"That's fine," I said.
He nodded, pulling away, any softness in his face vanishing as he straightened. A woman arrived then, with a medical kit, and hurried over to Henry. I looked at Koss, standing there, his shoulder bleeding, his gaze fixed on the wall. Figuring out how to spin this. How to use that keen brain to get himself out of this mess.
The Contrapasso team hadn't asked us to put away our weapons, but theirs were holstered, so Jack and I did the same.
"So how do we do this?" I said. "The interrogation?"
"We'll take Sebastian," one of the men said. "His injuries aren't life threatening. We'll patch him up at our destination."
"We aren't doing it here? The building is empty."
"It won't be in a few hours. This could take a while."
The other man took Koss by the arm. "You have a car, don't you?"
I nodded.
"Meet us around front. We're in a dark van. You can follow us."
"Actually, I'd rather go with you."
"I'll take the car," Jack said.
A look passed between the two men.
"Sure," the first one said. "Bring her down right after us. We'll do this in stages."
I thought he was talking to his partner. Then I noticed two other men right outside the door. They came in as the first two led Koss out.
I stepped toward the door. "I'm not letting him out of my--"
The men blocked the exit. I wheeled just in time to see Jack going for his gun. Quinn went for his, too, spinning on Jack. It should have been an easy victory for Jack. He had the jump on Quinn. He was a faster draw than anyone I knew. But he fumbled, just for a brief second, as Quinn pulled his gun and I pulled mine and--
And then Quinn's gun was pointed at Jack's head.
"Hands up," Quinn said. "Dee? Gun on the table."
When I didn't move, Quinn's finger twitched. "You really think I won't do it?"
I put my gun down.
"You set us up," Jack said.
Quinn gave a short laugh. "And you're shocked? Really?"
Jack lifted his gaze to Quinn's. "Thought you cared about her. No matter what happened. That doesn't change. Not that fast."
"That depends on whether there's anything to change," Quinn said. "Your mistake was thinking I gave a shit in the first place. I just thought she was a really good lay."
Jack dove at Quinn. There was, once again, that split second of "what the hell?" confusion. Jumping a guy holding a gun on you? An amateur move.
Like getting caught by your target's partner.
Or fumbling while drawing your gun.
Jack and Quinn were up to something. It seemed we were still in the middle of a grand performance. And I had yet to be given my script. Luckily, I've taken a few classes in improv.
The two Contrapasso guards gaped at each other, as if to say "What are we supposed to do about this?"
I helped them answer the question by pulling my gun on the unarmed woman tending to Henry. She stared at the gun, then up at me, eyes wide.
The moment I distracted the guards, Jack and Quinn each tackled one.
There was a scuffle. My part was easy--the medic just sat there, terrified. Only when the guys had their targets pinned did I lower my gun.
"Is he dead?" I said, nodding at Henry.
She stared at me. Maybe it was my conversational tone. Maybe it was the fact that I was using that tone while my partners grappled with the two guards.
I repeated the question. She finally nodded. Henry was dead. I don't know what else they expected, sending someone with a medical kit to tend to a guy shot through the heart. I suppose they felt they had to make the effort.
Across the room, the two guards were now trussed with zip ties. Jack and Quinn were patting them down for weapons. Neither had been shot or even badly injured. Quinn tossed me a zip tie for the medic. I asked her to turn around and put her hands behind her back. She did without argument. I put them on.
"You're okay," I said. "They're okay. But this would have gone a whole lot easier if your team hadn't double-crossed us. Remember that. We acted in good faith."
She nodded mutely.
I rose. "And talk to them about getting you a gun. Just because you're the medic doesn't mean you shouldn't know how to defend yourself."
A snorted laugh behind me. I turned to see Quinn shaking his head.
"What?" I said.
He started to reply, but Jack cut him off with an impatient "let's move" wave. We took off.
Jack led us along the empty hallway toward the stairwell. Quinn whispered to me as we went, telling me that the Contrapasso team consisted of five people. We'd left three in the model suite. Two had taken Koss, which meant we wouldn't encounter any guards lingering in the hall.
"So is anyone going to tell me what's going on?" I whispered.
"They took Koss," Jack said. "We're getting him back."
I glowered at him.
Quinn laughed softly, then said, "It's a long story. The short version is that Evelyn called me, and I got myself in on the Contrapasso operation. Jack made us coming in."
"Which you knew he would."
Jack waved for silence as he checked the stairwell. He held up a hand for us to stay there as he went in. Quinn held the door cracked open, making sure Jack didn't get jumped, and it was such an automatic response that I felt a pang of . . . regret, I guess, that it couldn't always be like this. Throw them into a situation together and they watched each other's back, anticipated each other's moves.
Jack waved us into the stairwell. We stayed silent there, the empty space too prone to echoes, but once we were on the first floor, I resumed talking as if we hadn't been interrupted.
"You knew the Contrapasso folks didn't intend to let us interrogate Koss," I said.
Quinn looked uncomfortable, and I knew that whatever Contrapasso had done here, he wasn't ready to frame them as the bad guys. "They couldn't. You and Jack, you're clearly doing the right thing, but . . ."
"We're still hitmen. We can't be trusted."
"But they would have interrogated him," Quinn said. "And he'd have disappeared afterward. This wasn't about cutting one of their own loose. When they got here and realized Henry Bryant was in on it, too? I thought Diaz--the guy who took Koss away--was going to be sick. He worked with Bryant for years."
"We done?" Jack said as he stopped us at the front door.
"Yes," I said. "The situation has been explained."
At least as well as it could be explained right now.
Jack checked outside as I held the door. I peered out. The street was empty.
"They're long gone," I whispered as Jack motioned us out. "How are we going to find them?"
Quinn lifted a portable device. "We can track Koss with this. I volunteered to man it. We just need to hurry before Contrapasso find out I went rogue and they shut down access."
"They track their agents?" I said. "How the hell do they do that?"
The same look of discomfort passed over Quinn's face, obviously reluctant to give away their secrets.
I held up my hand and said, "It doesn't matter. So where is he?"
"Not far," Quinn said as Jack waved us toward our car. "It took them a while to get him in the vehicle. We should be able to catch up."
Jack looked over his shoulder at us.
"Or we will," I said. "If we shut up and move faster. Right?"
Jack didn't reply, only waved for me to lead the way to the car.
Jack and I went ahead to get the car, while Quinn stood guard near the road.
"You okay?" Jack asked when we were out of Quinn's earshot.
I nodded.
"Sorry about all that. Could have told you. With the earpiece. But . . ."
"You needed a genuine reaction from me, which you wouldn't get if I knew what was going on. I know. It's fine. I figured it out. Eventually."
He took the keys from me as I held them out. "And the rest? Koss?"
I started to say that
was fine, too, but I could feel his gaze on me. I shrugged. "That's harder to take. I was so certain, if I was right about Amy, that there was an explanation. Not that you can ever explain something like that, not really, but that it was a one-time thing, he regretted it, he suffered for it, and he tried to make amends. Obviously not."
"We'll get him."
CHAPTER 51
Jack drove. Quinn navigated. I got the backseat. I tried to help, leaning over the seat and watching the darkened road for Jack while checking the GPS over Quinn's shoulder.
"Sit," Jack said. "Butt down. Seat belt on."
"Before we swerve and you go through the windshield," Quinn said.
"Seriously? I'm not twelve, guys. I can--"
"Next right," Quinn cut in.
Jack took the corner sharp and fast, and I went flying back in the seat.
"Got that belt on?" Jack said as I recovered.
I flipped him the finger as he checked in the rearview mirror. I did, however, fasten my belt. There wasn't really much to do anyway. They didn't need the third pair of eyes. I felt helpless, imagining Koss getting away. Chicago wasn't a quiet city, even at night. Eventually, we'd hit traffic and once we did, we were screwed. There was no way of forcing the other car off the road with onlookers.
Luckily, the Contrapasso guys seemed to be sticking to the least-traveled roads. And Jack was a good driver--a fast one when he wanted to be. It was probably a wise idea for me to have my belt on.
"Got him," Quinn said. "One block up and one block over. Sticking to the speed limit."
"That thing have a map?" Jack asked.
"It does. They seem to be heading . . ."
"Roughly the same way we went to Duncan's cottage," I said.
They both glanced back at me, straining to see over the seat.
"I have my belt on," I said. "It's just not tightened. They're heading north of the city, presumably to find a quiet place to interrogate Koss and bury his body. They might take the highway or they might stick to regional roads. Either way, they'll be going straight for at least another four blocks."
Jack grunted.
"Your best bet . . ." I began.
I wriggled a little closer. Quinn sighed, then obliged by lifting the screen.
"Get ahead of them," I said. "Two blocks up, then make a left and another left. You'd cut them off while they're on a long stretch of narrow road. No easy way to get past or turn around." I glanced at Quinn. "Right?"
"Looks good to me. Now sit down and let me--"
A crash sounded in the distance, loud enough to reverberate through the closed windows. I jumped. Quinn fumbled the GPS, nearly dropping it. Jack made a left, so sharp I was grabbing the seat backs for support.
"Right here?" he asked.
When no one answered, he glanced at Quinn. "Turn right here?"
"Uh, yes. Sorry. Turn--"
Jack was already careening around the corner. Ahead we saw a dark, midsize car plowed into a parked truck. Billowing white airbags filled the car's interior. I could make out two heads in the front seat. One of the rear doors was open.
"That's theirs," Quinn said.
Jack grunted as he steered to the curb and braked hard enough for me to wish I'd tightened my seat belt. I'd have a bruise for sure.
Quinn was out of the car, gun pulled, as soon as it stopped. I followed, exiting on his side. He started for the crash. I grabbed the back of his jacket.
"Wait."
He stopped. Jack had, too, over on the sidewalk. When they did, the scuffle of their footsteps stopped, and I could hear another set of running feet, growing more distant by the second.
Quinn's chin jerked up, catching the same sound. He cursed. Koss was on the move, having presumably caused the crash.
Quinn's gaze went to the crash. I raced past him.
I turned, hands out. "GPS?"
He hesitated. Jack was loping over, waving for me to go on, that he'd get the GPS and follow. I ran while they figured it out. Quinn would be torn between wanting to check the men in the car and not wanting to lose his prey. I knew which he'd choose, but I wasn't waiting around until he figured it out.
I could still hear Koss ahead, loafers slapping the pavement, too intent on escape to hear us. When his footfalls did stop, I ducked into an entryway and got my first good look at the playing field. Offices mostly, dark windows shooting into the sky, the occasional light left on, the workers gone. There were shops down here, too, but all closed. I couldn't rule out the possibility that people lived over some of those shops. No one had come out to see the crash, though. The street was still and silent.
Jack caught up. He pressed the GPS into my hand. The screen showed a blip for Koss, who seemed to be moving around an intersection, likely catching his breath and figuring out his next move. I told Jack.
"Quinn coming?" I whispered.
"Yeah. Checking them out. Calling it in. Joining up."
I caught the faint pounding of footfalls. A moment later, Quinn rounded the corner. I waved him over as I checked the GPS.
"Koss is taking a breather," I said. "The Contrapasso guys?"
"One dead. One wounded. I'm guessing Koss got free and caused the crash, but the wounded guy is in no shape to talk. I called my contact. He'll deal with it. Nothing I can do."
I nodded, and we came up with a plan, quickly, before Koss got his second wind.
Koss had stopped prowling the intersection and set out again. He wasn't running now, presumably having decided no one was coming after him. We kept as quiet as possible, speeding up only when the roar of a distant car would mask our footfalls. We had split up, too, with Quinn across the road and Jack fifty feet behind me.
We'd reached a slightly busier area. As the occasional car passed, we'd all hear it and take cover momentarily. Each time, I'd tense, fearing I'd see a taxi. If Koss spotted one, he'd grab it. But they were just cars and he continued on, heading east toward a four-lane road that would promise public transit. We needed to get to him before he reached it.
I glanced back at Jack. That's all it took for him to break into a lope and catch up as I continued walking. Across the road, Quinn glanced over. I motioned for him to keep an eye out. Jack checked the GPS and quickly calculated how long we had. Not long enough. Not at this speed. Any faster, though, and our footsteps would echo through the silent streets.
He handed me back the GPS, then I took off my shoes and broke into a run. That fixed the problem, even if I couldn't go quite as fast as I would otherwise. The sidewalk was old, crumbling in spots, gravel-covered in others, and it was like running on marbles. Across the road, Quinn had taken off his sneakers and he soon caught up. Jack was hanging back to cover us.
I kept checking the GPS as I ran. We were closing the gap fast. Then Koss halted. I thought he'd just paused and I went another half block before realizing he'd stopped altogether. I put on the brakes and waved Quinn over.
"He's stopped," I whispered, pointing at the GPS. "Right around the next corner."
"You think he heard us?"
I shook my head. Jack was less than a block back, but I couldn't hear his footsteps.
"He see us?"
We were all dressed for a night mission--head to foot dark colors. It took a moment, but I could make out Jack's figure, even as he stuck close to the buildings. The streetlights were too bright to hide him.
"Maybe," I whispered. I checked the GPS. Still no movement.
"Got some alleys and service lanes here," Quinn said. "I'll take-- No, whoever's got the GPS should take the back way. I'll stick to the sidewalk."
I backtracked to the nearest alley. By then, Jack was close enough to jog over. I put my shoes on as I explained the plan.
As we walked, I kept checking the GPS. Koss was still just around the corner.
"In the building," Jack murmured.
I glanced over at him.
He pointed to the screen. "Not on the sidewalk. He's inside."
Jack was right. We were within a hu
ndred feet of the transmitter now, and Koss was too far from the street to be on the sidewalk.
I looked up. From the back, it was near impossible to tell what the building housed. I just saw brick and windows. Barred windows, all too high to peek through.
"Seems empty," Jack said.
I looked at him.
"Saw a real estate sign," he said. "Construction, too."
He'd taken a closer look at the building, which is what I should have done before ducking behind it.
"Can't be certain," Jack said.
But it made sense. We'd just left a building under renovations. If Koss wanted a place to hole up, and he saw lease and construction signs, he'd slip in there.
"Do you think he made us?" I whispered.
"Presume he did. Safer."
I nodded and texted Quinn. A moment later he replied confirming the building was indeed empty and in the early stages of reconstruction.
We crept down a service lane beside the building, picking our way past bins filled with ripped-out material.
We reached the road. I checked the GPS. Koss seemed to be still in the building, but it was a little less clear now, his "dot" closer to the road. Which could mean he was hiding in an alcove or doorway.
I peered out. It was a straight, flat wall with no alcove or doorway at this end. I could see Quinn waiting by the door. I waved him in, and he disappeared.
Jack took my wrist, tilting the GPS screen so he could see it.
"Hug the wall," he said. "Go slow if you have to. Just stick right to it."
"Because he could be watching through a window."
He nodded. We headed out, me in front, Jack behind. It was about fifty feet to the door. A very long fifty feet at this rate. When I checked the screen again, Koss had moved farther the other way. Had he heard Quinn come in? Or was Quinn letting himself be heard to distract Koss? Impossible to say. I knew only that I'd feel a lot better if that GPS blip moved farther into the building. It didn't.
We were about fifteen feet from the door when I heard the faintest squeak. My brain was still processing the sound when Jack shoved me, saying, "Down!"
I heard the shot. I twisted, weapon up, in time to see a gun pointing from an open second-story window. I fired as it shot again. As we tumbled into the shelter of the entrance, Jack muttered, "Fuck!" and I thought he was referring to the situation in general, until he said it again, the word coming between gritted teeth, sharp with pain. I wheeled to see his hand pressed to his chest.