Brett Battles - The Collected

With a nod, Daeng handed his own binoculars to Orlando and took off. She stuffed it and the pair she’d been using into the bag she’d picked up at an outdoor market a couple blocks away. “All set.”

Quinn lowered his binoculars and added them to the others. “Let’s go.”

They made their way through the streets to the abandoned building they’d found four blocks away from the station. Quinn checked the street to make sure no one was watching them, and then pushed the board that covered the window out of the way. Orlando entered first, and he followed right behind.

There were many ways they could have approached Captain Moreno-a discreet discussion at his office, buying him lunch and having a chat, or something a bit more direct. After Orlando finished digging into the man’s life, it quickly became clear that option number three would be their best choice.

They checked the workroom they’d created, and found everything as it had been.

Quinn picked up the bottle of fake blood they’d whipped up. “Are you ready?”

“Go ahead.”

He squirted some of the sticky liquid into her hair, and let it drip down onto her forehead. He gave his work a critical eye. It wouldn’t pass a close examination, but would be more than adequate for a quick look.

“You’re good,” he said.

She hopped onto her toes and kissed him.

He melted into her for a moment before he suddenly pulled back. “Hey, I don’t want to get that stuff on me.”

She pursed her lips. “Where’s the trust?”

“Go,” Quinn said. “They should be here any second.”

She tapped the tip of her finger against the moist area in her hair, and wiped it off on Quinn’s cheek. “Be right back.” She headed quickly out of the room.

Quinn grabbed a discarded piece of paper off the ground and rid himself of the mark she’d given him. He followed after her, taking his position halfway between the boarded-up window, where Orlando was now waiting, and the workroom.

He heard a car drive by outside, and in the distance, a motorcycle in dire need of a tune-up. Then things quieted down. It was four minutes before he heard the footsteps-two pairs-hurrying along the street toward the building.

As they neared, he could make out Daeng’s voice in the halting Spanish he’d picked up when he was a teenager in Los Angeles. It seemed their plan A had worked, and Daeng had been able to lure the man away on his own. If he hadn’t been able to make it happen, they would have moved to plan B-isolation and forced relocation.

“ Ahi, ahi ,” Daeng said. “ Mas cerca .” A pause. “ Aqui, aqui, aqui .”

There was a bang on the board covering the window. Peeking around the pillar, Quinn could see Orlando standing next to the window, unmoving. The moment Daeng knocked again, she started panting as if she’d been running, and pushed the board to the side.

“Oh, thank God,” she said, her voice panicked. “Back here. He’s back here. We knocked him out and locked him in a storage room. Oh, oh, wait. You speak English, right?”

The cop, Eduardo Moreno, moved into the opening. “Tell me what happened.”

Quinn leaned back out of sight as Orlando pushed the board further open so Moreno and Daeng could enter.

“It was horrible,” she said, leading them through the room. “He seemed so nice, you know? Shared some beers. Said he knew a place we could spend the night that wouldn’t cost us anything.”

As they passed by Quinn’s position, he circled around the pillar so that Moreno wouldn’t see him.

“He brought us back here, and, you know, it seemed okay.”

“You should have never come inside,” Moreno said.

“I know, I know. It’s just, well…”

Quinn stepped out from behind the pillar and followed, catching up to them just as they stopped a few feet shy of the workroom.

“He’s in here,” she said, sounding scared.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it,” Moreno told her.

“Do…do you have a gun or something? I think he’s dangerous.”

“Don’t worry. He won’t hurt anyone.”

Moreno moved his hand down toward his belt. At first Quinn thought the Federal was going for his gun, but instead, he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Orlando asked.

“Don’t worry. I am just calling for some of my men to come help me.”

“Good idea,” she said, sounding relieved. “Maybe…maybe you should check him first, though. I’m not sure how hard we hit him. You might, um, need to call an ambulance, too.”

Moreno lowered the phone. “Show me.”

Orlando opened the door and grabbed Moreno’s arm, guiding him into the room. As soon as they passed inside, Quinn and Daeng followed, closing the door quietly behind them.

“Where is he?” Moreno asked. He froze as he noticed the chair sitting in the middle of the room. He turned back around, suspicion creeping onto his face. “What is-”

Quinn smiled as the man’s gaze fell on him. “Captain Moreno, please have a seat.”

Moreno’s right hand shot toward the GLOCK 17 in the holster at his waist. Only it didn’t get very far. The guiding hand Orlando had on his arm clamped down and yanked the man backward. Before Moreno could react, Daeng had a hold of his other arm, and Quinn took possession of the gun.

“What the hell’s going on?” Moreno demanded. “Do you understand the trouble you’re in? I’m a federal police officer. Let me go right now! ”

“Sorry. No can do,” Quinn said. “Have a seat.”

“Let me go!”

Daeng and Orlando dragged the cop backward to the chair and shoved him down.

“I believe he said, have a seat,” Orlando told him.

Daeng moved behind the chair so he could take hold of both the man’s arms and free up Orlando. She, in turn, went over to the half-demolished cabinet they’d set their supplies on, and grabbed the rope they’d purchased on their supply run.

When Moreno saw what she was carrying, he tried to free his arms and jump up. That was a mistake. Daeng jerked the man’s arms back and up, so the cop was forced to hunch his shoulders forward and remain in the chair.

Orlando looped a portion of the rope around one of the back chair legs and secured the man’s wrists together. Once this was done, Daeng lowered the man’s arms and Orlando removed the slack around the chair leg, pulling Moreno’s hands tight against the back of the chair. After that, it was a quick job of securing his torso and tying his feet, one against each of the chair’s front legs.

Finished, she stepped back and joined Quinn, while Daeng remained behind the cop.

“You all are in very deep trouble,” Moreno said. “You will never get away with this.”

Quinn, looking unimpressed, said, “Three days ago you were involved in a manhunt, correct?”

A flicker in the man’s eyes. “You will let me go now.”

“That’s not going to happen. Answer the question.”

“I’m not answering any questions.”

“All right, that’s a choice. Now let me give you another. Answer the question. If you don’t, I’m going to blow out your joints one by one, starting with your right ankle.” He pointed the captain’s GLOCK at the man’s foot. “So, were you or were you not part of the manhunt?”

His eyes smoldering with anger, the cop said, “Sure, yes. I was. Many people were.”

“You’re the one who organized and ran it, though.”

“Someone had to. It was just my turn.”

“Kind of out of your range, wasn’t it? You’re based down here, not Reynosa.”

“I go where the investigation leads. Now let me go.”

“Tell me, Captain Moreno. Do your Federal bosses know about your account in the Caymans? The one you just made a substantial deposit to?” He glanced at Orlando. “How much was it?”