Deliver Us From Evil

61

SO FIRST, where do you want to go?”

Shaw was driving with Whit next to him. Reggie and Dominic were in the backseat of the Range Rover. Dominic had dozed off from the painkillers the doctor had given him.

Reggie and Whit looked at each other.

“It’s a valid question,” said Shaw as he patted the steering wheel. “It sort of tells me which way to point the ride.”

“North,” answered Reggie as Whit glared at her.

“North?” said Shaw. “ Paris? Normandy? Calais?”

“Farther north.”

Shaw eyed Whit. “The Channel? The North Sea? Do you live on a boat?”

“Funny.”

“You mean you’re Brits?” Shaw added sarcastically, “Bloody hell.”

“I’m Irish, remember, Paddy? Not British,” retorted Whit. “But I’ll let it pass. This time. So you got an idea how to get across the Channel? Hey, maybe this Rover’s amphibious.”

“Do you have passports?”

Whit pointed behind them. “Back there. But we can make some calls and get them quick enough. In fact, I don’t know what we need you for, actually.”

“Because I know what I’m doing. And don’t underestimate the French police.”

Whit slowly nodded. “I don’t underestimate anybody, least of all you.”

“Make the call. Tell him we’ll meet at Reims in four hours. When we get close we’ll call and pick the place.”

“So you know France?” asked Whit.

“Even speak the language passably,” replied Shaw.

“Goody for you.”

Whit made arrangements to meet one of their people who had the fake documents they would need to get out of the country.

“Okay, that’s done. Now what?”

“Just sit back and relax.”

Whit kept his gun in his hand. “And after Reims?”

“Since we can’t risk an airport, the Chunnel train to St. Pancras is the most direct route. That’s why we need passports. If that doesn’t pan out we head east and work our way across the Channel by boat. Maybe from Belgium or Amsterdam.”

“Passport Control is pretty tight at Gare du Nord,” pointed out Reggie.

“It is, but airport security is a lot tighter. And there’re fewer ways out of an airport if things go bad. And most of them take you through lots of armed guys in uniforms.”

“Okay, the train. And after that?”

“We’ll play it by ear.”

“Who are you with?” asked Reggie as she leaned forward from the rear seat.

“I’m with Frank back there on the plane. That’s pretty much all you need to know.”

“So you’re cops,” said Whit.

“I wouldn’t describe it that way, no.”

“Spies.”

“No comment.”

“What’s left?”

“Me.”

Whit grinned and looked at Reggie. “The big guy is growing on me, Reg. He really is. Now here’s the deal, Shaw army of one. If we get to England safe and sound you’re going to go your way and we’re going ours.”

“Who’s going to protect you against, what was his name, Kuchin?”

“You obviously don’t know who that is,” said Reggie.

“Should I?”

“There was a man named Mykola Shevchenko. KGB. He’s known as the Butcher of Kiev, but Kuchin was his top assistant, and he was the man who slaughtered hundreds of thousands of innocent people in the most brutal ways possible. Shevchenko was executed by firing squad after the Wall fell, but Kuchin got away.”

“I guess history only remembers the top guy, not the ones running around pulling the triggers,” said Shaw. “So you were going after the guy for that. What’s your connection? Some of you Ukrainian?”

“Yeah, on my mother’s side,” said Whit with a smirk. “And to answer your other question, we can protect ourselves.”

Shaw eyed him skeptically. “You’ve done a hell of a job of it so far.”

“Sometimes plans go awry, things don’t work, the unexpected occurs.”

“Come on! It was a cock-up from start to finish,” fired back Shaw.

Whit snapped, “Well, you blokes were here to nail him too and then you pulled out without even taking a shot. At least we tried.”

“Not my call.”

“Where were you going to hit him?” asked Reggie.

Shaw hesitated. “Les Baux, the caves.”

She considered this. “Probably a better place than the one we chose.”

“Hey,” barked Whit. “We did the best we could with what we had. And you coming into the equation didn’t help matters,” he added, glowering at Shaw. “We might not have fancy jets but we usually get the job done.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that. But if you think you can protect yourselves against this guy without help, you’re wrong. You can ask some dead Muslims about it.”

“I don’t care if he snuffed a couple of those guys,” declared Whit. “And you know what else? I’m going after his ass again. And this time we’ll get him.”

“The only thing you’ll get is dead.”

“Why don’t you just shut up and drive?” Whit turned to stare moodily out the windshield.

Shaw glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Reggie staring at him.

He mouthed, It’ll be okay.

But even as he said it Shaw knew he was lying to the woman.

He turned his gaze back to the road.