Extreme Faction by Trevor Scott Page A

no idea. I checked her normal hang-outs last night. She’s not into the night club scene, but she goes to a few Jazz joints for the music. What the hell did you hit me with?”
    Jake looked down at his brown hiking tennis shoes. They weren’t much to look at, but they were comfortable to walk in and held up nicely against a man’s head, or any other body part. “Sorry about that.”
    Quinn shrugged and continued. “I’ve been hanging around here since late last night. I must have fallen asleep on the couch. When I heard the door open, I got up to meet Petra. But it wasn’t her. Two guys burst in and the biggest one cold-cocked me. I came around and saw a figure at the door. I took a swipe at the gun, and here we are. What do you mean Tully sent you?”
    â€œWhich word don’t you understand?”
    â€œIt’s just that he told me about you a few days ago,” Quinn said. “Said you were old Agency, had worked covert ops, former Air Force Intel, the whole spiel. Said you went private a few years back, and were babysitting a couple of Bozos from Portland. Hardly the kind of thing you’d expect, considering your background.”
    â€œDid he also say I liked to kick the shit out of smart asses?”
    â€œAfraid not. If you’re referring to me, I’m not feeling really smart right now.”
    â€œHang on a minute.” Jake went to the kitchen and found some ice cubes, which he wrapped in a small towel and brought to Quinn. “You’ve got a helluva bruise forming under your ear. Put this on it.”
    Quinn took the ice reluctantly and set it against his upper jaw. “Did you get a good look at them?”
    â€œNo such luck. They plowed into me on their way out, but the hallway was too dark. The first one out was big, but he moved like a much smaller guy. Like a linebacker. He wasn’t Ukrainian or Russian. I’m guessing he was one of the Kurds that ransacked Tvchenko’s apartment.” Jake looked around the room, which was destroyed much like the scientist’s place had been. “He does a good job.”
    Quinn glanced about. “What were they looking for?”
    â€œOther than Petra? I’d guess whatever she and Yuri Tvchenko were working on. You were her runner. Did she talk to you about their work?”
    Armstrong had his eyes closed, in obvious pain. “She had her suspicions. She was a decent lab technician. Did what Tvchenko told her to. That’s it. She said he was extremely secretive. Would only tell her what she needed to know to complete her experiments.”
    â€œYou believe her?”
    Quinn opened his eyes and glared at Jake. “Of course. I trust her.”
    â€œWhere is she then?”
    â€œI don’t know,” he yelled. Quinn mulled over the question for a moment and then settled down. “Maybe she heard about Tvchenko’s murder last night and got scared. She said he had changed a lot lately. So the guy gets himself killed, she starts thinking it had something to do with the research, and she goes into hiding. So, Tully sent you. Why are you involved?”
    Jake wasn’t sure about that himself. He had taken on the job watching over MacCarty and Swanson because that’s what he did now, take care of people who didn’t think they could do it themselves. It was true that the complexity of those assignments were usually less than exciting, but what the hell, it was a living. Every now and then over the past three years he would get a case that seemed easy at first but quickly turned into something else. Maybe this was one of them.
    Looking the room over again, Jake finally said, “Who knows why we do the things we do? Did Tully tell you about last night? At Tvchenko’s apartment.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell, I guess I don’t like people trying to dismember my body,” Jake said. “I’m not ready for that yet.”
    â€œMakes