the swell of humanity exiting through the gate was too much. The more they tried to force their way through, the less progress they made. Quinn saw bulges under each of their jackets. Weapons, no question about it. These had to be the men Orlando had seen.
As Quinn passed under the arch, he looked to the right, down the street, trying to spot the leader. The crowd was thinner in that direction, so it only took a moment for Quinn to pick him out.
But he not only picked him out, he recognized him. He was the last man out of the house in Houston, the blond guy.
Traffic on the street had come to a standstill as people flooded onto the road, becoming obstacles no one seemed interested in hitting. As Quinn watched, Blondie ran up to a taxi, pulled open one of the doors, then jumped up onto the threshold so that he could look over the crowd.
Suddenly he pointed toward the far side of the madness, off to Quinn’s left. Quinn whipped his head around. As he did he noticed the suits also following their boss’s gesture.
People moved all around Quinn, creating an ever-changing landscape. At first, he couldn’t figure out what it was that drew the man’s attention. Then the crowd cleared for a split second.
About fifty feet down the street, a woman was running away from the scene. Caucasian, thin, with very short hair. It wasn’t until she glanced back over her shoulder that Quinn recognized her.
Jenny.
She had dropped at least twenty pounds since he’d last seen her, pounds she didn’t need to lose. And her shoulder-length brown hair had been chopped short enough so that in the right circumstances, and with the right clothing, she might even be able to pass for a boy. She’d also darkened it until it was almost black.
It was the look of someone on the run, doing what they could to survive.
Quinn began pushing people out of his way as he changed directions. Two of the other men were ahead of him, muscling their way through the crowd. But Jenny was moving faster than all of them, helped by the fact she was in an area momentarily less congested.
Someone grabbed Quinn’s arm. He looked over his shoulder. It was the third suit. Only he seemed to just be trying to pass by, and didn’t realize who Quinn was.
As the man came abreast, Quinn slammed his elbow into his solar plexus.
The man doubled over in pain and surprise, then fell to the ground as several people plowed into him as they tried to flee.
Quinn began running again. Jenny had almost doubled the distance between them. But the other two men had also made progress and, unlike Quinn, were gaining on her.
Quinn weaved in and out of the mass of people, trying to make some headway. The larger of the two men was also the slower one. Quinn was able to get within a couple feet of him before the man glanced over his shoulder to see whose footsteps were keeping pace with his own.
By then it was too late. Quinn already had the advantage.
He rammed himself into the man’s back, concentrating the force of his blow just below the big man’s shoulders. The man staggered but remained on his feet. Quinn shoved again, harder. This time the man fell, and Quinn went with him.
The man twisted his shoulders trying to dislodge Quinn, but Quinn held on, kneeing him twice in the kidneys.
“Get the fuck off me!” the man yelled.
He put his hands on the ground and started to push himself up. Quinn’s grasp of the man’s shirt slipped, and he fell to the side. But even as the man started to stand up, Quinn jumped to his feet.
The big man’s hand moved under his jacket, going for his gun.
Quinn didn’t have time to pull out one of his own weapons. Instead, he grabbed the leather bag and swung it with as much force as he could generate.
The man’s hands started to fly up to block the blow, but Quinn was faster. The bag full of gear smashed into the side of the guy’s head, spinning him around and sending him back to the ground.
Quinn was in a full sprint now.
Jenny was almost out of sight, turning left onto China Street. The final pursuer was directly behind her. A second later, she was gone, disappearing behind the bulk of the building at the corner.
As the man following her took the corner, he glanced back toward Quinn. It was the driver from Houston. The look in the man’s eyes told Quinn he knew who Quinn was also. Then the driver moved around the corner out of sight.
Quinn ran as fast as he could. He stayed tight to the building as he turned the corner, then came to a dead stop.
Jenny and the driver were gone.
CHAPTER
QUINN MOVED DOWN THE BLOCK, LOOKING LEFT AND
right, desperate to find Jenny. The crowds were calmer here, as if the near-riot at the Water Gate was a thousand miles away. Several people gave Quinn an odd look as he ran past them.
Somewhere ahead and to the left he heard a muffled cry.
