Persuader

them. Total invoice value sixty thousand dollars. Basically in exchange for something BB is receiving."
    "Import-export," I said. "That's how it works."
    "But the prices don't add up," she said. "BB's incoming shipment is invoiced at seventy thousand. So XX is coming out ten thousand dollars ahead."
    "The magic of capitalism," I said.
    "No, wait, there's another item. Now it balances. Two hundred Mossberg Persuaders plus a ten-thousand-dollar bonus item to make the values match."
    "What's the bonus item?" I said.
    "It doesn't say. What would be worth ten grand?"
    "I don't care," I said again.
    She shuffled more paper.
    "Keast and Maden," she said. "Where did we see those names?"
    "The building behind Quinn's," I said. "The caterers."
    "He hired them," she said. "They're delivering something today."
    "Where?"
    "Doesn't say."
    "What kind of something?"
    "Doesn't say. Eighteen items at fifty-five dollars each. Almost a thousand dollars' worth of something."
    "Where to now?" Villanueva said.
    We were off the bridge and looping north and west, with the park on our left.
    "Make the second right," I said.
    We pulled straight into Missionary House's underground garage. There was a rent-a-cop in a fancy uniform in a booth. He logged us in without paying a whole lot of attention.
    Then Villanueva showed him his DEA badge and told him to sit tight and keep quiet.
    Told him not to call anybody. Behind him the garage was quiet. There were maybe eighty spaces and fewer than a dozen cars in them. But one of them was the gray Grand Marquis I had seen outside Beck's warehouse that morning.
    "This is where I took the photographs," Duffy said.
    We drove to the back of the garage and parked in a corner. Got out and took the elevator up one floor to the lobby. There was some tired marble decor and a building directory.
    The Xavier Export Company shared the fourth floor with a law firm called Lewis, Strange & Greville. We were happy about that. It meant there would be an interior hallway up there. We wouldn't be stepping straight out of the elevator into Quinn's offices.
    We got back in the elevator and pressed 4 . Faced front. The doors closed and the motor whined. We stopped on four. We heard voices. The elevator bell pinged. The doors opened. The hallway was full of lawyers. There was a mahogany door on the left with a brass plate marked Lewis, Strange & Greville, Attorneys at Law. It was open and three people had come out through it and were standing around waiting for one of them to close it. Two men, one woman. They were in casual clothes. They were all carrying briefcases. They all looked happy. They all turned and looked at us. We stepped out of the elevator. They smiled and nodded at us, like you do with strangers in a small hallway.
    Or maybe they thought we had come to consult with them on a legal matter. Villanueva smiled back and nodded toward Xavier Export's door. It's not you we're looking for. It's them. The woman lawyer looked away and squeezed past us into the elevator. Her partners locked up their office and joined her. The elevator doors closed on them and we heard the car whining down.
    "Witnesses," Duffy whispered. "Shit." Villanueva pointed at Xavier Export's door. "And there's someone in there. Those lawyers didn't seem surprised that we should be up here at this time on a Saturday. So they must know there's someone in there. Maybe they thought we've got an appointment or something." I nodded. "One of the cars in the garage was at Beck's warehouse this morning."
    "Quinn?" Duffy said.
    "I sincerely hope so."
    "We agreed, Teresa first," Villanueva said. "Then Quinn."
    "I'm changing the plan," I said. "I'm not walking away. Not if he's in there. Not if he's a target of opportunity."
    "But we can't go in anyway," Duffy said. "We've been seen."
    " You can't go in," I said. "I can."
    "What, alone?"
    "That's the way I want it. Him and me."
    "We left a trail."
    "So roll it up. Go back to the garage and drive away. The guard will log you out. Then call this office five minutes later. Between the garage log and the phone log it'll be on record that nothing happened while you were here."
    "But what about you? It'll be on record that we left you in here."
    "I doubt it," I said. "I don't think the garage guy paid that much attention. I don't think he counted heads or anything. He just wrote down the plate number." She said nothing.
    "I don't care anyway," I said. "I'm a hard person to find. And I plan to get harder." She looked