The Cleaner

by Brett Battles

  'What do you think it means?' she asked after Quinn described the odor to her.

  'I don't know.'

  'Tell me about the rest of the room.'

  He pointed the flashlight toward the ceiling. 'The room's big all right. Just like Duke said. Cavernous. Maybe seventy feet to the ceiling.'

  'What's that noise?' Orlando asked.

  Slowly, so he wouldn't miss anything important, he swung the flashlight around to his right.

  'What the hell?' he said.

  'What did you find?'

  'I'm not sure,' he told her. 'Give me a few minutes.'

  At first Quinn wasn't sure what he was looking at. The object took up over half the length of the room, side to side, and almost reached the ceiling. It was a giant sphere, not unlike a hot-air balloon, except it seemed to be sitting on a black pedestal. From where Quinn stood near the front door, it looked like the sphere was made of a thick white fabric. Maybe canvas. The black pedestal, a wide ring around the bottom of the sphere, looked to be about seven feet high. Unlike the sphere, it appeared to be made of something solid – metal, wood, or hard plastic. He wouldn't know for sure until he took a closer look. The whole thing made Quinn think of a giant golf ball sitting on a black tee.

  He moved the flashlight across the object. A quarter of the way around to the left was a solid-looking scaffolding tower. Up one side of the tower ran a metal staircase. Quinn followed it with his light. It ended at a platform that was then connected to the sphere by a fifteen-foot-long canvas tunnel.

  Interesting, Quinn thought. As he played the flashlight over the tower again, he noticed something else. There was an elevator running up through the center of the structure. Quinn's next thought was that the whole thing was some sort of makeshift containment unit, perhaps for the transfer of hazardous materials. Or, unable to keep the image of the glass slide out of his mind, something biological. He took a few steps into the room. Whatever was making the noise was coming from deeper in the room, toward the back. He moved farther into the room to get a better angle, then shone his light past the sphere in the direction of the noise. It looked like an air pump. That made sense. Something had to keep the sphere from collapsing in on itself. He relaxed for a moment, relieved. The pump would be pushing air into the sphere, inflating it. The pressure needed to keep the sphere from collapsing had to be greater than the pressure outside, which would be an unsuitable arrangement when working with dangerous materials.To be effective that way, the pressure in the sphere would have to be less than the surrounding room, preventing the unintentional release of anything nasty, and the

  structure itself would have to have something other than the air supporting it.

  Without going inside, there was no telling its purpose. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the meeting. Then again, perhaps it did. Quinn would have to bug it, just in case.

  'Well?' Orlando said.

  'I'm still not sure,' Quinn told her.

  'You've got to give me more than that.'

  'Why don't I just show you?' he said.

  He pulled the backpack off his shoulders and set it on the ground. From inside he took out two objects. One was tiny and black, and the other was a rectangular box about the size of a candy bar. He put them both on the ground, then set the flashlight on top of the backpack, pointing it in front of him so he could use it as a work light. That done, he picked up the smaller object, turned it over and found a small number etched into the object's base. 'Camera 17,' he told Orlando.

  'You'll need to power up the signal booster,' she told him.

  'Hold on.' He picked up the rectangular box, the booster, and flipped a tiny switch on its side. He felt a slight vibration as the booster came to life.

  Five seconds later, Orlando said, 'I've got signal.'

  Quinn set the booster on the ground next to his backpack. 'How much light do you need?'

  'Is there any seeping into the room?'

  'Not that I can tell.'

  'Point your flashlight in the general direction of what you want to show me. That should be enough.'

  The camera's night vision was top of the line.

  Orlando would have setded for nothing less. Quinn turned his backpack so that the flashlight was pointing toward the sphere. He then stood up and began a sweep of the room with the camera.

  'What the hell is that?' Orlando asked.

  He was aiming the lens at the sphere. 'I don't know. There's a staircase and an elevator over here.' He pointed the camera toward the scaffolding. 'At the top it looks like that tunnel thing is some sort of entrance.'

  'Duke didn't tell you about this?' 'He said he hadn't been in the building for several years. Probably doesn't even know it's here.'

  'I'm not sure I like this,' Orlando said. 'Maybe we should call it off. See if we can find a little more information first.'

  Quinn paused a moment before answering. 'No,' he said. 'I'm here. We'll do this now.' He panned the camera over the sphere, giving Orlando a longer look. 'How many cameras did you give me?' Quinn asked.

  'Twenty,' she said.

  Five more than he'd asked for. 'Okay. I think I can cover most of this room with just seven.' Quinn had worked it out in his mind ahead of time, but now he was going to have to make an adjustment. 'I haven't had a look at the rest of the place yet, but based on the blueprints, let's say another eight for the back offices. That leaves five. One for outside the front door of the building. One for around back to cover the door there. One for directly across the street, and two for either end of the block. Shit, that's all of them.' He thought for a moment. 'Okay, maybe only seven for the rest of the building. That'll give me one I can put inside the sphere.'

  'You're not going inside there,' Orlando said, surprised. 'If I get the feeling something's wrong, I'll just turn around and back out, okay?' 'That sounds like a great plan,' she replied, not hiding her displeasure. 'Glad you like it.'

  It took him an hour to place the cameras throughout the building. Each was paired with a microphone that was really no more than a tiny disk attached to a piece of adhesive. As long as it was placed within ten feet of the camera, audio could also be picked up.

  Seven cameras were still one shy for covering the two rooms per floor on the four floors in the back of the building, but there wasn't much he could do about that. He hid the booster in the attic, jamming it between the rafters where it would be hard to find. Duke had been right. The floor of the attic was definitely weak. More than once Quinn was worried that he might crash through.

  When he was done, he headed back downstairs. There were six cameras left in his bag when he returned to the front room, five for outside the building and one for inside the sphere. Quinn walked over to the metal staircase that led up to the platform.

  As he mounted it Orlando asked, 'Do you think you can make a little more noise?' She was undoubtedly watching him from one of the cameras he'd placed around the large room earlier. The stairs, though sturdy, were loose in their fittings. No matter how quietly Quinn tried to move, they clanked with every step.

  He came to the short platform at the top of the stairs. Ahead of him was the entrance to what he'd started to think of as the air lock. Now that he was close to it, he could see that the material surrounding the sphere and the tube wasn't made from simple canvas. It was thicker and had an almost rubbery look to it.

  The entrance to the tube was through a hard plastic doorway mounted in an equally sturdy frame. There didn't appear to be any lock. Quinn turned the knob and opened the door. 'I'm going into the tunnel,' he told Orlando.

  Flashlight in hand, he stepped into the tube and shut the door behind him.

  The inside was lined with a dark opaque material. As a test, he switched off his flashlight. He held his hand up in front of his face, but couldn't see it.

  He switched the flashlight back on and proceeded forward along a narrow metal platform. Glancing at the ceiling of the tube, he realized there was something there he hadn't noticed before. Something
colored the same matte black as that of the material that lined the tube. Not only was it on the ceiling, but it also covered the walls. Quinn took a step closer for a better look.

  Thin rods, he realized. Made of some sort of sturdy yet flexible material that could bend with the shape of the structure. They formed a series of triangles that covered the whole inside of the tube. A geodesic skeleton of some sort?

  Quinn continued moving forward. At the far end was another door similar to the one he had just passed through. As he approached it, a green light set into the door frame at eye level came on. The light was about the size of a half-dollar. He guessed it must have been triggered by a motion sensor.

  'I'm going into the sphere itself now,' Quinn said. He reached for the handle and opened the door. There was a rush of air as he carefully stepped over the threshold. Once inside, he pushed the door closed behind him.

  Almost immediately, his ears popped. It only took a moment for the meaning to register on him. His ears had popped. Not only that, but the rush of air when he entered, hadn't it been moving in with him? He turned back to the door and opened it again. There was another rush of air, not as strong as before, but definitely moving into the sphere from the tube.

  Quinn closed the door again, then played the light along the inside surface of the sphere. It was identical to that of the tube: black opaque material, and the same metal skeletal structure. It all added up to one thing. The air pressure in the sphere was lower than that outside.

  'Jesus Christ,' he muttered.

  'What's wrong?'

  He told Orlando what he'd found.

  'Okay, don't panic,' she said.

  'I'm not panicking.' He took a deep breath.

  His original instinct had been correct. The place was a classic bio-secure zone. Quinn turned around, putting his back to the door and shining his light toward the center of the space. The platform he was standing on extended out another ten feet. At the other end of the platform was a door to a structure that looked like a large square box. It was what he had expected to find. A stand-alone containment room. Undoubtedly the pressure inside it was even lower than that in the sphere. It would be the place in which the real work was done.

  Peeking over the edge of the platform, Quinn could see the whole thing was sitting on an elaborate metal scaffolding tower that plunged downward into the bowels of the sphere. He allowed himself to relax a little. If there were deadly bio-agents inside the containment room, he should still be safe where he was.

  They had been looking for a link to the disruption, but what they'd found was a link to the deaths in Colorado. The bracelet. The slide and now this? It was too much to ignore. And though he didn't have the proof yet, Quinn was sure it all tied into the disruption.

  'Take some pictures of the setup here. I want to send them to Peter when I get back, okay?' Orlando didn't answer. Quinn tapped the receiver in his ear. 'Orlando, did you hear me?'

  Still nothing. 'Nate, are you there?'

  The only thing Quinn heard was his own breathing. There was a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. 'Orlando?' Silence.

  'Orlando?'

  No response.

  Then he heard something. Not over his receiver, but from somewhere beyond the walls of the sphere. It was the clank of metal on metal.

  Someone was coming up the scaffolding stairs.

  Chapter 20

  Quinn looked left, then right. But he already knew what he'd find. The only way out was the way he'd come in. It's a goddamn trap, he thought. And I'm right where they want me.

  'Son of a bitch,' he said under his breath.

  Outside, the sound of steps moving up the stairs continued. Soon they'd reach the platform and the tunnel that led into the sphere. Had Quinn been anywhere else in the building, he would have had multiple opportunities for escape. But standing where he was, his options were severely limited.

  He stopped himself. There was one possibility. There had been a door in the housing at the bottom of the sphere. He wasn't sure if he could get there from where he was, but trying was better than just standing there and waiting for them to arrive.

  Quinn hurried across the platform toward the door to the containment room, stopping and kneeling down just before he reached it. He looked over the edge of the narrow walkway into the space below.

  The crisscrossing scaffolding structure he'd glanced at moments earlier led down into the darkness at the bottom of the sphere. It would be easy to climb down. He quickly pointed his flashlight at the very bottom, and though it was hard to tell for sure, there appeared to be some kind of hatch on the floor. His best guess was that it led down into the circular base structure where the other door was located.

  Potential escape was there, but he'd never make it in time. He'd be spotted by whoever was coming up the stairs before he was even halfway down.

  He looked under the platform again.

  Okay. Escape might be impossible, he thought. But what if –

  The clanging of the metal steps ceased.

  There was no more time to think. Quinn stowed his flashlight and quickly lowered himself over the edge of the platform. Moving as silently as he could, he maneuvered his body underneath it.

  He paused for a fraction of a second to get his bearings, then worked his way across the scaffolding, using it like a kid's jungle gym. When he was directly under the center of the bio-containment room, he stopped.

  He could feel the sweat beading on his brow, and his breaths were coming in short, silent bursts. But he knew just hanging from the center of the room wasn't enough-

  He pulled his feet up and secured them on top of one of the crossbars, tucking himself horizontally against the bottom of the room. He wasn't invisible, but it was the closest he could get to it.

  He heard the door to the sphere open. There was a rush of air, followed by the sound of two people stepping through the opening and onto the platform. A pause, followed by a low voice, then a flicker of brightness. The new arrivals were scanning the space with a flashlight. Quinn could see the reflection of the beam as it occasionally slipped below the level of the platform and glinted off the scaffolding.

  After several moments, the footsteps continued across the platform, to the door of the lab. There was a sucking sound as the door was opened and air moved from one space to another. A moment later the door shut.

  Quinn's left calf had begun to cramp. He chanced moving his leg to relieve the pressure and had just found a more comfortable position when the door to the lab opened again. Then: 'One, this is Matz. The sphere is empty.'

  The voice spoke German, clear and distinct. Matz was apparently talking into a radio. It was also obvious by the unhampered sound of his voice that he was not wearing any protective gear over his face. To Quinn it meant the lab wasn't hot yet. He would have felt a sense of relief if he hadn't been hanging dozens of feet above the ground wondering how long it would be before a bullet pierced his skull.

  The radio crackled with static, then a voice, also in German but not with a native accent, said, 'You checked everywhere?'

  'Yes,' Matz replied. "There is no one here but us.'

  'Underneath?' the voice asked.

  Another pause. Then Matz said, 'We're checking now.'

  Quinn tensed. There was nothing he could do except remain perfectly still. He couldn't even grab his gun without upsetting his balance.

  Suddenly, the flashlight beam swung over the edge of the platform. There was a thump, and Quinn guessed that one of the men was kneeling down so he could get a better look below. The beam of light flashed across the scaffolding close to Quinn as it traveled down toward the bottom of the sphere. Once there, it moved slowly across the floor, taking in every inch.

  'I don't see anything,' a voice said. Not Matz this time, but his partner.

  'Are you sure?' Matz asked.

  'You want to look?'

  'One, this is Matz. There's no one below.'

  'He has to be in the building somewhere,' the
voice on the radio said, his irritation coming through clearly. 'He hasn't come outside yet.'

  'Maybe his partner warned him,' Matz offered.

  'Not a chance. Get out of there and go out back in case the others are able to flush him out.' 'Understood.' Quinn listened as the two men walked across the

  platform above him and exited the sphere.

  Quinn remained hanging under the platform, as still as possible, for what he guessed to be about thirty minutes. Eyes closed, his breathing even, he silently recited the lyrics to the songs on Changes One, David Bowie's first greatest-hits album.

  Halfway through 'John, I'm Only Dancing,' his leg cramped again. He flexed his foot back and forth, easing the pressure on his calf. But neither Bowie nor the pain in his leg could clear his mind.

  The operation had really gone to shit. It's the disruption all over again, he thought. Only this time, it was obvious who had set them up.

  Duke.

  'Fuck conspiracy theories,' Durrie had said. 'The obvious is right ninety-nine percent of the time.'

  From the moment Duke had sent Quinn the e-mail, it had been a setup. The only reason he hadn't been taken out the minute Duke had him in his car was that they wanted to get Quinn's entire team.

  Quinn's eyes narrowed. Did that mean Peter was involved in the deception, too? After all, he was the one who had pushed Quinn to come to Berlin. Taking it a step further, could that then mean Peter was involved in the disruption of his own organization?

  A chill passed through Quinn, but he couldn't bring himself to fully believe it. Whatever the truth was, he wasn't going to figure it out hanging here. He'd waited long enough. It was time to move.

  The interior of the sphere was in complete darkness, but he couldn't chance using his flashlight. He eased himself down the scaffolding by touch, careful to transfer his weight from one point to the next slowly, cutting down on any unnecessary noise. Finally, his feet touched bottom.

  No longer able to minimize the risk, he pulled out his flashlight. Before turning it on, he put his hand over the lens to better control the beam. Once he flipped the switch, his palm glowed a reddish yellow.