, and the surface on top had been polished smooth. Quinn’s fingertips slipped for a half- second before the rubber grips on the gloves grabbed held. Knowing he could hold the position for only a few more moments, he quickly swung his right foot upward in the same pendulum move as before, bringing his leg parallel to the ground and catching the lip of the wall with it.
He rolled to his right onto the top of the ledge and took a deep breath.
“You okay?” Nate asked.
Another breath. “Fine. I’m on the edge of the terrace. What’s happening there?”
“Everything’s the same.”
“Good.”
Quinn flipped onto his stomach but remained prone. As he had suspected, the roof had been designed as a large deck for the residents. Even in the darkness, it looked like something found at an upscale resort. He was near the east tower. In front of him was a large swimming pool—wide and long. Lights below the surface gave the water an eerie yet inviting quality. Several lounge chairs were placed around the pool, lined up and ready for the next day.
Beyond the pool, the deck continued toward the other tower, but there were several large potted plants obscuring his view.
Glancing up at the east tower, he noted only two of the apartments had lights on. Both were near the top, and each had their curtains drawn. In fact, most of the east tower windows had coverings over them. During the day, a person looking out from any of the apartments would have easily seen Quinn. But at this hour, no one was interested in the world outside their rooms.
He slipped off the ledge and onto the deck. Bending at the waist to cut down on his profile, he first secured his climbing rope around his midsection, then retrieved the tracking device. The signal was definitely stronger than it had been at street level. Markoff ’s beacon had to be somewhere in one of the buildings.
Quinn moved along the pool toward the east tower. It took only seconds to find the glass door leading into the building. And, as he had guessed, there was another camera, this one focused on the entry, catching anyone going in or out. Inside, beyond the glass door, he could see entrances to a couple of the apartments, and an elevator on the left.
The signal strength had gone up a few more decimal points, but it had still not reached 1.000. If the beacon was in the east tower, it had to be higher up.
He skirted past the camera and made his way to the other tower.
No pool on the west side. In fact, since the building was much closer to the river here, the available deck space was considerably reduced. The designer had chosen to create small semiprivate spaces for one or two people by using half-walls and planters full of large bushes. Perfect spots for a bit of alone time in the sun.
The west tower itself seemed to be almost a mirror image of its sister. The entrance looked no different. Neither did the camera that was aimed at it. The lobby beyond the door was also identical, but reversed.
There were two notable differences at this end, though. The first was that the apartments on the deck level had small private patios carved out of the main deck, each delineated by a chest-high wall. As far as Quinn could see, there were no cameras on these apartments.
And the second, the signal strength on the tracking device had reached .9900. Its highest level yet.
The west tower looked like it was the winner.
