Deliver Us From Evil

85

SHAW AND REGGIE were private wings up eight hours later heading to Montreal. At thirty-nine thousand feet Shaw pulled out some documents and spread them over the dining table and motioned Reggie to sit opposite him.

They were both dressed casually, she in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt and Shaw in khakis and a dark short-sleeved shirt.

“Nice way to travel,” she said, admiring the interior of the Gulfstream V.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do and not a lot of time, so let’s get to it,” he said in a tone that could only fairly be described as a bark.

She sat. “What the hell is your problem?”

“I’ve got too many to list right now. So let’s just focus on this one.”

He indicated the architectural plans in front of him. “Kuchin’s penthouse in downtown Montreal.”

“What, are we going to break into it?” she said jokingly.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

She looked at him incredulously. “I thought we were going to find Alan Rice and hold his feet to the fire about him being the informant. And then use him to get to Kuchin.”

“That’s one possibility. But what if he isn’t the inside guy? What then?”

“But he has to be.”

“No he doesn’t. And if we make all our plans contingent on that we’re idiots. No, we’re dead idiots. Now, we have Rice’s address too. The problem is if we go to him first and he isn’t the guy, then Kuchin will be warned.”

“Wait a minute, isn’t he already warned? I thought the little encounter in the catacombs would’ve been enough to put the man on his guard for the rest of his life.”

“You’re not analyzing the picture deeply enough, Reggie,” Shaw said in a clearly condescending tone.

“Well, then, Professor, why don’t you spell it out for me since I can’t get my poor brain to do it.”

“The fact that Interpol hasn’t knocked on his door yet tells Kuchin that you guys were totally unofficial. He probably thinks the same about me. Interpol or the FBI comes in with badges and overwhelming force. We had neither. So, for now, he’s not feeling that his liberty is at risk, just his life. That will impact how he acts from here on. He’ll go underground, but not as deeply as if it were the FBI or an officially sanctioned hit squad on his butt.”

“Okay, I guess I see that.”

“Good. But we still have to tread cautiously. While he’s plotting against us, he has to assume that we’ll likely come after him again.”

“Do you really think so?”

“A guy like that didn’t survive in the KGB all those years without knowing how to anticipate his adversary’s next moves. In the Soviet Union at that time you were far more likely to get popped not by the West, but by a guy in your own office who wanted your job, your flat, and your car, even if it was always breaking down. So he’ll definitely plan for a second strike on our part.”

Reggie glanced down at the documents. “So what are we going to do?”

“Two-pronged attack, with Kuchin first.”

“How?”

“We get into his penthouse, search the place, and hopefully dig up some intel on where he is right now.”

“How do we know he’s not in his penthouse?”

“Because we have people posted there. He hasn’t been there since leaving for France.”

“Wait a minute, if you guys knew where he was all along, why didn’t you just nail him in Montreal? Why go after him in Gordes?”

“That’s classified.”

“That’s bullshit. You talk about trust, but it’s apparently all one-sided.”

Shaw sat back. Her request, under the circumstances, wasn’t all that unreasonable. “He had more guards in Montreal. And a shootout on the street there was not an option. We’ve also had some issues with the Canadians before and they are not our best friends. A holiday in Provence where we could get him in a cave was a far better option.”

Mollified, Reggie looked down at the drawings. “He must have a fairly sophisticated security system in place at his home.”

“He does, but we’ve broken better.”

“So what’s my role?”

“To do exactly what I say.”

“Okay, I’ll just be in the back of the plane. You let me know when you want to bite my head off again. I’ll come running like a good little mate.”

Shaw grabbed her arm. She was whirling to slug him when he said, “I’m sorry.”

She froze with her fist only a few inches from his chin. She lowered her hand. “Okay.” But her tone was one of bewilderment rather than conciliation.

Shaw seemed to sense what she was thinking. “Look, I didn’t want you to come on this thing. I just thought it was too risky. Kuchin almost got you once.”

“I volunteered. But if you didn’t want me to come, why am I here?”

“You heard Mallory. You don’t come then he goes public.”

“Oh come off it, there’s no way you believed that. He was bluffing.” She watched him closely. “But you knew that, didn’t you? You knew it was an empty threat. You just didn’t want me to get hurt.”

“People around me tend to get hurt, Reggie. Really hurt.”

“Then, again, why am I here?”

“I guess Frank took the threat seriously. He insisted that you come along.”

She eyed the plans on the table. “I won’t be dead weight, Shaw. I’ll do everything I can to be an asset.”

“I appreciate that. But-”

“You see, I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

“My safety shouldn’t be your concern.”

“But it is. I’ve got your back. Do you have mine?”

“Yes.”

“Then please understand this. If it comes down to me living or Kuchin dying, tell the monster I’ll see him in hell. Do not miss him, Shaw. Do not. Even if it means I don’t make it back. Will you promise me that?”

Shaw didn’t answer.