Ms. Roberto’s aircraft. Jade strained to look out the window - she could see snowy mountain peaks in the distance, and a flawless azure sky. It was early morning, she thought, or very late afternoon. When she looked back inside the cabin, she saw her suitcase sitting beside one of the coffee tables. What had happened to her? The last she remembered was that portly man who had offered her a ride to the center of Paris, and then being shoved into the car and having something sprayed into her face.
Memory came flooding back. Outrunning the Russian Mafia, fleeing to Paris, the data key...
Jade felt sick.
“Signora?” the flight attendant said. She was still standing there, waiting for an answer.
“Coffee, I guess,” Jade finally said.
“ Caffè Americano?”
“Yes. Fine.”
The woman smiled, then
