“It was an exchange?” Quinn wandered over to the window and peered outside. Dark clouds were gathering over the city. Snow was forecast for later that evening. “You sure it wasn’t just an ordinary hit?”
“You mean with Borko as the target?”
“Him or his contact.”
“Zeus said it was a straight exchange. He doesn’t know why it went bad.”
“And Borko was working for the Syrians?”
“According to Zeus.”
Quinn looked back at Orlando. “Do you believe him?”
She hesitated, then shook her head.
“What do you think happened?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I did a little more checking,” Orlando said. “There are no police reports in Rome even hinting that something like what Zeus described went down that night. If the cops almost caught them, there should have been something.”
“You don’t think the operation in Rome ever happened.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t.”
Quinn glanced back out the window. “Interesting. So Zeus is lying.”
Orlando nodded.
“But why?” Quinn asked.
“To create a smokescreen?” she offered. “Provide a way for Borko to get out of the spotlight so he could concentrate on the bigger picture?”
“Like taking out the Office,” Quinn said.
Orlando frowned, then shook her head. “It’s weak.”
Quinn sighed in agreement. “It would be a hell of a lot easier if someone just claimed responsibility.”
“That’d take all the fun out of it, though,” Orlando said.
Quinn took another drink of water, then set the bottle on the side table next to the couch. “All right. Borko’s still a suspect, but we’ll remain open to other possibilities.”
“Right,” Orlando said.
“But if it is Borko, there’s something else that’s missing.”
“You mean motive?” Nate asked.
“No,” Quinn said. “The only motive he needs is money. It’s more a question of who’s paying the bills. Borko’s strictly a hired gun.”
Orlando hesitated. “I might know the answer to that.”
“Tell me,” Quinn said.
“I’ve found a couple references of Borko being involved with Dahl.”
“Dahl?” Quinn said. “That name sounds familiar.”
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s what I was thinking, so I did a little digging. Apparently he’s been around since the late eighties. A fringe player. Haven’t been able to talk to anyone who’s worked with him, but I’m still checking. I get the impression he’s now fronting a lot of Borko’s work.”
“Another winner.” Quinn closed his eyes in thought. “What a mess.”
“I could be wrong.”
Quinn let out a humorless laugh. “Okay. We concentrate on Duke’s lead first. Maybe it’s Borko. Maybe it’s somebody else. Maybe it’s this Dahl guy. Hopefully, no matter what, it’ll clear things up. If not, and Borko’s not involved in this meeting, we’ll go after him directly.”
Orlando nodded.
“Nate. You’re with me tonight,” Quinn said.
“Okay,” Nate said.
Quinn looked at Orlando. “You’ll keep tabs on us by radio from here. I can let you know if I find anything useful.”
“Lucky me,” she said.
CHAPTER 19
It was a quarter after ten. Schandauer Strasse was quiet and dark. The only illumination came from a few security lamps attached to apartment buildings farther down the block. There were no streetlights.
Cars lined either side of the road, leaving no place to park, but Quinn and Nate didn’t need one. A taxi had dropped them off several blocks away, near the city administrative building on Karl Marx Strasse. They were dressed warmly, in dark clothes. On Quinn’s back was a black backpack. Heavy, but manageable.
“You want me to go over it again?” Quinn asked as they walked down the cobblestone sidewalk toward Schandauer Strasse.
Nate shook his head. “I keep out of sight, watch the street, let you know if there’s anything unusual. Right?”
“Not just unusual,” Quinn said. “Anything. Got it?”
“I got it.”
A couple of hours earlier it had begun to snow. Lightly at first, but it had increased steadily until it was falling at a rate of nearly an inch an hour. Quinn guessed by morning there probably would be over a foot on the ground.
At the corner of Schandauer Strasse, they paused to study the water plant. Like most of the rest of the buildings on the street, it was dark.
“There,” Quinn said, speaking in a low voice. “The Ford parked near the gate.”
The Volvo that had been there that afternoon was gone. In its place was a Ford sedan. Quinn could just make out the shape of a person sitting in the driver’s seat.
“I see him,” Nate said.
“Are you in yet?” Orlando’s voice sounded in Quinn’s ear.
“We’re at the end of the street,” Quinn said.
“Tell me what you see,” Orlando said.
Quinn scanned the street. “Schandauer Strasse. It’s cobbled. Just wide enough for cars to park on both sides of the street and still have two-way traffic. Quiet. The water plant is half a block away. To the right, there’s a three-story building. Looks like it’s used for offices. To the left a smaller building. Brick. There’s a Ford sedan with a guard in it parked where the other car had been this afternoon.”
“What about the water plant?”
“Just like I described it to you this afternoon. Only dark now.”
“Anything else?”
“Other than it’s cold and wet and snowing and I should still be on Maui?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing,” Quinn said.
Quinn and Nate made their way carefully along the row of parked cars until they came to the back of the Ford. They waited a moment to be sure they hadn’t been noticed, then Quinn reached up and attached a small ball of a putty-like substance to the bottom corner of the rear passenger-side window. When activated by heat, it would work its way around the rubber weather strip lining the window and enter the interior of the car as an odorless gas. Within moments, whoever was inside would be knocked out for up to two hours.
Quinn waited a moment to be sure the putty was staying in place, then retrieved a small plastic packet from his coat. He carefully opened it and removed a thin, mesh fabric pad. He placed this directly over the compound on the window, careful to cover the putty completely, then took several steps back.
They watched as the ball began to reduce in size, the pad not only heating it but also directing the gas to go into the car instead of out onto the street. When it was done, Quinn looked at his watch and waited a full three minutes before nodding to Nate.
“He’s out,” Nate said, after he’d peeked into the front of the car. “That stuff’s cool.”
“Are you ready?” Quinn asked, all business.
Nate nodded.
Quinn put a hand on Nate’s back. “Remember—”
“To tell you everything,” Nate finished.
“Good man.” Quinn made a final scan of the street. All was quiet. “Okay, into position.”
Nate nodded, then moved across the street to a spot they had determined prior to arriving. Quinn checked the guard one last time. The man’s head was tilted back against the seat, his mouth half open. Quinn glanced down at the sentry’s chest to make sure the man was breathing. He was.
After giving Nate a quick wave, Quinn moved over to the fence. He quickly scanned the street and the water plant for signs of another sentry. There was no one.
After taking a deep breath, Quinn pulled himself over the fence and dropped down on the other side. He found himself on a short driveway that ran in front of the building and around to the south end, where the door was.