Quinn did a last walk-through just after noon, careful to step only on broken stones or patches of grass to avoid leaving any trace of his presence. He double-checked to make sure all the cameras and microphones were well hidden and working. When he was satisfied, he returned on foot to the van parked a half kilometer away.

The meeting was scheduled for nine that evening. According to the agreed-upon terms, the informant was to arrive from the south, while the man from Quinn’s client—an organization known as the Office—was to come in from the north.

They were each instructed to park a quarter kilometer from the location and walk the rest of the way in. They were to meet inside the church, with each participant allowed to bring one associate. Once they had all arrived, the informant would give the Office’s agent certain information in exchange for what Quinn assumed was a generous cash payment.

The details of the exchange, what the information was and what the informant was earning for his efforts, were none of Quinn’s business. He was a cleaner. His job was to watch and observe, and—only if necessary—clean up any mess that might occur.

As Quinn reached the back of the van, the right side door swung open. Quinn’s apprentice Nate was hunched inside, a Glock 19 pistol in his right hand.

“Ground check?” Nate asked.

“We’re all set,” Quinn replied.

Nate relaxed. While he had no doubt been watching Quinn’s approach—first on the cameras stationed around the church, then on those surrounding the van—and had seen his boss return alone, there was always the possibility someone had gotten to Quinn in one of the dead areas, and was waiting just beyond the camera’s view. But Quinn had answered Nate’s question with the prearranged all-clear signal.

The apprentice moved aside and let Quinn enter, then leaned out and pulled the door shut.

The van had been transformed into a mobile observation post.