Brett Battles - The Collected

“I’m not scared,” Berkeley whispered, his voice a bit more distant than Lanier’s. “I just think we need to be smart.”

Berkeley’s name was also familiar. “Either of you know what’s going on?” Nate asked.

“No clue,” Lanier said. “I’d just finished this gig in Panama and the next thing I know, I wake up here. That was a week ago.”

“A week?” Nate said, surprised.

“Berkeley’s been here even longer. A week and a half.”

“Almost two,” Berkeley said, obviously not wanting to be short-changed.

“And they haven’t told either of you why?”

“Other than the first day we each got here, the only guy we’ve seen is that big son of a bitch Janus,” Lanier said.

“And the first day?”

“Same thing that happened to you tonight, I’m guessing. Dinner with Mr. Baldy.”

“He said his name was Harris,” Nate said.

“That’s consistent, anyway.”

“So you’ve been in your cells since then?”

“They haven’t even let us take a shower.”

“Anyone question you?”

“No.”

“Seriously?”

“Kind of freaky, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t just kind of freaky, it was all kinds of freaky.

“Did Harris tell you anything?” Lanier asked.

Nate repeated what he thought were the key points from Harris’s monologue, and added, “He did say another guest was coming tomorrow.”

“That’ll make five.”

“Five?”

“Yeah, there’s another guy in a room somewhere down the hall. They take him in and out a lot. I get the feeling he’s been beaten up pretty bad. Never responds when we call out to him.”

Five people, at least two of whom Nate was tangentially associated with. No, at least two of whom Quinn was associated with.

For the first time, he felt there might be a chance to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. How and in what order was still an unknown, but a little light was creeping in.

He put his lips near the vent. “Lanier?”

“Yeah?”

“How many-”

A door down the hall opened, and Janus shouted, “Be quiet! Time to sleep.”

His heavy, booted feet pounded quickly down the hall, stopping right in front of the vent.

Something hit Nate’s door. Bam!Bam!

Nate jumped back, his ears ringing.

“No talking,” Janus said.

Nate waited, hoping Janus would walk off and he could get more info out of Lanier, but the big man seemed to have decided to take up residence outside his door.

Eventually, Nate crawled back over to the mattress, but it was a long time before he finally fell asleep.

Harris paced back and forth acrosshis room.

Despite his outward appearance earlier, his dinner with Quinn disturbed him.

The purpose of the face-to-face meals was to show the men they’d taken that there was no hope. The soldiers, the controlled meal, the relaxed facade of the man in charge-all meant to reinforce that message.

But there was something troubling about Quinn.

While the others had put up stoic fronts, Quinn seemed almost relaxed, like he knew something Harris didn’t.

For the first time, the thought that perhaps they should have just killed Quinn and the ops team crossed his mind, but he quickly pushed it aside.

Damn Quinn!

Instead of getting into the cleaner’s head, it was like the cleaner was starting to get into his. That would never happen.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey.

Fun, remember? It’s going to be fun.

He toasted that thought, and poured himself another.

“I’m not getting in there,” Burke told them.

They were standing next to Daeng’s rental car in the parking structure near the international terminal.

“Fair enough. A question first,” Quinn said.

“I’m telling you, I’m not getting in.”

“If you give me the right answer, you won’t have to.”

Burke looked at him warily, but said nothing.

“We know you were part of the termination in Monterrey,” Quinn said. “And that you were assisting the cleaner, Quinn. So what happened?”

Burke hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“That’s the question, Doug. You answer it right, and you can walk away.”

Burke held Quinn’s gaze for a second. “Did Pullman send you? Or…”

“Or who?” Quinn asked.

“No one. Never mind.”

“Or who?”

Burke shook his head. “I was just testing you.”

“You’re a horrible liar. Do you realize that?”

Before Burke could even respond, Quinn’s fist slammed into the man’s gut.

Burke let out a groan as he doubled over and clutched his stomach.

“What the hell?” he said, panting.

Quinn opened the car’s rear door, and shoved the bastard into the backseat. While he climbed in next to Burke, Daeng swung around the car and bookended the guy on the other side. Orlando slipped into the driver’s seat.

Quinn grabbed Burke’s shoulder and shoved him against the backrest. “See, this is what not being helpful gets you.”

Burke stared at him, not even attempting to hide the fear in his eyes. “Who are you people?”

“Well, we’re not with Pullman.”

Burke’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

“Come on, Doug. Tell me about Monterrey.”

“Look, I did everything your boss wanted. If you couldn’t catch him, that’s not my fault.”

Keeping his face neutral, Quinn said, “And why wouldn’t that be your fault?”

“I…I told you where we were going to be,” he pleaded. “If you hadn’t had cop cars waiting right there, Quinn would have never known anything. It’s not my fault. It’s your fault you couldn’t pull it off. The guy is good, man. He outsmarted you.”

It took every ounce of Quinn’s will not to punch Burke senseless. “What happened after he saw the lights?”

“He turned around and made a run for it,” Burke said, as if it were obvious. “Ask your people. They know what happened.”

“Where did he run to?”

“To that building he ditched the van behind. Where do you think?”

“And what did you do then?”

“I ran like hell.”

“Together?”

“No. He…he told me to leave first.”

“So, he didn’t get out of the van?”

“What are you talking about? Of course, he did. I saw him steal one of your…” Burke’s voice trailed off. “You’re…you’re not with Mr. Blair, are you?”

Quinn tapped Orlando on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Burke said as she started the engine. “Hey, come on. I’m being cooperative.”

Quinn’s hand shot forward, his fingers wrapping around Burke’s neck. As he squeezed, he said, “No, we’re not with Mr. Blair, either. We’re with Quinn.”

Burke began to shake.

There were valleys and canyons in the hills behind Malibu that, despite being within a few miles of over a million people, were surprisingly unoccupied. Quinn directed Orlando to one he’d used in the past.

“Here,” he said, after they’d traveled deep into the ravine.

Orlando pulled to a stop and shut off the lights, plunging them into a darkness the nearby city no longer knew. The only illumination was from the star-filled sky and the glow of Los Angeles to the north and east.

Quinn climbed out first. “Let’s go,” he told Burke.

“No way,” Burke said.

Daeng pushed him in the back. “Do as you’re told.”

“You’re going to kill me,” Burke protested. “Like hell I’m going to make it easy.”

“We might,” Quinn admitted. “But again, it’s up to you.”

“Oh, no. I’m staying here. If you’re going to shoot me, shoot me in the damn car.”