Deliver Us From Evil

81

TELL ME about Kuchin’s friend,” said Shaw.

“Which friend?” asked Reggie.

“The skinny one with white hair who shot Dominic in the arm.”

It was late at night and they were sitting in a small room on the second floor at Harrowsfield that Reggie shared with Whit as an office of sorts. It was cramped and cluttered. Reggie sat on the only chair and Shaw was perched uncomfortably on a small cardboard box. Outside a light rain fell.

“Alan Rice. He’s a business associate of Kuchin.”

“What else?”

“I only spoke with him a few times. Although there was one odd thing.”

Shaw sat up straighter. “Word for word.”

“Well, I can’t remember it word for word, but he was warning me. About Kuchin. Well, of course he used the name Evan Waller.”

“Warning you how?”

“He said that his boss could get a bit weird around women. That he’d done so in the past. Become obsessed. He was basically telling me to shove off for my own good.”

“So he was concerned for your safety?”

“Apparently so, yes, although he said he was doing it to protect his boss.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Why is it interesting?”

“Because I think Rice tried to kill his boss in the catacombs back in Gordes.”

Reggie looked over at him in shock. “What? Why do you think that?”

“In a crisis you fire your weapon at primary threats, Reggie, not at secondary targets.”

“I’m not following.”

“Rice had his gun pointed at Whit, who was not near Kuchin. On the other hand, Dominic was maybe a foot to the right of Kuchin. When I hit the first guy, Rice wheeled around and saw me. A second later I hit the second guy, the smaller one. Rice could have taken me out then. He was only five feet away with a clear line of fire. Instead he turned and fired at his boss.”

“But he hit Dominic.”

“He hit Dominic probably because he was a bad shot. It’s a lot harder to nail someone from even ten feet away than it looks. But that round did come within a hair of impacting Kuchin’s brain. So he doesn’t take me out when he could but instead tries to kill his boss.”

“But that makes no sense. Why try to kill Kuchin? He was there to rescue him.”

“Or make it look that way.”

“What would it matter how it looked if Kuchin ended up dead?”

“Think it through. Kuchin’s guys would still be alive. They might not take too kindly to the second banana blatantly offing the boss in front of them. It has to look like an accident. And on the other hand, what if Kuchin survived the shooting?”

“Do you think he knew you were there? And would try to stop Kuchin from killing us?”

“Highly doubtful. He might’ve gone in thinking he was indeed going to save his boss. Maybe he saw you coming out of the church one night and got onto you that way. Then he’s in the catacombs, sees me burst out of hiding, and he hits on a second plan in a matter of seconds. In the confusion of me coming on the scene he fires his gun, everyone scrambles, shots go off, Kuchin/Waller ends up dead. Then he inherits the business.”

“I guess that could be possible.”

“Now, you tracked Kuchin down. How?”

“This building is full of people who do that. Researchers, linguists, academics.”

“No, I didn’t mean following the trail that showed Evan Waller was really Fedir Kuchin. I mean how did you know he would be in Gordes and when?”

“Our people got those details and they passed them along to us for the mission. That’s how we operate. I don’t know how they came by the intelligence. An inside source perhaps?”

“Let me ask you this. Could Alan Rice be your inside guy?”

“I just told you I don’t know how we got that information. How did you know he would be in Gordes? Do you have someone on the inside?”

“No. All our intel came from satellite surveillance of phone calls, electronic credit card receipts, and other high-tech gadgetry.”

Reggie looked envious. “Must be nice.”

“They’re only nice if they work. Would Mallory know who the inside source was?”

She looked doubtful. “I suppose, but I don’t think he’ll divulge that sort of thing to you. He likes to keep things very close to the vest.”

“He may have to reveal them if he wants to continue doing what he’s doing.”

“You mean you’ll shut us down? Put us in the dock?”

“I just keep going back to my original point. If we don’t get him first, Kuchin will get all of you.”

“Then why don’t we go ask the professor?”

Shaw checked his watch. “It’s nearly one in the morning. Do you think he’ll be up?”

“The professor sleeps even less than I do. We’ll probably find him in the library.”

“Is he an insomniac?”

“No, an enlarged prostate actually.”

Shaw could only shake his head.