David Baldacci - Deliver Us From Evil

Shaw turned and fired at the men. As the bullets ricocheted off the stone walls Kuchin’s guards scrambled for cover. Whit pulled a slender canister from his pocket, popped a tab, and tossed it into the room. Dense smoke formed a wall between them and their pursuers.

They turned and fled down the passage, steel-jacketed rounds chasing them every step of the way.

Fittingly for a church, they all mouthed silent prayers as they fled.

DOWN THIS WAY,” Reggie told Shaw. “There’s another exit.”

“The one that lets out down by the villas?” said Shaw.

Reggie stared at him as they rushed along. “How did you know?”

“I can recon. But that door opens onto a public street.”

“And Kuchin knows about it,” said Reggie. “I had to show him that route earlier to convince him to go to the church today. Then I led him to the catacombs instead.”

Shaw said, “Then it’s no good for two reasons.” He looked over at Dominic, who ran bent over, clutching his injured arm. “Are you going to make it?”

Reggie took off her bandanna and wrapped it around the wound.

“I can make it,” Dominic said, grimacing.

Whit eyed Shaw. “What then? We can’t go back unless we want to shoot our way out, and those guys have a lot more bullets than we do.”

Shaw pointed to his left. “That way.”

Whit grabbed his arm. “There’s nothing down there. I checked.”

“At the end of the hall is a hidden door built into the stone. The passage there leads to the old fort.”

“How do you know that?” demanded Whit.

“Through a little history reading.”

“What?”

“Catholic priests often had to run for their lives. Just like we are. Now let’s go!”

They reached the end of the hall, Shaw pulled on a stone set in the lower half of the wall, and a slight gap appeared. He tugged on the section and old hinges creaked as the door swung open. They fled through and Shaw clicked the door shut behind them.

As he led them down a dark, musty passageway Shaw hit some keys on his cell phone and the electronic message flew off. They passed through another door and reached a hall through which sunlight eased in via slits in the stone block far above their heads. They were now in the old fort.

He reached one more door, tugged it open, and they entered a courtyard. The car screeched to a stop in front of them and Whit aimed his gun at the driver.

“He’s with me,” said Shaw, putting a hand on Whit’s arm.

Frank rolled down the passenger-side window and said, “The whole town is going nuts.”

Shaw and Reggie helped Dominic into the backseat and then slid in next to him. Whit jumped in next to Frank, who gunned it, and the car sped off laying black tread down on ancient cobblestone.

“Okay, Shaw, start talking,” said Frank as he maneuvered the car through the narrow streets and down the hill toward where the villas were located.

“Your name is Shaw?” said Reggie, looking at him.

He glanced in the rearview mirror to see Frank staring at him. “They snagged Waller, but his men ambushed them. I was there to help out.”

“Help out?” exclaimed Whit. “We’d all be dead but for you.”

“Well, we still might be,” snapped Frank.

As he finished speaking one of Waller’s men ran out from the doorway that led from the church; it was the same passageway out that Reggie and Kuchin had taken when they’d visited the church the first time. The gunman spotted them and fired. Everyone ducked as the windshield cracked. There was a bump, the man was catapulted into the air by the collision with the car, and dropped to the ground. Frank looked up.

“Hey, Shaw?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you drive?”

“Why?”

“Because the son of a bitch just shot me!”

Shaw saw the blood seeping from Frank’s jacket, pushed the man to the side, climbed over the seat, and took over the wheel. He floored it and then checked Frank, who was slumped over next to Whit.

“How bad?”

Frank fumbled with his shirt and looked. “Missed the belly, think it went through me. Hard to say.”

Whit checked the seatback. “It did. Here’s the slug.” He held it up.

“Hang on, Frank, and tell me where to go,” said Shaw.

“Private strip sixty kilometers south of here. Wings waiting.” He gave Shaw the specific directions and then fell silent, his breathing labored and his face turning gray.

Reggie and Whit took off Frank’s jacket, tore open his shirt, and checked the wound more carefully. Reggie said, “Look in the glove compartment for a first-aid kit.”

There wasn’t one but there was a box of sterilized wipes. She used those to clean the wound and then used strips of Frank’s shirt to help stop the bleeding and to bandage the wound. She sat back. “That’s all I can do for now. He needs medical attention.”

“There’s a doc on the plane,” mumbled Frank. Shaw glanced at him to see the other man’s gaze on him. “Knowing you I figured it was a good idea.” Shaw grabbed an antiseptic pack and tossed it to Reggie. “For your face. Waller got you good with his shoe.”

She cleaned up her face as best she could and then worked on Dominic’s injured arm.

The siren made them all jerk around.

“Cop car right behind us,” said Whit as he stared in the side mirror.

“Shit, there is no way we can stop and explain this,” said Shaw. He floored it.

Five miles later as the sounds of the siren faded into the Provençal countryside Whit said, “You’re a right good wheel man.”

“Let’s just be thankful they didn’t have the resources out here to do a call-ahead roadblock. Then I’d just be a ‘right good’ prisoner.”

They finally reached the private airstrip. Parked next to the plane was a shimmering black Range Rover. The physician on board the jet cleaned up Frank’s wound and reset Dominic’s bone, holding it in place with two small pieces of wood and lots of medical tape. “He’ll need a cast,” said the doctor. “I don’t have the materials to do one here.”

Shaw helped Reggie bandage her face while Whit watched stonily from a corner of the luxurious cabin. The copilot came back to them. “We’re ready to go wheels up whenever you give the word,” he told Frank as the man slowly sat up, rubbing his arm where the doctor had given him an injection of painkiller.

“That won’t be happening,”

Everyone turned to see Whit standing there pointing a gun. “You two can go,” he said, indicating Shaw and Frank. “But the three of us are gonna take those fresh wheels out there and head on.”

“That’s not a good idea,” said Shaw.

“For us it is,” shot back Whit. “I don’t know who you blokes are, and I don’t want to know. Thanks for the assist, but you go your way and we’ll go ours. No hard feelings, I promise.”

“You guys will never get away,” said Frank, attempting to stand before Shaw put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“I actually like our odds.”

“You’ll need a hostage,” said Shaw. “Because without that, you really have no chance against this guy here.” Shaw pointed at Frank. “He’s got more resources than you can deal with. But he also doesn’t want to lose me. That gives you leverage.”

Whit looked skeptical. “So you want us to take you hostage? That ain’t happening.”

“Then you have no chance,” snapped Shaw.

Whit poked a finger into Shaw’s chest. “Bugger off.”

Reggie stepped between Whit and Shaw. “He’s right, Whit.”

“I’m not taking your lover boy along for the ride just because you-”

Shaw moved Reggie to the side and took a step toward Whit. “You couldn’t even recon a site properly. You let them ambush you and would be dead if it weren’t for me. You said so yourself. Now we have to get out of the country. Without wings we’ll have to go another way. I can do that because I’ve done it a hundred times. Can you?”