Samson exchanged a grin with Gabriel. “Looks like my idea wasn’t that bad after all.”

“We’ll see,” Gabriel replied. “He’s only had the dog for what, three days, four days? I’d like to see what long term effect he has on him.”

“Is he sleeping?” Samson asked, looking back at Quinn.

“The dog? All day long.”

“Not the dog, Zane.”

Quinn couldn’t suppress a grin. “He sure wasn’t sleeping much during the last day.”

Samson frowned, but Quinn waved him off quickly. “It’s not what you think. He wasn’t brooding. He had a woman over.”

“I thought he never took women to his place,” Samson mused.

Quinn shrugged. “Surprised the hell out of me too, but hey, there she was in his bed. And he wasn’t even willing to share her. Must have been quite a catch. Hey, not that I’m pissed or anything. I can get my own women. But hey, it was quite a departure from his usual modus operandi.” Which generally meant a quick fuck in the backroom of a club or bar, or even in an alley.

“Do you know whether he hurt her?” Gabriel asked.

Knowing that Zane wasn’t one to shy away from mixing a little pain with his pleasure, Quinn wasn’t at all surprised at Gabriel’s question. However, he had no answer for it. “I was up for only a half hour or so. I didn’t hear any screams if that’s what you’re asking. And this evening I found Zane sleeping on the couch with the dog curled up by his side. Must have been quite a day for him to be so exhausted. I had to wake him to make sure he got to his assignment on time.”

Samson quietly contemplated Quinn’s words before he spoke. “Well, at least it appears he’s calm and under control. I spoke to Drake earlier. Of course, his ethics don’t allow him to disclose what Zane spoke about in his session, but Drake knows when to warn me about erratic behavior. And there seemed to be none.”

“Do you think he’s trying to fool us by pretending to be calm and collected when he’s not?” Gabriel asked, staring at Samson.

“He’s doing a good job if that’s the case,” Quinn chimed in, not wanting them to suspect how agitated Zane really was.

The encounter with the assassin and the discovery that Müller was most likely behind a master race breeding program had shaken Zane up; Quinn could see that. Having a woman over for a little playtime had probably helped calm his nerves a little, but Quinn knew all too well that this wouldn’t keep Zane calm forever. Only one thing would: finding the headquarters of the breeding program and eradicating its leader and top ranks.

Once the last of the monsters of his friend’s past were destroyed, perhaps he could finally find peace.

“Keep an eye on him. If anything changes, alert us immediately. We don’t want another killing.”

Quinn nodded in agreement and rose. “I’ve got a few things to take care of. I’ll check in with you periodically.”

“Thanks, Quinn, you’re a great help.” Samson offered his hand in thanks, and Quinn shook it.

When he stalked out of Samson’s Victorian home in Nob Hill and walked down the hill, he felt a heavy stone lifted from his shoulders. He hadn’t said anything negative about Zane; he’d given nothing away that would even border on betrayal. Of course, Zane wouldn’t see it that way. He’d still call him a snitch and toss him out on his ass. But if he were honest, even Zane would have to admit that Quinn was only helping him. As long as he could keep Samson and Gabriel pacified and make sure they found Zane to be no longer a danger to anyone, he was helping his friend rather than betraying him.

Having already checked out the Greyhound station on his way to Samson’s, Quinn headed for the train station, hoping to have better luck finding the locker that could be opened by the key Zane had given him.

The rush hour crowd had long left the station, and only those individuals who worked late were now waiting for trains to take them home. Quinn surveyed the platforms. Two trains were in the station, a couple of dozen passengers loitered along the gates waiting for their train to show, and a station agent wandered near the ticket windows, consulting his watch on and off.

Everything looked normal. Yet Quinn had worked in security long enough not to be fooled by the appearance of normality. He was never lulled into complacency, or any sense that this would be an easy task. At any time, another attacker could strike. If Brandt’s son had taken the precaution of not having identification on him so he couldn’t be traced anywhere, it was clearly information others were guarding, and Quinn knew to exercise caution in trying to unearth such information.