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.
