Brute Force

Chapter 47

Quinn turned on the phone Kevin Bursaw had given him the moment the plane touched down at de Gaulle. As rushed as he felt to reach Seattle, Quinn was grateful for the chance to finally get a sit-rep about Ronnie. He glanced at Song while he waited to get a signal. She’d passed out the moment they’d reached altitude leaving Zagreb, telling him flying on commercial aircraft were one of the few times she could relax. Quinn had scratched flying off his list of relaxing endeavors just a few months before. Still, he was exhausted as well, and fell into a semi-conscious doze for much of the three-hour flight, letting his subconscious work through his long list of unanswered questions.

He got the signal as the Croatia Air pilot turned the little turboprop down the taxiway and headed toward the gate where they would transfer to a British Airways flight direct to Seattle. They wouldn’t leave the airport so they didn’t have to clear French Immigration.

Jacques picked up on the second ring.

“L’ami,” the big Cajun sighed, as if relieved to finally get the call. “We got her,” he said. “She’s whole.”

Jericho let his head fall against the seatback. He closed his eyes, feeling his throat tighten at the news. He took a deep breath, working to regain his composure. “Thank you,” he said, the catch noticeable in his throat. “Is she there?”

“She is,” Thibodaux said. “But first things first… and this is where things get tricky. Your number-two buddy inside the Beltway…”

Quinn knew he meant Vice President McKeon. “Okay,” he said.

“Looks like his wife is part of it too, and Number One ain’t really in the loop, so to speak.”

“Understood,” Quinn said, running through the possible scenarios. “Can you get in touch with the boss?”

“He’s gone dark,” Thibodaux said. “But I’ve got Butterfly with me. She’s taking us to his location as we speak. I’ll get our girl all settled, then come runnin’ your way.”

Quinn ran down a thumbnail sketch of what he knew about the weapon, highlighting its size and destructive capabilities.

“Got it,” Jacques said when he was finished. “I’ll pass it up the food chain so they can get the big giant brains working on possible targets. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of,” Quinn said. “I’m sure we’ll have more after we get there.”

“That bein’ the case,” Thibodaux said. “I got somebody here who wants to talk to you.”

Ronnie came on the phone a moment later, her voice breathless and frail, like she was sedated.

“Hey, Mango,” she said. “You doin’ okay?”

Quinn let his head fall backwards again. “I’m fine,” he said. No words seemed adequate, no question quite right. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

There was a long pause, as if she needed to figure out how to answer. “I been better,” she finally said. “But I’ll mend. Sorry I got myself caught.”

Quinn felt some of the tension in his neck begin to ease at the sound of her voice. There was so much more he wanted to say, but the phone didn’t seem like the venue.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said at length, closing his eyes again and hoping it wasn’t a lie.