Deliver Us From Evil (10 page)

S
HAW STRETCHED HIMSELF
out along the top of the flat rock set at the far end of Gordes and checked his watch. It was one o’clock in the morning.
Tourist buses came all during the day, disgorging their passengers, who would stand where Shaw was now, prone, and snap their
digital pictures of the breathtaking views. Shaw was also here because of the views, only his were of the twin villas, Waller’s
and Janie Collins’s. His electronic night glass turned solid masses, such as people, cars, and potted plants, into firm heightened
outlines with many discernible features, while casting the background into a liquid green. There was one light on in the woman’s
place, while Waller’s was dark. Not surprising since the man was not there yet.

He had not seen Janie Collins for a couple of days, but his interest in her had only increased. Shaw moved his torso a bit
to provide relief against the sharp rock digging into his shoulder. The movement from below brought him back to alert. He
focused his glass and watched as she emerged from light into darkness that his optics ate through with enviable clarity. Janie
was barefoot and wearing a robe. As she slipped it off he saw she was wearing a one-piece bathing suit underneath. She slipped
on swim goggles, tied her hair back, and dove in, breaking the surface of the water cleanly.

She cut through the water with sharp strokes. She reached one side, did a flip turn, and proceeded back the other way. After
five laps, Shaw knew she was counting her strokes. There was little ambient light, no moon, and the light from the house lost
all potency before it reached the poolside, so there was no way she could see the walls to know when to turn. Thirty laps
later she’d not diminished her speed. Shaw had to keep rubbing his eyes because her methodical movements were hypnotic, like
watching a metronome whisk back and forth.

The light coming on caused Shaw to leave the woman and focus on the villa next door. As the man came into view Shaw saw that
it wasn’t Waller. He couldn’t see his features that clearly, but the man was bigger and far bulkier than the Canadian. Shaw
assumed that he was part of an advance security team. As Shaw had predicted to Frank previously, Waller’s men would search
the place and then lock it down, probably posting sentry perimeters until the boss arrived. It was the same protocol the
United States Secret Service used.

Shaw watched as the burly man dressed all in black expertly searched the outdoor space, his pistol out and ready as it pointed
into darkened corners. Shaw saw the man flinch and then look over his shoulder. In a few seconds he’d passed by the pool in
Waller’s rear grounds, gained hand and footholds on the dividing wall between the properties, and scrambled upward to peer
over it.

Shaw’s glass shot back to Janie. Finished with her swim, she was walking up the steps of the pool. As he continued to stare,
she stripped off her wet bathing suit and let it fall to the pool deck. She picked up the towel and dried off before wrapping
it around her. Shaw swiveled his gaze to the man at the wall. Even with his electronics he couldn’t see the man’s features
clearly enough, but he assumed the guy was pleased with this show of female nudity. He was certain the man would report back
to Waller with this juicy bit of intelligence. “Janie” might have inadvertently made a very serious blunder.

An hour later the Waller villa went dark and Shaw let his night glass swivel back to Janie’s house. He stiffened a bit. In
the darkest corner, by an alcove, he thought he saw movement. Was it Janie? Or had one of Waller’s men gotten into the rear
grounds from the other direction while Shaw was focused on the villa next door?

Shaw’s mind raced ahead. Had the woman locked the rear sliding glass door? Shaw decided that she probably hadn’t. She was
too trusting, too ready to give out personal information. For the time being he forgot about any vague suspicions he might
have had of her. She was probably a young, naïve heiress vacationing next door to a psychopath who sold young women into sexual
slavery.

Shaw jumped to his feet and ran. He had a Vespa he’d been getting around on, but the little engine’s whine would be problematic
at this hour of the night. He pounded down the empty cobblestone streets of Gordes, past the town square, down a shortcut
by the church, around an alley, and down another set of aged steps that cut still more time off the trip. Passing an amphitheater
that hosted concerts during the warmer months, he skipped down the final set of stone risers that would deliver him to within
ten meters of the two villas. He peered around a corner of stone jutting out from the otherwise sheer face of the cliff. Janie’s
villa was on the right, Waller’s on the left.

There was a silver Citroën van in the small park-off directly in front of Waller’s villa. By Janie’s entrance was her small
two-door crimson Renault with its rear hatch a bare foot from the front door. Shaw could see that the Renault was empty but
the Citroën wasn’t. Two men sat in the front, one of them probably the guy he’d seen doing the earlier recon, but he couldn’t
be sure about that. He calculated that their line of sight had one blind spot. Proceeding along this path slowly, he tested
the validity of this assumption. The two sentries remained right where they were. Shaw turned a corner and was now at a point
where he could gain access to Janie’s rear grounds.

The wall was six feet high, but unlike the common wall between the two villas, on top it had long stones mortared in vertically
that added another eighteen inches to the height. That was probably because this wall was next to a public walking path. That
would make peering over the wall impossible and climbing over it painful. Shaw found this to be true on his first attempt
to mount the barrier. He let go, dropped to the street, slipped off his jacket, covered his scraped hands with it, and tried
again. He was up and over the wall in a matter of seconds, dropping noiselessly to the other side in the soft grass. He crouched,
getting his bearings. He was in the side yard whose border was planted with climbing roses and luscious bougainvillea. The
pool area was up a short flight of flagstone steps to his left. He put his Windbreaker back on, his small night scope in one
of the pockets.

He tried not to think about what Frank would say if he could see him right now. He was jeopardizing the entire mission by
being here. He knew that. Yet he also knew that he wasn’t going to let one of Waller’s hired thugs have a free go at the young
woman either. He crossed the short patch of grass and scrambled up the stack of steps.

Shaw felt the muzzle of the gun against his head a millisecond before he heard the click of the hammer being pulled back.

T
HAT WAS
the first mistake. The person was too close, mere inches away, which allowed no adequate buffer to ward off a sudden counterattack.
The second mistake was not pulling the trigger and killing him. Shaw’s thumb jammed behind the trigger, making discharge impossible.
His other four fingers closed on the muzzle, jerking it downward so it pointed at the ground. The final mistake was not letting
go of the pistol. He pulled hard, bent his body forward, and the figure sailed over him, landing hard in the grass. He ripped
the gun free, straddled the body, and pointed the weapon at the person’s head.

“Janie?”

She was lying under him, her cotton robe askew and her hair in her face. She was breathing hard, probably from the impact
with the ground. She had on a pair of tennis shoes, a robe, and not much else that he could see.

Her knee slamming into his left kidney sent a jarring pain up his back. He fell sideways and lay hunched over in the grass
next to her. The two rose slowly, nursing their bumps and bruises. Shaw kept the gun in his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, her gaze flitting from the gun to his face.

“I saw lights on in the villa next door. Then I thought I saw a guy coming over the wall into your grounds.”

She looked around. “From
where
did you see all this?”

Shaw pointed at the cliffs. “I was taking a stroll. From up there it’s a clear line to your villa.”

“How did you know where I was staying?” she said sharply.

He looked sheepish. “Okay, I confess, I followed you home the night we had dinner, but just to make sure you got here okay.
You know, rich woman traveling alone? I was worried about you.” He held up the gun. “I’m a little surprised you have one of
these.”

“Like you said, I’m rich and traveling alone. And I have a permit for it.”

“Really?” He handed it back to her. “I thought France was pretty strict about guns.”

“Money solves many problems,” she said coolly.

He rubbed his back. “Let me guess, in addition to foreign-language immersion classes, you also have time for martial arts.”

She fingered the gun before releasing the hammer and placing it in the pocket of her robe, which she cinched up tightly. “I
heard something in the rear yard, but I didn’t see a man come over the wall. Well, that is, except for
you
.”

“But you must’ve seen the lights come on next door. And there’s a van out front with two men in it.”

She gazed at the wall separating the two villas. “Maybe I did. I… I can’t be sure.” She looked back at him. “So you can see
my villa from the cliffs?”

“Yeah. The tourist buses come there every day and take photos of the villas, the valley, and the mountains.” For some reason
Shaw could tell that she knew all of this. That along with her having a gun now rekindled his suspicions. “Your pool is the
only one directly visible from that vantage point. The pool next door is mostly hidden by a garage and some trees.”

She glanced at the dark waters. “The pool?” She shot him an accusatory look. “Could you see me swimming then? And afterwards?”

Shaw didn’t hesitate. “All I saw was the guy. That’s why I came down here, to make sure you were okay. I would’ve knocked
on the front door, but again there were the dudes next door and I wasn’t sure what was going on. And it is after one in the
morning.”

“Yes, it is. I’m surprised you’re still up.”

“Yeah, I was surprised to see you too. Guess I’m still on U.S. time. You sure you didn’t see anyone?”

“No one, and the doors are all locked.” She paused. “I didn’t know lobbyists were so good with defensive maneuvers and guns.”

Shaw managed a chuckle. “Hell, it was all luck. When I felt the muzzle against my head I just sort of freaked. Last time I
fired a gun I was thirteen. It was a .22 caliber rifle and the targets were tin cans stuck on a fencepost. But where did you
learn to sneak up on people like that? I never even heard you.”

Shaw had thought it impossible for anyone to do that to him.

“I took ballet. I’m light on my feet.”

When she didn’t say anything else, he lightly touched her arm and said, “I’m just glad you’re okay. I better get going now.”

“Maybe we can see if the men are still out there,” she said, turning toward the villa.

Shaw mutely followed her, noting the grass stain on the backside of her cotton robe from where he’d thrown the woman. The
house was dark and she didn’t turn on any lights as they moved through the space, Shaw following her lead. He could tell that
she had excellent night vision. They reached the front room, where Shaw could see the oak double doors leading outside. The
room was barrel-vaulted, supported by visible curved wooden trusses in a style often seen in older European homes. The interior
walls were thick, with a stucco veneer. They kept the cool or heat in as needed. The furnishings were eclectic, costly, and plentiful to the point of the large room feeling slightly cluttered but cozy. To his left he noted the corkscrew
limestone staircase that provided access to the interior five floors. A lot of space for one person.

They drew close to the door and he watched as Janie eased back a curtain of the sidelight next to the doorway. Shaw peered
over her shoulder. He breathed an inaudible sigh of relief when he saw the Citroën van still there with the dark shadows
in the front indicating the men were also still present and accounted for.

She closed the curtain and took a step back, turning to him. “Thanks for your concern, Bill.”

“Anytime. You have any idea who those guys are?”

She shook her head. “Maybe we should report this to the police.”

“Maybe we should,” said Shaw. He had no intention of doing any such thing, and something made him suspect that she wasn’t
going to call them either. “Well, I better get going. Do you mind if I go out the way I came in? Those guys look a little
rough for my tastes.”

She nodded absently, her gaze on his face. “I’m sure you could handle yourself just fine.”

She followed him out to the rear, where he used his jacket as protective cover while he hoisted himself back up on the wall.
While he perched there momentarily, she said, “Maybe we can get together soon?”

“Okay. I feel after tonight we’ve really bonded.”

She seemed to force a smile. “I think so too.”

“Look, I’m planning to grab some coffee and a croissant at the little village bakery around nine tomorrow morning. Why don’t
we meet there?”

As soon as he disappeared over the wall, Reggie stripped off her robe to reveal dark shorts and a navy blue tube top underneath.
She waited for a few beats before going back in the villa and exiting through a door on the lower level that emptied out onto
the public path. Finding the same blind spot in the observation lanes of the men in the van that Shaw had earlier, she started
following him. He took the shortcut up to the village and wound his way slowly back to his hotel through the silent streets.
If he knew he was being followed he gave no indication of it.

Reggie broke off her tail when he entered the hotel’s front doors. At least she knew now where he was staying. She made her
way slowly back down to the villa, skirted the men in the van, and reentered her villa the same way she had left it. She retrieved
her robe where she’d dropped it on a table and carefully lifted out the gun. She put it in a plastic baggie. It had Bill’s
prints on the muzzle.

She searched the place from top to bottom after locking all the doors. Satisfied, she put on a long T-shirt, climbed into
bed, and made a call.

Whit answered on the second ring. His voice did not sound sleepy. He and Dominic were staying at an isolated cottage barely
fifteen kilometers away. She filled him in on the night’s events.

“I don’t like this guy,” Whit said.

“There
were
two men out front,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but you still don’t know what his angle is. I think we can safely assume that he’s not some bloody lobbyist from the
States. The whole mission could be compromised now.”

“I don’t see him working for Waller, if that’s what you’re getting at. He wouldn’t have pointed out the man’s advance team
to me and then warned me about the man watching me.”

“So if he’s not with Waller, what then?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got his prints on my gun that I’ll send along to you. I want to see if we get a hit somewhere.”

“Okay, I can pick it up tomorrow. But look, Reg, it’s hard enough going up against Kuchin. We don’t need any unknown shit
on top of it.”

She put the phone down and lifted the sheet over her. But she couldn’t sleep. She rose, padded over to the window, opened
it, and stared out. She was on the top floor of the villa with excellent views of Gordes. Up there was a tall man who’d just
manhandled her. He could have killed her tonight but he hadn’t. She’d never seen anyone move that fast, that fluidly. Not
Dominic or even Whit. Or even her.

Who is he?

“Damn,” she muttered before closing her window and flopping on the bed with a long groan. This complication was the last thing
she needed right now, if it somehow caused them to miss getting Kuchin. It took another hour for her to fall asleep.

In his room Shaw had just finished talking to Frank, reporting in what had happened. He stripped down to his skivvies, but
couldn’t sleep. Lying down he sometimes found it hard to breathe because of a recent nasty attack on his windpipe by a fellow
named Caesar. Shaw’s muscles were long and ropy and he was actually stronger than he looked. Yet the giant Caesar had been
more physically formidable. However, Shaw had gotten a little help in their confrontation from unexpected sources. Love. Hate.
Rage. But mostly hate and rage. The result was he was here and Caesar wasn’t.

He rose and opened his window to let in some fresh air. His window didn’t have a view of the villas below, but he could see
them clearly in his mind.

So who was the woman and why was she really here? She might be simply who she said she was. Rich and traveling alone, a woman
might carry a weapon—it was not unreasonable. And the database search on her fingerprints had produced no hits. Then an image
drove into his mind that he tried but could not get rid of. Her bathing suit coming off and revealing the long, tanned torso
sliding down into the smooth, shapely, and naked backside. Massive waves of guilt poured over him. He got back into bed and
finally fell asleep.