Special Agent | ✓

Ten

" — she was the only agent stationed here in Paris, one Special Agent Lorber. She investigated the presence of mafia officials here, and has remained during the past few months."

Jacques nodded, "Yes. I'm aware. Whenever Special Agents are stationed, recognized ... people talk. They're afraid, see." Her eyes studied Locke's face, " — I haven't heard of anyone but Lorber, though. You say there was another agent here?"

"Special Agent Kent's emergency beacon went off here in Paris," replied Quinn. Jacques moved immediately, reaching for one of Quinn's hands before she firmly clasped it in her own.

"Mon amie, vous êtes bien? Ça doit être dur pour toi." One palm brushed the top of Quinn's hand, a steady grip anchoring her to Jacques. Ryonne knew of Quinn's close connection to Cam, knew what it'd meant to the young analyst to have Cam pick her up as her primary partner.

"I'm working on it. Literally." Quinn offered as an explanation, " — I'd hoped you had some intel. Maybe someone talked."

Leaning back, Jacques nodded pointedly at the chocolate. Quinn obeyed, quite sure the only reason she wasn't keeling over were the pralines in question.

"Lorber, I knew, worked on something outside her mission. She had one of our members working with her, a computer scientist." Ryonne took another sip of red wine, eyed Quinn, " — though that member's out of town. Désolée."

"Do you know whether Cameron was in Paris recently?" asked Quinn. Jacques shook her head slowly.

"I have not heard of it, though maybe I have not listened in the right places." Ryonne frowned, snatching a praline herself.

"Do you know more of what Lorber worked on?" Quinn's mind was working hard, gears turning every which way as she figured out how to ask the important questions.

"No, désolee'. It was more secret, between her and the computer scientist. I can offer you her info, but it's up to her if she's willing to talk." Jacques straightened, moved with effortless poise toward her desk. A sleek phone awaited her, and she reached for it.

Ryonne tapped a few quick commands, and seconds later Quinn's own phone vibrated. The contact.

"I will try to listen if Kent's been in town, maybe been in contact with anyone here. I can't promise more than that."

Quinn nodded at Jacques' words.

"You'll keep me posted."

"Of course." Ryonne drained the last of her wine, "I'm sad to learn Special Agent Kent is missing. If anyone can recover her, it's you."

A light touch on her elbow was all the reassurance Quinn needed. She smiled, gratefully, at her friend. Friend, informant, early mentor. Jacques Ryonne was a lot of things to Quinn, but first of all, she'd been her savior.

A story for another time.

"You're certain you do not wish to stay? We have a gambling night this evening, in around — " Jacques wriggled her wrist, read the numbers on the Rolex, " — around forty minutes. I could lend you a dress. Locke looks ... just fine." A dangerous smile curved Ryonne's red lips.

"Thank you, Jacques, but I'm afraid we're both quite tired." Quinn offered. Locke had already stood up, slipping his arms into his jacket. The holster peeked out from beneath, evidence of the danger he possessed.

Nearing the door, Jacques followed.

"Promise to come by more often, Quinn," said Ryonne. Her eyes were imploring, "You are truly missed here. Hypatia will always have a place for you, you know that."