through the gate. The body left a nice trail of blood. Quinn went back and kicked as much dirt over it as he could. Before he finished, Nate arrived.
“Cover this up somehow,” Quinn said. “Leaves, dirt, whatever.”
While Nate did that, Quinn checked on Orlando. He moved her hand to get a better look. Though the top of her shirt was soaked, the bleeding seemed to have slowed.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
“I know you will,” he told her. “Hang on for just a few more minutes, okay?”
She nodded.
Quinn motioned for Nate to follow him into the observation area.
“You shoot him, or Orlando?” Nate asked.
“She did,” Quinn said. “Grab his legs.”
“What’s the plan?”
Quinn made a motion with his hand, mimicking moving the body over the top of the railing at the edge of the pathway and into the pit. They each grabbed an end of the corpse.
“This guy weighs a ton,” Nate said.
Quinn couldn’t argue with that.
Once they got him on top of the railing, a simple push forward sent the body tumbling over the side. Their aim turned out pretty good. The body landed in the tar near the end closest to the pathway, and therefore out of sight from anyone who might take a peek through the fence. If they were lucky, it might be several days or even weeks before the body was found.
Once the gate was relocked, and Orlando had donned Nate’s jacket to hide her wound, they headed back to the car. As Quinn helped Orlando into the front seat, Nate headed for the driver’s door.
“You’re in back,” Quinn said. “I’ll drive.”
But before Nate even moved, Orlando said, “It’s almost time for the meet.”
“It’s canceled,” Quinn said.
“It’s not, and you know it. Besides, that other guy I saw might be getting into position to kill Primus. You can’t let that happen.”
“It’s Peter’s problem.”
“And we’re working for Peter, so it’s our problem. You’re just concerned about me. If I was anyone else, the op would still go on.”
“Hell yes, I’m concerned about you!”
“Does Nate know where to take me?”
Before Quinn could say anything, Nate said, “The Westwood facility?”
Quinn pressed his lips together, then nodded.
“Then I’ll be fine,” Orlando said. “But not if you keep arguing. I only have so much blood.”
Quinn stared at her, then took a step back, his hand still on the open passenger door. Orlando was pissing him off, but she was right. “I’ll call ahead.”
Orlando smiled as best as she could. “Be careful.”
Quinn looked at Nate. “Keep me informed.”
“I will,” his apprentice said, then climbed behind the wheel.
Quinn watched until they were out of sight before turning back and reentering the park.
Time was becoming his enemy more than anything else. The meet was only ten minutes away, and he still hadn’t found the second man.
Maybe he’d seen his partner go down, and had decided the situation was too hot to hang around. But for a professional, the loss of a team member shouldn’t have mattered. The mission would take precedence. And given the circumstances, it was best to assume the guy was a pro.
Quinn checked his watch once more. Eight minutes to go. Just enough time to check the central court again. He headed toward the ramp at the west end of the lake leading up to the central court level, but he slowed before he got there.
There was another way up from this side, one few members of the public used. To the right of the ramp was an asphalt path lined by grass and bushes, and squeezed between the lower level of the Bing Building on the left and the lower level of the Japanese art pavilion on the right. It only went about one hundred feet in, then stopped. And there, surrounded by tall bushes, was the alternate route up, a metal staircase that curved around itself until it reached the central court.
Quinn veered down the path, ready to pull out his gun at the first sign of trouble.
There were windows along the ground level of the Bing Building. Most were covered with shades, but a few were uncovered enough to see the offices beyond. As he neared the end of the pathway, he noticed a chain strung across the staircase. There was a sign mounted on a metal stand posted in front of it. The intent was clear enough. The stairway was closed.
He progressed only a few feet farther when he heard a door to his left open. Instinctively his hand moved under his sports coat, his fingers wrapping around the butt of his pistol. But he didn’t pull the weapon out, holding position until he could assess the threat.
A security guard emerged from the building and started walking toward him.
“Excuse me, sir,” the man said. “Can I help you?”
“I was just going to take the stairs up,” Quinn said as he returned his hand to his side.
“I’m sorry, sir. The stairs aren’t open to the public today. If you’ll just return the way you came and take the ramp up, that’s the quickest way from here.”
“It used to be open, though, didn’t it?” Quinn asked. “I remember taking it in the past.”
“It’s closed today, sir.”
Quinn smiled. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
“No problem. Have a good day.”
The guard stayed where he was as Quinn turned and began retracing his steps along the pathway. That was a good thing. In fact it was very possible it had been the only thing that kept Quinn alive. For in the bushes near the base of the stairs, Quinn had seen him. The man in the suit.
He had somehow gotten past the security guard’s gaze, and was lying in wait. All he would need to do was to slip under the chain barrier and climb up the stairs at the appropriate time to catch Quinn and Primus together.
Only now Quinn knew he was there. And the suit had to assume the same.
Quinn walked rapidly back into the central court, then glanced at his watch. 11:57 a.m.
He only had three minutes until the meet time, and he had failed to neutralize the suit. Not good.
There was a tiny voice in the back of his mind that said maybe the men in the suits had been with Primus. His protection team.
Quinn would just be collateral damage. A necessary hit, but a nameless body representing those Primus was working with. It would be Primus who was the big prize. With him gone, the pipeline of information would be sealed.
Quinn ran into the central court. Unlike the sparse crowd Nate had described earlier, there were several dozen people there now, many in line to buy tickets, while others milled around waiting for the museum doors to open at noon. Most of the tables were also occupied. People having early lunches or drinking cups of coffee. Some in groups chatting, others alone reading the paper or sipping their drinks. A few children were even running around.
Quinn scanned those close by, but no one matched what he was looking for. Dark salmon polo shirt and jeans. That had been all the description Primus had given Peter.
Quinn moved farther into the crowd, knowing he had to find Primus immediately, before the remaining assassin could get to them.
Dark salmon polo shirt.
He glanced over at the ticket lines. There seemed to be an equal mix of men and women, most older, retirement age. Noon on a weekday, most of the younger set was too busy working toward their first heart attacks
