Deliver Us From Evil (19 page)

S
HAW CLOSED
the door behind him and said angrily, “What the hell are you doing here, Frank? There’s no face-to-face during an op, you
know that.”

Frank Wells remained sitting in the chair, his face looking slightly pinched. “You went out to Les Baux-de-Provence today.”

“I know I did,” snapped Shaw. “So?”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because Waller had invited Janie to go with him on his private tour, and I couldn’t let that happen.” He held up a hand when
Frank looked ready to say something. “It has nothing to do with her personally. It would’ve just been a logistical headache
to have her in the way when we do the extraction.”

“Yeah, well, I got bad news on that. It’s why I’m here. Didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

Shaw dropped his room key on the table and sank onto the bed. “What bad news?”

“They’re pulling the op. Amy Crawford and the strike team are already wheels up and out of the country.”

Shaw rose so fast he almost hit his head on the low ceiling. “What! Why?”

“Things have changed.”

“Changed! How could they have changed? Waller’s looking to sell nukes. Crazy people are trying to buy them from him so they
can go and blow up a chunk of the world. How can that possibly change?”

“It does if he’s no longer trying to sell them. And in fact he might very well have killed the people he was trying to do
business with.”

“How do you know that?”

“Found two bodies in a lake that match the descriptions of the Islamic guys who were dealing with Waller. They both exhibited
signs of extreme torture. Plus we got chatter on the communication lines that indicates the Muslims are no longer working
with our Canadian psycho and in fact have cut off all ties to him.”

“How do you know he killed them?”

“We don’t for sure, but we also just learned that a house where we believe Waller was meeting with a midlevel terrorist cell
member was blown up. He might’ve lost a couple of guys, at least the entourage he has here is different from the one he normally
travels with. We think maybe the Islamists double-crossed him, tried to kill him, and he retaliated. At least that’s one theory,
and probably the right one. It’s not like I see the guy taking out the nuke freaks to save the world. He just cares about
money.”

“But, Frank, there’s no reason to believe that he won’t try again with a different group of buyers.”

“Don’t think so. This whole thing has drawn way too much attention now in places the guy doesn’t want the spotlight. He’s
too smart to try anything now. He’ll crawl back in his sex slavery ring hole for a few years. By then his access to the U-235
will have dried up too. We believed he was getting it from the stockpile the Russians were dismantling and sending to the
Americans under a disarmament treaty. In a few years that supply will be all gone. That’s why the higher-ups no longer consider
the op worth doing.”

“But it was a snatch-and-tell. He could still lead us to the terrorist cell.”

“Not if he killed them all. The one guy we were really interested in, Abdul-Majeed, has fallen completely off the radar. Our
intel concludes that Waller probably got to him too. Bottom line is there’s no one left for him to rat on.”

“But he’s a bad guy. You just said he’ll go back to his sex slavery business now. He has to be stopped.”

Frank rose. “That’s not our concern. We’re officially pulling our tent on this one.” He held out a packet of materials. “I
got your new assignment here. Early morning flight out to Madrid, then on to wild Rio for a while. You’ll get briefed on the
way, but it has to do with Chinese ties to some violent antidemocratic leaders in that hemisphere. My counterpart in South
America will be meeting you and going over more specifics.” When Shaw didn’t take the packet, Frank dropped it on the desk.

Shaw was shaking his head. “Tomorrow morning? That’s not enough time for me to wind things up here.”

Frank, who was heading to the door, stopped and turned back to him. “Wind things up? What the hell is there to wind up?”

“Give me an extra week here, Frank.”

“A week! Forget it. Your orders are in that packet. You go tomorrow. It’s all set.”

“And if I don’t?”

Frank drew closer to him. “Do you really want to go there?”

“I think I’m going to have to.”

“Because of her? I thought you said there was nothing there.”

“I said there was nothing
romantic
there. But I can’t leave the lady alone with Waller. That’d be like signing her death warrant.”

“Oh come on. We’ve had this discussion. The guy is not going to try anything with her. This is Provence. And the lady’s not
some abandoned young girl from a mud-hut town in Guangdong Province that nobody cares about. She’s not in his wheelhouse at
all.”

“If the guy wants her, he’ll take her. That I know. And I’m pretty sure he wants her. So just run some interference for me
with the guys up top. Just buy me some time.”

But Frank had already turned away. “Be on the flight tomorrow, Shaw. And stop playing guardian angel. The look doesn’t wear
well on you.”

Shaw kicked the door shut behind the man.

“
I
MISSED YOU
, Janie.”

Waller took her hand.

“I’m sure you had plenty to keep you busy.”

“If I may inquire, where did you go today?”

Reggie drew a shallow breath and said, “I went to Les Baux-de-Provence to look at the Goya exhibit.”

His smile disappeared. “That is most unfortunate. As I explained, I was hoping to take you there myself.”

“I’m sorry,” she said curtly.

“And you went alone?”

“Evan—”

“I see. I’m sure you two had a wonderful time,” he said with a trace of bitterness.

“Look, I’m sorry. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. There are lots of other sites we can visit around here.”

This seemed to bolster his spirits. “You’re right. Would you then join me for dinner tonight? At my home? I would be honored.
I have engaged a local chef.”

“I actually already have plans. Bill’s coming over and we’re going to cook at my place.”

“So Bill is coming over. I see. I don’t suppose you could cancel on
Bill
?”

“No, but I don’t have any plans for tomorrow or the next day.”

“Then let me claim that time right now and also every day after that. We can go to Roussillon in the morning, in fact.”

Reggie pretended to think about this. “I guess that’ll be fine, but let’s take it one day at a time.”

“Excellent.” He bent to kiss her hand.

Reggie turned when she saw the slender man emerge from Kuchin’s villa and start toward them. She noted he walked with a slight
limp. He was dressed in blue slacks and a sleeveless yellow sweater over a white shirt.

Kuchin straightened. “Ah, Alan, let me introduce you to this lovely young lady. Alan Rice, Jane Collins.”

They shook hands.

“Alan is my business associate. He works all the time, but I succeeded in convincing him to join me here for at least a brief
time.”

She said, “It was a good decision, Alan. There are few places like Provence.”

“So Evan keeps telling me.”

“Well, enjoy your time here.”

“I plan to.”

Later, Reggie was sitting on her bed and staring down at the tile floor. In a few days it would all happen. And during that
intervening time she could make no mistakes, had to hit her marks to perfection, and still it might all go wrong. She knew
that she had Fedir Kuchin where she wanted him. But she had been doing this long enough to know that not everything was always
as it seemed to be. That he was cunning was without doubt, so she could not assume that she had deceived him fully. He was
playing the role of the elder suitor quite admirably, but that was all it might be, a role.

She put her face in her hands. It was not easy, the career she had chosen. You literally couldn’t trust anyone. And there
was something else on her mind.

The potential for evil lurks in all of us.

Though she’d openly disagreed with Kuchin’s opinion, in fact she could see some truth in it. Indeed, at a certain level what
she did could be seen as evil. Judge, jury, executioner. Who was she to make those decisions? What gave her the right? And
then there was the reason why she had chosen this life for herself. The image of her dead brother flashed across her mind.
Only twelve, so innocent. A tragic loss.

She hurried to the bathroom, turned on the tap, and ran some water over her face. She had to stop thinking about such things.
She had to focus.

She was playing Bill against Kuchin for the benefit of the mission. All the time she spent with either man was because of
the mission, she told herself. Bill Young was merely a convenient piece on the game board, nothing more or less.

There was a momentary disconnect in her mind, like a flash of lightning’s effect on a TV. When her synapses started operating
again, the revelation almost made her sick.

If Kuchin thinks I’m really interested in Bill, he might…

A part of Reggie was cold and calculating. That part said collateral damage happened, but if the mission was successful the
sacrifice was justified. Another part of her was repulsed by an innocent person’s possibly dying just so she could claim her
target. That, for her, was the epitome of the very evil she professed to be fighting against.

Reconcile that, Reggie.

Yet she had already set everything in motion. How could she possibly stop it now?

R
EGGIE STRIPPED OFF
her clothes and showered, scrubbing so hard it felt like her skin was peeling off her bones. Afterwards she dressed in jeans
and a T-shirt, drifted downstairs, found her market basket, and headed up the hill to town. She left through a rear door that
opened onto the cobblestone path so she would not have to deal with her neighbor.

An hour later she returned, her basket full of the ingredients for the meal. She prepped the kitchen, freshened up in the
bathroom, and put on a white skirt and a light blue tank top. She remained barefoot, as she liked the coolness of the tile
floor against her soles. She took time with her hair and face in the bathroom mirror, taking five whole minutes to decide
on a bracelet and earrings.

She froze in the middle of this, staring at her made-up face and wide eyes made wider by the magic of eyeliner and mascara.

It’s jealousy. Playing one against the other. That’s all it is.

Whit’s voice sparked across her brain. “So this is all tied to the mission?”

She kept staring at her image in the mirror. It’s always about the mission. One more monster ticked off the list. That was
all she wanted. And however she got there it didn’t matter.

The sound of the front doorbell almost made her collapse. She looked at her watch. Eight o’clock on the dot. She finished
with her primping and rushed down the corkscrew stairs. When she opened the front door Shaw held up two bottles of wine. “The
vintner in town swore these were the two best reds he had if my goal was to shamelessly impress a remarkably sophisticated
lady of means.”

Reggie took one of the bottles and glanced at the label. “He was right. I
am
impressed. These must have cost you a small fortune, even in Provence.”

“I’ve never let money get in the way of fun. And as a lobbyist I’m used to negotiating folks down on things.”

She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He followed her into the kitchen, his gaze running over the twitch
of her hips.

“Do you miss the work?” she asked.

“Not really. I basically was paid an extravagant amount of money to make even more money for people who already had too much
of it.”

“I’ve got all the prep work assembled. Your instruments await you.” She pointed to a serrated knife and a wooden chopping
board set next to a pile of vegetables and tomatoes.

“Okay, but first a thirst quencher.” He grabbed the corkscrew off the counter, worked the cork out, poured two glasses, and
handed her one. They clinked and sipped. He put down the glass and picked up the knife. “So what are we having?” he asked
as he started slicing.

“The main course is a stew with chicken, tomatoes, and vegetables and a few closely guarded secret spices. I’ve got a cheese
platter and crackers with some stuffed olives to munch on beforehand. Then there’s salad, some bread and olive oil, and a
little creamy dessert that I bought at the bakery because I can’t bake. The coffee of course will be from a French press.”

“Sounds terrific.”

“You know, as depressing as Goya can be, I really did enjoy today.”

He glanced over at her as she was stirring the stew. “Me too. Must have been the company.”

Reggie frowned. “Okay, in the interests of full disclosure, Evan asked me to go with him to Roussillon tomorrow.”

Shaw finished dicing a tomato and started on the celery. “Are you going?”

“I told him I would, but I think I’ll drive separately.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t seem okay.”

“If it were up to me you’d have nothing to do with the guy.”

“But it’s not up to you.”

“I’m acutely aware of that.”

“You really think he’s a bad guy?”

“Let’s put it like this, I don’t want you to feel the brunt of my being correct on that issue.”

She smiled. “Well, I take solace in the fact that you’ll be here to protect me.”

His thrusts at the vegetables became so fierce that she asked, “Is there something wrong?”

He dropped the knife and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “I’ve had a change in plans. I have… I have to leave tomorrow. To
go back home.”

The color drained from her face. “Leave? Why?”

“Something’s come up with my son.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. Is it serious?”

“He’s not sick or anything. It’s more emotional than physical, but I’m his dad and it’s important enough to cut short the
wonderful time I’m having here.”

“I can see why I like you. You have your priorities right.”

Shaw looked away, ashamed at her unwittingly misplaced praise. “So I won’t be here to protect you.”

“I was just joking about that. It’s not your job to protect me.”

When he glanced at her again she’d turned her attention back to the stove. Shaw sensed something else in her features. Was
it relief? Was she actually happy he was leaving?

They chatted about inconsequential things over dinner, and didn’t linger over their coffee or dessert.

“I hope everything works out with your son,” she said as he helped her clear the table.

“I hope everything works out okay for you too.”

“Stop looking so worried. I’ll be fine.”

Shaw couldn’t know that she was thinking,
And now so will you.

Afterwards, at the front door, Reggie said, “Well, I guess this is it.”

“Take care of yourself.” He paused and added, “Our time together meant more to me than I think you can imagine.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I actually have a pretty good imagination.”

He thought she was going to leave it at that, but then her arms slipped around him, and he hugged her back. Shaw thought he
felt her grip him perhaps a beat too long and a bit too tightly. Yet perhaps she was thinking the same thing about him, he
realized.

She kissed him uncomfortably close to the lips and Shaw felt himself maneuvering to reach her mouth on the next attempt. They
heard a cough and both glanced over to see one of Waller’s men watching them.

Reggie said in a voice loud enough for the man to hear, “Again, I’m sorry you have to leave tomorrow, Bill. Have a good flight
back to America.”

Then she closed the door. Shaw stared at the lion’s head brass knocker for a long moment. Why the hell had she said that?
He looked around and saw the muscleman’s triumphant smile. The news of Shaw’s imminent departure would no doubt be quickly
reported to his boss.

“Nice night,” the guy said.

Shaw walked back up the darkened path to Gordes. He took the shortcut, taking the ancient steps two at a time. The plane left
from Avignon at eight in the morning. Avignon was about a fifty-minute drive, so he would have to leave Gordes early in the
morning. And Janie Collins would be off to Roussillon with a man who made a fortune by selling girls into sexual slavery and
who also wanted to sell nukes to fanatics.

He could opt not to go, but then Frank’s men would come for him and he’d have to go on the run, which meant he would be no
help to Janie. He could see no way out of this dilemma. But then again, as Frank had pointed out, he wasn’t her guardian.
He was here on a mission. That mission had been canceled and he was being deployed somewhere else. He had turned his back
on Katie James, a woman who had risked her life for his. So what was making him want to stay and defend the honor and perhaps
the life of a woman he barely knew? It was all irrational behavior, and if Shaw had always been one thing, it was logical.
But he also couldn’t ignore what he was feeling.

And then in a burst of extreme lucidity it all came together. The villa next door, the gun, the kick to the kidneys, and continuing
to swim in the pool when she knew people were watching. And, finally, playing him against Waller. For that, Shaw suddenly
realized, was what she was doing. She was setting the guy up for some reason. But she’d let it be known to Waller’s man that
Shaw was leaving. The only explanation was that she was trying to make sure Waller would do nothing to harm Shaw. She was
protecting
him
.

So engrossed was he in these new troubling thoughts that he never had time to block the descending blow. It connected squarely
with the back of his head. His feet went out from under him and he struck the pavement, cutting his knees and elbows on the
hard stone. He tried to rise but another blow sent him down face-first. He felt himself being bound and then picked up and
thrown into a small compartment.

Then for Shaw it all became black.