It was Giacomo Henrici's kid. As soon as he'd seen the picture, Quint recognized the face. It'd been twenty-plus years since he'd seem him. Jack Henrici, but they’d called him the little firecracker for his excessive vehemence. He was fourteen, maybe fifteen years old, at the time involved with the previous operation. Back when Quint was simply a worker caught in illegal services by chance.
Quint sat patiently in his office. He’d given the order to fly Jack back to California from Kansas as fast as possible. It was late at night, and all the workers had been bussed back. Quint didn’t want to wait until the next day. The door that led to the main room opened, and two agents entered, pushing Jack into the office. His head was covered, and his hands were bound in front of his waist. They pulled a chair in front of Quint's desk and sat him down. An agent slid the covering off his head.
Jack looked up at Quint and grinned. "It's been a while, Morton," He sneered. "We'll make a good team. I turned myself in. I want to work with you. I want to do whatever you needed this position to do. The other’s had different plans, but I’m loyal to you.”
Quint did his best to control his emotions. He stood from the desk and walked to the wall of newspaper clippings. "Jack, or is it Gary now?"
"Harvey Sinclair, if you like," Jack responded.
"I created Harvey Sinclair." Quint stated.
“No, I created Harvey Sinclair,” Jack responded. “They are nothing without me. I’m the one you want, not them. The competition, they would—“
“I don’t think you understand.” Quint interrupted, “I set them up as Harvey Sinclair. From the very beginning. I’m the reason that name exists. I brought them into The Company.”
Jack fiddled his thumbs and scratched his forearm as he processed the information. He knew they were sloppy, but hadn’t realized it was this sloppy. “What do you mean you brought them into The Company?”
"When I saw they'd moved back to the area, I knew they'd inevitably hear about my new business. I figured they would be furious, so I needed to keep them close.“ He looked at Jack, who was watching him intently. "Dorothy had been a part of the new business but wanted out when Ernie went away. I sent her to meet them as her last assignment. They thought it was an accidental run-in, but in reality it was all staged. She was assigned to the family, to get them involved as field workers so I'd have leverage if they tried to take me down."
Quint stopped and made his way back to the desk. “At first they were constantly trying to find me. They asked old friends and associates. The only way to stop them was to please them. I paid double for the jobs they did. I gave them the easiest jobs, as well. They were old friends, so I set them up for life. They quit looking for me.”
"Why do you need Harvey Sinclair now?” Jack asked.
"Because they went back on an agreement! When The Company changed to our more lucrative ventures I told Dorothy she needed to give them a choice. Stay with The Company or disappear for the sake of the kid. They disappeared from the area and continued to work remotely. I thought that was the end of it, so I quit monitoring them. I'm assuming that's when you started working with them?"
Jack nodded. "I heard about The Company in prison."
"I don't remember you being one of the ones on the list, though?" Quint questioned.
"I wasn't. I was working at a retirement home cafeteria, writing myself checks, and got arrested for public indecency."
"Those don't seem related?" Quint stated.
"They're not. I was invited by a friend in prison to one of your recruiting meetings. They happened to be there. We recognized each other and kept in touch. Then when you sent out the announcement years later that The Company was changing to purely killing, I reached out to see if they'd like to work together, and they agreed. It's far easier to get away with murder using three hands."
"I would imagine so. So when did you decide you needed the fourth hand?" Quint turned and pulled up a photo on the screen.
There was a bloody body lying on the bed, which was standard; all hitmen were required to send in a photo once the job was complete for confirmation. What was atypical was a hitman posing with the body.
Jack looked at the photo and smiled. "A few years ago. They were getting old, so I thought we'd start training the next generation. It didn't work out though, he started going a bit whacko recently."
"Where is he?" Quint asked in a biting tone. “Where’s the man?”
"It doesn't matter," Jack replied. "I can do whatever you need me to do."
"That's all that matters!" Quint yelled, "He's the reason you're here!"