“Thanks.” The prisoner worked his jaw for a moment. “So here’s what I was thinking.”
“I said, no deals. Here’s what I—”
“Just hear me out, okay? What could it hurt?”
Griffin stared at him, not saying a word.
“The deal is this. I don’t want to say what I have to say twice. Know what I mean? Yeah, you have your fancy video system.” As the prisoner said this, he glanced past Griffin at one of the cameras mounted in the room. “So you could record it and show that, but we both know your boss is going to want to hear it from me.”
Griffin remained silent.
“This is the part where you say you don’t have a boss,” the man said. “And then I say, ‘Actually, you do. I mean, unless Kyle Morten fired you.’”
Griffin locked eyes with the man. “You think you’re a smart guy, don’t you? You think you can trip me up with your little name-dropping?”
The prisoner shrugged. “I was trying to do you a favor.”
“I don’t need your favor.” Griffin leaned in close. “So let me tell you the deal I have for you. Which, by the way, is nonnegotiable. You will talk. You will tell me who you are. You will tell me everything you know. You will tell me who else knows. And you will start right now.”
“You mean how you and your boss murdered Miranda Keyes and her colleagues for one of your clients? A bullet to the head of the driver. Very subtle. Or do you mean how you guys handed over a list of names to Javier Romero in an attempt to keep the truth from coming out, thinking he’d take care of your problem for you?”
Griffin took a step back. “Who are you?”
“Remember, I gave you a chance.”
“How many others know?”
The prisoner stared past Griffin, stone-faced.
“Answer me! How many?”
No response.
“Your silence won’t save anyone. I’ll find them like I found you.”
The man grinned again as he looked at Griffin. “What makes you think you found me?”
Stop it! You’re letting him get under your skin, Griffin told himself. This was his interrogation, not the prisoner’s. He glared derisively at the man, his lips parting as he was about to start in on the questioning again.
“Now,” the man whispered.
Nate nodded at the O & O man standing by the power box, and a second later all electricity to the building was severed.
“Perimeter team neutralized. Power out,” Nate said into the radio.
Everything went black.
As Quinn whipped his arms out of the restraints Dima had loosened for him, and leaned down so he could pull the straps away from his legs, he heard Nate’s report. He could hear the door open and shut across the room.
“Dima, dammit, get the lights back on!” Griffin yelled.
No response.
“Dima, where are you?”
While Quinn freed his left leg, he heard the movement of cloth, like someone rubbing their hands across their clothes. The moment the strap dropped from around his right leg, a bluish, rectangular light flicked on. Griffin’s cell phone.
Quinn couldn’t see the man behind the phone, but he heard Griffin curse as he realized Quinn was free. Immediately, the light moved with the man rushing at Quinn.
Quinn dove to the side, rolling on the floor before popping back up on his feet.
Behind him, he heard Griffin skid to a stop. As Quinn turned, he saw a flash of metal, and knew the man was holding a knife.
When Griffin came at him again, it wasn’t in a run but a deliberate stalk.
“You’re not getting out of here,” Griffin said.
“Who said I wanted to?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Me? I’m the man who’s going to take you and your partner down.”
“Oh, really? I don’t see that happening.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Quinn feigned to his right, then left, heading around Griffin toward the door. Griffin was only partially fooled, and lunged, his knife leading the way. Quinn saw it coming, twisted out of its path, and lashed out with his own hand, knocking the phone out of Griffin’s grip.
The moment the cell hit the floor, the light went out.
Quinn made it all the way to the door, but knew he couldn’t get it open before Griffin would get there, so he crouched low against the wall and waited.
An unsettled silence fell over the room.
“It’s only a matter of time,” Griffin said. “I’m going to find you, and I’m going to cut you up. And then I’m going to find your friends and no one will ever know what happened to any of you.”
The man was about eight feet away, straight out from the door.
“You think you scared me with what you found out?” Griffin said. “You think you’re the first problem I’ve ever had to deal with?” A quiet step closer to the door. “Don’t kid yourself. I’ve dealt with far worse problems than you, and I’m still here. Just like I’m going to still be here after we’re through.”
Another step. Griffin was five feet away now.
“What I think I’ll do is leave you locked in here for a while. If you’re ready to talk when I come back, I may be willing to let you live a bit longer.”
Griffin took a step toward the door.
“Enjoy the dark. I’ll see you in a—”
Quinn grabbed Griffin’s ankles and yanked them out from under the man. Griffin fell backward, tumbling to the floor.
Quinn followed right behind, his hands searching for Griffin’s wrists, mindful of the knife the man still held.
“You son of a bitch!” Griffin yelled, pain in his voice. “Is that how you want to play?”
Quinn found the knife hand and tried to pin it against the floor, but Griffin jerked and twisted and squirmed, making it impossible to hold down. The best Quinn could do was keep the knife from plunging into him.
Griffin smacked Quinn in the shoulder with his other hand, and then popped him in the jaw. Quinn’s grip on the man’s wrist slipped. Griffin immediately took advantage, and shoved Quinn off to the side.
Quinn heard the man jump to his feet and run for the door. Pushing himself up, he followed right behind. Griffin opened the door and exited the room, and tried to pull the door closed again. But Quinn yanked it out of Griffin’s grasp before the other man could shut it all the way.
There were two windows high on the walls of the area beyond the interrogation room, so while the lights were still off, it wasn’t pitch-black, and he could see Griffin was already at the base of the stairs.
“You’re not going to want to go up there,” Quinn said.
Griffin sneered, and started up the steps.
“Let him know you’re there,” Quinn whispered loudly enough for Nate to pick up.
Over the radio, he heard Nate say, “Light ’em up!”
Griffin was halfway to the top when the upper door opened and three handheld HMI spotlights blazed down on him, stopping him in his tracks.
“Drop the knife and stay where you are,” Witten ordered from behind the lights.
Griffin, an arm held in front of his eyes to keep him from being blinded, swiveled his head back and forth, looking for a way out.
“Drop the knife,” Witten repeated.
Some people never knew when to give up. Griffin was one such person. As was Quinn.
In a sudden burst of motion, Griffin leaped down the stairs, bypassing the treads, and landed bent-kneed on the basement floor. As his gaze fell on Quinn, he rushed forward, fury radiating from every pore.
Quinn had his own fury stored up. After the first swipe of the knife passed harmlessly in front of him, he grabbed Griffin’s wrist and slammed it against the metal doorjamb of the interrogation room, following it up with a right hook into Griffin’s ribs.
When the knife finally fell to the floor, Quinn twisted Griffin’s arm back and rammed it into the jamb again. There was a satisfying double crack as both bones in Griffin’s forearm broke.