David Baldacci - Deliver Us From Evil

After he’d broken the metal in half and worked the pieces into proper shapes using the hard surface of the walls to bend them, he ventured quietly over to the door. He listened for a moment, his ear right against the two-inch-thick wood, at least judging by the width of the slot. The hinges were on the outside of the door, so they were no help to him. It was just him and the lock.

He got down on his hands and knees and edged open the slot a few centimeters. He listened for sounds of breathing, of movement, of a heart thudding too fast-other than his own, that is.

There it was. A foot grazing across the floor. He retreated to the chair and sat down, continuing to count the seconds. He needed to get out of here, fast. But that was obviously not going to happen.

Slow it down, take your time. Speed means mistakes.

His only problem with that philosophy was that Janie might not have a lot of time left. Even if Waller had nothing to do with his kidnapping, the guy was now free to do whatever he wanted to with her. And it sickened Shaw to think what the guy must want whenever he looked at the young woman.

Patience, Shaw, patience.

He fingered the pieces of metal and kept counting the seconds.

SO HOW LONG have you worked with Evan?” asked Reggie.

She was standing on the terrace of Waller’s villa looking at the descending sun. Alan Rice was next to her dressed in khaki pants and a loose-fitting shirt with a red kerchief around his neck. If he was looking for a debonair effect, he had missed the mark, she felt. He was sipping from a glass of wine while Reggie worked on some club soda. She’d selected a knee-length skirt and blouse with low heels for the dinner. Her hair was damp and hung to her shoulders. The trip to Roussillon had been relatively uneventful, and Waller had been charming and informative and treated her like a princess. She could see how an unsuspecting woman might be taken in. However, each time she looked at the man all she could see were the hopeless victims of his sick mind. And yet she smiled and was playful and even seducing to him at times, because she had to be.

“Nearly four years,” said Rice, setting his glass down on a table and placing his arms on the chest-high stone wall enclosing the terrace. “He’s a brilliant businessman.”

“He seems quite accomplished at everything. Very worldly.”

“That’s the exact right word. Worldly.”

“How did you two hook up?”

“I was working at a firm in New York. He came there on business. We met. He charmed me, like he does everyone else. One thing led to another. And I came to work for him.”

“I assume it’s challenging.”

“Absolutely. Mr. Waller doesn’t suffer fools or anyone else gladly. Makes for a lot of pressure to perform. But you learn a lot.”

“Well, then you probably needed a little vacation. I see you’re not limping as much. Were you injured?”

“Fell in the shower and messed up my knee awhile back. It’s healing fine.”

Waller came out a few moments later and Reggie noted that Alan Rice quickly disappeared back into the house. Waller took a sip of his cocktail and said, “I trust Alan was keeping you in good company.”

“Absolutely. He really likes working for you.”

He sat down on a sofa and motioned for Reggie to join him. “I am fortunate to have him.”

She sat near him, their knees almost touching. “What kind of business are you in?”

“The kind that makes money.”

“The profit motive drives you, I guess,” she said coolly.

“When one grows up without money, yes, it can be a motivating force.”

“But you came to Provence as a child. You must have not been in too desperate circumstances. Traveling here from Canada couldn’t have been cheap, even back then.”

He flashed a look that was inscrutable. Yet for one terrible instant Reggie thought she had gone too far.

“It’s none of my business, of course,” she added hastily.

“No, it’s all right. As I mentioned, my mother was French. So we did not have to pay to stay anywhere. We had the family cottage. And back then we came by boat, third-class steerage. Followed by third-class steerage on a train. It was very cheap, if not very comfortable.”

“Of course.”

“And once one arrived in Provence, how one got there became irrelevant.” He stood and looked out at the breathtaking view of the Luberon valley. “It is glorious.”

She joined him. “It is.” She added, “My mother would have said that God was in fine form when he created Provence.”

“A religious woman, I take it?”

“A good Catholic, just like me.”

“On her dying bed my mother said to me, ‘Never forsake your faith in God. It will keep you, in the good and especially in the bad.’ She was a wise woman.”

“And has it kept you, in good and bad?”

“No life is without pain. I am rich now, but once I was not. Once I…” He smiled. “I think dinner is ready. You will sit next to me. Alan is joining us as well. You should ask him about his theory on French versus California wines. It is most interesting. He is completely wrong, of course, but it is worth hearing nonetheless.” He walked her into the dining room.

After the meal was done, they had more drinks and then dessert out on the lower patio next to the pool. Rice joined them for a few minutes but then abruptly left. Whether this was on a high sign from his employer or not, Reggie didn’t know. Waller stared moodily at the water.

“You have a pool at your villa, correct?”

Reggie nodded. “I swim. In fact, after this meal I should probably swim a couple of miles to work it off.”

He waved this comment away. “Ridiculous. You are in superb shape.”

“You don’t have much fat on you either.”

“I do what I can,” he said modestly. “Americans eat too much garbage, but you have obviously escaped that trap.”

“Being wealthy gives me certain advantages many Americans don’t have. I can afford to eat right, and I have the time to exercise.”

“Here, a peasant can go to market and get the freshest ingredients for a few euros. And they walk to market and thus get their exercise.” He paused and added, “But I judge no one.”

Reggie felt her face flush uncontrollably at this statement. Fortunately, Waller was not looking at her. You only judged hundreds of thousands of people to their deaths.

She rose. “Thank you for a wonderful day.”

He said, “You are not leaving.”

She flinched for an instant, since it was not clear if that was a question or a command. “It’s been a long day.”

“But it is still early.”

“Perhaps for you.”

“I wish very much that you would stay.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon enough. And not everyone gets their wish.”

He rose. “You will not reconsider? I would like to get to know you better.”

“I need to swim.”

“You can swim here.”

“Good night, Evan. I can show myself out.”

“There are few who would venture to disagree with me.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you.”

“But-”

She stood on tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek. “It’s all in the timing, actually.”

After she closed the door of her villa securely behind her, Reggie spit on the floor and then wiped off her mouth.

YES, Whit, I understand the situation quite clearly, perhaps better than you.”

Professor Mallory sat at his desk in his study at Harrowsfield, attempting to light his pipe at the same time he was clenching the phone against his cheek with his left arm.

“I took the action that I deemed most prudent.” Mallory paused as a string of words came over the line from the obviously upset Irishman.