Free The Collected (A Jonathan Quinn Novel) by Brett Battles

something simple first. You are Timothy Pullman, correct?”
    Pullman stared at him for a moment, his eyes widening ever so slightly.
    “Before you answer,” Quinn said, “some of these questions we already know the answer to, so we’ll know right away if you lie to us, and that won’t make us very happy.” He raised his gun a few inches to ensure the message wasn’t too subtle for the man.
    Pullman looked away.
    “So, Pullman, right?”
    A nod.
    “Good. Then we’re in the right place. It would have been pretty embarrassing if you were the wrong asshole, don’t you think?”
    The broker looked like he wasn’t sure if he should nod or shake or what.
    Quinn raised his hand, his palm out. “Rhetorical.” He smiled. “Yes or no. You put together an op that supposedly finished two days ago.”
    A nod.
    “Did this Senator Lopez have something to do with the job?”
    Yes.
    “The victim?” Quinn guessed.
    Pullman hesitated.
    “Remember. Only the truth.”
    Pullman’s head moved up and down.
    “So you think we’re here about him? Maybe we’re not too happy that he’s dead?”
    Pullman nodded.
    “And that’s where you’re wrong,” Quinn said. “Partially, anyway. We are here about the project, but we couldn’t care less about Senator Lopez.”
    Pullman looked confused.
    “You’ve been straight with us so far. I can see it in your eyes, so don’t screw it up now.”
    The man immediately shook his head.
    “Good. The person we’re interested in is one of the people you hired. The cleaner. Quinn, right?”
    A quick, decisive nod.
    “See, here again is an example of something that could have made things a lot easier. When my associate called you last night, you could have told us the truth then. If you had, we wouldn’t have had to come all the way out here to see you.” Quinn paused. “Please tell me you regret not being a little nicer.”
    Pullman nodded with enthusiasm.
    Quinn clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth several times, then said, “All right. I’m going to take the tape off your mouth now, but your lips stay sealed unless you’re answering a question from either me or my friend. Got it?”
    Yes.
    Quinn smiled, and ripped off the long piece that went under Pullman’s jaw. The broker’s eyes widened as he let out a grunt.
    “Sorry about that,” Quinn said. He removed the two pieces from over the man’s mouth. “There. Better?”
    Pullman started to speak, then thought better of it, and nodded.
    “Another easy one. The Lopez job, is it over? Or did it get extended?”
    “Over,” Pullman croaked.
    “When?”
    “Like you said—almost two days.”
    “So, on schedule.”
    A nod, tentative.
    “Then where is Quinn?”
    “I don’t know. The job went…bad.”
    “Explain bad to me.”
    “The police found the body before it could be disposed of.”
    Quinn hid his surprise. “They caught your cleaner?”
    Pullman hesitated.
    “Answer the question.”
    “I don’t know the answer. I’m not sure if they arrested him or not. I tried to find out, but it’s like he disappeared.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “There was some kind of manhunt in the news after they found the body, but I’m not sure if they caught anyone.”
    A manhunt ? That did not sound good. Quinn didn’t want to ask the next question but he knew he had to. “What about other bodies? Any found around the same time but not officially connected together?”
    “No. Nothing reported.”
    Despite the fact it didn’t mean much, Quinn was relieved by the answer. “All right. Let’s start at the beginning. Who was your client?”
    “The man I talked to went by the name of Mr. Brown.”
    “Did this Mr. Brown belong to a particular organization?”
    “He never said. But he used the right passwords to prove he was legit. And the payments appeared on schedule.”
    “How was contact handled?”
    “Over the phone.”
    “You never met him in person?”
    “No.”
    Playing something he knew was