Special Agent | ✓

Twelve

TWELVE

――――――

The forensic reports landed in Quinn's inbox an hour later. It placed Lorber's approximate time of death around 23:00.

It had happened around the same time Cameron Kent's emergency beacon went off.

There were a million scenarios springing off in Quinn's head, scenarios she eagerly noted in her mission journals whenever possible. A big part of intelligence work was viewing all viable avenues while simultaneously attempting to construct possible theories. Using the most basic facts available, Quinn needed to Doctor Strange the bloody hell out of all outcomes.

At least, until I can boil it down to something resembling the truth.

Quinn hoped with all of her heart she'd reach that point with the help of the computer scientist Jacques had helped them track down. She'd dialled her number twice already, yet had received no response.

Well, then. Guess I'll have to go the digital route.

As Quinn had suspected, Doctor Liza Jaeger kept her private information behind many, many layers of protection. O'Reilly, armed with another cup of strong coffee, sat down and prepared herself to get to work.

It took two hours for O'Reilly to dig up an address that was a possible location. She hunted up an old email account, then found it had been deactivated. Liza Jaeger was a professional at sweeping her digital footprints, that much Quinn could see.

It frustrated her, but in the end she conceded defeat. She was no whiz computer person, and certainly no computer scientist. Quinn was good at it.

Just not Liza Jaeger good.

It didn't surprise her, not really, when another mail landed in her inbox an hour after her frustrated search had ended. It had no subject title, but Quinn spied the first couple of words:

To the O'Reilly who's been looking for me.

Quinn clicked it. An email opened up.

To the O'Reilly who's been looking for me.

Doctor Ryonne told me of your situation. It's no use scouring for me online. I'll return to Paris tonight. You may meet me at 22. As for the location, I'll say this:

What's in the middle of Paris?

Regards, Jaeger

Leaning back, Quinn studied her screen. She'd sequestered herself by the breakfast table during the better part of her data-scouring mission, and Locke had passed through in brief intervals to chug more coffee or fetch the files he'd left scattered across the table. Aside from that, Quinn had kept to herself since their morning interactions.

As Gavin passed into the kitchen again, Quinn looked up.

"Liza Jaeger has made contact." Five words was all it took for Locke to cross the kitchen floor, leaning down beside Quinn to peer at her screen. His eyes narrowed, squinted, before he reluctantly shoved his glasses back on.

Liza Jaeger was enough of a computer whiz to detect when someone looked for her online. It seemed she was wary enough to mail in code, too. Whatever it was that'd killed Lorber, Jaeger wanted no part of it.

Quinn understood it, but it wouldn't deter her from seeking out the answers she needed. Not when it came to recovering Kent.

"What's in the middle of Paris?" asked Gavin. He'd leaned back slightly. The smell of his cologne swamped Quinn, and so she shifted very lightly away from his very male self. She'd let her hair loose, and chose to now tuck it behind her ears as she spoke.