Someone answered almost immediately. Once Orlando had hung up, she said, “We should be getting a call soon.”
Less than thirty seconds later, the phone rang.
“Give it to me,” Quinn said.
Orlando handed it to him. Quinn pushed the connect button and held the phone to his ear. “Yes?” he said.
“You wanted to talk to me?” It was Borko.
“I’m going to make this fast. We’ll give you back the van when you give us the boy.”
“Why would we do that? Soon we will have the van and the boy.”
“Call your friends at the water plant,” Quinn said, then disconnected the call.
He pulled an object that looked like a thick credit card out of the inside pocket of his jacket. At one end, there were two switches. The first was the safety. Quinn flipped it to the off position. The second was an A/B switch, allowing access to two different channels. Quinn selected channel A. Below the switches was a pad that had been keyed to Quinn’s right thumbprint.
“Be careful with that,” Orlando said.
He placed his thumb on the pad. A second later, he was greeted with a barely audible beep.
If everything had worked properly, the sphere in Neukölln had just lit up like a blast furnace. Quinn was certain he’d placed more than enough Semtex to incinerate any residual virus. If he flipped the switch to channel B and thumbed the pad again, it would trigger the explosives in the back of the van. As a precaution, Orlando and Nate had similar triggering devices.
Quinn glanced at the side mirror. There was no outward reaction in the BMW, but almost immediately his phone began ringing again.
“What was the point of that?” Borko said.
“A demonstration. If we don’t get Garrett back, alive and unharmed, your building in Neukölln won’t be the only thing destroyed. Your call.”
He hung up again.
“You really think it’s going to work?” Orlando asked.
His only answer was a nod and a smile. In truth he had hoped to be free and clear when it came time to make the call. Now with the way things were, he just hoped one of them would be able to get out alive.
“Look out!” Orlando said.
Less than a half a block away, a Volvo sedan pulled out from a side street and stopped in their path. Quinn had been paying too much attention to the car behind them and barely had time to react. Pressing down on the accelerator, he turned the wheel so they could swing past the front of the vehicle.
There was the crunch of metal on metal as the front right corner of the van pushed the sedan out of the way, ripping the car’s bumper off in the process.
“You’re clear,” Orlando said.
Quinn pressed the pedal all the way to the floor.
They drove north through the city, past Tegel Airport, and into the less populated countryside. The BMW was still behind them, as was the bumperless Volvo. Both seemed content to let Quinn lead the way.
There was still no sign of Nate.
“We’re going to have to dump this soon,” Quinn said.
He’d been monitoring the gauges on the dashboard. While they had plenty of fuel, the oil pressure had been steadily dropping.
“We can’t,” Orlando said. “We need it.”
“I don’t think we’re going to have a choice.”
“No!” she yelled. “We can’t. We need it to find Garrett!”
Ahead Quinn noticed a snow-packed road leading into a wooded area. There was a construction sign near the entrance, proclaiming the road off-limits to anyone but employees of Boon Industries.
At the last second, Quinn whipped the van down the road. The Volvo shot past, unable to react in time. But the BMW made the turn, its back end fishtailing as it tried to gain traction on the snowy surface.
“What are you doing?” Orlando asked.
“I’m trying to keep us alive.”
The road wound through a grove of trees before emerging into a clearing. It was a construction site, by the looks of it, not much farther along than the leveling-of-the-ground stage. Work must have been halted when winter rolled in.
Quinn shot across the field. Somewhere there had to be another exit, another way through the construction site. Behind him, the BMW entered the clearing, then stopped, the car’s occupants no doubt concerned about an ambush. A moment later, it was joined by the Volvo. It was exactly what Quinn had been hoping they’d do.
He kept driving across the field away from them. The terrain forced him to reduce his speed to only a few miles an hour. His eyes scanned the rapidly approaching trees in front of them.
“What are you looking for?” Orlando asked.
“An exit or a back road.”
They were both quiet for a moment, then Orlando shouted, “There!”
She pointed at a gap in the trees off to the left. Quinn turned toward it. Almost immediately he realized he’d made a mistake. The ground quickly became uneven and rutted. Quinn jerked the wheel left, then right, then left, then—
A loud thud shook the van as the front passenger tire dipped into an unseen hole about three feet wide, slamming the rubber up against the top of the wheel well. Quinn gunned the engine. The vehicle lurched forward, pulling itself back onto level ground. But the damage was already done. The tire was blown. And from the screeching, it sounded like the axle might be bent.
Quinn cursed under his breath and stopped the van.
“We can’t stop here,” Orlando said.
“We don’t have a choice,” Quinn said, emphasizing each word. “The van is done.”
As he turned off the engine he glanced out his side window back toward the other two cars. They were still parked near the entrance to the site, but there was activity now.
The driver of the Volvo was walking over to the other sedan. A window rolled down, and the driver seemed to listen for a moment. A second later he turned and shouted something at the Volvo. The rear passenger doors of the Volvo flew open, and two men jumped out. They ran across the field, not straight for the van, but parallel to it.
“Out, out, out,” Quinn said.
The van had come to a rest at an angle that shielded the passenger side of the vehicle from the BMW and Volvo. Orlando shoved the door open, then slipped outside. Quinn quickly followed her.
As soon as he was outside, Quinn reached into his pocket and retrieved the remote triggering device. He turned the safety off and moved the channel switch to B. To ensure he didn’t set the explosives off prematurely, he held the device in his left hand.
Across the field, another car door opened. “Quinn?”
It was Borko.
“Quinn! Enough already, hey? You had a good run! But give it up, my friend! You have no chance!”
One hundred feet from where they stood, the woods encroached on the clearing. Quinn nodded toward them.
“You first,” he said to Orlando. “I’ll distract them. The moment you’re in position, blow the van.”
He could see the hesitation in her eyes. “We go together,” she said, then held up her gun. “If we get to cover, we can pick them off. We won’t have to set off the explosives.”
“That’s not going to work,” Quinn said.
“Dammit, we can at least try.”
Quinn nodded tersely. “Fine. We’ll try. But if it’s not working, we blow the van.”
Orlando smiled weakly.
“Quinn, you’re finished! Do you understand?” Borko’s anger was starting to bleed into his voice, “Put down your gun and come out where I can see you!”
Keeping the van between them and the sedans, Quinn and Orlando began running toward the woods.
“You would think I’d have lost my patience by now!” Borko continued. “You have done a great deal of damage! But it is only business! I understand this! Just as I am sure you’ll understand I cannot let you get away!”