Read Online The Collected (A Jonathan Quinn Novel) by Brett Battles - Free Book Online
Authors: Brett Battles
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this much. I haven’t run an op in over two weeks. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to go.”
He hung up.
Orlando immediately jumped on her computer, and a few minutes later, she and Quinn were booked on a flight to Chicago.
CHAPTER 10
N ATE’S HEAD BOUNCED against the wall, jolting him awake.
His eyes flew open, but once more, the only thing he could see was the black cloth bag over his head. He braced himself, thinking someone was going to shove him into the wall again, but instead, he realized he was rocking back and forth, the room he was in moving.
What the...
He tried to concentrate to figure out what was going on, but his thoughts would only hold for a moment before wandering off again.
As the swaying slowed, he could feel his consciousness beginning to slip away. He fought to hold on. He knew it was important. He knew he had to—
The black nothing engulfed him again, but not before he registered one last detail—the sound of a large engine winding down.
CHAPTER 11
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
T HE PLANE LANDED at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport at five fifteen a.m. Within thirty minutes, Quinn and Orlando were heading into the city in the car they’d arranged for ahead of time from a local contact. Waiting for them in the backseat was a bag of items they couldn’t bring with them on the plane—two SIG SAUER P226 pistols, extra preloaded magazines, lock picks, duct tape, and a syringe filled with liquid sleep.
Using the GPS on her phone, Orlando directed Quinn to a quiet industrial street on the southeast side of the city.
“That’s it,” she said, pointing at a two-story brick building a quarter of the way down the block.
Quinn drove past, made a U-turn, and parked at the curb.
The building in question was dark. From the research Orlando had done while they waited for their flight, they knew the lower half was used by a company that made novelty buttons and bumper stickers. It was the top floor, though, that Quinn and Orlando were interested in.
That was where Pullman lived.
His place had large loft windows across the front that were covered by heavy, dark curtains. Too bad, Quinn thought. It would have been nice to get a look inside.
He examined the rest of the block, then pointed at a building two down from Pullman’s. “That’s one.”
Orlando grabbed the bag from the back, and they exited the car. There was a narrow alcove entrance at the left edge of the building Quinn had singled out. From inside their bag of tricks, he removed the set of picks, and had the lock opened in seconds.
As he’d hoped, on the other side of the door was a staircase leading to the second floor. There was also a standard alarm keypad mounted to the inside wall. On it, a red light blinked rapidly. Orlando disabled the system by using a set of custom-rigged wires that linked the keypad to her phone, where an app she had written herself to override dozens of different types of security systems did the rest of the work.
Free to move around, they headed up the stairs, located the access to the roof, and were soon standing outside again. From there, it was simply a matter of jumping a three-foot gap onto the next roof, then stepping over an even smaller opening onto the roof of Pullman’s place.
There they paused while Orlando extracted from the bag the two SIGs and matching sound suppressors. She handed one set and a spare mag to Quinn, and prepped the second pistol for herself.
Once his suppressor was in place, Quinn removed from the kit the small metal cylinder that contained the syringe, and slipped it into his pocket.
“Ready?” he asked.
She gave her suppressor a final twist. “When am I not?”
__________
T IMOTHY PULLMAN WAS freaking out. He had never received a call from another broker like the one he’d had late the previous evening.
Sure, it could have been legit, but he didn’t believe that for a second. Would Quinn really have left Pullman’s number as a contact?
He hung up.
Orlando immediately jumped on her computer, and a few minutes later, she and Quinn were booked on a flight to Chicago.
CHAPTER 10
N ATE’S HEAD BOUNCED against the wall, jolting him awake.
His eyes flew open, but once more, the only thing he could see was the black cloth bag over his head. He braced himself, thinking someone was going to shove him into the wall again, but instead, he realized he was rocking back and forth, the room he was in moving.
What the...
He tried to concentrate to figure out what was going on, but his thoughts would only hold for a moment before wandering off again.
As the swaying slowed, he could feel his consciousness beginning to slip away. He fought to hold on. He knew it was important. He knew he had to—
The black nothing engulfed him again, but not before he registered one last detail—the sound of a large engine winding down.
CHAPTER 11
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
T HE PLANE LANDED at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport at five fifteen a.m. Within thirty minutes, Quinn and Orlando were heading into the city in the car they’d arranged for ahead of time from a local contact. Waiting for them in the backseat was a bag of items they couldn’t bring with them on the plane—two SIG SAUER P226 pistols, extra preloaded magazines, lock picks, duct tape, and a syringe filled with liquid sleep.
Using the GPS on her phone, Orlando directed Quinn to a quiet industrial street on the southeast side of the city.
“That’s it,” she said, pointing at a two-story brick building a quarter of the way down the block.
Quinn drove past, made a U-turn, and parked at the curb.
The building in question was dark. From the research Orlando had done while they waited for their flight, they knew the lower half was used by a company that made novelty buttons and bumper stickers. It was the top floor, though, that Quinn and Orlando were interested in.
That was where Pullman lived.
His place had large loft windows across the front that were covered by heavy, dark curtains. Too bad, Quinn thought. It would have been nice to get a look inside.
He examined the rest of the block, then pointed at a building two down from Pullman’s. “That’s one.”
Orlando grabbed the bag from the back, and they exited the car. There was a narrow alcove entrance at the left edge of the building Quinn had singled out. From inside their bag of tricks, he removed the set of picks, and had the lock opened in seconds.
As he’d hoped, on the other side of the door was a staircase leading to the second floor. There was also a standard alarm keypad mounted to the inside wall. On it, a red light blinked rapidly. Orlando disabled the system by using a set of custom-rigged wires that linked the keypad to her phone, where an app she had written herself to override dozens of different types of security systems did the rest of the work.
Free to move around, they headed up the stairs, located the access to the roof, and were soon standing outside again. From there, it was simply a matter of jumping a three-foot gap onto the next roof, then stepping over an even smaller opening onto the roof of Pullman’s place.
There they paused while Orlando extracted from the bag the two SIGs and matching sound suppressors. She handed one set and a spare mag to Quinn, and prepped the second pistol for herself.
Once his suppressor was in place, Quinn removed from the kit the small metal cylinder that contained the syringe, and slipped it into his pocket.
“Ready?” he asked.
She gave her suppressor a final twist. “When am I not?”
__________
T IMOTHY PULLMAN WAS freaking out. He had never received a call from another broker like the one he’d had late the previous evening.
Sure, it could have been legit, but he didn’t believe that for a second. Would Quinn really have left Pullman’s number as a contact?
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