He glanced at Orlando. She shrugged, as confused as he was.
As he turned back, Pullman started to push himself out of the chair.
“No one said you could get up.” Quinn knocked the broker back down. “Tape,” he said to Orlando, his eyes never leaving Pullman.
There was a loud rip, and a second later Orlando came around his side, a loose end of duct tape in one hand and the roll in the other.
Pullman pushed back in the chair. “Wait! Wait! I told you I didn’t know.”
“Arms at your side,” Quinn ordered.
“Please!”
Quinn pointed his SIG at the man’s shoulder. “Take them down or I will.”
Pullman dropped his arms.
“Take off your shirt.”
“What?”
“Take it off.”
“Okay, okay,” the man said. He pulled off his shirt, revealing an abnormally hairy chest.
“Drop it on the floor.”
As soon as the man did, Quinn grabbed him by the nape of the neck and pulled him forward several inches so Orlando would have room to work. Orlando stuck the end of the tape to the broker’s chest, then wrapped it around the man’s body several times, pinning Pullman’s arms tightly to his side. Once that was done, Quinn pushed the man back, and Orlando wound more tape around the chair, creating a web that would keep Pullman where he was. She then ripped off a small piece and stuck it over the man’s mouth.
Pullman yelled in protest, his voice leaking from the bottom of the strip.
“See, that just pisses
She tore off two more pieces. The first she put over the lower half of the man’s mouth. The other, longer strip she wrapped under Pullman’s jaw and up the side of his face so that it held down the ends of the other two.
“Yell again,” she said.
Pullman stared back, silent.
“You heard her,” Quinn told him.
Pullman gave a halfhearted yell. This time his voice was sufficiently muffled.
“Better,” Orlando said.
Quinn leaned forward a few inches. “You brought this on yourself. If you hadn’t tried to shoot me, we might have had a nice, pleasant conversation. But you just couldn’t help pulling the trigger, could you?”
Pullman mumbled something.
“I’m going to let that pass, but from now on this is how it’s going to work. Your mouth stays shut unless I give you permission to speak. Understood?”
Pullman nodded.
“I’m going to ask you a few yes-or-no questions. A nod for yes, a shake for no. Easy, right?”
Another nod.
“Excellent. All right, something simple first. You are Timothy Pullman, correct?”
Pullman stared at him for a moment, his eyes widening ever so slightly.
“Before you answer,” Quinn said, “some of these questions we already know the answer to, so we’ll know right away if you lie to us, and that won’t make us very happy.” He raised his gun a few inches to ensure the message wasn’t too subtle for the man.
Pullman looked away.
“So, Pullman, right?”
A nod.
“Good. Then we’re in the right place. It would have been pretty embarrassing if you were the wrong asshole, don’t you think?”
The broker looked like he wasn’t sure if he should nod or shake or what.
Quinn raised his hand, his palm out. “Rhetorical.” He smiled. “Yes or no. You put together an op that supposedly finished two days ago.”
A nod.
“Did this Senator Lopez have something to do with the job?”
Yes.
“The victim?” Quinn guessed.
Pullman hesitated.
“Remember. Only the truth.”
Pullman’s head moved up and down.
“So you think we’re here about him? Maybe we’re not too happy that he’s dead?”
Pullman nodded.
“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Quinn said. “Partially, anyway. We
Pullman looked confused.
“You’ve been straight with us so far. I can see it in your eyes, so don’t screw it up now.”
The man immediately shook his head.
“Good. The person we’re interested in is one of the people you hired. The cleaner. Quinn, right?”
A quick, decisive nod.
“See, here again is an example of something that could have made things a lot easier. When my associate called you last night, you could have told us the truth then. If you had, we wouldn’t have had to come all the way out here to see you.” Quinn paused. “Please tell me you regret not being a little nicer.”
Pullman nodded with enthusiasm.
Quinn clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth several times, then said, “All right. I’m going to take the tape off your mouth now, but your lips stay sealed unless you’re answering a question from either me or my friend. Got it?”
Yes.
Quinn smiled, and ripped off the long piece that went under Pullman’s jaw. The broker’s eyes widened as he let out a grunt.
“Sorry about that,” Quinn said. He removed the two pieces from over the man’s mouth. “There. Better?”
Pullman started to speak, then thought better of it, and nodded.
“Another easy one. The Lopez job, is it over? Or did it get extended?”
“Over,” Pullman croaked.
“When?”
“Like you said-almost two days.”
“So, on schedule.”
A nod, tentative.
“Then where is Quinn?”
“I don’t know. The job went…bad.”
“Explain bad to me.”
“The police found the body before it could be disposed of.”
Quinn hid his surprise. “They caught your cleaner?”
Pullman hesitated.
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t
“What are you talking about?”
“There was some kind of manhunt in the news after they found the body, but I’m not sure if they caught anyone.”
