David Baldacci - Deliver Us From Evil

Reggie sipped her coffee, ran an eye over him, and said playfully, “You still dress like a lobbyist, even in Provence.”

Shaw smiled and eased back on the little chair. Behind them a workman was washing down the streets using a fire hose. The rush of water would follow the laws of gravity and work its way over the cobblestone streets, down worn stone steps, and eventually snake down the cliffs in diminished rivulets.

“Old habits die hard.” He took a bite of croissant. “But I left the ties and jackets in the closet.”

“Where are you staying? I think it’s only fair since you know where I am.”

He hooked a finger over his head. “Hotel and spa down that way. It’s nice. I’m thinking about getting a massage later today.” He drank his coffee, wadded up the paper his pastry had come in, and tossed it in a nearby trash can. “Those guys still around?”

“The Citroën was there this morning, but only one man was inside. Whether they stayed there all night I don’t know. It does seem sort of mysterious,” she added innocently.

“How’s your back where I threw you?”

“Fine, how’s your left kidney?”

“Not that great, actually. That’s why I’m thinking about the massage.”

“Next time remember to phone before you scale my wall.”

“Funny, these villas are usually rented out fully during the summer. But the one next to yours has been empty since I got here.”

She forced a smile. “You’re a nosy one. Are you obsessing about villas now?”

You were nosy enough yourself. He said, “No, just curious. I was thinking about renting one, but it was way too much money for me.”

“I thought all lobbyists were rich.”

“Except for the divorce, I’d be a very wealthy man. Now I’m still well off, but just by half.”

“I doubt I’ll ever get married.”

“Why’s that? Not intending to sound crass, but you’d be quite a catch for some young guy.”

“Why young?”

“Well, you’re young. Most people marry folks close to their own age.”

“How old are you?” she asked, smiling.

“Too old for you.”

“You’re flattering and disparaging yourself at the same time. I’m impressed.”

“It’s a talent I’ve burnished over the years. I hope you have your gun in a safe place. The cleaning help around here come across it you’ll have some questions to answer from the local cops.”

“It’s in a very safe place, thank you for your concern.”

“So dinner tomorrow night?”

“I can’t do it tomorrow night. How about the next?”

“Okay. Here in town?”

“No, there’s a village nearby with a little restaurant that overlooks the valley. Do you kayak?”

He looked surprised by the sudden change in topics. “I’ve done it. Why?”

“I have a spot reserved today with a kayak company in Fontaine de Vaucluse. I hear the river there is really beautiful. I was wondering if you’d care to join me? We’d have to leave in about an hour.”

Shaw finished his coffee, thinking quickly. “Okay. I’ll just have to change into something more appropriate.”

“A bathing suit would be fine.”

“Well, my goal is to stay in the boat. Even in summer I bet that water is cold.”

“You never know, you have to be prepared for the unexpected.”

As they parted company, Shaw watched her walk down the street. When he saw the man coming toward him he ducked down an alley. It was the thug he’d seen last night spying on Janie. Whether he was following Janie or not Shaw couldn’t be sure.

He had yet to make up his mind about the lady. And that bothered him. Despite a well-crafted plan he had no idea how things would play out. He could sense his rear flank was exposed and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

For now, apparently he was going to go kayaking. And he meant to heed the woman’s advice and be prepared for the unexpected.

I DON’T THINK I’ve ever seen water this clear,” said Reggie as they paddled along.

She was in front and Shaw was in the rear of the red kayak. He’d changed into long bathing trunks and a loose-fitting T-shirt with a life jacket worn over it. Reggie had on a striped bikini top under her life jacket and a pair of white cotton butt-huggers, thin enough for the striped bikini bottom to be visible through them. She had the same Red Sox baseball cap on, only now it was turned backwards.

“You’re good at this,” said Shaw as he watched her muscled delts work, dipping the paddle in and out of the water. He’d synchronized his movements with hers except when he had to use his paddle as a rudder to navigate them around the curves of the river, whose current was deceptively fast. In large masses under the otherwise clear water were bright green and purple vegetation and long strands of what looked like kelp. Shaw felt like he was in a large aquarium.

“I like the water. When I lived in Boston I crewed on the Charles River every chance I got.”

He said, “Okay, so you’re a ringer. Now I don’t feel so bad about not being able to keep up with you.”

“You’re doing fine.”

He dipped his hand in the water. It was very cold. He was definitely staying in the boat.

There were five other kayaks in their party, but Shaw and Reggie had quickly outdistanced all except for one. In that kayak Whit and Dominic, dressed as tourists and loudly speaking French, were acting out having a go at paddling. While Dominic held a camera and pretended to shoot video of Whit doing something funny, he was able to record about two minutes’ worth of close-ups of Shaw.

They had to stop at various small dams and the guides helped them transport the kayaks over them. There was one “surprise” rapid that they easily navigated before ending their river run and climbing in the kayak company’s van for transport back to their point of origin. Shaw and Reggie rode near the front, Whit and Dominic in the rear. The van rocked back and forth over winding and rutted dirt roads before they reached asphalt once more. Only once did Reggie glance back and flash Whit a signal by blinking her right eye. He answered by lightly squeezing the bag he was holding. Inside was the gun with Shaw’s prints on it. By prearrangement he’d snagged it out of her car while the others were getting their kayak gear together.

They climbed out of the van and into Reggie’s red Renault. Shaw had to bend his long torso and legs to awkward degrees to accommodate the small space.

“Euro cars are definitely not for tall people,” Reggie said sympathetically.

“I’ll survive.”

The drive back to Gordes took less than twenty minutes.

“You can just head to your villa,” he said. “I can walk back up to my place.”

“How about a swim and some lunch first?” she said. “You’re already dressed for it.”

He hesitated, mentally going through all that this might entail. “All right. Sure.”

They parked in front of her villa. Shaw glanced at the entrance to the villa next door. “Don’t see the Citroën.”

“I know. It was gone when I left to pick you up.”

“Interesting. I saw one of the guys walking through town this morning.”

“Really? Did you talk to him?”

He looked at her strangely. “Uh, no, he looked pretty tough. Sort of like a mobster.”

She unlocked the door, disarmed the security system, and led him into the back. She passed him a towel and some sun block, pointing to his forearms that were already a bit red from the kayak ride.

“Yeah, all those years spent indoors,” he lamented.

They went out to the pool area. She slid off her shorts and stepped out of her sneakers while he pulled off his T-shirt and kicked off his sandals.