Deliver Us From Evil (20 page)

R
EGGIE ROSE EARLY
; the night sky was still in the process of burning into dawn. She opened the window to her bedroom and gazed out. From habit
she peered toward the villa next door but saw no activity. Still, she was sure his men would be on guard outside. Roussillon
today and dinner at his place tonight and she dreaded all of it even though it could immeasurably aid in bringing Kuchin down.
She was steadfastly counting the minutes to when they would end the man’s life. It couldn’t come soon enough for her.

She showered, dressed, and left her villa by the side door. She had something she wanted to do. No, something she
needed
to do. She walked up the hill to Gordes. There were a few people already about, including the man hosing down the streets.
He nodded to her as she passed. Her feet carried her past the town square and around the curve of the road. The hotel was
located on the left, through a set of double glass doors. She roused a sleepy-looking clerk at the front desk.

In French she said, “Can you ring Bill Young’s room, please? Tell him it’s Jane Collins.”

The clerk, an older, thin man with puffy white hair and slack cheeks, looked a bit miffed and even suspicious. “It’s very
early, young lady. I doubt he’s even up.”

“He’s expecting me,” she lied.

“At this hour?”

“We’re having breakfast together.”

The clerk didn’t look convinced but he rang the room.

“No answer,” he said, putting the phone down.

“He might be in the shower,” said Reggie.

“He might be,” said the clerk defensively.

“Could you ring him again in a few minutes?”

“I suppose I could if it’s necessary.”

“It
is
necessary,” Reggie said politely but firmly.

The clerk tried again five minutes later.

“Still no answer,” he said in a tone that indicated their discussion was over.

“Did you see him go out?”

“No.”

Reggie had a sudden thought. “He hasn’t checked out, has he?”

“Why would he if he was going to have breakfast with you?”

“Plans sometimes change.”

“He didn’t check out. At least not while I’ve been on duty.”

“Can you examine the register from before you came on duty?”

The man sighed but did so. “He didn’t check out.”

“Then can you go to his room?”

“Why?”

“To see if he’s okay. He might be ill or he might’ve fallen.”

“I seriously doubt that—”

“He’s an American. They sue over everything. If he’s sick or hurt and you don’t check even though I asked you to it could
open the hotel to enormous liability.”

Her words had their intended effect. The man grabbed a key and headed up the stairs. Reggie started to follow.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“I have training in medicine. If he’s hurt I can help.”

They hurried up the stairs. The clerk knocked, then called out, and then knocked again.

“Unlock the door!” Reggie urged.

“This is very much against hotel policy.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” She grabbed the key, shoved him out of the way, and unlocked the door. She stepped inside with the clerk
right behind. It only took her a minute to see that the room was empty, yet all of Shaw’s things were still there.

“The bed hasn’t been slept in,” she said as she looked accusingly at the clerk.

“It is not my responsibility to determine that all guests are in and accounted for,” he added with indignation.

Reggie thought quickly. The man had come on at midnight and Bill had left her home around eleven. It was a five-minute walk-up.
What if he had never made it? But she’d made certain Waller’s man heard that he was leaving town. He would have no reason
to—

“Excuse me?” said the clerk.

Jolted from these thoughts, Reggie saw that he had his hand out for the key. She gave it to him.

“You should report this to the police,” she advised.

“I do not think so. He might not have come back to the hotel last night because he had something better to do.” He gave her
a knowing look. “This
is
Provence after all.”

“Can I search his room, then, for a clue to where he might have gone?”

“If you attempt that, rest assured that I
will
call the police.”

Exasperated, Reggie pushed past him and raced back down the stairs.

She left the building and was hurrying back to her villa when she heard the screech of tires behind her. She turned and saw
the car stop in front of the hotel. She flitted into the shadows and watched as three men, one wearing an old-fashioned hat,
jumped out of the vehicle and raced into the hotel. She didn’t venture closer because she could see that the driver was still
in the car.

A few minutes later the men came out again, only now one of them was carrying something. Reggie instantly recognized it as
the suitcase that was in Bill Young’s room. As the car flew past where she was hiding she saw the man wearing the hat through
the car’s passenger window. He was on the phone, talking fast, and he didn’t look happy at all.

Reggie hurried back to the hotel. The clerk sat mutely behind his desk.

“I saw the men come,” Reggie began.

“This is the worst morning of my life,” moaned the older man.

“What did they want?”

He stood. “What did they want? What did they want? The same thing you wanted. Who is this man you all want?”

“Did they say anything to you?”

“They said nothing.”

“Then why did you let them take his things?”

In a tremulous voice he said, “Because they had guns. Now get out!”

S
HAW AWOKE SLOWLY
and then tensed. He’d had a cracked skull once before and it felt like he had one now. He flexed his arms and legs but the
bindings had been applied with skill. The more he pulled, the tighter they became. He finally sat motionless.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he sensed that the room he was in was small and, except for him, empty. There were no
windows, so he must be in a cellar or maybe an old storage building. The floor was a concrete slab. The only light came from
under the door that was directly in front of him.

With each beat of his heart there was an accompanying throb in his head. He deserved this, for letting someone sneak up on
him that easily. Yet he’d let his guard down because he’d been thinking about things he shouldn’t have.

Evan Waller could have two possible reasons for kidnapping him. First, he was jealous and wanted to take out his rival. Second,
he’d discovered who Shaw really was. The first reason didn’t seem so plausible, especially since Janie had let it be known
that Shaw was removing himself from the field. But if Waller
had
found out who Shaw was, he wondered why he wasn’t dead already. Maybe Waller wanted to gloat first. Maybe he wanted to torture
Shaw like he had the terrorists before he’d killed them.

He raised his head slightly when the door opened and the man came in. Silhouetted against the partial darkness, the man said,
“Are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“Are you hungry or thirsty?”

“Yes.”

Shaw figured if they untied him to eat and drink, he might have an opportunity to escape. The man came forward. Shaw didn’t
recognize him as one of Waller’s men. The fellow held a bottle of water in one hand and another object in his other. He unscrewed
the bottle top but he didn’t untie Shaw. He just held the bottle to his lips and let Shaw drink.

“And just so you know, we have you in a clear firing line.”

Shaw looked over the man’s shoulder and sensed someone else in the darkness.

The man took the drink away and held out a chunk of bread.

“Bread and water?” asked Shaw.

“Better than nothing.”

“Mind telling me why you caved in my skull and kidnapped me?”

“Basically for your own good.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“Doesn’t matter to me what you believe.”

“Okay, now what?”

“Now you just sit there and chill. We’ll treat you well, food, water whenever you want it.”

“All that water I’m going to have to take a piss at some point.”

He pointed to his left. Shaw saw the toilet in the shadows. “Just let me know.”

“Just like that?”

“Like I said, just chill and pretty soon you get out of here.”

“Where’s Waller?” Shaw said sharply.

“Who?”

“Now I don’t believe you again.”

The man locked the door behind him, leaving Shaw to puzzle all this over once more. He rocked back and forth in the chair
and quickly found that it was bolted to the slab. These folks had put some thought into this. He wondered how far away from
Gordes he was. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. He might not even be in France any longer.

If these guys weren’t with Waller, who were they? No, of course they had to be with him despite his captor’s feigned ignorance.
He also wondered what Frank was thinking. When Shaw didn’t show up at the airport Frank would go to his hotel room. Then he’d
conclude that Shaw had screwed him and gone AWOL.

He leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath. He was out of options. And Janie was probably with Waller right now. Or
maybe dead.

“
Y
OU SEEM
preoccupied.”

Reggie looked over at Waller as they walked along the streets of Roussillon. They had driven separately, with her following
the man’s caravan of vehicles. Roussillon held all the charm of the typical Provençal village but with the added burst of
ochre on most of the buildings.

“Just tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“I hope nothing is troubling you so that you cannot sleep.”

The man was dressed in ironed jeans, a white cotton shirt that he wore out, and leather sandals. A Panama hat covered his
hairless head, protecting his pale skin from the sun. It gave him a jaunty, relaxed appearance that Reggie was having trouble
discounting for some reason.

“Probably just delayed jet lag. This village really is beautiful. The colors are so different from anything I’ve seen.”

“My mother was born here,” he said proudly. “I remember it well from when I was a child.”

Reggie paused to study a painting in a window, but she was really thinking of something else. She wondered how Fedir Kuchin
had been able to escape from behind the Iron Curtain to come here as a young boy, or rather how his parents had with him in
tow. Travel was severely restricted back then. His father must have been very high up in the Communist Party to be allowed
such freedom. She also wondered how a Frenchwoman from a rural town in Provence had come to marry a Ukrainian communist. Yet
perhaps he was telling her a lie. That was actually more likely.

“You like the painting?” Waller asked over her shoulder.

Reggie continued to study the peaceful harbor scene depicted on the canvas. “It’s far more pleasant than Señor Goya’s works.”

“Ah, but this painter will never have the reputation of Goya. Goya did the world an important service.”

She turned to him. “How so?”

“He lived during difficult times. War, poverty, cruelty. Thus he painted nightmares. As I told you before, using oils on canvas,
he reminded the world that there is evil. That is an important lesson that we should never forget, but unfortunately we do
all the time.”

“Have you experienced such things?”

“I have read of such things, and they are to be avoided if at all possible.”

“But sometimes I guess it’s not possible.”

“You are an American, so of course you would say such things. You are a superpower, you can do what you want.”

Reggie wasn’t sure if she saw a spark of envy in his eyes when he said this or if it was her imagination. He took her by the
arm.

“I understand that dear Bill has left us.”

Reggie almost pulled her arm away. “He had to go home. Some family issue.”

“Then I will do what I can to fill any void.”

She gave him a searching look and then forced a smile. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I never do that.”

“So where did you and your family stay when you were here?”

“I will show you.”

They walked on, through the center of town. A quarter of a kilometer past that, Waller led her down some worn steps and stopped
at a small cottage with a wooden door and two windows in front.

“There,” he said.

“It’s very quaint.”

“My father died in that cottage.”

“God, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m sure he was too.”

He took her arm again. “Now, for the lunch. Down this way. All is arranged. We must eat light because the meal tonight will
be substantial.”

“I take it you like to be in control.”

“There are leaders and there are followers. It is the natural order of things. Would you want a follower leading or a leader
following?”

“I guess it depends on where they wanted you to go.”

“You are a strange young woman.”

“I’ve heard worse.”

“I meant that as a compliment.”

His grip tightened on her arm. As they walked along Reggie found herself consumed with worry over what had happened to Bill
Young. If Kuchin had harmed him? Then even killing the man would not be enough. Nothing would, if an innocent man had died
because of her.