Page 86 of Operation Protector
Quinn went to the office in the corner of the building, which Colby now knew was his. He was on the computer there in seconds, and was quickly reading the screen and tapping a thumb on the desk.
When he saw Colby in the doorway, he glanced up and said, “Figuring timing.”
He went back to the screen.
“This model jet has a cruising speed of about three hundred twenty knots an hour.” He glanced again at Colby. “Say three hundred seventy-five miles per hour. So an estimated three hours plus a bit flight time. It’s got just enough range without refueling, but only if they don’t have to dodge anything or wait in the air very long. Pretty risky.”
“I think they’ll stop,” Colby said hesitantly. “She’ll feel safe once they’re on their way. That jet makes her feel…”
“Privileged? Special?”
“Yes.”
“Then she has a surprise coming.” Quinn said it with such cool Colby felt that hope battering down his qualms. “They’re not leaving for an hour. With driving time from Denver, that gives us roughly six hours, probably more when you add in delays and ground transit. And a lot more if they do stop to refuel.”
Colby stared at the man. “Why do I get the feeling I’m about to meet Wilbur?”
Quinn grinned, widely. “Won’t be as fast—it’ll take us two hours or so more flight time—but ol’ Wilbur’s steady. With a range of five hundred miles more than we need, and that’s with a nice fuel reserve left over.”
“And you can top the Rockies?”
“Max altitude is twenty-five thousand feet. Cabin’s pressurized, rare for a small turbo prop. We’re good.”
“What about that weather?”
“Always the X factor, but like I said, we’ve got the range to go around a bit if we need to. Especially since we’re not heading into Denver International’s traffic pattern.”
“So you think we can beat them there?”
“No, but we’ll be close on their tail. If Mother Nature cooperates and holds off until tonight.”
“You mean Foxworth doesn’t have any pull there?” Colby asked in mock shock.
Quinn laughed. “Good to see you’re able to joke.”
“Hope,” Colby said, solemnly now, “is a powerful thing.”
“Yes, it—” He broke off as another call came in. Quinn looked at the screen and then put it on speaker. “Gavin. Go.”
“Just saw the case update Liam sent. Thinking I should go along.”
“We’ve got room,” Quinn said. “You have a reason?”
“Two. I’ve got a former client in the area who happens to have some legal pull.”
Colby didn’t doubt that. Back in his headline days, Gavin de Marco handled nothing but people who had some pull. Or a lot of it.
“And reason two?” Quinn asked.
“If I was enough to scare her into running from here, imagine what me showing up there might do.”
Quinn laughed. “Our own personal boogeyman.”
“I’ve been called worse,” de Marco said with a chuckle. Colby was sure he probably had been, in those years when if there was a lawyer all over the news, chances were good it was him.
Liam appeared in the doorway. “ETA on Wilbur ready for takeoff is forty-five minutes.”
“Excellent. You copy that, Gavin?”
