Deliver Us From Evil

65

REGGIE, clutching her stomach, stepped onto the wharf, knelt down, and kissed the grimy boards as the ferry pulled back from the dock and began its drift out to sea in heavy swells. It was piloted by a Dutchman whom Shaw had known for years, for reasons he would not divulge to Reggie. The drop-off point was actually a long-forgotten World War II-era naval landing spot technically in the middle of nowhere. It had taken nearly three days for Shaw and Reggie to get back into England, much of it spent on the vessel as it slowly made its way through turbulent waters.

“Thank you, Jesus,” moaned Reggie.

“The boat ride was a little rough,” Shaw remarked as he helped her back up.

“A little rough?” Reggie’s throat convulsed and she looked ready to throw up again, but finally she stood straight and let out a long breath, putting an arm on his shoulder to steady herself. “I thought the only place we were going to reach was the bottom of the bloody sea.”

“Last boat ride I took was across the Irish Sea. It was pretty choppy then too. The woman I was with kept throwing up, just like you. Must be a girl thing.”

“Who was that?” Reggie asked while eagerly if gingerly walking next to Shaw toward solid earth.

“That was a long time ago.”

“How did you know about this place?”

“It’s come in handy a couple of times in the past.”

“Quite a hole in our border security.”

“Every country has at least one.”

When they reached the grassy area next to the pier, Reggie checked her cell phone. It only had a sliver of juice left and no bars. She hadn’t been able to contact anyone about her status and still couldn’t. “Damn it. This is just great.”

“I’ve got bars and juice. Give me the number and I’ll make the call.”

“I don’t think so. Then you’ll have the number on your phone.”

“This isn’t my phone. It belongs to one of your guys. The one I knocked out with a toilet.”

“Did you look at any of the contact information on it?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe I am,” he said.

“Can I have it? I need a phone.”

“Maybe later.”

Since he had nearly a foot in height and over a hundred pounds on her, she didn’t push it, but looked around at the dark surroundings. “Where are we?”

“A few hours outside of London. I’ve arranged for wheels. Where do you want to head now?”

“I think our separate ways.”

“That is not a good idea. Kuchin can-”

“He can do a lot of things, but catching us is not one of them. In fact, Whit was right. We’ll go back after him.”

Shaw took her by the arm like he wanted to shake her. “What part of the memo didn’t you get? He almost killed you all when he didn’t know you were coming. Now that he’s warned you’ve got no chance of taking him.”

“We almost got him before.”

“Did you ever stop and think why you didn’t?”

“What?”

“How did those guys end up ambushing you?”

Reggie pulled away from him. “How should I know that?”

“You need to know that. They had inside information. They were waiting for you. You’ve got a mole somewhere.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Then give me another explanation that fits.”

“We screwed up in the field somehow and they got onto us that way. I went to the church before to meet with Whit to go over the plan. Someone could have followed me then.”

“Why would they even suspect you?”

“You’re the one who’s trumpeting how good Kuchin is. He probably suspects everybody.”

“I listened to him when he was tied to that crypt, and so did you. He tried to bluster about killing you, but that was a man who expected to die that day. And if he suspected you, why would he have come with you to the church in the first place?”

“We used the Muslim information you gave us to work an angle to herd him that way.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” she said defensively. “And it worked.”

“If someone had followed you to the church earlier and knew what was up, why would they let it play out? Why not blow the whistle? That way Kuchin is never in danger at all.”

After staring at the dark, rolling sea for a bit, she said, “I can’t answer that. I don’t know why.”

“But the answer, whatever it is, is not good for you. If you do have a traitor in your ranks it’ll make it pretty easy for Kuchin to come after you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and wearily rubbed her temples. “Look, you said you made arrangements for some wheels. Can you just get me to London? It’s the middle of the night and I’m too tired and dirty and still way too nauseous to think clearly about this right now.”

He stared at her before shrugging. “Sure, the wheels are just up there.”

“Just up there” turned out to be a half-mile walk through uneven terrain in the pitch dark to a road. A motorbike was near the tree line, keys under the seat. He tossed her the spare helmet. “It’s not the Vespa but it’ll do.”

She clung to him on the way back to town. When they reached London, lines of smoky pink were beginning to burn against the sky, and early morning commuters were making their way along the still mostly empty streets. A few cabs and one bendy-bus puttered along the roads.

She tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to one corner. He slowed the bike and then stopped near the entrance to the Tube. She got off and handed him back the spare helmet.

“Sure you don’t want to hang with me?” he said.

“First stop we made for petrol I’d just sneak out of the bathroom window. Why not save time and cut to the chase?”

He pulled the phone from his jacket pocket and tossed it to her. “Bonne chance.”

“So that’s it? No more trying to convince me? Just wish me good luck?” It seemed clear to Shaw that part of her wanted to stay with him. But he wasn’t feeling conciliatory right now.

“Just another job.”

He throttled the bike.

“Thanks for saving our butts, Shaw,” she said, a bit guiltily.

“Like I said, just another job. Reg.”

He popped the gear changer with his heel, released the clutch, and pulled away, leaving her to trudge on to the Underground alone.