If I did manage to distract Quinn long enough to break Alison out of the warehouse, Quinn would make it his mission in life to kill both of us. On my own, I could probably handle Augustus, or at least stay ahead of him. But I’d have to protect Alison, and she’d slow me down in short order. We’d be sitting ducks for a guy with Quinn’s killing ability. It made no sense to rescue Alison if Quinn was going to hunt us down and kill us anyway.
Quinn stopped at a red light at Clancy and Olmstead. I could see his monstrous form silhouetted by the headlights of the cars facing us. I wondered if he suspected I knew about Alison. If so, was he already plotting my death?
I sighed. In the end it came down to this: Alison was innocent. She was being held captive because of the decision I’d made to place her in his care. That made me responsible for her, and I take my responsibilities seriously. Always have. Besides, I don’t like the idea of her being at Quinn’s grisly mercy these many years. It’s the fatal flaw part of the heroic code Nadine had spoken about, my inability to remain detached. I simply could not ignore Alison’s situation, much as I’d love to. And Quinn would never allow her to leave.
The light turned green and Quinn released his foot from the brake. When he did so, the brake light went dark and the car moved forward. I placed my thumb on the toggle switch and followed him.
Maybe I could hold off . We could bang the hookers, make a great night of it, and maybe afterward he and I could talk about Alison.
But what would we say? If he agreed to release her, and I agreed to forgive and forget, we’d still have the problem of her going to the police. Quinn would never allow himself to be a fugitive. He’d either commit suicide or die in a firefight after killing a dozen members of a swat team.
There was no getting around it, Augustus had to die.
But did he have to die right now?
He’s already had his last meal, why not let him have one last fling with these first rate whores? It could be sort of a gift from me to him, for old times’ sake. I could always kill him afterward, maybe come up with a more peaceful way to take my friend out of this world.
The more I thought about it, the more I decided this was the way to go. Let him enjoy Delight’s full menu of services first. Then I’d give him a lethal dose from my syringe before the smile has time to fade from his face. While waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, I could even spend a little time getting to know Heavenly.
The night was clear and clean and we headed east under a thick canopy of stars that seemed bright enough to drive by if we wanted to turn off our headlights. I thought about Kathleen and Addie a mere ninety-five miles away and felt connected, wondering if they were looking into the same sky.
I shook my head. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t ready to jump into the sack with anyone, let alone a hooker named Heavenly. And anyway, the moment you know a damsel is in distress, you save her. It’s rule number one in the Hero Handbook, no exceptions. I backed off the gas and let Augustus get fifty yards ahead of me. Then I made a sudden left turn. As I did, I flipped the switch on the detonator box and blew my best friend, Augustus Quinn, to hell.
Chapter 52
I circled the block from the other direction and did a drive by, inspecting my work. My friend was in a more peaceful place now, and yes, I’m referring to hell. Because hell would be a picnic compared to the torments of Quinn’s life.
I drove two more blocks and picked up Callie. She gave me a huge hug and said, “It’s so great to see you!”
“You too, I only wish the circumstances were better.”
“I wish we could have met before all this happened,” she said. “But you’re right, it would have been too risky.”
She settled into her seat and I put the car in gear.
“I heard the explosion,” she said. “I assume everything went according to plan.”
“It did.”
“Okay, then.”
She grew quiet as I picked my way through the downtown streets. Knowing where the explosion occurred helped me avoid the police cars and ambulances converging on the scene. Once we were past that, I stole a glance at Callie and saw her staring straight ahead with vacant eyes.
“You okay?” I said.
Her lip trembled. When she spoke her voice sounded spent, like it had traveled a long way to get here.
“I feel dirty,” she said. She turned and watched my face as I drove. “I can’t even imagine how you must feel.”
“No,” I said, “you probably can’t.”
Most people would consider Callie and me to be stone-cold killers. But we’re not killers, we’re assassins. Maybe I’m splitting hairs here, but to me the distinction is we don’t get a high from killing. To us it’s a job, like working in an ice cream store or delivering the mail. You don’t get emotionally attached to the ice cream or the mail. You just scoop or deliver it. But Quinn had been a friend to both of us, and while I’d known him many years longer than Callie, she had considered him to be trustworthy in all the ways that count.
Until the thing with Alison.
I wondered about the repercussions I might experience from killing Augustus, and subconsciously touched my chest. No pain is good. I hadn’t expected the symptoms to return, due to my counseling sessions with Nadine, but after going through what I did, I suppose there will always be a small wedge of doubt in the back of my mind when I take lives in the future.
For now it was working. Nadine helped me understand it was a question of degree. Everyone is guilty of something, but not everyone can agree on the severity of a crime. And everyone has a different yardstick for what warrants the death penalty.
For me, according to Nadine, the killing has to either benefit the victim or society. For example, I had no problem putting Robbie out of his misery after Callie dealt him a mortal wound. That benefited the victim. When I kill terrorists for Homeland, I’m benefitting society.
In preparation for killing Quinn, I’d asked Nadine if I would have been able to kill Tara Siegel. She said, “You could have killed Tara without batting an eye as long as it benefitted her or society. If Tara had turned against Homeland Security, or if she had violated your moral code by threatening to kill Kathleen or Addie, it wouldn’t have the slightest psychosomatic effect. That’s why Callie had no problem pulling the trigger. Callie perceived Tara as a serious threat to her life with Eva. But you weren’t convinced of that at the time. When Callie shot her, you were still trying to work out an agreement with Tara. When Callie took matters into her own hands, your brain perceived a senseless killing.”
I’d asked Nadine if that wasn’t just so much psycho babble.
She said, “Your body reacts to things that appear to be real, whether real or not. For example, if I were to punch Nurse Carol in the stomach, totally unprovoked, she’d double over in pain. If tomorrow I started to punch her in the stomach, but stopped my fist just short of the target, she’d probably still double over to protect herself from the perceived blow.”
“So it’s not the actual violence, but my perception of it that counts.”
“As long as you’re in charge of the killing, and you know the killing has nothing to do with someone’s idea of entertainment, you’ll be fine.”
I’d said, “Nadine, what happens to you when I leave here?”
“I’ll go home and learn how to have some fun in my life. I plan to dote on my nephews and make friends in my neighborhood.”
“You’ve earned enough to retire?”
“Yes, with the money I’ve saved and the fortune Darwin has paid me to nursemaid you, I’m set for life.”